A/N: This was supposed to be finished sooner, but this chapter and I had a few... disagreements. But I think we managed to resolve most of them. At any rate, it's finished. :) Enjoy!

They settled in again with two fresh cups of coffee, this time at the dining room table. "You ready?" Castle asked.

Kate shrugged. "As ready as I'm gonna get."

"Alright. Then why don't you just tell me what you remember from that night?"

"Okay… where should I start?"

"The beginning."

"The beginning of what? The beginning was my mom's murder, at least that was the beginning for me… but I think that's a little earlier than we need to start."

He nodded. "Okay. So where do you think we need to start?"

"Where do you think the judge will want to start?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well… should we start from Carson?"

"When we figured out he ordered the hit, or when we actually found him?"

"Everyone at the Twelfth knows it was him, and we have solid evidence. That shouldn't be up for debate. Let's go from when we found him."

"Okay. Go."

"Okay, so we found him in the alley. Uh, we parked about a block away so he wouldn't see the car…"

He stopped her. "Rewind a little. They're gonna want to know how we knew he'd be there."

"Right." She nodded, gaining confidence. That part was easy. No one had done anything wrong, or even out of the ordinary. She went through it step by step without hesitation. How they'd traced an anonymous call from someone claiming to have information to an office building nearby. How they'd canvassed employees hoping to find a link to Carson and had seemed to come up empty. How, while scanning through the building's phone records, Castle had noticed something strange: that every phone line in the building began with the same three numbers. Except one. How through a stroke of luck they'd found another building just a few streets away with numbers that began the same way as the odd line from the first building. How Castle's "there are no coincidences" refrain had led them to investigate it, and the phone lines had led them to the alley beside it. How she'd noticed a bit of white paper poking out from underneath what appeared to be a solid brick wall, and had slid it out of the tiny crack between the brick and pavement and realized what it was. How, knowing that Carson himself would have to come back for this, she'd pocketed it and slipped a blank sheet of paper back into the crack to make it appear as if nothing had been changed. How, a few hours later, she'd received a call from the surveillance detail on Carson's apartment informing her that he was leaving the building. Her tone was cool, her voice businesslike.

"That's great," he said as she finished up that part of the story. "You tell the judge everything you just told me, and you'll be fine. What then?"

"Well, Ryan and Esposito were chasing another lead, so you and I went back down to the alley. We had a pretty good idea that he was alone, and we wanted to get there before he left."

"But he wasn't alone," Castle prompted, feeling his heart rate accelerate. They were nearing the difficult part now, and for the first time he realized that it might not be any easier for him to hear than it would be for her to tell. All this time he'd been so focused on how reliving that awful night was going to affect Kate. He hadn't given any thought at all to how he might be affected by it.

"Castle, stay here, okay? Don't move."

"No way. I'm your backup. That means I'm right behind you."

"No, it doesn't," she told him in an urgent whisper. "Look, you can only back me up as long as they don't kill you, which they will if they see you, without so much as blinking."

"And what's gonna keep them from doing that to you?"

"This." She slid a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket.

He nodded, although he wished he believed that would work as vehemently as she seemed to. "Fine, but if anything goes south I'm coming out."

She shook her head. "Anything goes south, and you shoot. You'll have a clear shot from right where you are. These guys are either leaving this alley in cuffs or body bags. There are no other options. They will not get away, not now that we're this close."

Her eyes burned with a fierceness that he'd never seen before, and he found himself nodding, afraid even to decide whether or not he agreed with her. He watched her turn the corner into the alley with his feet rooted to the ground, grasping the handgun she'd given him tightly in his sweaty palm.

He interrupted her before she could get any further. "Okay, already I'm gonna charge you with perjury."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not under oath."

"I'm gonna make you take an oath if you keep it up."

"Keep what up?"

"Making me sound so pathetic. I wasn't that scared."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Feet rooted to the ground'? 'Sweaty palms'?"

"I didn't say any of that."

"But you were thinking it."

"No… you were thinking it, apparently. Castle, your imagination can't perjure me. And neither can your memory. That's not how it works. Basically, if it doesn't come out of my mouth, you can't hold me responsible for it, no matter what kind of an oath you make me take. It's on you."

"Well…" he sighed, realizing that he'd just incriminated himself. "Then just for the record, I wasn't that scared."

"Oh, you were scared." She smirked. "But you should've been. I mean, I was too. That guy could've easily killed us both."

"Okay, yes, I was scared. But I did at least try to help. It's not like I hid behind the dumpster while you did all the work."

"That's not what I said."

"That's how you made it sound. If you tell that to the judge, that's what he's gonna think."

"Well, it doesn't matter. You're not the one on trial."

"And neither are you. It's just a disciplinary hearing."

She cringed, and for a second he wondered what he'd said wrong. It didn't take him long to figure it out, but before he could say anything she was speaking to him icily. "Castle," she said, "if you want to keep thinking that you're helping me, don't ever say that again."

He frowned, taken aback. He'd been planning to apologize, but now he wasn't sure if he could. Thinking that you're helping me? Thinking? Was she really only doing this to humor him? Because he believed, really believed, that it was the right thing. That it would help. But it didn't really matter what he believed. The only thing that mattered was what she believed. And if she really, honestly thought that this was a waste of time, then she wasn't going to get anything out of it anyway. She'd only be able to move backward, and that was the last thing that he wanted.

He stood up. "Fine," he said softly. "Since obviously I'm wasting your time, I'll be outside. But if you can come up with a better way to prepare for your hearing, I suggest you do it, because it's in a week."

She didn't say anything as he slipped out the door. Not that he was expecting her to. If she'd called after him and apologized, he wouldn't have left. But that wouldn't have been like her.

He didn't look back as he walked out to see what she was thinking, whether she was angry or upset or relieved. And that wasn't like him. He liked to keep tabs on her, to know what she was thinking and feeling, and this tendency had only increased over this past week. But right now, he didn't care. He was too angry to summon anything else.

Did she know how much he'd given up for her over the last week? His whole life, basically. He'd put it all on hold. He'd left behind his daughter, his apartment, most everything he owned, his work with the NYPD… nearly everything in the world that he cared about. Nearly.

There had been no doubt in his mind, not until now, that leaving everything behind, just for two weeks, would be worth it. No doubt whatsoever. To get her though these two weeks. To make her believe that losing her badge would not be a death sentence. And finally, and maybe most importantly, to help her get ready for the hearing. To help her be so prepared that there would be no doubt in either of their minds that she could continue to be an NYPD detective for as long as she chose, to the end of her career.

But if she was right, and he was only telling himself that he was helping her in order to make himself feel better about the situation… if, in reality he wasn't doing anything for her that she couldn't do herself… then he shouldn't be here at all. He should be at home with Alexis.

He did miss his daughter. She'd never been at home by herself for this long before. And while he trusted her and he knew that she was fine, he missed her. He looked at his phone, thinking about calling, but he noticed the time and realized it was Monday. She'd still be in school. He'd call later.

He walked down the beach a little ways and then waded into the water, kicking at it angrily. It lapped gently around his feet, unbothered. This incensed him even further. Everything was irritatingly calm today. There were hardly any waves, just a few light ripples. The sky was blue and completely empty of clouds, and somehow that made it seem very far away. Farther than it should've been. Farther than it normally was. He was down here standing in the water, and the sky was way up there doing its own thing. Whatever that was.

But no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he didn't care, he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back to the house. What was she doing now? Was she still thinking about the hearing… and the alley? Or was she compartmentalizing again, pushing all of that aside so she wouldn't have to deal with it? Was she mad at him? Did she have a right to be?

All he'd said was that she wasn't going to be on trial, that it was only a disciplinary hearing. He knew why that was wrong, why it had upset her. This hearing was a big deal. Whatever she said, she didn't want to lose her job. He knew how devastating it would be for her if she did. So yes, he knew that this wasn't just a hearing. It wasn't just anything. It mattered. But still, she'd overreacted, hadn't she?

Yes, she had. And her words had hurt him, not that he wanted her to know that. All he wanted was to help her, and he thought he'd been doing that. And he thought they'd made some progress. He'd gotten her to talk through the beginning of the evening that led to the confrontation, and it had gone really well. And then he'd… stopped her.

He had, hadn't he? Why had he done that? Because he hadn't liked the scene that was unfolding inside of his own head. That wasn't her fault. It didn't have anything to do with her. And she knew what he was doing. She'd realized it before he had. What if that was why she'd gotten angry with him, and the comment about it only being a hearing had just pushed her over the edge? Because she was right. He hadn't been helping. He'd been holding her back. She might've been fully ready to get to the difficult portion of the night, to talk to him about it calmly, pretending that he was the judge. But he hadn't been ready to hear it, and he'd stopped her.

He looked out into the water and watched a single whitecap churn and eventually dissipate. It had no obvious source, given the relative calm of the water surrounding it. It must have been wind, a random gust off in the distance, invisible to the eye, or else maybe a riptide or a school of fish, some source below the surface that, from this distance, couldn't be determined. He found himself wondering if the sky, far away as it seemed, knew the cause of the rough water. Perhaps it had sent the gust of wind, or perhaps it hadn't caused anything at all, but from its position above the water, always watching, aware of the ocean's every movement even if it never let on, it could see whatever disturbance beneath the surface had caused the visible wave. The sky might not have responded in a way that he or anyone else could see, but that didn't mean that it didn't notice. That it didn't feel something.

Again he gazed out past the disturbance, past, in fact, everything else visible, and to the horizon, where the water and the sky came together. No matter how distant they seemed in the here and now, the horizon would always be there. The two would always meet, merge, and become one at that thin, faint blue line where nothing else could be seen.

He sighed and waded back up the beach to the place in the sand where he'd left his shoes. He knew how immature it had been to leave the way he had. Even if she hadn't had the right to be mad at him before, she certainly did now. Yes, he'd been hurt, but walking away wasn't how to handle it. He was supposed to be there for her, not running away from her.

When he got back to the house she was still there, sitting at the table exactly as he'd left her. Wordlessly, he sat down across from her, where he'd been before. The only difference was that now a notebook sat in front of her, one of his, he realized, open to a blank page.

He waited for a few seconds for her to say something, but she stared at the lined paper without looking up.

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured. "I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," she sighed.

"I know the hearing is a big deal."

"I know you do. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"You were right, though."

She finally looked up and met his eyes. "No I wasn't. I was stupid. I couldn't do this without you. There's no way."

"You wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for me," he pointed out.

"How do you figure that?"

"I'm the one who got you to bring back your mother's case in the first place. I got you into all of this."

"I don't believe that."

"That's your prerogative. I do."

"Look, Castle. My mom's case was a part of my life way before I met you. I might've pushed it aside for a few years, but it never totally went away, and it was always gonna come back for me. I'm just glad that you were around when it did. With you there, I didn't have to worry about getting lost in it, because I knew you'd be there to pull me back."

He sighed, wishing that he still believed himself capable of this. "What were you doing with the notebook?" he asked.

"Oh." She looked down, embarrassed. "Well, you were right. I do need to start thinking about the hearing. And since you left, I thought I might try to write down what happened… I thought it might help, but I didn't really get anywhere." She smiled at him sheepishly. "And I stole your notebook. Sorry."

He chuckled. "It's okay. I wish it'd helped."

She shrugged. "I guess I need to talk through it. I don't think writing is gonna help. Ready to try again?"

He hadn't been expecting this. "You serious?"

"Why not? It's not like it went really badly before, we just got a little off-track."

He sighed. "Look, I know I've been telling you that you could talk about all of this with me because I was there, and you won't be telling me anything that I don't already know… but now, I don't know. I think I'm the last person you need to be talking to."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, I know how difficult it must be for you to talk about that night… but I don't think it would be any easier for me to listen to it. And I don't know how I'm gonna help you relive it when I can't even do it myself."

To his surprise, she smiled. "Castle, that's why it has to be you."

He frowned. "What?"

"Look, I know that you're not okay about that night. I was there, remember? I know it affected you, and I know you're not over it. I've known that all along."

"Then why didn't you say anything? Because I just figured it out about twenty minutes ago."

"Because I didn't think you'd ever admit it, Mr. 'Oh, I wasn't scared.'"

She'd said that last part in such an unflattering, mocking way that he couldn't help but smile. "I guess I was just so busy thinking about you that I didn't give any thought to how I'd react when I finally did get you to start talking about it."

"You're too sweet for your own good sometimes," she said, almost teasingly. But not quite.

"So what do we do now? Do you want to go back to New York? Because I still think you need someone to help you talk through that night, and as much as I wish it could be me, it's pretty obvious that it can't."

"And why can't it?"

He frowned. Had she not been listening to anything he'd said? "Because—" He gaped at her, looking for another way to phrase what he'd already tried to explain.

But she cut in before he had a chance. "I can't talk about it and you can't listen to it. But we're both gonna have to at the hearing. You're gonna be there too, don't forget. Why can't we help each other? Look, the whole time we've been here, besides that one day you were sick, you've been taking care of me. It's not that I don't appreciate it, I do, but I think it would be better if we could take care of each other. Don't you think so?"

He frowned. He didn't. "I don't want you to have to take care of me."

She smiled. "See, so now you finally get what I've been trying to tell you. I don't want you to have to take care of me either. But guess what? I don't mind doing it for you. And I know you don't mind doing it for me. So how about we just start again, and we try to get through this thing without either one of us breaking down or walking out? If we can't do it, we'll just keep trying until we can. We have a week."

He nodded, and suddenly he found that didn't regret anything. He didn't regret interrupting her speech, or making light of the hearing, or even walking out, childish as it had been. Because this stubborn woman before him, so unwilling to take no for an answer, especially when it came to accepting her own flaws… this was Beckett. It was the first he'd seen of her since that night in the alley, and nothing could've been more welcome. "I think that sounds like a plan," he said.

A/N: I haven't started the next chapter yet, so I can't make any promises about how long it'll take until the next update... only that it will happen eventually. :) BUT in about a week and a half my semester will be over (yay!), so that should speed things up writing-wise. :) It never does... but it SHOULD. That was not a helpful comment.

Ooh, and the water/sky metaphors are back. :) As you might have noticed. I'm starting to get rather attached to those.

Reviews are wonderful. Thanks in advance! :)