Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own Castle.

[No Spoilers in reviews please...]

"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred."

A/N: Mine is but to write, and quit whining. Charge! Currently about 1,000 words short of 50,000 which would make if Castle Ficathon eligible, and the first time I ever passed that land mark in a single story.

Beta Note: Thank you elizabeth . bynog for all the help.

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Rick wasn't having much luck, Storm Fall was good, but he could feel his own boredom with every word. His heart really had not been in it when he wrote the book, the feeling of lifelessness was pronounced; the author in him had been simply living, but not alive, no longer excited by his characters. He lived to write, to discover stories and pass them on to others through the power of prose, and to feel his own apathy in his written words was shocking.

Whatever life had been with Gina it had certainly brought him no joy, perhaps even been the thing that had sapped that from his life. Hardly surprising he'd divorced her. He put the book aside, dropping it heavily on the table beside him, there was no further point in reading it now. In future yes, to understand where he had left Derek, perhaps to bring him back; the character had excited him once, perhaps had the power to do so again. Right now though, a depressing re-experiencing of something that had driven him to a second divorce was not what he needed.

His mother called out from the kitchen, he could tell even though his eyes were closed now, her voice he would never forget, "You okay over there kiddo?"

"Yes Mother, it's just I suppose I lost my enthusiasm to write Derek and I don't understand what happened."

"Rick..." He recognized the voice now, Kate's voice, not as familiar as his mother's but increasingly a voice he valued hearing for some reason.

"You moved on from Derek..." The voice was closer now, he could tell, even without the sound of the soft footsteps echoing across the loft. The feeling of hands on his shoulders, massaging gently, taking into account his injuries, just softly manipulating his tense muscles.

"You were bored Rick, then we met and..."

He opened his eyes, head tilted back looking up at her contemplative face, one that was a smiling face after she realized he was looking at her, "How did we meet?"

She smiled down at him, her thumbs stroking his neck more so than massaging his tense shoulders, "Truthful? Well before you remembered and well before the accident. I went to one of your book signings Rick, stood in line for two hours just to get your signature. Just to get 30 seconds of your time."

Looking up at her he could see the wistful expression on her face, "You were a fangirl?"

Her motions slowed on his neck, then stopped before she leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Still am."

She was gone then, lips and breath from his ear, hands from his shoulders. He could hear the sound of her footsteps moving into the distance even as her words reached his ears, "Derek grew to bore you, Nikki didn't. Read those instead."

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The rest of the sweep of the apartment took a couple of hours and there was no sign of anything. The freedom from eavesdropping devices didn't give Kate much comfort though, left her doubting; perhaps it was all a wild goose chase after all. Maybe the whole thing had been just a bad dream for Rick, Tyson had never come to visit, it was just another fragmentary memory. He'd remembered about divorcing Gina, perhaps that wasn't the first one to come back. She had never asked Doctor Andrews if there were particular memories that tended to return first, powerful ones, scary ones? If there was some order, the scary Tyson monster under the bed, followed by the scary Gina monster that had shared it; well it would make a certain sort of sense.

When she returned downstairs to properly pack away the borrowed detector, a glance across the den again revealed Castle reading, but this time it was not a Derek Storm book, it was Heat Wave. The smile was unavoidable, she couldn't have fought it off is she tried, and she certainly was not really trying.

Kate started to wander around the loft, looking for anything out of place; perhaps no bugs were present, but perhaps there would be some other sign on Jerry Tyson's interest returning to Castle. There were little signs of her, of them, everywhere; a small elephant figurine on a shelf that he had bought her at a flee market, a photo of them grouped in with pictures of Alexis. The throw over the back of the sofa was her favorite, a deep blue that matched his eyes and she would huddle under and read while he typed in his office. That was one of her favorite things, sipping red wine, reading one of his books, all while she could hear the sound of his fingers breathing life into their story. For now such experiences would be lost she knew, no more Nikki Heat stories would come to life; but only for now was the hope she held on to.

Nothing seemed out of place physically, just the thought that she had come close to giving all of it up felt so very out of place as her eyes were constantly drawn to Rick in his wheelchair. Pausing, she allowed herself to consider it again, would she have traded home for career? All things considered, the question did not matter; whatever the answer she might have given did not matter; only the final result did: this was home, and she was staying.

The side table was drawing her closer, almost gravitational in it's pull, she circled it almost, the small shiny key sucking her focus. Eventually there was no point anymore, she approached and put her fingers out, touching the thing that controlled the doorway to home.

"Katherine?"

Martha's voice had caught her by surprise and she snatched her hand back, feeling like a child caught dipping into the cookie jar.

"Yes?" Her voice was a little higher pitched, almost a squeak; even Rick turned around to look.

"Everything alright? I was going to ask if you would be joining us for lunch."

Kate relaxed, the instant tension that had shot through her easing away just as quickly, "Sure Martha, that would be great."

Martha turned from the bottom of the stairs, an entry Kate had completely missed as she had her eyes locked on a different prize. Without any further hesitation she reached out and picked up the key, her key, which she had deposited there earlier out of a feeling that she really did not belong, had no right to call this place home. That tune had changed now though, the presence of it permeated her just as much as hers was spread all over it.

Martha was shuffling through some menus in the kitchen, "It'll have to be take-out I'm afraid, we haven't been out for groceries since the accident."

"That'll be fine Martha, Chinese would be great."

Everything was ordered before Rick whirred his way over to the table, bringing his book and settling in, albeit at a crooked angle to keep his leg and it's scaffolding free.

"Richard, the nurse will be here soon to check on you. Nurse practitioner actually; Wendy, highly recommended by Evelyn. She'll be dropping by several times a day to check up on everything."

Kate's antennae were perked: Wendy? "Wendy?"

"Yes Katherine, remember? The doctors agreed he could come home only with proper medical supervision."

Kate's nerves were jangling already at the thought of some Florence Nightingale traipsing in and inserting herself where she distinctly did not want her. Rick might need a nurse right now, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

There was a knock at the door, and Kate shot out of her chair, "I'll get it!"

Rushing over she opened the front door and guessed, given the name tag, that it must be Wendy. Tall, perhaps 5'9", slim, buxom, almost Rick's type; except for the grey hair and that she appeared to be in her early fifties.

Kate certainly did not mean to sag, but she realized as she relaxed that her shoulder had been back, her back extra straight; trying to intimidate the version she had expected, unnecessary now.

"Wendy? Come on in, we just ate lunch. I'm Kate by the way."

Wendy, the grey haired nurse practitioner put Rick through his paces, which really involved a lot of prodding and poking, and a lot of whining by him and then Wendy telling him repeatedly to "get over it, you are not a child." No babying for him today, it actually made Kate smile that he was in good hands.

That made the decision easier, she really needed to go. Tomorrow was her first day back at work, she had to do laundry, catch up on errands she had let slide. There was no sign of Tyson anywhere, and perhaps there wouldn't be, perhaps he was just a fragment of memory. In that way the thought of Tyson actually gave her hope, Rick had only met him after he had met her.

Kate crouched beside Rick's chair after Wendy finish up her checks, hand loose on his arm, "Rick, I need to go now, but I'll be back first thing tomorrow. I'll drop by on the way to work okay? We can have a few minutes then too. I... I... I have to go, see you tomorrow."

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Kate let herself into the loft the next morning, Rick heard the key in the door and saw her slip inside, two take-out cups in hand, and a bundle of mail under her arm.

When she saw him watching her she looked startled, "Rick? You're up?"

He closed the book in his lap, tucking a business card in as a marker, "I couldn't sleep well in the chair."

She appeared to be a little confused but that little item of news, though being caught apparently by surprise while juggling cups, mail, and trying to put her key back into a pocket probably wasn't helping her focus either, "Why weren't you in bed Rick? You need rest."

He tapped the book cover, "I stayed up reading."

Her eyes wrinkled up a little, expression almost appearing guilty, like she regretted something, "I should have stayed, or come by last night, made sure you went to bed."

"You are not my nurse. Mother's nurse, Wendy, tried. I didn't listen."

Her tone had firmed, a thread of steel running through it, "Well you'll listen to me."

That made him curious, "Why?"

He had no compunctions in admitting, at least in his head, that it was sexy when she pushed her jacket back from her waist, revealing a badge and a gun, "Because I carry a gun Rick. When I tell you to go to bed you'll do it."

As they'd been talking about his sleeping habits she'd cross the den to hold out one of the cups to him. He grabbed it eagerly, if slowly, and took a sip from the cup and immediately faux-gagged and pulled a face, choking out, "What is this?"

"It's green tea. Good for your memory."

"I drink tea with you?"

"No Rick, we drink coffee. You always got me coffee."

He watched her take a sip of her drink, there was the slightest trace of a smirk on her lips, hers was coffee, he knew it, "So why..."

"Did your doctor say you could have coffee? You have a brain injury remember."

He was completely aware that he was pouting now, he just didn't care, "But it tastes nasty."

"Just drink it. Learn to like it Rick. Learn to love it. It's good for you."

Rick was alway free with the double entendre, quick with a remark, always paid careful attention, or at least, usually paid careful attention to what people said. Just as he was then, and perhaps she didn't mean anything by it, maybe it was just a casual comment about the health benefits of green tea. Mixed up with other comments she had made gave it a more complex context.

"Fall in love with the green tea?"

She slowly blinked her eyes before responding, "Honestly, it was a completely innocent..."

"Freudian slip?"

Kate's voice rose, not irritation, not hurt, but pained in some way, "Rick, please! You know I have feelings for you, I know they're unrequited now; but please don't mess with them. They are not a toy for your amusement. This is hard enough without you batting at my heart like a cat with a ball of string!"

He might be in pain, physically from the injuries, mentally from the holes he desperately needed filled in his memories; but he was apparently not the only one still hurting, "I'm sorry Kate, really, I didn't mean to upset you."

She nodded an acknowledgment, and pulled the bundle of mail from under her arm, clearly trying to move on to a less sensitive topic, "Eduardo gave me your mail to bring up. Looks like a couple of get well cards and some magazines."

"Get well cards? My mother said they'd be going to my publisher. I don't think many people have my home address."

"Most likely personal friends then rather than just fans. You want me to open them?"

"Sure."

She peeled back the envelopes and handed Rick the two cards.

The first one was a simple cartoon of a man with his leg in a cast, cracking it open he say it was from one of his old friends, "This one is from Bob."

The second one was a plain looking card, with text on the front [Remembering You! Get Well Soon!] he cracked it open and looked up at Kate, "This one is from Jerry."

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Beckett felt like she had a live snake in her jacket pocket as she pulled her cruiser into the precinct parking spot. She had taken the card and envelope carefully away from Castle, and slipped it into a large ziplock bag from the kitchen. Certainly had not been thinking clearly, worry occupying her mind, when she'd bent down to plant a kiss on his cheek and told him she had to go to work and dig into the card. He hadn't flinched or said a word as she let herself back out of the loft, double checking the locks after closing the door; only then had it hit her what she had done.

Rushing off the elevator on the fourth floor she was approaching the guys' desks reaching into her pocket to pull out the ziplock bag when Gates' voice called out, "Beckett. You have a visitor. In the break room."

"But Sir..."

"Now Beckett!"

Looking over she saw Ryan and Esposito looking at her, both mouthing a word: 'Fed' and motion over to the closed door of the break room.

As soon as Beckett stepped though the door she was confronted by a unsmiling face, an outstretched hand, and an introduction, "Special Agent in Charge April Brooks."

She controlled her confusion, didn't let it show on her face as she returned the handshake, "I'm sorry. Do I know you? Do we have a case?"

A simple smile and shake of the head, nothing much given away, "No Detective, to either question."

"Then what can I do for you?"

"I do not usually make delivery runs Detective Beckett, I'm SAC of the Criminal Division of the New York field office of the FBI. Not a delivery woman, clear? But apparently Deputy Director Freedman thinks highly of you. So when he gave me a cal,l I listened."

"Freedman sent you?"

"Yes he did, and he doesn't make that kind of effort for anyone. He asked me to make a delivery. Said you needed some duplicate documentation."

"Thank you Special Agent Brooks, but..."

"I'm not finished. In addition to a lot of other activities I also have oversight of the Jerry Tyson case. I got your memo indicating a possible sighting, so did Deputy Director Freedman, though that isn't something he normally monitors, so I wonder about his special interest here, in Tyson, in you. At least I did wonder until last night. I said I have oversight, it's possible I still do; it depends really on what you decide. In addition to the documents, he asked me to hand you this, in person, and strongly encourage you to read it and take it seriously."

In addition to a thick manilla envelope, labeled simply "Beckett", Special Agent Brooks was holding out a smaller white one, that one labeled "Special Agent Beckett".

"Goodbye Beckett, Detective or Special Agent; which ever you are."

She watched the other woman leave, tossing the large envelope onto the break room table. There was no real question what was in it, likely another copy of the offer contract; Freedman potentially suspected she had thrown the others out after she spoke to him. The smaller white envelope was new though, and despite knowing she had declined the job offer curiosity still got the better of her and she cracked it open.

It was quite short:

"Oversight of the case and materials related to Jerry Tyson, a.k.a. 3XK, is hereby assigned to Special Agent Katherine Beckett of the Attorney General's special investigative task force. Resources assigned shall be at her reasonable discretion, up to and including U.S. Marshals Service protective details for endangered witnesses."

There were three names and signatures underneath the text: Eric Holder, Robert Mueller, and Anthony Freedman.

She stood staring at it for a moment before tucking it back in the envelope, opening the door and stick her head out, "Guys? Can I talk to you for a minute."

Beckett turned back from making herself a cup of coffee, and seeing the Ryan and Esposito had joined her, held out the ziplock bag.

"Guys, this was in Castle's mail this morning. It's signed Jerry."

Ryan was almost gapping at her, "What? Tyson sent him a get well card?"

A nod and a shrug were pretty much all she could offer at this point, "That's what it looks like. Gates didn't want NYPD looking into it before, maybe this will be enough to convince her."

Espo took the letter from her still outstretched hand, "I'll take it down to forensics, see if they can get anything off it."

"Thanks Espo, the only obvious thing, it's postmarked this Monday, from Philadelphia."

Ryan help up his hand, palm out, blocking their train of thought, "Err, Beckett? When did he find out they were releasing him home?

"Sometime Sunday I think."

"So Tyson visits him early Sunday morning, high tails it to Philly, then it's entirely a coincidence that he happens to send a card the day after they decide to release Castle? It sounds hinky."

"Bro, it sounds like Tyson has eyes on him somehow."

The butterflies of nervousness were fluttering in her stomach again. Increasingly it sounded like Tyson was proactively monitoring Castle rather than just waiting for some sign, perhaps from the press, that memories had returned.

"There's more. Read this." She was holding out the smaller white envelope.

Once again it was Esposito how took it, quickly looking, opening, and reading the contents with Ryan.

A look of contempt flooded onto his face, "Seriously!?" Tossing the letter both he and Ryan turned and began heading to the exit.

"Guys! Wait!"

Even Ryan was sounding angry at her, "Wait? You told us you'd turned it down Special Agent Beckett!"

Understanding flooded through her, the letter was address to Special Agent Beckett, it had orders and parameters for her; they thought she had taken the job after everything that had happened, that she had turned around again, behind their backs and put on the Federal suit.

"I didn't! I didn't take the job!"

They both stopped, Esposito's hand actually having turned the door knob but not pulled it open yet. He turned slightly to point at the discarded letter.

"Then what is that?"

"An offer. They sent me new paperwork, I guess they thought I'd probably tossed the originals out, they were right. The letter was a taste I suppose, see what you can do if you work with us."

Ryan sniffed dismissively, "That is not a taster, it's a bribe to take the job Beckett. A manipulative trick. You wanted to work for those people?"

"Perhaps I misjudged..."

Espo growled, "Whatever! You staying?"

She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice, "I already said I was!"

He wasn't done pushing her apparently, "The why'd you show us the letter?"

"I..."

Not by a long shot, "You want extra brownie points? See, they offered me more and I'm still..."

Why would he not just shut up and let her explain? "No!"

"Then why?"

At last she had an opportunity to get a word in, "The Marshals! I showed because it mentioned the Marshals. Should I, should we, call them? Get a protective detail from them for Rick?"

Ryan had managed to keep his calm through the altercation, but now was giving her a distinctly skeptical look, "Unless there is forensic evidence on that note, and we all know there won't be, the NYPD isn't going to assign protection, and neither is the Marshals Service. Not without some huge strings being pulled. Take the job, pull some strings..."

She snapped, "I'm not!"

He shrugged, "Then we have no strings to pull."

"Come on guys! Brainstorm or something."

Esposito was almost smiling after that comment, "Fine! Even assuming the card means Tyson's watching, what good are marshalls going to be? The guy got to Castle in holding here, inside a precinct full of cops, you think he can't work around a couple of federal bodyguards?"

Ryan bent to pick up the white envelope before giving his opinion, "Tyson spied on him before, all clear now I assume? Doesn't stop us though, we could put nanny cams in Castle's place, keep an eye on it."

Beckett honest was not so keen on that idea, "Then when Castle vanishes we find out the next day what happened after we check the video? No, that doesn't work for me. I don't want to catch Tyson after the fact, I want to make sure nothing ever happens."

The guys gave looks and shrugs, basically signaling, "Ok, but we're out of ideas."

Ryan held out the envelope, "You want this?"

She grinned at him, holding out the larger manilla one to him, "Nope, you can shred that, this too."

It was not particularly late by the time Kate got back to her apartment, a day on call evolved into a day of paperwork after New Yorkers apparently took their Valium and didn't kill each other. It was a good thing, but made for a boring day.

Her decision had been made earlier, not long after the whole confused argument/conversation with Ryan and Esposito, she had ruled out nanny cams due to their lack of preventive capability. Rick still needed an watch kept over him and the loft though, particularly at night which seemed to be Tyson's preferred hours of action.

Keeping an eye on him was something she did not consider a chore, well not any more at least. She pulled out a bag and started packing, she would stay over in the guest room; keep everything and everyone safe, and flash her gun if necessary to make him go to bed on schedule. More time with him might hurt, being painfully close to what was not hers anymore; or it might help, accelerate a rebuilding of memory and relationship.

Kate had weighed her options, there was so much to gain; picking up her overnight bag she exited her apartment closing that door behind her.