Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.

A/N: It's been a long while! You might want to start at the beginning of the story considering how long it's been. This isn't the final chapter, but the story will conclude later this week. See below for the full note.

oo0oo

October 28

"So, let me make sure I understand your 'favor,'" Gates spoke with some asperity from her place on her couch. "You want me to assist an untrained civilian to lure an NSA asset to an ambush at an undisclosed location. The concern for the target's welfare could be only be charitably termed 'depraved indifference.' And you want me to do this without notifying anyone in law enforcement, whether they be NYPD or Feds."

"Well…," Castle temporized, "I'd obviously disclose the location to you. As for the rest of your description, it's not as bad as you describe. I'm sure my attorney friend Fitz could come up with a much more palatable characterization."

"I see," Gates replied. "And why shouldn't I throw you in jail for even approaching me with this? Never mind my career, never mind jurisdiction or hundreds of years of jurisprudence, never mind your obvious lack of objectivity," she ranted quietly. "What exactly made you think it was a good idea to bring this half-baked plan to me?"

Oddly, Castle smiled. Doing so provoked a low growl from the captain, but Castle knew she was seriously considering his idea. He didn't have much experience in reading her, not nearly as much as he had with Montgomery, but he'd started to recognize her tells.

"You know the danger Cole represents," he began, watching closely for any visual cues about her reaction. "And that danger isn't tempered in either outcome. Say we catch him," he speculated. "The first possibility is that the Feds swoop in and claim him. We know how that turns out – he's already slipped his leash at least twice and they don't seem terribly concerned about the people he killed while away. Best case, they'd bury him somewhere and try to figure out how he can do what he does. Can you imagine what'd happen if they figured it out? There's the stuff of a horror novel: a shady government group that's already shown a callous disregard for collateral damage cranking out agents with Cole's skills? Brrrrr," he shivered dramatically.

Gates remained impassive.

"Or they put Cole back in the field and hope to keep track of him," he said with a sad shake of his head. "Good luck with that. But getting him back to the Feds might still be the better option. Because the second possibility is that we catch Cole, the Feds back off, and we take it to trial. He was initially caught in flagrante with Kemp, so that conviction should be in the bag, even if you couldn't link him to Delbruck and Hilltop. But considering how he compromised people within the precinct, do you think he couldn't do the same with his public defenders? With court personnel? And how would we justify a mandate to not let him touch anybody?" Castle ranted slightly. "You know how that'd look – we'd come off as crazy conspiracy theorists. Trust me," he emphasized with a sheepish smile, "I've got some experience at trying to convince people of the truth while sounding slightly crazy."

Finally, Gates provided a response: a nod. Not a smile, but Castle felt emboldened regardless.

"And just for kicks, here's another scary thought," he offered while letting his own grin slip. "Cole's already touched me and more than a few others in the precinct. Who knows who else he's read? Can you imagine what kind of leverage his defense attorney might have in settlement discussions if he had blackmail on the NYPD or DA's office?"

"Yes," Gates slowly agreed. "That could prove… problematic."

"Exactly," Castle nodded. "Problematic. And it might still come to pass – the plan we've laid out would trap him, so we could still capture him alive and then have to figure out how to proceed. But if it doesn't… well, I'm not sure I'd be too upset about not giving him another opportunity to play around in my head."

Gates sat quietly, ruminating on the possibilities. Oddly, she found herself impressed that the writer had put so much thought into this approach. And the facility he described seemed like it would suit their needs. It was still a rampantly irresponsible approach, one almost certain to lead to censure for her. But, thinking about her own health situation and the ticking clock on maintaining control of her mental faculties, her concern for things like commendations and a clean record was a pale shadow of its previous importance. Taking Cole out of circulation, one way or the other – that might be a worthy capstone for her NYPD career. And nobody, including Mr. Castle, needed to know her motivation or intent in advance.

All that said, there was no reason to let the writer off easy.

"This hare-brained scheme of yours," Gates offered, watching Castle try to smother his look of elation, "I might be willing to give it a try," she enticed, continuing to watch him carefully. "Of course, you'd have to agree to my terms."

"Terms?" Castle repeated, looking slightly ill at ease.

"Terms," Gates affirmed with a nod. "Two."

With obvious trepidation, Castle nodded.

"First," Gates explained, "I have complete and unilateral control. I thank you for the time and thought you've invested," she tried to mollify with a raised hand that cut off dissent, "but you're wholly ignorant of how to organize something like this."

"She says to the guy who figured out Cole and has run rings around the NYPD so far…," the writer grumbled in reply.

"Yes, congratulations, here's your gold star," Gates replied condescendingly. "Now, swallow your pride so we can increase the odds of this plan working, Mr. Castle. I'd think Cole's interest in your family," she emphasized, reminding him of his daughter and mother, "would make you more willing to listen to experience."

"Fine," Castle sighed, unhappy with the feeling of being held hostage. "What's your other condition?"

"Your presence at the precinct," Gates replied.

"Consider me gone," Castle answered immediately, surprising them both. "It's probably for the best anyway, considering what your detectives and I have learned about each other. I'm still not sure I can stomach Ryan's explanation and then there's…"

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Castle," Gates interrupted while hiding her surprise at how quickly the writer was willing to walk away. Perhaps it's about his family, or perhaps the strength of his partnership with Beckett suffered from this summer's developments, or perhaps the revelations about how her detectives view his daughter. She doesn't really want to know. Regardless, his reaction made her more resolute in securing her second concession. "My requirement is not that you leave the precinct – it's that you stay. For at least a year. Detective Beckett needs support and you're going to provide it."

oo0oo

October 29

Gates carefully bided her time during the morning, watching the efforts of the NYPD and Fed officers as they fruitlessly chased leads to locate Cole or Castle. She spared no kind words for Cole, but had to admit that Castle had a certain style. His incursion into the precinct not only went undetected, but it provided no further clues to his whereabouts or plans. And Beckett was clearly unhappy that he knew about the false bottom in her desk and was able to bypass the desk's lock so easily. The file he'd obtained hadn't been all that interesting, as Gates learned during their planning session last night, but the sheer audacity of spiriting it out of the precinct made her smirk. As long as he wasn't here to see it.

Finally, she put their plan into action in the early afternoon. Previous observation demonstrated that the Feds were less attentive shortly after lunch when they had to report to their superiors in Washington. Noting that neither Jeffers nor Hansen were around, she began by calling Ryan into her office.

"Detective Ryan," she began after he warily took a seat, having been put on edge by being called in alone and instructed to close the door to afford them privacy. "I've got a new assignment for you."

"But, sir," he immediately objected. "I'm the only NYPD member on the team looking for Cole. We need…"

"We need to refocus our efforts in light of limited gains," she cut over him, her raised eyebrow silent testimony to her distaste at being interrupted. "Unless you can tell me you're on the cusp of locating Mister Cole?"

"Not locating, no," Ryan admitted. "But there's something there. Something important about Cole the Feds are hiding. I just need more time to put it together."

"Then continue to mull it during your new task, which will allow plenty of time for rumination," she segued, noting the grimace from the detective as he imagined what menial task she has in mind. "You're dismissed for the day," she said to his surprise while extending an envelope to him. "This is because tomorrow will be a long one for you. You're on the first flight to Toronto out of LaGuardia tomorrow morning. Your ticket and authorization for Border Control are in this letter. Once you clear Customs, you'll proceed to the US Consulate to rendezvous with Mister Castle's attorney. Per the 'Tyson Protocols' they established, Mister Fitzpatrick was to meet Mister Castle at the consulate after seven days, which is tomorrow."

"I see," Ryan replied while pondering the assignment that was not as onerous as he feared it might be. "Am I there to detain, interrogate, or liaise?"

"To coordinate and protect," Gates replied. "Once you make contact, you are to stay with Mister Fitzpatrick and on the grounds of the consulate until you receive additional instructions from me or Detective Beckett. No one else," she concluded sternly. "You might be away for several days, so plan accordingly."

When Ryan nodded his understanding, Gates went for a slightly kinder tone. "Detective, I appreciate that relations on your team are currently strained. I have other assignments for your teammates, so they will not be accompanying you. However," she emphasized, "I understand the importance of back-up, especially with Cole on the loose. I sent Officer Garr to a randomly-selected hotel, where he will remain until leaving to deliver you to LaGuardia in the morning, which he will not know until he calls me later this afternoon. You'll be on your own for the flight, but I think that's manageable, and you'll have the marines at the Consulate as backup."

Ryan nodded and Gates advanced the conversation carefully, wary that too heavy a hand to scupper the plan.

"There will be other security measures in play," she continued, "though I will not articulate them so as to protect them. But I'll say this – from having reviewed your case files from last year, I'm sure you'd prefer your cold to arrive from a Northern climate in Canada rather than an icy interrogation at the hands of a suspect."

Ryan nodded again and Gates hoped that the distant, haunted look in his eyes had him thinking back to Lockwood's torture of Ryan and his partner back at the warehouse Mister Castle was currently fortifying. That memory needed to be top of mind but not central in order to entice Cole without warning him off.

oo0oo

"Detectives," Gates greeted Beckett and Esposito ten minutes after dismissing Ryan. "Do you have a status update on the efforts to locate Mister Castle?"

Esposito cast a confused look to Beckett, caught off guard by Gates' request, since such updates had typically been provided at the joint meeting with the Feds each afternoon.

"Nothing significant," Beckett admitted. "Castle knows a lot of people, many of whom would help him without asking any questions. Considering that he'd probably only feel comfortable approaching an older or more fringe contact after his run-in with Cole, we're having trouble identifying and speaking with likely contacts."

"Do you feel like you're on the edge of an epiphany?" Gates asked.

"I wish I could say yes," Beckett admitted, "but if we find anything it's going to be through the grind of basic, slow investigation."

"I am concerned that we lack the time for such an approach," Gates replied, eliciting nods from the detectives. "I am also growing concerned about Mister Castle himself."

"Sir?"

"I've spent some time reviewing your cases over the last year. In at least one dimension, they paint a grim story. I fear Mister Castle may have an inflated view of his own abilities, emboldened by your recent successes."

Espo nodded in agreement, while Beckett seemed affronted. "How so?"

"It is remarkable that he was not killed out of hand by Hal Lockwood," Gates replied bluntly. "His luck there makes me worry about what he might think he could do in a situation like this. Seasoned professionals," she mentions with a gesture to Esposito, "underwent waterboarding and other tortures, including the threat of imminent death. While they endured and recovered, I doubt a mystery writer could do the same."

"Sir, I don't think you…," Beckett tried to mount a defense of her partner, even though it was difficult considering that Gates had articulated some of her private concerns.

"Please, Detective, don't. I appreciate that my initial impression of Mister Castle might have been slightly harsh," Gates downplayed, smiling to herself at the skyrocketing eyebrows from both of her charges, "but he is a writer, not an officer."

Beckett, still reeling from hearing from Gates something not entirely negative about her partner, swallowed her objections.

"And, as officers, it's your job to find him and, through him, Cole. To that end, I have an assignment for you both." Noticing they were about to object just as Ryan did, she rolled on. "In addition to the Lockwood file, I took particular note of the infamous Beau James case."

Both Beckett and Espo nod, already anticipating their assignment.

"I want you to inspect the tunnels. But just the two of you," Gates instructed. "Our Fed companions are reporting to their superiors right now, so I'd like you out before they return. For information security, no one else will know what you're doing, so you'll need to watch each other's backs. Detective Ryan has his own assignment about which, again, I'll not share that information. Report back to me here."

Beckett and Esposito both nodded, set their shoulders, and left quickly lest lingering to question the captain raise her ire or squander their time before Jeffers or Hansen returned.

With another hook baited and primed to think about the Lockwood case, Gates sighed and allowed her posture to slump while she sent up prayers for the safety of her detectives.

oo0oo

Gates' reprieve was short-lived.

"So, this is your idea of a joint investigation?" Jeffers railed in quiet fury. "I thought 'Iron Gates' was famous for toeing the line and following protocol?"

In the face of seething, sneering indignation, Gates had a small epiphany. She was not beholden to this woman at all. True, in a dispute between the NYPD and the Feds, her bosses might chastise her in public, but behind the scenes they'd support her stand on behalf of the Precinct. But, with her suspicions about her health condition and the implications for her near future, Gates doesn't even need the support of the NYPD. She's free, truly free. No expectations, no consequences, no reason to do anything other than what she feels is right. How delightful! Is this why Mister Castle always seems so lighthearted?

"I don't trust you," Gates explained honestly. "I question the value of the information provided to aid our investigation into Cole and have little doubt that the NYPD would be left behind at the first sign of a viable lead. I directed my detectives as appropriate in light of those concerns."

"I see," Jeffers replied while standing. After making a gesture that Hansen saw through the window of Gates' office, she turned back to the captain. "I suppose I should thank you for the candor. Considering that you've sent Detective Ryan, the only NYPD member working with us, on some errand, I suggest our progress would be best served by pursuing our own investigations."

"Agreed."

Jeffers maintained her cool demeanor, masking her surprise and suspicions. The Feds' valuable resources are rarely so casually dismissed by mere police precincts. Of course, if Gates thought she had a lead on Castle or Cole, she might be more willing to strike out alone. Despite how foolhardy that approach would be.

"We'll notify you when we have Cole back in custody, as a courtesy," Jeffers offered as she moved toward the door, seeing Hansen packed and ready to depart. It will take no more than an hour to set up back at the office, and even less to arrange surveillance on the 12th precinct.

oo0oo

"Are you alright?" Castle asks into his burner phone, surprised and slightly concerned to hear the icy captain of the 12th precinct sounding out-of-sorts.

"Fine," Gates replied shortly. "It's been a stressful day and the unfamiliar ringtone of this burner startled me."

"Sorry," he offered, holding in a chuckle. "But unpredictability seems to be our best bet right now. Everything on track?"

"Yes, as we discussed. The teams are assigned and on the move and I broached the Hal Lockwood confrontation with both groups, so those thoughts should be present but not central. And," she confessed with what sounded like a smile, "the Feds packed off after being excluded. So, now, we just wait."

"Never my strong suit," Castle admitted with a sigh.

"You don't say?" Gates replied drily. "But it's the same for me. I'm in place and have what I need, so I'll remain here at the precinct until you call."

"At least you have good coffee at the precinct," Castle grumbled after he hung up. Still feeling a bit out-of-sorts from his premature departure from the hospital he slowly made the rounds of the warehouse, checking the security setup he'd installed over the course of the day. With the locks engaged, the cameras in place, and his redoubt fortified, he forlornly stared at the military surplus cot and bland concrete of his short-term home.

oo0oo

"This is disgusting. These clothes will never smell right again."

Beckett grunted in response to Espo's complaint, just as she had for the many similar, previous comments. Anyone who wore something other than the worst yardwork clothes for their sojourn through the sewer system of New York City while inspecting ancient smuggling tunnels had little ground for complaints. Now, if he complained about the stench sinking into hair, she would've had some sympathy. She could foresee many, many showers in her near future. And she wasn't even the member of the team that was most obsessed with his hair!

Actually, Beckett thought, that means…

"This is pointless," she concluded to Espo. "Castle wouldn't come here. If not because it's compromised after his encounter with Cole, then because he's too fastidious to stumble through the stink when he's probably got better options."

"Which Gates would've known," Espo added, taking her train of thought a direction Beckett hadn't yet explored.

"So, why would she send us here?" Beckett asked while motioning Espo to do an about-face and begin their egress from the sewer system. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does," Espo chuckled ruefully. "Castle's not the only one who's pissed about what Cole said in Interrogation. She assigned us literal scut-work because of it."

Beckett grunted in response and continued forward. But her mind was racing. Maybe Gates would've done that in other circumstances. But not with the time pressure or the Feds underfoot. She wanted us out of the precinct and not for the make-work task of checking the Old Haunt's tunnels. But why?

oo0oo

A/N: It's been a long while with many strange turns since I last posted. You might recall that I posted a one-shot called What Would You Do last spring. At the time, I mentioned I was having a hard time getting back into this story but that I had writing time coming soon. That was a mistake. Instead of writing, I had my first experience with parental mortality. After several months in the hospital (during a pandemic) my parent pulled through, but that was a new kind of stress. Things were rolling and we got back to normal, including sending another kid to college (the one mentioned in the note of chapter 8). I visited both kids during parents weekends and was on my way back when turbulence resulted in a tray of water getting dumped on my laptop. It's taken a while to reconstruct my files but among the pieces I couldn't get back was the outline for ICHY, so it took a bit more time to recapture what was lost. Covid finally caught me last week, so as I've been off work and recuperating this became a fun project.

As noted above, I'll finish this story this week. I've got about another chapter written, and only two scenes (plus the end notes) to go. I'd hoped to finish today but have been distracted by thoughts of revenge after receiving a Justin Bieber shirt for Father's Day. If anyone has ideas about the most embarrassing context for me to don the shirt to turn this prank on my kids, I'm all ears.