Chapter 3

By the time his mother returned to his hospital room, Rick was feeling more awake but wishing he wasn't. Everything hurt. And if didn't hurt it was either itching or feeling cramped from being stuck in this damn bed. The doctor his mother had dragged into his room had been cool and impersonal in checking him over, which had been very welcome at the time. And he had a very precise way of speaking and enunciating which made it easy to follow as the medico rattled off the list of awesomely impressive sounding injuries as he completed his exam. Or it would have been awesomely impressive, if Rick could undo the last 12 hours, and if he could forget the all-business, too-calm way that Beckett had voiced her displeasure. She was only that calm when she was really truly angry and she had every right to be, he knew, but that didn't make it any easier to take. So he listened without his usual delight as the physician told him that he had a number of lacerations and contusions (note: awesome words) affecting both hands where they had slammed into the giant he had tackled, and one hairline fracture of a metacarpal bone in his right hand (notes: boxer's fracture; and apparently he had slept through several exciting scans and x-rays) which explained the splinting; a dramatic explosion of bruising all along the left side of his face (notes: assailant right handed; fists the size of hubcaps); more bruising to the central left side of his rib cage (notes: the tight sensation had been discomfort under pain killers that were no longer doing their job); and a concussion (notes: grade 2 concussion; headache, missing time and confusion with no loss of consciousness; not so awesome). The concussion was not considered particularly alarming, but because he had been unable to tell them his name or what had happened to him when the ambulance had arrived, the usual precautionary actions applied and they were keeping him in overnight.

"Was that clear Mr Castle? Do you need me to write it down or explain again?" The doctor asked, giving him a pointed look. It was the kind of too-meaningful gaze that Rick hadn't had to suffer for years prior to this travesty of a day and he pursed his lips to stop himself saying anything he would later regret. Age did bring some measure of control.

"No. Its fine." He said.

"All right. The nurse will be a long shortly to give you something for the pain. The buzzer is beside you should you need anything. Please do use it. Ok?"

"Fine."

The doctor left and he was alone.

He stared at the ceiling. The tired off-white cork panels, with their pitted moonscape surfaces, looked about as flat and worn out as he felt. He let his gaze wander. It was hard to fathom just how fast his life had just unravelled. In the predawn hours this morning, when everything was still as it should have been, he had suddenly had an epiphany about the Baxter case. The pieces had suddenly clicked into place and he knew, he just knew, where the murder weapon was stashed. Rolling on a high wave he had forgone breakfast, phoned ahead for his and Beckett's coffee which he collected almost at a dead run, yelling out his apologies to those still waiting in the queue, as he raced through the coffee stand; he bounded into the elevator, and jiggled on his toes as it creaked too slow, too slow upward; and burst into the bullpen with a matador's flourish to take Beckett and anyone else within shouting distance blow-by-blow through his inspirational deduction. And Beckett had risen from her chair as he wove his narrative, walking them through his leaps and observations, until she took the stage along with her coffee and took over, making the same connections to race them across the finish line. It was like poetry. Like ballet. It was like... Like... Nothing he had ever experienced before joining the 12th. She was amazing. They were amazing.

And her eyes were amazing.

Piercing hazel eyes, broadcasting a fierce and fearless intelligence. Eyes that, for that moment this morning, held his locked in a shared moment of guileless delight, and in the sharing of that moment with another mind. For just those few seconds, before Lanie said something that broke it and brought a soft red tint to Beckett's face, it was the pure joy of connection with a like soul. He would never get over the shock of it, the intensity of that fleeting link. Never. And now. Now. He drew in a slow breath, ribs hitching on the pain that flared across his chest. And now it was all gone. He'd blown it.

"Dad!" And the room was abruptly filled with two red heads and one blond. The one who had yelped his name from across the room, unmistakable in its volume, took his entire attention and he reached out for her as she all but fell onto his right side and grabbed him round the neck. The pain that shot through him at the collision was barely a consideration as he reached around to hug his daughter close. He felt her breath hot against his skin and her voice muffled there was tense and strained.

"Oof! Pumpkin. I'm ok. I'm ok." Then the pain began to escalate. "OK. Ow. Ow, ow, not ok, not ok - "

"Oh, sorry. Dad. Sorry." Alexis, pulled back from her crushing embrace and hovered above him. Her normally pale skin looked almost porcelain with worry as her gaze roved over his face, lingering over the bruising. Her hands fluttered above his arm, wanting to touch him, but not wanting to add to the hurt. He reached across his body to take her hand in his unbroken one, and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Oh my god Dad! What happened?"

"It's ok." He forced a smile and did his best not to wince. "It looks much worse than it is. You should see the other guy!"

A hand suddenly grabbed his knee and he looked up at a blond woman who should definitely not be there: "You got into a fight?" Gina asked, raising a manicured eyebrow in disbelief. "What with, a truck?" Then Gina disappeared behind another red head in a confusing rush of movement that made his aching head spin.

"I'm sorry Richard, I tried to stop her." Martha said curtly. "Here you are." She proffered one of the hated objects and Rick had to let go of Alexis to take it and get it positioned in one ear. Then the next in the other. He scowled as he adjust the volume and came in part way through Gina's response.

"- tried to explain, Martha, I am not here to pester you son. I am here because I am getting calls." She met Rick's gaze and he knew; he knew why she was here. He gritted his teeth. "It's out Rick. It's out. Someone has talked to the media and now I am getting calls." He didn't need to ask what 'it' was.

"What have you told them?"

"I confirmed that you were in the hospital, but nothing else. You know I wouldn't do that without consulting with you first Rick." She looked hurt through the professional veneer. "We should have come out with it ourselves years ago. I told you. After the success of Storm it was the right-"

"There was no need for anyone to know then. There still isn't." Rick interrupted, and Gina glared. Gina was PR down to her very soul. She was damn good at the job too, but she was all about the sell all the time. When she had first found out about his hearing she had been all over him to tell the world. They had argued. A lot. He would sell more, he would have more interviews, more press in general if she could craft some rising-above story to sell the talk show hosts and sympathetic fans, she had contended. If it was all about the money, the fame, it would have been a no brainer argument, but it wasn't. It was about the writing. It was about the story. In the end he had laid it out for her: this was the deal breaker. If she told anyone every part of their relationship, the personal and the professional, was over. She gave in. He was too much of an earner as he was in the end, he supposed. But now all that was over and she was right. They had to act and act fast to own the story, and before anyone else, before Robert and Captain Montgomery, before the guys at the precinct, before everyone in his life found out that he had lied to them.

"Handle it." He said. Gina nodded and there was a pleased look in her eye. "I don't want anyone approaching my daughter or my mother about it Gina. No one."

"I don't know if I will be able to stop that Rick. But I will try." His agent was already pulling her cell from her pocket, already thumbing the keypad as she left the room.

"Dad." Alexis drew his attention back to her. "Don't worry about me or Grams. We can handle ourselves. And you need to get better."

"She's right, Richard. What's done is done and Gina is very capable." She looked at him, her face in firm lines. "You knew this day was coming, and so did Gina. We all did."

"I was kinda wishing it wouldn't." It was a childish thing to say and he knew it, but he was nothing if not petulant in the face of an I-told-you-so. This day had been coming. He had been foolish to carry on as if it wouldn't. And now it was out, and because of it Ryan had maybe had to kill a man he otherwise wouldn't have, and he had scared his family, worried and angered Beckett, and now he could look forward to having to explain himself to Captain Montgomery and Bob. Oh god, how was he going to explain it to Bob. His friend had placed his trust in him, and now he was going to find out that that trusted friend had lied to him and potentially given fodder to his political enemies. The legacy of his mayor-ship could be damaged. And it wouldn't matter that Rick was the one who had lied, not Bob. It wouldn't matter at all. Shit, he wished he had more time. Hell, he wished he had a time machine.

"Kiddo if wishes were horses-" His mother interrupted his thoughts. But then she stopped suddenly and turned and he tracked the movement to the door of the room. "Ah, the nurse is here. Now you do what she says Richard.

"I am going to take Alexis out for a meal. The poor girl has come straight from her classes and missed lunch." Rick looked at his daughter, feeling the guilt deepening with every passing second. "We'll be back in later."

"No. Gram, I'll stay-"

"No. It's all right." Rick picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Its fine pumpkin. Go. Eat." He tugged her closer, conspiratorially close. "Sneak me in a muffin."

"Dad." She admonished, but there was a smile there now.

"A chocolate one." He instructed, watching as his mother rolled her eyes and tugged Alexis out of the room. "With sprinkles!" He yelled and winced as his ribs and head protested. "Er, Hi." He looked at the nurse as she approached, two small cups in one hand. "I am sure the food here is fine, but-"

"Your daughter needed something to take her mind off her father looking like he's gone three rounds with a gorilla?"

"Looks that bad does it?" He touched his face gingerly. The skin felt taut and hot where the Behemoth had punched him.

"I've seen worse." She smiled as she handed him the first cup. There were two pills in the bottom of it. The second cup was filled with water. "You're mother is right though: we nurses always know best. Just stay put and let yourself recover."

"Yes ma'am." He downed the pills and drank the water. He couldn't stay put though. That couldn't happen, not yet. So many people were about to be affected by his decision to hide himself from the world and he couldn't bear the thought of lying here while it happened. No. He couldn't do that. His thoughts, as they usually seemed to these days, strayed to Beckett and what she was about to do: reveal all to her Captain, her colleagues. Alone. No, that definitely couldn't happen.

So he watched as the nurse checked his vitals, and dutifully answered her questions, and when she had gone he threw back the covers and made his escape.

End of Chapter 3. We go to the 12th in the next part. Kate is dealing with the case in hand and looking to Lanie for counsel. And Rick is about to do something rash.