Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional (except for the one mentioned in the A/N below).


Week Nine

"Lanie? Can I call you back later? I really need to get going," Beckett says into her cell phone as she opens her closet to consider her jacket choices. Ridiculously, she's running late after changing her outfit several times. And now, she realizes with consternation, the winning outfit doesn't match her jackets well.

"I know you need to get moving, that's why I called," Lanie replies in a tone of forbearance. "I've been waiting in your lobby for you to get your skinny butt down here!"

"What?" Beckett replies in confusion, one arm awkwardly jammed into a sleeve and the other pinning her cellphone to her ear. "Lanie, I'm not going to the precinct or a crime scene…"

"No kidding," Lanie says flatly. "You're heading to the hospital, and we need to get going if I'm going to talk your way through before visiting hours start. Now get out here, I'm on your floor and holding the elevator doors for you."

Chagrined, Beckett hangs up, finishes donning her coat, and starts to leave without her pocketbook until she tries to lock her door and doesn't have her keys. Lanie laughs at her return trip for the pocketbook and her subsequent bumbling efforts to lock the apartment door, providing a running monologue until Beckett finally joins her in the elevator.

"Here, girl," Lanie says while handing over a tall cup of coffee, "you'd better get that brain working or fire-writer boy's gonna really mess you up."

Taking a long sip that covers ten floors of descent, Beckett sighs in relief before opening her eyes to address this morning's curveball. "Lanie – what are you doing here?"

"I'm riding with you to see Castle, obviously," she says while shaking her head, then moving to hold the doors back as the ladies exit the elevator and move toward the door. "You need a buffer right now, a wingwoman. If things are going okay, I'll make myself scarce. If not, then having me there will help keep things cordial."

"Yeah, right," Beckett says in a huff as they reach her car and she walks around the front to get in after unlocking the door for Lanie. "I'm not sure Castle's likely to see you as a neutral party."

"I don't have to be neutral," Lanie replies while rolling her eyes. "I just have to be a third wheel."

What really annoys her, Beckett realizes, is that Lanie's probably right. She's not sure how her reception is likely to go – Castle said only a handful of words last night before being whisked away to the hospital. She's confident that he'll understand she's not breaking their agreement about waiting until their lunch at Remy's to see him, since he's a material witness in her case. But having Lanie there might be a good idea. And, as she said, if her presence isn't necessary, Lanie can drift away.

Beckett's also still troubled by Lanie's revelations that Castle must've set this up before Bob asked him to leave the precinct. She's working hard to not jump to conclusions, though – his parting comments were too raw, too emotional to have come from someone who'd already disengaged. Maybe he took the tests as part of his character research, or maybe a 'guy he knows' helped bend the rules more than Lanie thought. Either seems more likely than Castle actively planning his departure without saying anything. As she did in her conversation with Alexis, Beckett decides she's going to focus on hope, rather than dwell on the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that comes from imagining Castle planning to leave.

These thoughts occupy Beckett for the drive, and Lanie's either thinking about the same things or allowing her friend some time to think. After Lanie guides them to a side door where they can slip into the hospital, they make their way inside, sipping their coffees and enjoying the quiet. Beckett, in particular, uses the time to figure out how to approach her conversation with Castle, for once not worrying about the questions that pertain to her case.

"Okay," Lanie prods cautiously, leading them to the coffee stand so that Beckett can pick up her peace offering for Castle. "What if he doesn't want to talk to you?"

"Why wouldn't he talk to me?" Beckett asks in confusion, having overlooked this possibility. Hostility she's prepared for, or maybe reticence. But a flat refusal?

"Look, how long's he been gone?" Lanie asks rhetorically. "During that time, we've talked about him a lot, and if I can make an observation, your feelings about him seem to have changed quite a bit. Or maybe you've just gotten comfortable talking about them," she allows after it looked like Beckett was going to object. "He doesn't know about any of that – all he knows is that a month and a half ago you were with Josh and he thinks you still are. Maybe he doesn't want to think about that. Maybe he wants to give his statement to Javi or Kevin."

"I thought you were coming with me to help," Beckett replies while sounding hurt, not liking the direction of this conversation at all. "If he doesn't want to see me, then I'll call Ryan or Esposito to take his statement. And then figure out what to do before lunch at Remy's."

"I'm not saying it'll come to that," Lanie says as she leads them to a hospital schematic to determine Castle's location. "I'm just saying that you're making some assumptions and you need to be prepared for a surprise. I mean, come on – was there ever a six-week period while Castle was around when he didn't surprise you?"

Huffing a laugh, Beckett smiles and shakes her head, acknowledging the point. "Probably not even six hours."

Following Lanie through the corridors of the hospital, Beckett thanks her friend, both verbally and in her mind. It's a good reminder to take things slow with Castle. Sure, she gave him a rib-crushing hug last night, but he'd just escaped from a life-threatening situation and didn't look to be in complete control of his faculties. Better not read too much into that scene. And now that she thinks about it, when did Castle last speak to her? Not last night, when his ambulance was departing. And not when he left the precinct after the Cutler case. These recollections do not cheer or encourage her.

Lanie, still leading the way, slows as they approach a nurses' station. Ordinarily, this is where they'd be turned away since visiting hours haven't yet started. But Lanie's chatting with the nurses, explaining the situation and their desire to find Castle before other distractions arrive.

Moments later, they're approaching the door to room 526, behind which Beckett will find her long-lost partner. With only a short pause to collect herself, she knocks.

"Come in," they hear from the other side of the door before pushing it open. The ladies take a few steps before coming to a halt.

"Sweet Jesus," Lanie mumbles in awe, articulating what Beckett was thinking.

Castle stands before them in quarter-profile, barefooted and bare chested. His button-fly jeans are on but riding low and partially unbuttoned, with his abs pointing like an arrow to the hint of dark curls below. Castle himself has his eyes closed as he holds a wadded up henley to his face, but they can't tell if he's smelling the shirt or biting it in pain. And there on his right bicep, flexed as he holds the shirt to his face, is the tattoo Esposito suspected last month – the outline of a flame, filled in with Celtic knotting where not displaying "FDNY" in neat, hollow block letters.

"Oh," Castle says while looking up from the shirt, which he doesn't lower. "I thought you were Brenda – she's finding me some footwear. All I had in the gym bag the captain brought by last night were jeans and a shirt of dubious cleanliness."

"Still, no welcome hug?" Lanie asks as she takes a step toward him, but Castle doesn't move.

"Rain check?" he asks sadly. "I can't really move. I think I pulled every muscle above my waist."

"Well, I'd be happy to pull every muscle below your waist," Lanie replies cheekily, causing Castle to laugh, which makes him wince, which makes him laugh. His alternating chuckles and flinches make them all smile, even as Beckett elbows her friend for flirting with Castle.

"Are you okay?" Beckett asks, still smiling despite being taken aback by Castle's state of partial undress and the landscaping that it reveals.

"I'll be fine," Castle answers easily, his wince belying his current state. But before Beckett can decide on whether she wants to push, a short knock precedes the door opening again.

"Oh, you poor duck," the nurse says as she bustles in. Slightly past middle age, she looks like a loving aunt or young grandmother, full of smiles for her unruly boy. "You just had to try to do this on your own, didn't you?" she scolds as she walks brazenly towards him and threatens to poke his stomach.

"I didn't want to be a burden," Castle answers with a perched brow. Brenda guffaws immediately, revealing that Castle's hardly held himself in check during this visit.

"Suck it in," Brenda commands with a finger pointed at his stomach. As he does, she leans forward and buttons up his jeans. "There," she says with satisfaction. "Shirt next," she commands as she claims the lump of material.

He lowers his arms slowly as Brenda bunches up one of the sleeves. The process reveals the new breadth and definition of his chest, which prompts Lanie to return the elbow shot from her friend, in case Beckett was somehow missing the show.

"Left arm first," Brenda says, slipping the bunched-up sleeve around Castle's wrist before running the shirt up to his shoulder and slipping his head through. "Now the tough part," she says apologetically, stepping to his right side to help him lift his arm and force it through the sleeve. Castle grimaces but remains quiet as Brenda steps behind him to tug the shirt down his back.

As the shirt finally falls free and leaves Castle clothed, Brenda takes a half step back, holding her hands before her with index fingers and thumbs extended as if framing a picture, focusing on Castle's behind. Then, following a wicked smile and a wink at Lanie and Beckett, Brenda bustles over to a cabinet.

"Perhaps one of your friends will offer to give you a close shave," Brenda says in a teasing voice, looking at the stubble on Castle's face. "I don't think you want to nick up those lovely cheeks with your clumsy arms."

"Brenda," Castle answers with a wicked look of his own, "both of these ladies have put up with far too much from me to be trusted around my neck with a razor in hand."

"Oh," Brenda answers in mock confusion. "You'd rather trust them to shave you somewhere else?"

Castle huffs a laugh at having been outplayed, then winces again in reaction. "Tough love isn't therapeutic," he pouts, getting a playful tap on the cheek from the nurse in reply.

"Poor duck," Brenda says again while unwrapping a cellophane package, "maybe this'll encourage you not to barbecue yourself," sounding not at all sympathetic before crouching low. "Now, step into these. They're disposable flip-flops that I nicked from Rehab. Not much, but they'll get you home."

Standing again, Brenda hands him a clear plastic bag with some bundled up clothes, presumably what he was wearing beneath his gear last night. "Personal effects are inside, along with your discharge papers and prescriptions for the same light painkiller and muscle relaxant you've already taken. Now, get out," she says with mock severity. "Dolores from Information called and said a bunch of suits just asked where you were. If you really want to slip out of here, you need to get gone."

"We can give you a lift, Castle," Beckett offers nonchalantly after offering him the coffee, which he happily accepts despite his discomfort at using his arm. After a soft, heartfelt "Thanks" and a kiss to the cheek, Castle bids Brenda farewell and starts a stuttering walk down the hallway, leading them away from the elevator and toward the stairs.

"I've got a ride," he says quietly as they pass another hospital room. "The car service is waiting downstairs."

"Not Martha or Alexis?" Beckett asks, surprised that his redheads would let Castle see himself home.

"They don't know about what happened yet," he grunts as they approach the stairwell door. "There's no way I was gonna tell Alexis about this while I was still here. I wasn't expected home until this morning anyway, so we'll talk when she gets home from her sleepover."

Wincing, Beckett disabuses Castle of his fantasy before he walks into a buzz-saw. "Castle, if she doesn't know by now, she'll know soon. You made the papers," she explains as he groans. "Some of the residents who had to flee the building took pictures. Some video, too."

"But it was dark," he groans, "and chaotic. How'd they even recognize me?"

"That's my fault," Beckett confesses, looking down the take refuge behind her hair. "I kind of yelled your name when I figured out it was you."

"I thought I imagined that," Castle says quietly, also avoiding eye contact. "Well, Sal will be happy, at least until Alexis kills me." At confused looks from Beckett and Lanie, he explains. "Salvatore Cassano, the Fire Commissioner. He's been riding me for months to give the FDNY equal time. I'm sure he's thrilled – he's been anxious for my new job to go public. He's probably one of the suits on the way to my room now," he says, casting a nervous look down the hallway before giving the stairwell door such a baleful stare that Beckett steps up and opens it for him so that he need not move his arm.

"You don't want to stick around?" Lanie asks in surprise.

"Lanie, I'm just going to go home, crawl into my enormous tub, and lay there under the jets for hours," Castle says with a tone of almost sinful longing. "Then I'm going to eat, take some medicine, and do it again. Then I'll worry about dealing with all the fallout."

"I hate to do this to you, Castle," Beckett says apologetically, "but I need to take your statement. We can make it quick…," she starts to say as they enter the stairwell and Castle's tackled by a sandy-haired blur.

Castle squeaks and whimpers miserably as the woman burrows into him, but she's too tearful to notice. An attentive Lanie helps catch his coffee before it tumbles to the floor while Beckett shifts into a defensive stance in case this stranger needs to be removed. With both hands free, Castle winces and wraps the woman in close with gentle arms. They look comical – even with paper-thin flip-flops, Castle towers over the woman by at least a foot and seems three times as wide.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Lanie and Beckett hear the woman whisper around tearful gasps. "You saved him."

"Shhhhh," Castle coos, trying to help calm her. "Tommy's fine. The doctors say everything looks great, so don't worry," he assures her. "He's getting the best care. He'll be back up and annoying you in no time," he teases, getting a teary laugh in reply. After her breathing evens out a bit, he pulls back to get a look at her face. "You were trying to sneak in ahead of visiting hours," he guesses, getting a guilty blush in reply.

"Lanie, are you up for smuggling Shannon in to see Tommy? He's across the hall from where I was, in 529," he explains. Shannon looks shy and embarrassed, but hopeful.

"Of course," Lanie says kindly. "We'll get you past the nurses. Come on, Shannon."

"Thanks, Lanie," Castle replies thankfully as he receives his coffee back from her. "You can take my service back home – the car's out back, just tell them I gave the all clear. I'll get a ride with Kate?" he says while casting Beckett a questioning look and getting a quick nod in return.

Minutes later, Lanie and Shannon are on their way to Tommy's room and Castle's heading down the stairs at top speed, which is very slow.

"I'll take you home, Rick," Beckett offers, not noticing the stumble in his step at her offer.

"I'd prefer not to talk at home," he says quietly, growing frustrated with the sluggish motions of his body, which reveal that any hurts suffered yesterday weren't limited to his arms and torso. "As soon as I'm in the door, I'm heading for the tub. And regardless of what you might've seen in the press, I don't give bathroom interviews."

Beckett just huffs at this, as every conversational reply that comes to mind is too risky given the state of their relationship right now. Instead, she tries to come up with a solution. "Maybe the cafeteria here? It's still early, there shouldn't be many people around." Even as she says it, she knows that it's a bad solution since it's too open and exposed. But she's sure he lacks the energy, and probably the interest, in going to the precinct right now.

"How about your cruiser?" Castle suggests. "It's been a while since I've been poked in the ass."

"Really?" Beckett asks in surprise. "I guess Maddie was exaggerating with the stories about the Aegis party, then."

Her dry delivery makes Castle laugh, which again causes secondary whimpers and grunts. "Not cool, Beckett, don't make me laugh."

"Turnabout, Castle," she answers with a smile, delighted in sharing a light moment with him. "How many times did you pull laughs out of me at inappropriate times?"

"Not nearly enough," he answers wistfully, pausing for a rest on the landing of the stairs.


"Rick, wake up. You're home," Beckett says while reaching out to touch his shoulder, hand freezing mid-way when she remembers that any jostling is likely to cause him more pain. She's starting to think of more creative ways to wake him when he rouses, probably alerted by the lack of motion. They're in his parking garage, hidden from prying eyes, parked in the spot utility trucks use to remove the building's dumpster. No exactly great ambiance, but none of the spaces were vacant and considering that each one costs more than a house in the suburbs, their owners would be quick to have her car towed, police vehicle or not.

"Sorry, Beckett," Castle says slowly as he tries to bring himself fully awake, a process not helped by the medicine he received at the hospital. "Didn't mean to nod off."

"Of course," she says kindly. "You needed the rest. Maybe we should hold off on the statement?"

"No, I want to get it over with," he sighs, shifting slowly in a vain effort to find a more comfortable position. "I wasn't kidding about that bath. Once I go in, I don't want to come out for a very long time."

"Okay," she relents, pushing any mental images or additional offers to help aside, "we'll keep this brief so you can get inside," she says as she sets her phone out to record their conversation. "Why don't you start by telling me what happened last night, then we'll circle back for questions."

Nodding, Castle takes a few minutes to compose his answer. Then, with his eyes closed and head propped against the head-rest, he spins his tale.

"Last night was crazy," he begins. "We got four calls, all around the same time. As usual, I was in reserve, back at the firehouse," he says, and Beckett clearly hears his frustration. "But then the fourth call came in and we had to roll. We were there in ten minutes. People were already coming out and pointing, telling stories about the maniac who was threatening to burn the building. Well, he'd already made good on his threat, since there were already visible flames."

"We started setting up," Castle continues. "We didn't realize it was a hostage situation at first," he says sadly. "We were still laying out hose when there was a gunshot, and a scream," he explains, eyes closed again as he remembers the scene. "Tommy – Thomas Sampson – ran for the door when he heard the shot…"

"That wasn't you?" Beckett interrupts, blushing when she realizes that her surprise is now recorded. "You stayed with the truck?"

"Only until I realized that Tommy was going in," Castle admits with a sad smile. "Couldn't stay at the truck with him taking off like that. You saw Shannon – she'd be a wreck if anything happened to him."

Beckett takes a deep breath and shocks herself by holding her tongue. It would be so easy to ask how Alexis, Martha, or she would react if something happened to him. But she doesn't want him to be defensive, either for the statement or for their conversation.

"It was Hell inside," Castle says in a haunted voice. "They were upstairs, but he must've set the fire downstairs. So, we had to go through the flames to get to the stairs," he explains, voice going monotone as he recalls the scene. "Tommy was still ahead of me. He burst into the room upstairs without stopping to think. He surprised the guy, who turned and fired three shots. The last one caught Tommy."

Castle pauses for a few moments to collect his thoughts again. Beckett doubts he's noticed it and she's not going to point it out, but he's panting again, almost as if reliving the events of last evening.

"Tommy went down," Castle says in a low tone. "But he'd been moving when he was shot. The shooter tracked him as he slid, which meant that he wasn't watching the door when I came in. He was aiming at Tommy again when I hit him."

"Is this the man?" Beckett asks, pulling a folder off her back seat and showing pictures of Meghan Malloy's ex to Castle, who opens his eyes but leaves his head reclined. At his nod, Beckett aloud. "For the benefit of the recording, you just positively identified Travis Long as the man who shot Thomas Sampson. You said you struck him?"

"That's the man who was in the room," Castle confirms. "But my choice of language was poor. I should've said 'tackled,' not 'hit.' I rushed him and drove him into the wall. With all my gear, that's almost 300 pounds that collided with him at speed. He dropped the gun and slumped to the floor. I pocketed the weapon, untied the woman and decided to worry about the boy once we got out, then tried to figure out how to get us out of there before the whole place burned down."

"Meghan Malloy and her son Sean were bound?" Beckett asks, alarmed but not terribly surprised.

"The woman – Meghan? – was taped to a chair. She looked like she'd been attacked." He pauses, already knowing that Beckett's going to need details. "Her shirt was torn and her lips were bloody. Right eye was swollen shut. Her hair was a mess but that could've been from the commotion or panic about the fire."

When Beckett doesn't follow up, he returns to the narrative. "The boy just had his hands taped behind his back. I didn't have time to get him untied or find a knife. I tossed the lady over my shoulder, cradled the boy, and went to grab Tommy. But then the man got up. I thought he was going to come after us," he confesses, his worry from last night apparent here in the car as he remember. "But he just went and sat in the chair where he'd tied up the woman. He was still sitting there when I stumbled out."

Castle pauses again, during which Beckett waits patiently. "I couldn't risk it," he confesses brokenly. "He might've slowed us all down, or even attacked," he says slowly. "So I just left him there to die."

That he was an abusive murderer trying to kill others doesn't seem to temper Castle's guilt. He sounds so brokenhearted, so bereft, over having left someone behind. Beckett remains quiet, but very carefully places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"There's not much to say about getting out," Castle continues, eyes still closed. "There was fire and smoke everywhere. I kept worrying that the stairs would collapse beneath us, or that we'd be buried in tumbling debris. If we weren't heading down and if the stairs didn't point right to the door, I'm not sure I would've made it," he confesses before his eyes shoot open in alarm. "Don't tell Alexis about that part," he says in a panic, receiving a gentle squeeze of her hand on his shoulder in affirmation.

"Just when it seemed like I couldn't take another step, we were through the door. The team helped me get out, then I was pointed to a gurney. You know the rest," he says, exhausted and leaning back into the car seat again.

With another squeeze of his shoulder, Beckett removes her hand and uses it to close down the recording app on her phone. "Thank you, Rick," she says softly. "That's enough for now. I'll let you get some rest, then we can talk if there're any follow-up questions. For now, let's get you to the loft."

"Are they okay?" he asks. "The Malloys?"

"They have some problems, both due to her assault and smoke inhalation. They sent her to NYU, which has a better unit for her injuries," Beckett says gently. "Espo should be with them now, so we'll get an update soon."

Castle's already tired and sore, and this news doesn't invigorate him. In fact, he's moving so slowly and with exaggerated care that he doesn't object to Beckett's help. She doesn't try to hold his arm or make contact, but she's there to open the car door for him before he can blink, then beside him on the way to the elevator.

"Are you up for one more question?" Beckett asks softly after pushing the button to call the elevator that will take them to the ground floor, where they'll transfer to the elevator that will take them to the loft.

"Fire away, Detective," Castle answers, eyes closed again as he sways in place. His fatigue almost prompts Beckett to postpone her inquiry, but just as she's about to swallow her curiosity he turns to look at her.

"How long had you been planning to leave… the precinct?" she asks, barely managing to use 'the precinct' instead of 'me' in her question.

"I never planned to leave," Castle sighs, head drooping. "Sal started hounding me right after Heat Wave came out," he recalls with a grimace. "He was pissed that the NYPD was getting all the attention, especially for a character named Heat, and kept pressing me to consider options with the FDNY. I've been playing with possibilities since then – you know, maybe livening up the books with some of the rivalry between the departments or something like that, or just going in a different direction with a different character. Sal was only too happy to help with my research, let me take the tests to get a feel for life in the FDNY."

"I knew it was for research," Beckett mumbles as they board the elevator, happy that she hadn't raced to the worst conclusion.

"It was," Castle agrees. "But when the DA situation came up, and… everything else," he says vaguely, anxious not to get drawn into an emotional topic when he's so run down, "Sal pointed out that I'd passed all the tests and could join up. Seemed like a good option," Castle finishes with a shrug that causes a flinch, which he tries to disguise as a move toward the elevator doors that are opening before them.

Waving to Eduardo's weekend replacement, Beckett pushes the call button for the residential elevator while Castle shuffles over quietly.

"Is that why Bob was okay with you going to the FDNY – because there was no patronage involved?" she asks quietly, in case Castle's keeping his new vocation quiet from his neighbors.

"Yeah," Castle agrees as he steps into the elevator. "It's not completely safe for him, but he blessed it as an apology for what happened at the precinct. Being an employee makes things different. And just in case anyone complains, I get paid, but my salary is donated to the Widows' and Children's Benefit Fund. That way, I'm still an employee, and I'm still covered by insurance. And I still have to pay my union dues," he complains with a smile.

"Good," Beckett replies, trying to keep things light, "I'm sure those pension and retirement benefits will come in handy. But please," she begs, "don't test the healthcare benefits again."

Castle huffs again, and flinches again in response, as he shuffles off the elevator. "No argument here. But I think my days on the line might be done," he says, sounding sad. "After last night, we'll see if Sal or Ben let me out again. Well," he says while rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, "I'll worry about that later. For now," he says as he approaches the door, "I just need to rest."

Beckett remains quiet as Castle reaches for the bag of his belongings that she's carried from the car. As much as she wants to talk to him about more personal matters, he's clearly in no shape to handle that talk now and has pretty clearly shut down the conversations that could've provided a jumping off point. Soon, she promises herself. She can already picture them at Remy's.

Very slowly, Castle roots through the clothes until he reaches the pocket of his pants, from which he pulls out his keys. It only takes him a few slow tries to slot a key into the door, and his look of relief is palpable.

"I'll leave you here," Beckett says carefully, trying not to overstep, "if you'll be okay inside?" Seeing his small, grateful nod, she amends her previous plan by one small degree. "But I have one request first," she says, with a shy look.

"Beckett," he replies, sounding exhausted and bereft. "I can't talk now. I'm just not…"

"I know," Beckett interrupts gently. "We can wait to talk at Remy's," she promises. "But you could've died yesterday, Rick. I've waited so long for our lunch and you would've missed it," she says while trying to joke but getting a little choked up. "Can I just have a hug? I promise I'll be gentle."

Castle looks torn. Beckett can't tell if it's because of how things are between them or because of the pain he's feeling. But she stands tall, waiting patiently until Castle turns fully toward her and slowly opens his arms. As gently as she can manage, she wraps her arms around him and promises herself that this won't be her last chance to enjoy his embrace.


"'I'd be happy to pull every muscle below your waist'?!" Beckett repeats incredulously into her phone.

"What?" Lanie replies innocently. "Did you *see* that man? I'm sorry Kate, but you had your chance. There's just something about a fireman...," she trails off, clearly engaging in a little not-so-innocent daydreaming. "Besides, he's what I ordered from the man menu, remember? Extra shoulders and hold the boxers? I forgot to request the bad-boy stubble, but the chef knew my order anyway."

"Knock it off," Beckett laughs. "And don't get any ideas."

"So, things went well, then?" Lanie prods, not willing to let this slide.

"We didn't really talk," Beckett sighs. "He wasn't in good shape. Friday," she says hopefully.

"I assume you'll have plenty to tell him by then?" Lanie prods again.

"I will," Beckett answers confidently. "I think I'm finally ready."


"Detective Beckett," she hears Montgomery say from behind her, "will you join us please?"

Looking up from her paperwork, it's the expression on her teammates' faces that catches her attention before she turns. Warned that something's amiss, her expression is guarded when she turns and rises from her chair to see Mayor Weldon standing in Montgomery's office. With a shrug and a hopeful look to the boys, Beckett heads directly into Montgomery's office.

The men wait until Beckett takes a seat before they join her. Attention shifts immediately to the mayor, who looks like he's anxious to talk.

"I've just come from a meeting with DA Turner and Commissioner Cassano," Weldon explains without preface. "Even if he wasn't already in trouble," Weldon says with a smile, "the events of the weekend, and the subsequent press coverage, have finished any of Turner's plans involving Rick. Your presentation was a tremendous help," he finishes with a nod to Beckett.

Sharing a quick look with Montgomery, Beckett can't help but to smile at this turn of events. The smile fades, though, as she thinks about Commissioner Cassano's presence at the meeting. "But he's still got another month with the Fire Department, right? I can't imagine they're going to let him go after all the press they got this week."

"No," Weldon agrees, "Sal's not going to let him go. In fact, he's already making noise about extending Castle's tour. He tried to leverage that today, the asshole," Weldon grumbles. "But a friend of yours helped us work out a solution."

"Bob," Montgomery interjects, sensing something's amiss, "what's going on? Can Castle come back or not?"

"I'm afraid that's another good news, bad news situation," Weldon answers, looking at Beckett as he recalls their first meeting following Castle's departure. "That's why I wanted to come here and explain in person. Rick committed to stay for one quarter – that's 13 weeks that happen to end on May 28th, the Friday before Memorial Day Weekend. He's on the hook until then, at least."

Montgomery and Beckett nod. While disappointing, this news isn't completely unexpected, though Beckett doesn't like the ominous reference to 'at least' in the mayor's comment.

"Do you know how the FDNY runs its shifts?" Weldon asks. "It's a little crazy," he admits when they both shake their heads. "Each company assigns a firefighter a group number. The schedule rotates – if your group is up, you're working. If not, you're off," he explains. "Day tours run 9 AM to 6 PM, night tours run 6 PM to 9 AM. The cycle changes a bit, but usually a firefighter does two consecutive day tours, followed by 48 hours off. Then two consecutive night tours, followed by 72 hours off. Within firehouses, fighters can pair up with a partner to trade shifts. That happens a lot, so people can work 24 hours followed by 72 off."

Noticing that both Montgomery and Beckett seem to be glazing over, Weldon cuts to the chase. "The bottom line is that Rick can arrange things to free up blocks of time in the next four weeks. Sal finally agreed to let Castle's captain, a guy named Costa, arrange his schedule so he can rejoin the NYPD when he's off-shift. It won't leave him much time for writing or sleeping, but he can catch up on both when he plants his lazy butt in a beach chair out in the Hamptons."

Beckett's about to thank the mayor when she sees the stony look on Montgomery's face. "It's no secret that you and Sal aren't exactly friendly," her captain says, "and it sounds like he was giving you the business today. Why'd he agree to let Castle come back?"

"That's the bad news, I'm afraid," Weldon confesses, "and where your friend helped us out. Having Castle work Homicide while he's still at the FDNY doesn't make sense…," he starts to explain before Beckett interrupts.

"How does it not make sense? We just overlapped on a homicide case!"

"Which only happened because your suspect attacked someone far out of your catchment area," Weldon answers calmly. "No, Sal's got no interest in letting Rick work Homicide. But he has a large interest, both directly and in terms of publicity," he says, and Beckett feels her stomach drop in anticipation, "in tasking Rick to join an ongoing NYPD arson investigation."

"Let me guess," Montgomery interjects, sounding thoroughly irritated at having been outmaneuvered. "Sal was happy to have Castle join the arson investigation being run out of the 28th precinct."

"That's right," Weldon says, surprised by Montgomery's knowledge of other precincts. "I'm sorry I couldn't swing his return to the 12th right away, but this move will keep everyone happy and get Rick back in the NYPD fold. Besides, I hear good things about the captain of the 28th, Mateo Mendoza. Working there's got to be better than having Rick at the Fire Department, right?"


"Hey, Beckett," Ryan calls over to her. Looking up while wondering what else can go wrong this week, she wonders if they've pulled a case over what was supposed to be her lunch break, during which she was going to commiserate with Lanie. Instead, she sees Ryan pointing to Montgomery's office, where he stands with a windmilling arm, trying to encourage Beckett to get into his office quickly.

As she hops over to his door, she sees Montgomery signal for silence. Creeping in quickly, she watches Montgomery crinkle the paper in which his sandwich was wrapped to obscure the sound of her entrance.

"Am I on the damn speakerphone?" Beckett hears Mateo Mendoza, captain of the 28th, complain.

"Sorry, Teo," Montgomery replies while rolling his eyes at Beckett, "but you called during lunch and I'm not going to waste my sandwich."

"You hustlin' to get out the door by 1:00 for your spa appointment?" Mendoza laughs. "Well, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to call to make sure there's no bad feeling about Castle joining us," he says as he laughs again.

Putting the phone on mute, Montgomery turns to Beckett. "Bastard always liked to gloat. You wanna stay for this? Maybe we can figure out what he's up to."

Nodding quickly, Beckett watches Montgomery unmute the phone again. "As I understand it, you've got Castle for a month. Less, actually," he adds with a wink to Beckett.

"Whadya mean, less?" Mendoza objects. "Sorry, Roy, but I cut a deal with my good friends Bob and Sal," he says with another hooting laugh, somewhat at odds with his earlier comments about politicians. "Castle's here until he stops foolin' with his firehose. And I'm sure he'll stay on after that," he finishes confidently.

"You don't know Castle," Montgomery assures him. "He'll help catch your arsonist long before he's done with Sal," Montgomery says confidently. Then things'll be back to normal."

"I've done some research since our last call," Mendoza replies, suddenly sounding more focused and serious than he had during their previous talks. Beckett and Montgomery exchange a look at the change in tone. "I found the mayor's presentation on Castle's effectiveness very interesting. Seems like a useful asset to have around the precinct," Mendoza mentions in a leading voice. "Seems like a pretty popular guy, too."

"He's got a lot of friends," Montgomery replies, counting himself among them, while Beckett rubs her forehead as she contemplates how their project backfired. "Friends who'll be happy to see him back where he belongs."

"I don't know about that," Mendoza replies. "Don't sound like he left much behind. I bet he makes new friends pretty easy. And despite being FDNY, there's more'n a few people interested in partnering up with him for the arson investigation. It didn't take much research to figure out who his new partner should be. He won't know what hit him," Mendoza cackles.

"He's perfectly capable of picking his own partner, Teo," Montgomery says in annoyance, before he's cut off.

"Yeah, he's no dummy. I hear Beckett's quite a looker," Mendoza laughs again. "But she ain't got nothin' on Renoux. And you know what, Roy?" Mendoza asks rhetorically. "I'll make sure she won't start bangin' somebody down in Burglary while she's partnered with Castle."

Instantly furious, Beckett's on her feet before she realizes that she's moved. Montgomery looks alarmed, waving with both hands to help her remember to keep quiet. Nice to keep these things private, she thinks savagely, as she wonders about the most painful ways to disembowel Demming.

"Careful, Teo," Montgomery says in a low tone that holds more menace than Beckett could've imagined from her boss. "Our friend DA Turner's learning the hard way what happens to people who can't act appropriately and treat people with respect in their professional positions. And it'll be a cold day in Hell," he seethes, "before I let you disrespect my people."

"Always the proper captain," Mendoza mocks in return. "Well, you run along and be the good boy, and see where that gets ya. I've gotta get some orientation materials put together," Mendoza gloats. "You take care of your people, and I'll take care of *mine*."


With a feeling of dread, Beckett looks down at the caller ID on her phone the next morning. Given how this week's gone, she expected this call. But she doesn't need to take it here.

Grabbing her phone and hustling toward the stairwell, she's already on her way to the exit before she accepts the call, trying to keep her voice calm and measured. "Hey, Castle. I was hoping you'd call."

"Hi, Beckett," Castle answers, sounding a little surprised by the warm greeting.

"You sound tired," Beckett interjects before he can continue. "Night shift again?"

"Yeah," Castle says with an exhausted huff, surprised that she's figured out how his rotation works. "Tonight, too."

"Which means three days off afterward, right?" Beckett asks, laying the groundwork for the delay she can feel in the offing.

"From the Fire Department," Castle answers with a sigh. "But not from my new assignment."

Standing on the street outside the precinct, Beckett allows herself a deep sigh while formulating a deep blue curse for Mateo Mendoza. "So, you start at the 28th tomorrow?"

"Today, actually," Castle answers, sounding embarrassed. "Late this afternoon on my way to the firehouse."

"Castle, you need to rest. What you're doing – in either place – is too dangerous to do without sleep," she says gently, deciding to be noble. "Does this mean you're back on the day shift on Tuesday?"

"I'm only a bit offended," Castle says while sounding just a bit like his old self, "that you figured out my scheduling faster than I did. So, yes, back to day shift next Tuesday and Wednesday, unless I trade with someone to block time for the arson investigation."

"You know, I was really looking forward to our lunch, Rick," Beckett says quietly. "There's a lot I'd like to say to you…," she says leadingly, hoping that he'd jump in with similar sentiments. When he doesn't reply, she forges ahead while swallowing her disappointment. "Why don't you get some sleep, Rick," she says gently, toeing a piece of dirt on the sidewalk. "Sleep through lunch. You're going to need the energy. Then we'll do dinner at Remy's on Tuesday night."

"Tuesday night," Castle repeats, and Beckett consoles herself by thinking that he sounds at least a bit hopeful. "If it's okay for a Detective to be seen with a firefighter in public?" he asks, apparently forgetting about last year's disastrous outing.

"Oh, Castle," Beckett teases in reply. "Of course it is. I'll even pick you up at the firehouse. Besides," she adds with a wink in her voice, "you're not really a firefighter. First and foremost, you're a writer," she says with certainty, before growing more shy. "My writer."

"Six thirty?" he asks, and even if his tone isn't as warm as she'd hope, he still prompts a smile simply by not refuting her possessive comment.

"It's a date."


A/N: Posting early by request and because my plans changed a bit and I'm now looking at a long drive with two kids, a dog, and a cello (sounds like a horrible sit-com). I'm not sure about the wireless options where we're going, and getting feedback on the way helps pass the time on long drives, so fire off a note if you get a kick out of this chapter.

Not sure when the next one will post. I'm trying to complete this story before we go on vacation in early July. It's not likely, but the effort is keeping me focused. I've also got a little two- or three-shot queued up behind this one, something much lighter but also set in S3. We'll see.

Finally, the facts: Salvatore 'Sal' Cassano was the FDNY Fire Chief in 2006 and Commissioner from 2010 through mid-2014, but he was appointed by Mayor Bloomberg, not Mayor Weldon. I think the shift information, as explained by Weldon, is accurate for the FDNY, though it seems like there's some volatility due to headcount, special events, and other scheduling variations.