Here it is! Boy it was a tough one to write. Thank you once more to my awesome beta: ebfiddler. Your continuing support has made all the difference and improved this story hugely. Any errors that remain are mine alone.

Let me know what you think?

Chapter 14

Kate switched hands on her file folder and raised her freed right hand to knock at the loft door, but before she could make contact with the heavy wood it opened. Or, more accurately, it was yanked open before she could touch it. And there, poised in the frame of the door like a photograph taken just before the starter's pistol fires, was a tall striking, business-suited woman with long blond hair. Her expression was fixed in intense lines.

"Oh!" She said, clearly surprised to see Kate blocking her exit- maybe surprised to see anyone there at all. "It's you."

"Ms Cowell," Beckett said evenly. She had never met Gina Cowell before, but Castle had waved enough page 6 's in front of her nose to recall a few faces and names - and Gina Cowell was one she recalled from Castle's harrumphing over the accompanying speculation below the photograph that he and his ex-wife were resuming their relationship. Resuming our relationship? I can't afford another relationship with Gina. She remembered thinking that the tall blond woman looked far too serious, intense and ambitious for Richard Castle. And this encounter was doing nothing to change that view.

"Well." Gina Cowell had recovered from her shock but her eyes were still sharp with anger as she spoke. But no, not just anger, there was hurt there too in the downward curl of the other woman's lips. Not that she doubted Alexis, but nothing beat first hand corroboration: there really had been a fight, and a big one. "He thinks a lot of you, Detective Beckett. Maybe you can talk some sense into him and remind him that we are all on the same side." She hoisted the expensive black leather satchel she was carrying higher onto her shoulder. "And then you can tell him that I will call him tomorrow - when he's calmed down."

And she brushed by Kate and was gone.

Calmed down?

Kate stared through the open door to Castle's loft. From the manner of Gina Cowell's exit, Kate was certain that Alexis had been well justified in being upset; and now there was a strange silence in the loft when she knew people were home. It was disconcerting. Castle was quite simply incapable of being quiet. And in the few encounters she had had with Alexis and Martha, quiet was not the first word she would choose to describe them either. In fact, it would not be incorrect to say that words, living vibrant noisy words, whether written or spoken (sung, enacted or yelled for that matter), were the very bedrock of the Castle household. To hear the loft now so hushed was unsettling. She peered inside. It felt like an ambush waiting to happen.

Kate stepped cautiously though the doorway, drew the door closed behind her, and opened her mouth to announce her arrival when a crash came from the direction of Castle's office. The sound of something heavy slamming to the floor and scattering or maybe breaking. And with that sound, her training took over. Dumping her folder on the nearby table she headed into the loft, vigilant and ready. Her hand slipped to her sidearm on instinct.

"Castle?" she called out as she crossed the empty living area and approached the door to the office.

Kate had only been inside the loft on a handful of occasions, and always on business. The times she had been in his home she had not been focussing on the interior design nor the floor plan beyond where she needed to walk or stand to do what she had to do. And she had never ventured inside Castle's workspace. But now, as she approached the open door to the writer's office she was struck with how tasteful and well thought-out the entire living space was - and how huge! And as she drew closer she could see that same orderliness extended into the study. The room was functional and neat, furnished in clean cut and luxurious modern lines, increasing the already amazing feeling of space for a loft apartment. Left simply at that though it was the sort arrangement that might have ended up a little clinical, but the addition of an enormous bookshelf, tasteful and absorbing artworks, warm lighting and the pale island of plush carpet that bore Castle's desk and chair, had created a welcoming intimacy to the room. There was no sign in here of the playboy, the rich jackass, the willing fodder of page six. At any other time she might have found the incongruity an intriguing and even paradoxical one worthy of investigation, but right now her hackles were up and she had to ignore everything but what she was there for. She stepped into the room.

And immediately Kate saw the heavy hardback books, magazines and bound notebooks scattered across the floor between the door and the desk like they had all been picked up and flung about by a whirlwind. The wreckage was in jarring contrast to the orderliness of the rest of the room. And sitting on carpet right in the middle of that chaos, was Castle giving the spilled books a fixed thousand-yard stare. Kate stopped walking, her training kicking in.

Subject sitting on the floor. Conscious. No injuries visible.No observable danger that would prevent an approach, but - and she hesitated again, something about the way Castle was sitting kept her in the doorway. He was leaning hunched against the leg of his desk, right arm held in tight against his injured side, but his left hand was buried in his hair, pulling at it like he wanted to rip it out. And she could see, even from where she was standing in the doorway that his muscles were tensed, pulling the dark blue material of his shirt tight across his arms and shoulders. His rapid breathing was audible from across the room. Kate didn't move from the doorway. She watched him grab at his hair again, reddened and bruised knuckles in stark contrast to the dark of his hair. She had seen variations of this before at innumerate crime and accident scenes: moments before there was a violent expulsion of feeling that could no longer be contained.

Alexis had been right to call for help, but with this level of distress, how Castle would react to her presence was going to be unpredictable. Perhaps even explosive. And so she remained poised in the doorway, considering how best to deal with what she was seeing. Based on past experience Kate was confident she could gain the upper hand on the writer if he was in his right mind, but if she got too close now she wasn't sure she could deal with him coming right at her with all that body mass and unchecked power. In the end though, she couldn't stand the sight of this misery another second.

"Castle." she called, more gently this time. No reaction. She stepped towards him, crouched down to be closer but, mindful of a possible further outburst (she thought she had a good idea how those books had been scattered over the floor now), she retained sufficient distance that she had to extend her hand right out to reach for his raised arm. Her fingers closed over the silk of his shirt, and felt his forearm a rigid mass of tensed muscle."Castle!"

That worked. He looked up and pulled back with a jerk and Kate flinched, her fingers slipping from his arm. She lurched backwards onto her heels. Castle's face was damp with sweat and pale around the deep bruising along the side of his beard scruffed face, but it was the look in his eye that caught her attention: he was glaring at her with something huge, raw and jagged that was absolutely shocking. Kate recoiled further to move out of striking range. Then, just as quickly as she had registered his expression, the super- heated emotion was melting from his face, taking the weight from his brow and the intensity from his eyes - and he blinked at her. He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but nothing came out. He looked past her. Looked back. Frowned. Clearly, she wasnot who he was expecting to see. It didn't take a mind reader to figure out who he thought might be there. Boy, that had been one huge fight.

"Castle?" She repeated yet again, slow and clear and intent and was so relieved when she caught sight of his eyes tracking to her lips. "Can you understand me? Are you hurt anywhere?" And as if that was a cue, his gaze grew more focussed again. He swallowed. Then with an effort that was truly, horribly painful to watch, he forcefully tried to pull himself together, back to the room, the office. Back to here. To now. To them.

"I-" He said, voice scraping from his throat around shallow breaths. "Beckett? What are you doing here?"

Kate had already decided her answer to this inevitable question even before she arrived at Castle's building. Alexis had clearly been reluctant to ask for help, and so relieved when it was given, that it seemed prudent to gauge the situation before revealing to him that his daughter had sought for outside help. Even without Kate telling him why, it would take him less than a heartbeat to figure out why she had done so. For the moment, if another less painful truth would suffice she would use it. And so without skipping a beat she answered him: "I came to get your statement. Remember?"

Come on Castle, focus.

"Oh," he said. And there was still that edge of vagueness to his response that made her chest clench with memories of the raid. But then he looked right at her, grabbing onto her words, brow furrowing. Finally. "Oh. Right."

"Are you hurt? Did you fall?"

"What? Ah, no. No. I'm ok," he said, and she could hear that he was still not entirely with her, but he was gaining ground now, and that helped settle both her heart rate and the urge to return him to the hospital. Then abruptly he was moving, surging upwards. She followed, instinctively grabbing for him to help and was relieved to feel him grab back at her. His large hand pushed against her shoulder as he worked himself up so that he was sitting on the edge of his desk. Kate took a breath. So far so good. Despite his pallor he was hot to the touch, she noted, and the familiar scent of his cologne was losing the battle with the perspiration that was dampening his shirt. You have to tell me what happened! She had to bite down on the demand pressed behind her clenched teeth as she pushed him back against the wooden desktop, because despite his words, one thing Castle was definitely not, wasok.

She watched him carefully as he looked around at the mess on the floor taking an audible breath and holding it, eyes beginning to hollow as he took in the wreckage. One thing he hated, almost beyond anything else, was the mistreatment of books. And he had just managed to do it on a pretty decent scale, and the self-reproach deepened the shadows of his face.

"You are not really doing much to convince me here Castle." She prompted. No answer; still looking around the floor. "Castle?"And she reached to turn his face to her, palming his uninjured cheek and feeling his skin clammy against hers.

"Mmh?" He looked at her obligingly. Right, so not listening rather than zoning out again, she decided. And even better, as she looked into his eyes: there was Castle, all of him, looking back at her. Finally. Even if he was battered and beat down and a bit too silent and uncomplaining for comfort: it was finally, finally him. Oh thank god.

"You need to come with me. Out of here." She took a step back, hand curling around his arm. He didn't get up from the desk, and instead released his hold on her to press it back against his ribs.

"No. No, I have to get these books back-"

"The books can wait."

"But-"

"Dad?" Alexis' voice interjected and Kate looked up, followed a beat later by Castle as he took his cue from her. The teen was peering around the doorframe, eyes wide and liquid and uncertain. How long had she been there? The effect on the man beside her was immediate and electric.

"Pumpkin?" Castle hauled himself up right and away from the desk, clearly alarmed by his daughter's expression and held out his arms to her. "What's wrong?"

"Dad!"Alexis bee lined for her father's embrace and seemed to disappear into his arms. He oofed almost silently, grimacing with the impact against his chest. Alexis spoke again: "Are you ok? I was scared! What-" And through the tumble of words, Castle pursed his lips together, eyes flicking in Kate's direction, furtive and uncomfortable.

"Uh Alexis, honey, I'm sorry, I can't -" and his eyes darted towards Kate again, this time with some resignation. She felt herself bruise a little more at the hesitation in his voice, his actions. Just another reminder of how long he had been hiding his hearing loss, how hard it was to accept that there was no longer anything to hide - and how long she had utterly failed to see it. "- hear you. You're gonna have to-" Castle interrupted the spill of Alexis' words, and with reluctance showing in his face, he gently disengaged his bear hug and pushed his daughter back a step. Kate watched him zero in on her face.

"What happened Dad? I was scared. You were fighting with Gina!"

"You heard that? Oh, I'm sorry pumpkin. I'm sorry." And Kate watched as an all new level of pained exhaustion washed across his features.

"I was scared. I- I've never heard you get angry like that before, so... so I asked Detective Beckett to come over."

Oh! Kate hadn't expected that to come out straight away. Castle's gaze shifted back towards her, eyes widening as he realised why she was really there. It only lasted a fraction of a second, and then he was back absorbed with his daughter and her needs.

"I didn't know what else to do," Alexis said.

"It's ok sweetie. It's fine."

"You're not mad?"

"No. No of course not," he said, lips shimmering momentarily into a poor semblance of a reassuring smile. He swallowed. "I am just so, so sorry. I - Oh." And he pulled her back in for another hug, burying his face in her hair. And Kate couldn't watch this anymore. She wasn't meant to see this. Not this. She should leave the office, she thought. She should. Give them some privacy. Except she couldn't. Castle was not ok. Alexis was not ok. None of this was ok. Leaving now was a more difficult choice than staying to bear witness, so instead Kate took a step back and looked away.

She looked around the room, distracting herself without losing focus, until her gaze eventually slid over a pile of newspapers and magazines on Castle's desk. The top most was a newspaper with its pages curled back around the crease of the spine, and there, right in the middle of the selected page she saw her own face staring out at her from the front seat of a police cruiser. And beside her, wedged into the passenger seat: Castle. Both of them were caught, forever frozen, just moments before she had gunned the vehicle's engine and they had finally escaped the Precinct (was it really only yesterday?). She stared and drew in a sharp breath. Damn it. The camera angle was so freakishly posed, it looked staged. Her own eyes glared fiercely down the lens at her, one hand gripping the steering wheel, whilst beside her Castle was in profile showing off the dark mass of bruises down the side of his face as he looked across the car. Her other hand, she remembered, had been with his upon his knee - trying desperately to offer something to him to stop him unravelling completely as they worked their way through the mass of flashing cameras and shouting voices. It wasn't hard to remember the overwhelming sound of hands, fists and voices bouncing off the cruiser passenger window behind Castle. The sense of being cornered - hunted. The lost panicked look in his eyes that was so alien on him it had shocked her to the core and, and as the photographer had captured, brought out a rush of fierce energy.

She let the held breath go, closing her eyes briefly. As if that could block out the images in her head as well as that on the paper in front of her. As if... She opened her eyes again.

She had thought that getting Castle out of the 12th and into the safety of the loft and the care of his family had been enough. It had made it her day a little easier, thinking that he was spending his here being cared for by his family and taking phone calls. And that the media were trapped outside. His text messages to her had not changed that view. If anything they had made her think he was doing well, much better than yesterday. It had made facing the auditor, there to scrutinise how they were adhering to policies to support Castle's special needs (Oh if Castle ever found out that the man who had taken over his chair had used thosewords...) that much easier to tolerate.

It should have been enough.

Until Alexis' plea had burst her bubble.

Until she had found him on the floor of his office.

"Dad!" Kate was jerked from her reverie by Alexis' yelp and looked up just in time to see the teen stagger suddenly under the weight of her father, as he swayed on his feet above her. For a split second Kate thought his weight was going to crash the both of them right down onto carpet.

"Castle!" Kate barked, lunging to help him make a controlled landing back onto the desk.

"I'm ok," he said reflexively and blinked at them both, looking dazed as if he had just woken up. Maybe he had. He looked so exhausted, it wasn't impossible he had just fallen asleep standing up.

"No, Castle, you are most definitely not ok," Kate rebutted his completely ridiculous declaration.

"Dad, you have to come and lie down." Alexis said. "Please Dad!"

CASTLECASTLECASTLECASTLECASTLE

"Sounds like straight up exhaustion, honey. What has he been doing to himself? Clearly not resting," Lanie Parish said, and Kate had no trouble visualising the unique mixture of reproval and concern on her friend's face right now. It seeped through the network connection to her cell as surely as her voice.

"No." Kate concurred. "Alexis told me he has been out doing press and arguing with his publishers for a good part of the day." I should have checked on him.

"Well, there's your problem." The words were followed by a sigh. "But, he really should be examined to make sure."

"Alexis has called their family doctor. Apparently when you are wealthy you can have one that delivers. He's on his way," Kate said. "I wasn't sure if we should wait though, so I called you."

"Glad you did honey. And how are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine," Kate answered. "What-?"

"Girl, please. Castle might have the bruises to show for it, but it doesn't mean he's the only one hurting from yesterday. And at least he has people fussing over him."

"Lanie!" Kate admonished gently, a rebuttal poised on her tongue. Then she was sighing as well. "I'm fine. Really. But, he's really...not. I don't know what's going on with him, but its more than just having this secret come out. He's so incredibly tolerant of so many other intrusions into his life it just seems that this shouldn't be this much different. I mean, the things that have been said to him and right to his face; things that have been written about him for everyone to see... Lanie, he barely even flinches. He just handles it. But this-? I don't know.

"And I don't think I have heard him complain even once about his injuries. Not once. By now, he ought to be moaning so much that I'd be threatening to give him some more bruises to make him shut up!"

"Well, I could argue about fine you are doing, but I am willing to drop it - for now. But don't think I won't remember that we need to talk honey." Lanie said. "But OK, it does sound likemaybe something else is bothering him. But couldn't it just be that in the space of 48 hours he's been beaten up by a walking mountain, almost lost his partner - don't argue with me about that girl: he's your partner -, had a major personal matter exposed to the world and then spent all today doingeverything he shouldn't?"

"Don't hold it all in, Lanie!"

"I just call it how it is. Look, Castle's a big boy, he must have known one day all this was going to come out, but Kate, it's still hardly surprising that he's reeling. What's a mystery to me is how he's kept it secret for so long."

"Yeah, I know. It's just- A gut feeling, you know. I might be wrong, but-"

"But, I know that tone: you're going to investigate."

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but, yeah I'm going to look into it."

"Ok," there was a pause on the line, "Look I have to go. I have an autopsy that just can't wait - "

"That's fine Lanie. And - thank you: for the second - first - opinion."

"Anytime. You coming back in?"

"Yeah, I have to. I'm going to stick around until Martha gets back, but I will head back after that. We're being audited to make sure we can and will accommodate Castle's special needs."

"Special needs? Hooo boy."

"Yeah. Don't get me started. See you back at precinct."

"Bye."

Kate thumbed the cell to end the call and looked towards Castle's bedroom doorway. Something was going on with him. She could feel it like a presence in the air: electric and needy - a mystery calling to be revealed, its layers peeled away. She sank her teeth into her lower lip, thinking. Castle was a resilient man. A cheerful man. He loved people, he loved life. He had his glass perpetually half full and she had never, in the entire time she had known him, seen him so beat down - so inarticulate - that he seemed to be looking for nothing more than a controlled crash landing instead of trying pilot a new path. It was so unlike him. And she hadn't been exaggerating to Lanie about Castle's ability to handle himself in the face of some pretty nasty stuff. She had seen him blow off numerous and deliberately provocative barbs thrown at him from paparazzi—she remembered one particularly malicious incident in which the taunt was so outrageously personal that he had to stop her from reacting. He had grinned at her indignation that day, eyes crinkling, amused by her ire. Tickled by it. Maybe even warmed by her taking his part, if she was reading him right.

How can you just take that, Castle?

It's not personal.

Not personal? Castle, what he just said was unbelievably defamatory.I could arrest him.

You would do that for me? Defend my honour?That is so hot.

I can't believe you aren't taking this seriously. He just insulted both you and your motherin the same breath.

What do you want me to do about it Beckett? Challenge him?Argue?Reason with him? Ask you to arrest him? If I do that, next time there will be ten of them waiting.And my mother will have to read what he just said in tomorrow's paper, and then how her son confirmed his accusations by trying to refute it.

But... How can you be so calm about it?

Because it's not about me. Or mother.It's about the story.It's always about the story, but todaythat particular story is mine and I am not going to let him take it.Now you promised me a kinky one, Detective Beckett, and I am expecting something suitably toe-curling and lascivious to justify this early morning!Wait, you did say a kinky oneright? Or did you say it was a stinky one?It's not a stinky one is it?

And all the while, through the entire encounter and their subsequent exchange, his hand had been a steadying keel at her elbow - don't stop walking -, as he moved them on, towards the alley and the body and the mystery awaiting them.

Was that it? Was it no longer about the story? Was this something he couldn't find his distance from? Lanie was right to say that he was dealing with way too much right now, but this wasCastle. This was a man who wasn't fazed by gruesome crime scenes, could stare at Lanie's autopsies up close without losing his lunch, who swatted aside threats to his safety like buzzing flies, who would tackle enormous angry suspects... He had even been taken hostage for gods sake. But none of it, not one thing had ever prevented him from turning up at the precinct again and again. With his coffees, his theories, his face splitting grins, and a never ending stream of left field theories and deliberately annoying pickup lines. He had a natural ability to compartmentalize, and she had just assumed that capacity was as bottomless as his persistence. But now he was running. He was retreating and stumbling and seemed to have no recourse to his usual coping mechanisms.

And she could not leave him like this.

Taking a deep breath, Kate headed back to Castle and Alexis in the writer's bedroom. After they double teamed him, Castle had given in and let them pull him into the bedroom. He wasn't happy about it, and let them know it with his clenched jaw and pursed lips and tight grieved silence, but he was too tired to resist them. And now he was laying on his ridiculously comfortable bed, propped up against his pillows, icepacks in place, properly medicated, rubbing his chest above the bruises, and making faces at Alexis as she sat by his knee. The teen was perched on the edge of the bed, one foot on the ground the other tucked under her. As Kate entered the room, she watched the girl reach out and gently push her father's hand away from his chest all the while making a face right back at him. She looked up, saw Kate and in a quick subtle flick of the wrist held out both her hands in mid-air like she was working the throttle on a motorbike. It was over in a flash and Kate blinked, but then both of them turned to look at her and her attention was taken by Castle. He was still wearing that deeply pained, miserable expression, but it was blunted now, softened by the weight of the drugs he had taken. And he no longer looked entirely cognizant, though he was clearly trying to be. Whatever was in that medication was really doing a number on him. Again.

"Castle?" Kate said.

"Oh, he's not really with it right now." Alexis answered as Castle's attention drifted back to his daughter. "His pills are working and um he's tossed his hearing aids somewhere, so he's not really listening. And he's not making much sense when he's talking. He keeps telling me he's sorry and - Dad, stop it-" And Kate watched the teen reach out and gently tug on her father's wrist where he was making another clumsy circle over his sternum. He let her lower his hand and watched it come to rest on his lap. He stared dully at his own hand as it lay there under his daughter's smaller one. And Alexis froze, eyes suddenly sliding apprehensively, self-consciously, towards Kate and the Detective realised that circular action was not Castle reacting to pain in his chest, it was a deliberate gesture. A symbol. A sign. And Alexis was -

"He - you - sign? Um, ASL? He never mentioned that." Kate said, eyes widening. In his list of compensatory tools, he had not listed sign language as a means by which he got around his hearing. Given his desire to keep everything hidden though, she supposed she should not be particularly surprised. Signing was obvious. There was no hiding if he was talking with his hands. But the fact that he had held this back, even when there was really no secret left to keep from them, was disconcerting and a clear red flag. She had to find out what was going on.

"Oh." Alexis swallowed anxiously. "Um. No, not ASL. Not really. It's just sort of a made up thing. We do. Sometimes." She looked pained, almost fearful. "He wouldn't be doing this in front of anyone else if he knew what he was doing. Don't tell anyone. Please."

"No. No. I won't." Beckett shook her head. Though she dearly wanted to ask, to demand, the story, she also knew that nothing but sincere assurances that she would keep this secret was going to alleviate the young girl's distress. So Kate squashed down her investigator's desire to interrogate, hard. And along with it, her own growing unease. The last thing Alexis needed was to see another adult in distress or breaking down, but with every passing moment it was becoming increasingly obvious that the issues around Castle hiding his deafness were far deeper, more complex, and more distressing than she had realised.

"Dr Bloom should be here soon," Alexis said, and her face creased back into uneasy lines. She looked far too old for her young years.

"Alexis, calling the doctor was just a precaution, remember?" Kate sat down across the bed from the father and daughter, reaching over to gently squeeze the girl's arm. "I've talked to the Medical Examiner at the Precinct: Dr Parish. She doesn't think there is anything wrong with your Dad that a good rest won't fix." Alexis glanced at her, nodding, but still clearly worried.

"It's just, he's not making any sense, but he won't explain." The far more worrying unspoken unable to explain hung there in the air with all of its possible medical implications.

"Alexis, what is he saying-" But Castle was abruptly back with them, taking his daughter's attention from Kate with another one of those circles, and staring at her with whatever clarity he had left. He seemed to be fixated on apologizing. But for what? Kate felt that she no longer had the faintest idea. And it would seem that Alexis was not faring much better.

"Dad: no." The girl scolded again, distressed but also evidently frustrated, as she pushed his hand away again, and then she was suddenly gesturing back at her father. Her movements were short, sharp and heated. A few of the signs were aimed back at Kate. Castle shook his head. Then he was pointing in Beckett's direction, rapidly shaping his hands before making that throttling action again.

"Alexis?" Kate prompted when Alexis had paused in her signing. Castle blinked slowly at his daughter and his eyes slid shut. His hands drifted downwards to rest on his chest. He was out. Finally. Alexis looked on the verge of tears, but she was holding them back, swallowing them down. She looked up at Kate.

"It's worse than usual. He's just not making any sense. He keeps apologizing, and telling me to stay with you Kate, and - and - doing this." And the girl repeated a sequence of gestures Kate had seen Castle make just moments before: an open palm swept downwards from her hairline to her chin, followed by two fingers on each hand streaking invisible lines from below her eyes down over her cheeks.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. This-" she swiped her palm over her face, "means 'mask', like at Halloween, but this," she drew those lines down from her eyes, " is 'tears' I think, but it's not quite right. Its two parts of a word or phrase or - something. But if I put them together it doesn't make any sense. I don't know what he's saying."

Kate looked back at Castle, watching him as he slept, chin sunk down as if he'd simply stopped. The fingers of his unbound hand were curled so that their tips were resting on his chest, whilst his splinted hand rested partly on the towel covered icepacks pressed into his side and partly over his torso. Kate's gaze paused there as she tried to make sense of things. She had always liked Castle's hands. They were broad and strong and steady, traits which she had always appreciated generally, but had never expected to find in him. She had been so irritated to shake his hand that first time and feel that solid quiet grip she so admired, coming attached to such flippant wiseass grin. As time had moved on she was coming to see that maybe that handshake was not as out of place as she had first thought, but that first impression lingered.

What was equally surprising, was just how expressive those hands were. It had become a surreptitious pleasure of hers to quietly watch how he used them to illustrate his theories, his stories, his deductions. It made her think of a showman, an illustrator, a painter, adding colourful flourishes to the images he was creating with his words. It was never enough for him to simply tell them one of his theories, and never sufficient to just hand her a file or point to her murder board. There was always a gesture to go with it. Even if it was just the way he put her coffee down on her desk, like a street magician placing the tin cup over a ball that was destined to disappear during his act. He couldn't seem to help it. She wasn't sure he knew he was doing it. But to see those hands moving just now, talking but without their usual effervescence, made her feel like she hardly knew him at all. And now they were still against his chest and added nothing to help decipher his insistent but cryptic message to his daughter.

One message, at least, was clear to Kate: Castle wanted his daughter to stay with her, and there was only one reason why he would want that. She dragged her gaze back to his slack face, tracing along deep lines of exhaustion and the roiling imprint of Baxter's fist so stark against his pallid skin. He knew was too compromised to look after his daughter, so he had passed her into the care of someone he believed could and would take up the mantle of protector on his behalf. Without having to be asked. The desperation and the trust implied in that appeal to his daughter - well - that hit hard and Kate took a breath around the sudden pressure in her chest. The most precious thing in his universe was now hers to keep safe. And of course she would guard Alexis, with everything she had -but from what? Why did she need protection? From the media? From Gina's evidently overwhelming drive to fix everything yesterday? From something else? Was it to do with the mystery sign he had just made? She wished Castle had used some of his last burst of energy to tell her what his daughter needed protecting from.

There was a sudden knocking sound, three fast blows.

"Dr Bloom!" Alexis immediately shot from the bed and was out the bedroom door before Kate could react. Within moments the teen was back in the room, leading the way for a slim white-haired old man, no taller than Alexis, carrying a brown leather case and wearing a grey tweed flat cap. He did not spare Kate more than a glance as he approached the bed.

"Right," Dr Bloom said as he put his case and hat down on the night table and sat down on the bed by Castle's hip. He reached for the writer's unstrapped hand and curled his fingers around his wrist. "Now, young lady, you've told me the story over the phone. Anything else happen between then and now that you need to tell me about?"

"Um no. He took his medication and fell asleep just a moment ago."

"Right," The doctor said again, releasing his hold on Castle's wrist. He reached into his coat pocket and producing a penlight. "Usual reaction?" He peeled back each eyelid, flashlight in hand. Apparently satisfied he briefly looked at the orange pill bottles by Castle's bedside, and then thrust the flashlight back into his jacket and opened his brief case, pulling out a white instrument with digital display.

"Uh yeah. The usual. Well, a bit more than usual. He was trying to tell me something, but he wasn't making any sense."

"Uh huh." The doctor grunted to himself as he grabbed Castle's chin and turned his head a fraction. "He have those fancy hearing aids in?"

"No," Alexis said. Without another word the doctor pressed the instrument to his patient's ear.

"Usual reaction?" Kate asked, looking at Alexis, perplexed.

"Dad's no good on these hospital strength pain killers. They make him a bit loopy." Oh. Kate suddenly remembered Castle's garbled text messages last night. He hadn't even remembered sending them. OK, wow.

"A bit loopy? That's a charitable interpretation," Dr Bloom said as the instrument beeped. He looked at the display. "No fever," he said to himself and nodded.

"Dr Bloom you know Dad didn't mean what he did."

"So you say," the Doctor responded tersely, and replaced the thermometer with his stethoscope. "Now, you!" he said to Kate this time, before she could ask what Castle didn't mean to do. "You were there when he sustained these injuries? A fist fight yes? Just fists?" He didn't wait for Kate to respond before slipping Castle's splinted arm to his side, shifting the icepacks, and tackling the shirt buttons with practiced no-nonsense speed. He pushed the material aside.

"Just fists yes, though the other guy," she was interrupted by the Doctor's eyebrows rocketing upward, sharp eyes widening, "was pretty big."

"So it would seem!" he said. And Kate's eyes dropped to the view. She sucked in a breath. This was the first time she had seen the injuries herself and it was spectacularly horrible. A mass of dark bruises and taut skin all along the right side of his ribs. She winced. How was nothing broken? How had he forced himself to walk around like this all day? "And no broken bones?" The doctor voiced her thoughts and followed the words with a whistle. There was admiration in his eyes, but for which side of the fight, Kate wasn't entirely sure. Where did they get this doctor from? Did he come with the building? She watched him press his fingers around the injury, probing with a brusqueness than made Kate relieved that Castle was drugged asleep through it. "Did he lose consciousness?"

"No," Kate offered. "He wasn't particularly lucid after the fight though. The hospital wanted to keep him in overnight but, well, Castle had other ideas."

"I see." More disapproval. "And he hasn't lost consciousness since then?"

"No," both Kate and Alexis said at once.

"Mm," the doctor said. And pressed the stethoscope at various points across Castle's chest and ribs. Once satisfied, he sat back, tugging the other man's shirt closed and rearranging the icepacks. "Well, there is nothing here that would indicate to me that he needs to return to hospital right now. I will, however, call and consult with his Attending."

Kate felt the tension immediately release from her body and she was relieved she was already sitting down. Across from her Alexis did sit down, in a hurry, as relief expanded across her face in a wave. She smiled across at Kate.

"And I will come back in the morning to examine him again." The doctor stood, folding his stethoscope and slipping it back into his case. "So," He said thoughtfully. "A fist fight for our Richard then?" Kate frowned at the sudden use of Castle's first name without the usual abbreviation. "Well, well." He snapped the clasp closed on the case. "What was he doing when this occurred?" And he turned his hard narrowed eyes directly upon Kate, the faint curl of a smile on his lips. The headmasterly aspect threw her for a moment and she stumbled over her answer:

"Uh, I'm a police Detective. He's been following me, for research for his book, and uh- There was a -" And her eyes slid to Alexis suddenly, aghast at what she had been about to spill. She had no idea what Castle had told Alexis about what had happened. Not the bald truth though, she was sure about that. "Um, yeah, there was an altercation with a - a suspect. A suspect with uh, large um fists," she finished lamely, wincing. The doctor looked at her shrewdly, calculatingly.

"Well, well," he said again, a calculating edge to his voice. He looked down at his slumbering patient. "Seems there's hope for you yet, my boy.

"I will be off then." He spoke to Alexis. " He will likely sleep through until morning, but if anything happens that worries you, you call me right away. Particularly if he becomes nauseous or he vomits, or wakes and becomes more disoriented, or loses consciousness again."

"I will," Alexis said dutifully.

"I know you will," Dr Bloom said and reached out a hand to pat the girl's shoulder with almost comical awkwardness. Alexis and the doctor shared a look that was hard to decipher, but was heavy with long connection and a reserved sort of warmth. Maybe this brusque disapproving man was actually their family doctor after all. "Don't be too concerned my dear, I've seen much worse in my career and they have all lived to tell the tale. And so when he wakes tomorrow, for all our sakes, unless his condition gives you cause to worry and call me early, give him his medication and take away his damn cellphone. And tell him that I will be expecting to see him in bed when I arrive.

"I'll see myself out," he said, and without another word replaced his cap and strode out of the door.

"Doctor!" Kate followed him out, hurrying to reach him. Despite his shorter legs, he had nearly made it to the door before she caught up to him.

"Yes."

"I wanted to ask you something."

"I can't talk about my patient's medical condition with you!"

"I know. I know. I just wanted to ask how long Castle, Richard, has been a patient of yours."

"Why would that be of interest to you?" He looked up at her, thick eyebrows drawing close, eyes narrowing. He reminded her of a terrier about to bite and the sight stalled the words in her throat for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. Two could play at this game.

"Dr Bloom, are you aware that the issue of Castle's hearing has become public knowledge?"

"So my receptionist tells me. What does this have to do with how long I have been Richard's doctor?"

"I was wondering how well you knew him. He's having a tough time dealing with the fall out of everyone knowing, and he might need-"

"A tough time? A tough time? Of course he's having a tough time! I gave up trying to convince him to stop hiding it years ago," he said, and Kate could hear in his voice the frustration of years of fruitless argument. "Hiding things only makes them worse when they come out! I told him that - I told him, until I was blue in the face. He is without doubt the most stubborn boy I have ever had in my care. He can't say I didn't warn him this day was coming." And with that opening, Kate decided to take a chance.

"Why did he choose to hide it then do you think?"

"I did ask him that, long ago, and he gave me some cock and bull story about being treated differently. Hmmh! I can see he told you the same thing."

"What makes you think that wasn't the truth? The whole truth anyway."

"What makesyou think it wasn't?" The Doctor countered. "I know what you are up to, Detective. I wasn't born yesterday. I am not going to discuss my patient's medical history with you." He tugged on his cap, then paused, considering. "I will tell you this, though, I have had Richard in my care since he was a few months old, and he has always been different. He likes being different. He likes difference in others. And he loves it in the world around him. It's the mystery of it all: it fascinates him, like the proverbial moth and flame. I have had more reasons to have my gauze and tape out for that boy than any other in my care because he just can't leave things alone. What's one more point of difference in himself or the world to a boy like that?"

"You don't think the reactions of others to his being deaf might make him a bit less - embracing - of differ- "

"No."

"Ookay." Kate blinked, taken aback by the utter certainty in the Doctor's voice.

"Now, what Richard needs more than anything else is what he is doing right now: sleeping. Whatever will come after, whatever he needs, we will deal with it if and when it arises. I will return in the morning to check on him." He opened the front door to reveal Martha with her key out and poised to enter the lock. She threw up her hands in surprise.

"Ah, Martha!" Dr Bloom tugged on his hat.

"Dr Bloom? Dr Bloom! Oh! Oh, Richard -"

"Calm yourself woman!" Dr Bloom ordered in his clipped voice. "Your son is fine. He's sleeping."

"Then why are you here?" Martha was not going to be diverted so easily. She didn't even appear affected by the doctor's less than awesome bedside manner.

"As a sensible precaution. Very sensible. Alexis called me," He said, approval in his words. "I believe Richard took himself out of hospital yesterday against medical advice, and has pushed himself too far. I checked him over and I am satisfied that he is in no need of more medical intervention beyond sleep. And quiet."

"Oh, well. Thank you doctor. Thank you."

" I have left instructions with Alexis. I will see you tomorrow. Good afternoon Martha."

Martha and the Doctor exchanged places and Martha shut the door.

"What on earth has been going on? Why are you here?" The older woman appealed to Kate as soon as the door clicked shut.

"I came to get Castle's statement. He is ok. He's sleeping and Alexis is with him." Seeing the unsoothed alarm in the other woman's eyes, Kate kept to her less upsetting truth.

"He wasn't fine though, was he?" Martha countered, raising a finger in the air with a familiar flourish. "Or Dr Bloom wouldn't have been called. Oh, I'm going to see him."

CASTLECASTLECASTLECASTLE

After Martha had satisfied herself that her son was indeed only sleeping, she, Kate and Alexis withdrew into the lounge room.

"This is not going well is it?" Martha finally said, sinking down on the couch and clasping her hands together on her knees. It wasn't a question. She dropped her head onto her linked hands for a moment. Her rings and bracelets clinked together, loud in the quiet of the room. "Oh Richard," she murmured. Alexis shifted closer to her grandmother, putting an arm around her back. "I should not have left," the older woman said. "I knew things weren't right. I knew it. And I let him charm me out of the house."

"Grams-" Alexis gave her grandmother a little nudge as she sat beside her. "You didn't do anything wrong. Dad got into a fight with Gina after you left."

"Oh! Gina came here?" Martha looked at Alexis. "After the thing with Andre I thought that might have been it for the day?"

"Andre?" Kate asked from the chair opposite. She could no longer contain her investigative urges. The thing?

"Oh," Martha looked over at Kate. "Richard had an interview with Andre today. On his show. Andre is an old friend and so Gina approached him to interview Richard about - you know. Oh, I should just get used to saying it: about his hearing loss. It should have been a walk in the park. Andre loves Richard. Adores him. Keeps hoping Richard will jump the fence one of these days. Not gonna happen, but love as with hope, springs eternal-"

"Grams!" Alexis interjected, eyes huge, appalled.

"What? Oh Alexis! Richard knows. Besides it's not as if it's a secret." She waved her granddaughter's shock away. "Anyway, Gina called me from the studio, worried and saying that at the end of the interview, just before they wrapped, Richard seemed to - ah- have some sort of episode."

"Episode?"

"He walked out on the interview, and he never ever does that. He just walked: right out of the building. Gina tried to stop him, but he brushed her off and came home. She said he looked a fright, but by the time he got home he was fine. He looked fine. He told me Gina was over reacting and I just - I let him persuade me everything was ok. Enough for me to go out for a few hours." Martha looked apologetically at her granddaughter and patted her hand where it rested on her knee. "I am so sorry darling. I should never have left."

"Grams, it wasn't your fault," Alexis countered. "Gina came over and they just started fighting."

"And if I had been here I could have stopped it!" Martha declared.

"I don't think so. Dad and Gina: they've never been like that before. Never. I don't think anyone could have stopped them," Alexis said again, shaking her head. She glanced at Beckett. "I - asked Kate to come over, to ah help."

"Oh my dear!" Martha couldn't contain her guilt and threw open her arms to embrace her granddaughter. "Oh I should never have left. Never. What a day this has been! Oh, I am so sorry. You poor girl." Alexis all but disappeared in to the brightly coloured hug, only the flame orange of her hair showing. Martha looked across at Kate, over the top of the teen's head. "Thank you Kate. Thank you for coming. Thank you for being there for Alexis. And if Richard hasn't thanked you yet, he will."

"It's fine Martha. I was happy to help," Kate said.

"But, what made you call Dr Bloom?" Martha asked, relaxing her bear hug and letting Alexis emerge looking rumpled.

"Dad - the fight with Gina. He was so, so exhausted, hurting. It was just to be sure nothing was really wrong."

"Well bless your head, darling. Bless both of you. I am glad that there were level heads around. Lord knows they are needed." Martha sighed. "What are we going to do?"

"Dad said that the press thing will blow over eventually."

"Oh I know dear. I know. They have the attention span of gnats, and despite Richard's airs and graces he isn't that big of a deal to keep them interested for long. I wasn't talking about that." She looked up at Kate, suddenly looking all of her years. "What are we going to do about Richard?" Kate met the gaze and held it, surprised at how easily and simply Martha had just included her. Just like that. In. Just like that. Kate blinked, thrown for a moment. She still wasn't used to the easy openness of this family, but yes, of course shewas involved in this. Wasn't she a good part of the reason Castle's painstakingly arranged dominoes had started to fall? She owed this family nothing less than her full involvement. She owed Castle. And, selfishly perhaps, she needed to be part of the solution.

But if she was going to do this she just had to know:

"This is about more than his hearing isn't it Martha?" she asked, keeping her voice low, quiet.

"I think so," Martha said. Her words sounded like a confession and Kate waited, barely breathing. Alexis was staring. " He's always been so guarded about his hearing, so secretive about it. I never understood it and he would never talk to me about it. Trying to keep it hidden has been - difficult - to say the least. It would have been much easier all around to just come out with it, ride out the storm and adjust, but he just wouldn't hear of it. And after that rough start, when he finally started to co-operate with the doctors and he just kept improving and improving, I so grateful that I just let it go. But-" Martha paused.

"But?" Kate prompted.

"It's been a feeling. Mother's intuition if you like. He tries so hard to compensate for his hearing. Too hard," Martha continued. And Kate nodded, thinking of how completely the act had crumbled in the car. How much he had so skilfully hidden himself, that it was almost like looking at another person when all of that hard won cover was ripped away. "He won't talk to me, and he will never involve Alexis, but he might talk to you Katherine. I think you might be the key we have been waiting for."

End of Chapter

In the next chapter it all comes out. No more secrets.