OK, bit of a warning that things are not yet looking up for our heroes. Please don't hate me! Sometimes things have to hit rock bottom before we can start finding our way out of the hole. I am NOT going to let this go on for much longer because, quite frankly, I can't take it anymore. So, next chapter will be brighter. Never fear. Hope you like it and please R&R. I really appreciate every single comment and I do take them all on board. They give me the boost I need to keep writing.

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The elevator doors closed with only Kate inside and she let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and sagged against the back wall. Castle's keen insight had been dead on the money. Baxter's lawyer, Louis Carmichael, was indeed not what he seemed; more Family Enforcer material than defence attorney. But, knowing that and proving it was going to require a lot more leg work, a lot more late nights, a lot more confrontations with Carmichael, and a lot more leaning on the immovable object that was the massive and mostly silent Baxter. Though it was a thrilling turn to the case, it was wearying in the utmost even to think upon it right now. Especially after the morning that had preceded it.

Even thinking about the earlier part of the day, she was tempted to press the elevator's 'hold' button. A few minutes with only herself for company would be a godsend right now, but it was not to be. A moment ago Montgomery's secretary had called to let her know that the Captain was on his way back to the 12th and that he expected to see both her and their resident writer in his office waiting for him when he arrived. His secretary had let her know too that the Captain did not sound like he was in the best of moods - and was it true that that lovely man Richard Castle was really deaf? Really? Damn that Wikowski... And so Kate's mood had dropped a little lower than it already was. She had known this was coming, but forewarned was not particularly forearmed this time.

And forearmed for what really? To argue the almost impossible case to keep Castle in the 12th? She had been so vocal for so long about seeing him gone. And Lanie was right: this was the perfect opportunity to let nature take its course, and damn him if he didn't have it coming. But... But... She bit down on her upper lip and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. If that was really how it was, why was she finding even thinking about the chair next to her desk not being there as something close to unthinkable? As something close to a physical ache in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment.

She was still reeling from this morning's raid. That was what had her thinking in this nonlinear fashion. That and knowing what was coming next. Everyone who had been there was now in the system for mountains of paperwork, counselling, debriefing, and more paperwork and reports to the Captain and on and on. Even Castle was going to have to put in his own on this one, which was yet another reason to feel ill and exhausted. She would have to find time she didn't have to proofread his report to make sure he didn't sneak in any more florid literary descriptions. She was still enduring the tittering fallout from his first report in which he had described an escaped felon's actual escape as: the most masterful outcome of keen observation, opportunity, and pernicious derring-do since the audacious John Dillinger escape from Lake County jail in 1934.

Oh. My. God.

So she knew what she should do. Really. She had fought against having a civilian follow her around for months, until the routine of trying to evict Castle from her desk, her life, felt like a second job. Then it had become a running joke. And then it had disappeared in to something much... She shook her head. She had had good reason that she should not want him around, leaving aside the truly awful, painful embarrassment that was being the so called inspiration for Nikki Heat. (Oh my god. Just thinking about what he must be writing was almost too much to bare). And that good reason had just borne the ugly painful fruit she knew had been possible even as she had squashed that knowledge down as their friendship had stuttered to life. She didn't think she would ever get past that raid this morning, seeing him getting in way over his head again, and then seeing him on the floor of that filthy den with blood over his face, alternatively blanking out and rambling in an incoherent disjointed stream of consciousness that was going to give her nightmares for weeks.

She had been right when she told him there couldn't be a next time.

He was just so damn lucky.

She couldn't take it if it happened again. She couldn't take being responsible for it, though she knew he would never hold her accountable.

All of a sudden, the ache of holding her poker face all morning, and the second shock when he had collapsed again in the break room, was becoming almost too much to continue carrying. She drew in a deep breath as the memory of that second time rose unbidden, almost a flash back. How he had seemed to just fade away in front of her; his skin blanching, eyes staring at her, through her, like he had back at the house when she thought he was dying. She remembered with cold dread how he had reached out for her, or tried to. And she'd grabbed him back, snatching desperately at his arms, his coat, but could not stop the slow decent as he slid from the stool. Couldn't help him. Couldn't stop it from happening again. Helpless. Little more than a bystander as he disappeared into the fog inside his own head. Again. It didn't help one bit that it had been nothing more than a sugar low. And the memory roared through her. She grabbed her eyes, covered them against it.

She drew in another breath. Held it. Let it out. Again. Willed her heart to stop pounding in her chest. And fought with herself to regain control.

Kate Beckett was not one to run or shy from life. It was something she just couldn't do. It wasn't in her DNA she supposed. The precinct counsellor she had been ordered to see after the first shooting she had been involved with at the 12th had put it bluntly, but clearly: some people run and some people freeze when they are threatened or afraid Detective Beckett, but some have a different instinct. Like you, their reaction to fear is to fight.And there is nothing wrong with that reaction.It is perfectly natural, and today it saved your life.It only becomes a problem if that instinct takes over and becomes the single unthinking default setting beyond the points of conflict inherent in police work.Do you think that is what is happening Detective? She had never answered that question. What need was there? That shooting had solidified her reputation as an officer that was not to be tangled with lightly and that was like gold. She was aware of her looks, she wasn't a fool, and she had needed every tool at her disposal to take the focus off her face and establish a respected position in the precinct. And so if an automatic fight reaction bought that for her then all well and good.

She could live with that.

It being a natural reaction, didn't mean she wasn't right about a situation, a person. And she was right about Castle and what had to happen, even if it was going to hurt even more than she had realised it would. The image of him lying in the house suddenly came to her again. Icy adrenaline stabbed into her stomach as the memory rose: that look in his eyes when she finally reached him on the floor of the house: bloodied, disconnected, unfocussed, so clearly not-Castle and possibly, mostly likely, having something inside of him going terribly wrong from Baxter's blows. Having to helplessly watch it happen. No. No, it didn't matter why he did it, though she knew she was deliberately shying away from that question, he just couldn't be allowed to be in a situation that had the potential to inspire him to do it again. She couldn't let it happen again. And she would have to see to it that he didn't get the opportunity. She could do that, that was something she had the power to make happen. Then he would go home to his family, his daughter, alive. And he would stay that way.

The elevator dinged as it lurched to a stop, and moment later the doors juddered open and she was hit with the smell, the sound, the churning motion that was the bullpen. She hesitated for the space of a breath to steady her nerves and push down the lump in her throat that threatened to waive her resolve. She had a job to do. She would do her duty as a police officer. She was going to save a life today, and send a father home to his daughter, a son to his mother, and she was damn well going to do it without the hesitation that would come from within her if she didn't get a grip on herself. Detective Beckett stepped from the elevator and began to walk to her desk.

"Hey Beckett." She hadn't made it three strides before O'Brien called out from his desk where he was surrounded by three more detectives. Three stooges. "So is it true?"

"Is what true Dave?" She asked, pleased to hear the indifferent authority, the all business snap to her voice. And equally pleased that she didn't break stride. Damn the man.

"That Castle's deaf." O' Brien asked, his big booming voice instantly crushing the usual hubbub of the workspace. O'Brien had never been known for his delicacy. And those who hadn't already been staring at her, were absolutely doing so now. "That's what's all over the Net, ain't that right Wikowski?" O'Brien called out across the room.

"It's what everyone's saying." A voice called out. Beckett felt a new flash of anger and cursed that counsellor for being right.

"What Mr Castle is or is not is his business." She returned, and reached her desk. O'Brien was spoiling for a confrontation. He had been ever since their last altercation months ago. She had shut that one down as well and she would be damned if she wouldn't do it again. And she would be doubly damned if she would let Castle be used by this asshole this way.

"But you'd know right? You and him being all-"

"Being all what Dave?" She looked up with a jerk of her head, really angry now. And it must have showed in her eyes because the three men standing in their stupid huddle around the seated O'Brien suddenly scattered. She took two strides to get across to her target. He didn't look the least bit phased and greeted her approach with a grin. "Being all what?" She repeated, standing over him.

"You know." He said, tapping his pen on his desk. He shrugged. Grinned. His bushy eyebrows rose in suggestion.

"No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" She returned and waited, but he didn't speak again, just grinned. Though she could see his blustery gleam lose its zeal. "That's what I thought. Get back to work Dave." When she turned to go back to her desk, the rest of the bullpen dissembled from their gawping cluster like tenpins in front of a bowling ball. And Wikowski was nowhere in sight which was good luck for him. But she did see some familiar faces staring out from the break room window.

Feeling jumpy with adrenaline, she headed for the room and entered without hesitation. Four startled faces greeted her and she had to put a clamp on her anger or she was going to say something she would later regret. And these people were her friends, her colleagues, her responsibility, and she felt the weight of it all keenly. This was a bad situation. She needed to protect them all as best as she could whilst she did what she knew she had to do. She took a deep controlling breath.

"Captain Montgomery is on his way." She said after a long pause. "We have about 10 minutes before he gets back to his office."

"What are you going to tell him?" Lanie asked, clearly anxious. Clearly thinking she had a plan to save Castle. She wasn't going to forgive her for this, maybe ever.

"The truth." She answered carefully, avoiding looking at Castle. "That Castle is deaf, though I think he is already aware of that by now, and that he withheld that information from us leading to a potentially life threatening situation. Namely, his own potential serious injury. Or death. And the potential death or serious injury of the officers participating in the raid." And instantly the room was a cacophony of protest and disbelief. Which she withstood with the same resolve as she had stared down O'Brien. And she eventually found her gaze falling upon the one silent point of calm in the room: Castle. He was staring at her, face like chalk, looking like he'd just been hit. Again. She watched him blink. Watched him swallow her statement down like a dose of medicine he knew had been coming.

"No." He suddenly spoke, voice rasping over the syllable. He kept his eyes on her. "No, she's right."

"What?" Espo barked.

"She's right." He repeated, still watching her. "I did withhold that information. I did-"

"Castle!" Lanie interrupted. Then she turned to Beckett, to confront her friend. "Are you out of your mind? They'll charge him with -"

"No, they won't." Beckett interrupted this time. "The Captain, the mayor, won't want this becoming some protracted public spectacle. They'll want it to go away as quickly as it can. There won't be any charges."

"But Castle will have to leave." Lanie said.

"Yes. He will." And he'll be alive. Please understand Lanie. Please.

"You've really put some thought into this haven't you?" Ryan spoke up, voice quiet, disbelieving. Espo was shaking his head in that way her reserved for those who had truly overstepped the mark and it was not lost on her that he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Castle. What the hell had been going on in this room while she was processing Carmichael?

"What else can I do Ryan?" She looked at him directly. She was right. It was killing her, but she was right and she had to stick with what she knew had to be done. What mattered was that Castle was alive, and she was going to keep him that way. "I'm backed into a corner. The Captain, the mayor, have nowhere to go. The press is all over it. The bullpen is no better. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"What you know you have to do." Castle spoke again. "You know, if - if you hadn't said it, I was going to." Kate stared, suddenly floored. In some vague way, she was aware they were all staring, but Castle had all of her attention and she was having trouble processing what she was hearing. How could they still be so in sync, even now, at the end? The shock of it balled up like grief in her throat. "Beckett's right: there's no way out of this. I lied to you. I lied to everyone because I thought I could handle it, and I didn't think through what might eventually happen. So, I - I am going to do what I should have done right from the start. I'll tell the Captain the truth. And, and if he'll let me, I'll leave quietly."

There was utter silence in the room.

"And you're really ok with that? Castle?" Lanie suddenly spoke. Her voice barely rose above the silence, and maybe because of the quiet in the room Castle didn't miss it.

"No." He said, turning to her. "No, I'm not. But Beckett's right, it's the right thing to do. It's the only thing to do." He nodded at Kate then, and pressed his lips together in a failed, hurting attempt at a smile. She mirrored it back to him and he took a deep breath and winced. His hand shifted to his ribs. " Let's go see the Captain."

The End

Next time, as promised, things will start to look up.