Chapter XI

Manhattan, NYC

It happened right in front of his eyes.

They'd both come downstairs from the loft, a duffel bag in his hand and a small, wheeled case clasped in hers. She'd set it aside in front of the building entrance, next to him and his duffel bag. Even though it was early, the streets of his SoHo neighbourhood were lively and full of pedestrians, locals and tourists alike, shopping and window shopping, in spite of the heat.

"He should be here," Kate had told him, referring to the driver of his car service and double checking the time on her watch. "He sent me a text five minutes ago saying he's literally around the corner."

Castle had watched her step off the sidewalk, onto the traffic-free street to look for his driver, when another car appeared out of nowhere, bolting from the corner like a missile that had Kate Beckett locked in as its target.

Had it not been for her lightning fast reflexes, she'd have been underneath the car.

But Beckett reacted so quickly that she'd managed to propel herself onto its hood instead, where she flew into the air, hit the windshield with a deafening crack and then got tossed onto oncoming traffic, where another car screeched to a halt.

He couldn't quite tell if the other car hit her too, or if it'd stopped in time.

Because he was glued to the sidewalk, legs immobile.

Utterly shocked.

It all happened so fast that in the seconds that followed, time stood still and the cacophony of noise he'd heard an instant ago – Kate hitting the hood and cracking the window, screeching brakes and bystanders gasping – was replaced by a sudden, inexplicable silence.

His first instinct was to run towards her. But he was deathly afraid of what he might find if he did.

"Kate-" He could barely choke out her name.

When he finally got his legs to move, they were slow and sluggish. But he forced them forward with sheer willpower, until he got to her, lying on street. The driver of the second car had beaten him to it. She was already next to Kate, trying to see if she was okay.

"Oh my God…I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…I'm so sorry…."

"It's okay. Not your fault. Call 911!" Castle found his voice and wrangled himself between Kate and the distraught woman. He kneeled down next to Kate, who was lying on her back and had a stream of blood running down the side of her head. She didn't seem conscious until his fingers pressed into her neck to find a pulse.

Then her eyes shot wide open and she stared up at him. "Castle?"

He exhaled. Flooded with relief. "Hey…"

Beckett immediately tried to push herself up on her elbows and groaned with the effort.

He put a flat palm on her chest. "Don't move. Stay still 'til the ambulance gets here."

"Ambulance?" She raised a single bloody eyebrow and pushed herself up until she was sitting even though it made her wince. Red-stained hair stuck to her face. "The car, Castle…did you catch the plate?"

"The what?"

"Tell me you caught the plate…"

He looked at her incredulously. "Kate, for Christ's sake, can you just…stay still?"

"I'm okay. It knocked the wind out of me but nothing more than that. I'm…" She was having trouble focusing. "I'm okay."

"You're not okay!"

But she'd already pushed herself onto her knees and was grabbing him for balance while trying to stand up. "I caught the colour and make and an H at the end…but not, not the whole plate…"

She was actually standing now. Sort of. But only because she was holding on to him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

"You're…insane."

It was obvious that he could either help her or watch her attempt to walk on her own, so he slid an arm around her waist and together they slowly moved off the street, until they were back on the sidewalk and the spectators who'd watched it all in horror had already started to disperse.

So much for not leaving the scene of an accident. No, he corrected himself. Not an accident.

He could almost feel her knees give in.

"Castle-" She was leaning into him hard. "Think I need to sit down a sec."

"No kidding."

His own knees were shaking, but he found the strength to snake an arm behind her legs and it allowed him to scoop her up in his arms before she slid down to the pavement. The bloody side of her head leaned against him even as she protested, staining his blue shirt. He saw her eyes close while she fisted his shirt again.

By some miracle a taxi pulled over at the same time and it let off two backpack-wearing tourists.

Screw waiting for an ambulance, he thought. He yelled at the driver to wait.

With Kate in his arms, Castle precariously maneuvered them both into the taxi, cringing with every movement, because he really didn't want to move her at all.

"Castle…what are you doing?" She groaned. "Where are we going?"

"Hospital."

"Castle, no. I am not…"

"Yes. You are going to a hospital. You can protest the entire way there for all I care." He wasn't much of an authoritarian but he was capable of it. There'd been a handful of times when even his perfect daughter, Alexis, had brought it out in him.

And in those rare moments when it did happen, his opponent didn't stand a chance. Not even if her name was Kate Beckett.

"Nearest emergency room," he told the cab driver. "Now."

By the time they got to the hospital, Beckett had to admit that maybe he had a point. Maybe she did need to get checked out.

She wouldn't let him carry her in, even though she struggled not to walk like a drunk. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she realized just how much she was hurting. More so than after a street fight with a perp. Intense pain radiated from a shoulder blade, from inside her skull and from her left wrist.

And dizzy. She was so dizzy.

Her stomach lurched when they stepped into the hospital, so much so that the second she saw a washroom sign she clumsily bolted towards it. Barely making it to a toilet bowl in time, while Castle kneeled down next to her and held her hair back.

The effort of it all took so much out of her that Castle had to pull her back up and hold her upright.

But it did make her feel better. Emptying her stomach seemed to lift the dizziness.

Because of it, she noticed that Castle's hands were shaking when he tried to make her sit down on the lowered toilet seat. "Stay put. I'm getting a nurse or a doctor. And a gurney."

"No…" She told him she needed some water first.

He conceded and together they moved to the sink and when she leaned on it with her left hand it shot a fierce pain along the length of her arm that made her clench her teeth to stop from crying.

She'd definitely sprained her wrist. Maybe broken it. Fuck. This was going to hamper her in the near future.

She couldn't even cup her hands together to drink some water, so Castle did it for her. He let it run until the water was ice cold and then scooped some up in his own palms for her.

It felt good going down her throat and it put the final plug on the dizziness.

"Thanks," she whispered.

But when she saw her reflection in the mirror, she had to brace for a new shock. No wonder Castle's hands were shaking. Half of her head was covered in blood and a good part of her face resembled a macabre red opera mask. Head wounds were always a mess.

Surely, he had to know that, being the action-thriller writer that he was, doing all this research all the time.

"Kate!"

He was holding her tightly. Maybe because her vision clouded for a second. But only a second.

She took a deep breath, grateful that her ribs didn't hurt when she did. That was a good sign. "I'm good."

"You are not good."

She caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. As angry and determined as she'd ever seen him. But pale too. Obviously shaken. "Castle-"

"Come on," he was still glued to her, his limbs clinging to her body. As if she was going to slide to the floor any second.

When they were back outside, he flagged down a doctor who made her lie down on a gurney, and Beckett finally did as she asked, mostly for Castle's benefit.

It rattled her to see him so shocked.

He shouldn't have seen what he did. She, of all people, who just this morning dared this stalker to come at her, had been completely unaware when they did.

She clenched her fist when the act of lying down shot a bolt of pain from her shoulder through her entire body.

She exhaled slowly, focusing on her breathing until the pain receded.

You got me this time, she thought. Because I was careless. But it won't happen again. Trust me.

I panicked after she bounced over my hood. I didn't expect the noise. That thud, like a sack of potatoes dropping down on my car and putting a dent in it.

I didn't expect her body to hit my windshield either. There's a goddamn crack in it now and that makes me panic too. That and the dent, they're both evidence.

I expected to run over her. I was anticipating a crunching sound when the car's weight crushed her bones followed by the slight lift you feel, like when you go over a speed bump.

That's what I expected.

Instead, the stupid bitch catapulted herself onto the top of my car and flew all over the place.

I heard the oncoming car screech to a stop. If that idiot hadn't done that, she would have been underneath that car at least. Problem solved.

But no.

Fuck.

The thing is, I have no idea how badly hurt she is. Or if she's hurt at all. Maybe she's perfectly fine.

Although she did put a crack in my window.

Yeah, she's definitely hurt. Maybe even dead by now.

I admit, I panicked after that, 'cause I've never killed anyone. That wasn't the plan. I don't need or want that kind of shit hanging over my head.

I'm not violent. I leave that to the rest of my family.

I just needed her out of the picture before it's too late.

I stepped on the gas and took off. I didn't even look in the rear-view mirror to see if she was okay or not. I drove fast but not too fast, 'cause I'm not stupid either. Imagine getting pulled over for speeding after a hit and run?

I kept expecting to see and hear sirens coming after me, but it didn't happen. There are no traffic cameras right where it happened, I know that because I thoroughly reconnoitered his block a long time ago. But did someone catch my license plate? That's what scares me.

It made my heart pound and my hands all sweaty. They kept slipping off the steering wheel.

The crack in my windshield freaked me out too, and for a moment I thought about ditching the car and ripping off the plates, but then I came o my senses and stayed calm. Crossed into Queens at 59th Street and made sure to avoid highways and tolls.

Took me forever, but I made it home without any sirens following me.

No one will ever find me here. I might as well be invisible.

I crashed when I got home. Exhausted like I've never been before.

I'll figure out what to do with the car later.

He'd been in the waiting room for over an hour when a nurse came by and handed him a green scrub.

He'd looked up at her, not understanding.

"Your shirt's full of blood," she'd explained. "You should probably change into something clean before someone starts worrying about you being injured."

Ah.

He replied with a thank you and took it, gratefully. "Can you tell me how she's doing?" he asked before the nurse had a chance to turn on her rubber-soled shoes. "Detective Beckett?"

"Are you the husband?"

He swallowed. "Boyfriend." He was supposed to be, wasn't he? That was their ruse. The one that almost got her killed this morning. It would end after today, he told himself. He'd put an ad in the paper announcing his plan to join a monastery and lead a life of celibacy if that's what it took.

No more games.

"Is there no other next of kin here?"

"No," he told her. He didn't even know who her next of kin was. He knew her mother was dead, but what about her father? Were there siblings? Aunts? Uncles?

"We cleaned up the head wound with a few stitches. She looks much better now. I believe her doctor wants to run a couple of tests."

"Tests?" He fisted the green-coloured scrub. "Why? What kind of tests?"

"Just a precaution, considering…what happened to her only a few months ago."

A new wave of nausea rolled through his stomach. "Do you mean this could have done something to her…gunshot injury?"

The nurse smiled. "I'm not the person you should be asking these questions. Dr. Ahmad is taking care of her. She's the person you'll want to speak to as soon as they're done."

"When is that?"

"She knows you're in the waiting area. She'll come see you."

"All right. Thank you."

Patience had never been his strong suit. But he was trying.

He went to the nearest bathroom to change out of his bloodied shirt and slip into the green scrubs and it had the surprising effect of calming him. Not having her blood all over him finally stopped his hands from shaking.

Then he sat back down and waited. For what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to thirty minutes.

"Mr. Castle?"

The young doctor had a calm, warm face and that further helped to ease his panic. He was good at noticing detail, and her face, unless she was the best actor in the world, wasn't one that was about to deliver bad news.

"How is she? Can I see her?"

"Kate asked me to call for you. She said you'd want to know how she is. Considering what happened, I think she's very lucky, Mr. Castle. Her wrist is sprained and we've set it in a light cast. There's ligament damage but no full tear. She'll have limited mobility in her left hand for the next few days. She has a concussion, which needs to be monitored the next few days, and she needed some stitches for the cut on her head. But she's shown me no reason for additional concern. I've assessed her basic neurologic functions and reflexes and they're good. There was no more vomiting. She has some additional contusions, abrasions-" The doctor paused to give him rueful smile. "They'll look worse than they are over the next couple of days. She has no chest or abdominal pain but given her recent gunshot injury, I'd like to run a couple of additional scans before releasing her. To make sure we didn't miss anything."

"Good idea," he agreed.

"She doesn't seem to think so, so maybe you can convince her." Dr. Ahmad stuffed her hands into the pocket of her lab coat. "You can see her, if you'd like. She's been asking for you."

He didn't hesitate. Didn't even thank the doctor as he'd intended.

He opened the privacy curtain, relieved to see Kate lying on the bed, her beautiful face no longer covered with blood. They'd cleaned it up and in its place was a dressing of sorts, plastered just behind her temple, above her ear.

"Hey…"

"Hey, Castle. Was I out that long that you got a medical degree?"

"Had to. You kept bleeding all over me."

She grinned, but his hand couldn't help but gravitate towards the spot that had oozed with blood a couple of hours ago, and he traced the outline of the bandaging with his index finger. "You clean up nice."

"Pretty sure you've already used that line on me in Philly."

He managed a smirk. "Look at that sarcasm and that memory. All of that's gotta bode well for a lack of brain damage."

She gazed up at him with tired eyes. "You're funny."

"Trying to keep up with you." But his smile faded. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine, Castle. Head wounds bleed a lot. They look worse than they are."

"So you don't actually have a concussion then?"

"Don't make me roll my eyes. That will probably hurt."

She gave him a half-hearted grin that magnified his relief ten-fold. So much so that he suddenly had to fight against the moisture welling up in his eyes and the urge to wrap his arms around her. "I'm really glad that…" He reached for her right hand and held on to it. "It wasn't worse."

"I was careless this morning and let my guard down. It won't happen again. Promise."

"No, it won't," he agreed. He wouldn't let it.

"Castle…" Her right hand slid out of his grasp and she propped herself up so that she was sitting on the bed. "Will you give me a hand?"

"A hand? You need a bathroom?"

"No, to get dressed. I need to give a statement about what happened. I'd rather do it at the 12th, with my partners, than here with a uniform." He saw her wince when she accidentally put some pressure on her left hand. "I need you to think…about any details you remembered about the car and the driver. Even if it seems small and insignificant it could be…"

"What are you talking about, getting dressed and going to the precinct? I thought the doc wanted to run some more tests?"

"She suggested it. She also said it could take a few hours. I politely declined."

Politely, he snorted. As if.

"Kate, I don't think-"

"Castle…" He could hear the exasperation in her voice. "I've been in enough street scraps with perps to know when I'm scratched and bruised and when I'm seriously hurt. This…this will be okay in a few days."

"You don't know that."

"Castle-" There was a whiny edge to her voice now as she stood up next to him and he half expected her to pout and wobble, but she did neither. "Look, I don't need your permission for this but I was just hoping you could help me put my clothes on since one of my arms is kinda useless right now."

She was close enough that it brought back memories of last night. Of the things they did and the many other things he still wanted to do. Their proximity was so electric that it was impossible not to touch her. A subtle hand on her arm at first, one that sent sparks into his fingertips before he pulled her in for a hug.

"God, Kate…" He closed his eyes when her cheek touched his, because he so desperately needed to replace the image of her bouncing off the hood of the car and into oncoming traffic, with something, anything, else.

He forced his eyes back open and stared at the green hospital curtain, blurred by the strands of her hair that fell over his face and blocked his vision.

"Rick…"

He half expected her to pull away but she let herself fold into him and he was grateful for it. Because he really needed this.

He planted the subtlest of kisses on her temple before letting go.

She was the one who held on now, her right hand cupping his jaw with unexpected tenderness. "You really okay, Rick?"

"Yeah." The way she looked at him now made him wonder if maybe last night was a beginning after all. That maybe it meant something to her too. "Now I am."

"'Okay. I'm glad."

The irony of her worrying about his welfare didn't escape him.

It was time to man up.

If she wasn't going to stay put here, the least he could do was help her get dressed. Get her to the precinct and then get her butt to her own home and bed. But not before he got hold of someone to stay with her overnight and make sure her stubborn head didn't slip into a coma.

Much as he wanted to be that someone, he knew that wasn't an option. Being around her could prove fatal.

"Where are your clothes?"

"Over there." She pointed to a small pile of fabric crumpled on a chair next to an IV hook.

Three items. A pair of jeans, a bloodstained t-shirt and a bra.

When he brought them over to her, she looked conflicted, debating whether or not the t-shirt was wearable. Whether or not to forego the bra. And what exactly she could put on herself with one good arm.

"Lemme see if I can swing you some scrubs too," Castle answered the question she hadn't asked.

He went back out inside the endlessly long room of beds and curtains and found a nurse who wasn't immune to his charm and gave him two scrub tops. One blue and one pink.

By the time he got back, Beckett had somehow found a way to wrangle on the bra underneath her hospital gown and he tried not to show his disappointment.

"Help me fasten the back?"

"Yeah." He was more accustomed to unfastening these things but he managed the opposite with ease. "I can undo the gown as well," he offered. "Then slide the scrubs over your head."

"How about you slide it over while I still have the gown on," she told him. "Then I can slip out the gown underneath."

"I, uh…could. Yes. Sure." It was a level of modesty he didn't expect after last night but he did as she asked. Gingerly, he held up her left arm as he slid the scrub top over her head and when it was on, he snaked his hands underneath it to undo the straps of her flimsy hospital gown, allowing him to slide it out. "Voila!"

He helped her into the jeans as well, and that was a smooth process because she didn't seem to mind him seeing her long, gorgeous bare legs or too-long the glance he stole at her black lace underwear.

It nearly made him hard, but he fought back against that unwelcome urge. For fuck's sake. Not here. Not now.

But judging from the flash of amusement he caught on Kate's face, it didn't bother her.

"Castle, one more thing…"

"Shoes?"

"Well, yes. That too, but something else. They won't discharge me unless they know there's someone to accompany me home."

Of course he'd take her home. "You want me to sign the release papers?"

"Would you?"

"Do you have someone who'll stay with you?" It suddenly dawned on him how little he knew about her, in spite of all the articles he'd devoured about her shooting online.

Was there a significant other?

The thought made his gut clench. He'd assumed there wasn't, because of last night and because she never made mention of a boyfriend. But then again, she wasn't much of a sharer and he should know better than to assume.

The question made her flinch too. "I have a friend I can call." She pushed herself off the bed. "Castle…I know I'm in no shape to be your bodyguard right now and I'm not even sure if my boss will keep me on this case, but if I were to stay with you, it would help…cement our story. I mean…" She seemed flustered. "Of you and me being a couple, that is. Obviously, our arrangement wouldn't be any different than before but…"

Funny, he thought. Because he was really hoping their current arrangement might change into a more intimate one and the truth was, he wanted nothing more than to take her home with him. To make sure she stayed put and to keep an eye on her, because he could easily bribe a doctor into making a house call if anything got worse.

But mostly he wanted it because he selfishly wanted her near him.

And judging from the disappointment he saw in her eyes, he needed to tell her that. That this wasn't about him not wanting this.

"Kate-" He bent down to grab her shoes before she did it herself, and made her sit back down on the rim of the bed. "Let me do that."

"I can do-"

"I know you can. Indulge me." He helped her slip on the white, wedge summer shoes she'd worn when leaving the loft this morning. Barely sturdy enough to run in, never mind cartwheel over cars. He moved to sit down next to her when he was done. "Look, I want to make something very clear…I want you to come home with me." His eyes met hers and he made sure she knew he meant it. "But it's not safe for you to be around me right now. What happened this morning was ample proof."

"What do you mean?" She got up and stood across from him. "Your stalker got riled up enough to crawl out of the woodwork and attack me. We're finally making progress and now you want me to stay away for my safety? Are you crazy?"

Castle stared at her in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You call this progress? Me hauling you off to an ER with a broken wrist and a concussion?"

"My wrist isn't broken."

"That's your argument?"

"Castle, I'm a cop on a case." She tried to cross her arms. Force of habit when she got angry, he did know that about her, but the bandaging on her wrist made it impossible so she gave up after one awkward attempt. "Sometimes I get hurt. It's a job hazard. I was careless this morning and I've learned my lesson. I'm sorry you had to see that but I'm not giving up now when we're finally getting somewhere. I promised my boss that I would get this done."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe she did hit her head too hard. "I'm not gonna watch you get killed for the sake of…solving a case."

"You're not responsible for my safety, Rick. And stop this macho, caveman act, it doesn't suit you. I sure hope none of this is prompted by what happened last night."

Anger rose up in his throat and he stood up too, needing to get in her face. "You think that what this is about? Macho male posturing? I care about you, Kate and I am not putting you in the crossfire on my account."

"This isn't your decision!"

"Like hell it isn't!"

"I need to solve this goddamn case, Castle and I'm not going to back off because you're scared after one bump in the road."

"That's a hell of an analogy," he shot back. "And yes, you are going to back off. I don't care how much attitude you give me."

"What is wrong with you?"

He hadn't expected so much fury over this. Nor did he understand the panic written all over her face.

A few days ago he would have thought she'd be pleased to be off this case.

She grabbed his arm with her uninjured hand. "What do you mean that you care about me? You don't even know me!"

"How much do I need to know before I'm allowed to care?"

So he didn't know whether she had any siblings. Or whether there was someone in her life close enough to pick her up today and take care of her for the next twenty-four hours. So what? He'd already spent more time in close proximity with Kate Beckett than he had with his last few girlfriends.

"You're right," he said softly, suddenly wanting to curse himself for fighting with her here. Like this. In her condition. Because now she looked like she was close to tears.

Just because she wasn't acting like she was hurt, didn't mean she wasn't.

"I don't know you," he admitted. "Not as much as I want to. But there are some things that I do know…I know that you're strong. Incredibly strong. How else could you do what you? Get up every morning and put one foot in front of another and put on that badge, even though you know that sniper is still out there. I have no idea how you do it, because merely thinking about it gives me goosebumps and makes me want to hide out in a bunker. I know you're stubborn and you won't back down, even when your back's against a wall. I know you have terrible taste in movies. I mean, seriously, a rat that wants to be a chef?" He felt her grip loosen. "I know that you're cranky as hell until you've had your first cup of coffee in the morning and I never thought I'd enjoy making coffee for someone as much as I do now. I know that I've been writing every single day since you showed up on my doorstep in the Hamptons and that's something that I haven't done in years. But you make me want to write, Kate, even though my words can't do you justice. Because you're extraordinary."

Beckett released her hold on him and took a step back, her eyes watering.

But worse than that, she was suddenly sickly pale. Pure panic widened her pupils.

"No…you're wrong. You're so wrong."

"Kate…" He wanted to pull her back towards him, soothe the inexplicable fear on her face.

This wasn't the reaction he expected.

"That picture you painted of me, it's a lie." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Except maybe for the bad taste in movies and that thing about being cranky before my first cup of coffee in the morning, none of those are true. I'm not strong." As if to prove her point she sat back down and suddenly seemed small and defeated. "You want to know the truth, Castle? I was such a mess after my last homicide case that I started drinking too much and one night when I ran out of booze at home, I went to a bar and assaulted another cop. I nearly lost my badge because of it. Instead, I got demoted to being your bodyguard. Since then, I've been ordered to take a Breathalyzer test every night and send it in to my boss. To prove to her that I'm not drinking myself to sleep. That's what I did when you thought I went jogging in the Hamptons. It's what I did last night. Because my career is hanging by a fine thread."

"What…?" He was speechless.

"That's not all, Castle. The reason I couldn't go on last night wasn't because I didn't want to. It's because the lights came back on. Because I have these hideous scars on my body that I can't seem to accept. I can barely stand to look at them myself, never mind the thought of someone else seeing them. So you see, the only way we can ever make out again is if there's another blackout. Or I blindfold us both."

He swallowed and thought he tasted bile.

"I'm a scarred, screwed-up alcoholic, Castle," she exhaled, pausing to make sure her words sunk in. "I'm definitely not extraordinary enough to be anyone's muse. I'm not someone you can stick on a pedestal or someone who needs to be looked out for. So now that you know that, maybe now we can get back to this case and remember why I'm here in the first place…to get this stalker out of your life and solve this damn case."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, shocked, rattled and confused. There was so much he wanted to say. To ask.

"Do you really think what you just told me will change my mind about wanting to risk your life for this thing?"

Her eyes were still moist. "If we solve this thing, you can go back to your old life, Rick. Parties and flawless women. Trust me, you don't want me. It's not fun."

"I don't want you? Because what? Because you're dealing with more than you've let on?"

"Did you listen to anything I've told you?"

"Because I'm so goddamn shallow and selfish that I can't handle someone who isn't plastic and perfect? Is that what you think of me?"

Beckett didn't say anything and her silence was like a slap in the face.

"I see…" He couldn't bring himself to look at her anymore. "In that case, I better live up to your expectations. There's probably something else I should be doing instead of wasting my time in this hospital room. All of this…" He spun around and gestured to the drab curtains blocking them off from the rest of the ER. "Is a little too real for me."

"Rick-"

He could hear the remorse in her voice but he couldn't face her anymore.

Instead, he bolted out of the curtained cubicle and got out of the hospital as fast as he could.