Author's Note: I'd like to thank phnxgrl, FDWojo (Frank), TORONTOSUN, Chkgun93 and southerngirl1 for their reviews. FDWojo: Welcome and thanks for the insights. I'll confess that I didn't watch Burn Notice and am unfamiliar with the ending, but no, Sloan is really dead. No running away to live happily ever after for them. Sorry. TORONTOSUN: Hell hath no fury...goes with your comment as well. We'll see... :). Chkgun93: We shall see... Enjoy!

Chapter 23

Alex woke sprawled on the floor with another splitting headache. It felt as though someone was sitting on her head and pounding on the inside of her skull simultaneously. She shifted, trying to dislodge whoever was on top of her, but no one was there. She struggled to her hands and knees, still feeling slightly nauseous, and gingerly touched the back of her head. What the…? Alex pulled her fingers away and looked at the blood on her fingertips. She would have to ask Sloan what had happened.

Sloan.

"No." She jerked fully awake and stumbled to her feet, knocking something over in the process, but she didn't care. Alex spun around, causing a moment of dizzy disorientation, before her eyes settled on the pool of blood.

And the body in the middle of it. "Sloan. No!" Alex stumbled over to his body, dropping to her knees twice along the way. Tears rimmed her eyes as she looked at his limp form, eyes still open, but empty. His hands were still cuffed together and Alex moaned in frustration and anger. She was turning to look for something to pick the lock when she heard the first of the sirens. Alex glanced around at the warehouse and grabbed a rag sitting on a nearby table. Carefully, she wrapped the cloth around the handle of the knife and tugged it from her fiancé's body. The sound it made had her almost retching, but the cops were going to be here soon and she couldn't afford to wait much longer.

That didn't stop her from caressing his cheek one last time before she closed his eyes, the first of her tears escaping. "I'm so sorry." The sirens were getting closer. Alex stood up and grabbed another few rags to wrap the knife up completely. With one last look, Alex ran, taking refuge in the twisted alleyways created by the storage containers on the docks. She ignored the shouts of the dockworkers, one thought dominating her mind: I have to get out of here.

Half an hour later…

Beckett and Castle stepped out of the Charger and strode toward the warehouse at the docks. Lanie had been vague about what she had over the phone, but from her tone, Beckett had deduced that the victim had possibly been attacked by Alex, maybe trying to escape whoever had potentially abducted her. She badged her way through the police line and met up with the boys. Ryan and Esposito had been quietly conversing under their breath but fell silent at Beckett's approach.

"As you were, gentlemen. What's up?"

Ryan glanced at Esposito and, after hesitating for a moment, took the plunge. "Karpowski's going to end up taking this case."

Beckett was confused. "What? Why?"

"We're fairly certain Alex didn't kill this victim."

Beckett pushed past them and into the warehouse. "Lanie, what the hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Kate, but you can't take this one."

"If it's a Shadow Fox case, then I'm involved, Lanie."

"Honey, believe me, I know. But Alex didn't kill this man."

"Without getting him back to the lab, how do you know?"

"Because Javier identified him for me." She moved to the side so Beckett could see the victim's face. "His name is…"

"Ewan Brebnor." Beckett stepped away from the body, cursing under her breath. "So the copycat struck again."

Lanie peeled off her gloves and joined her friend. "It would seem so. I'm sorry, Kate. If I had known who this was, I never would have called you down here."

"Yeah, I know." She blew out a breath and shook her head.

Karpowski had arrived. "What are you doing here, Beckett?"

Lanie stepped in between Kate and Karpowski. "I called her before I knew who the victim was. I thought Alex might have been the killer, but now I'm sure she's not."

"That doesn't answer my question. What are you still doing here?"

Beckett wanted to smack this woman for acting like this again, but she held it in. "I was on my way out."

Karpowski nodded. "That's what I thought." She started to walk past Beckett.

"Hey, Karpowski."

Karpowski turned. "What?"

"The victim was Alex's boyfriend."

"So?"

"So, you might want to find the killer fast. If you don't, she will. And she's not likely to slap cuffs on the guy. She'll kill him."

Karpowski nodded as she realized Beckett was just trying to help. "I'll keep that in mind."

Alex arrived at her safe house in SoHo and locked the door behind her. Then she slumped against it, too emotionally drained to move much farther. The rag wrapped knife dropped from her hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. Alex finally pushed off from the door and walked to the table. Resting her hands on it, she let a sob slip past her lips. Suddenly, she shoved at everything that was on the table, sending the items cascading onto the floor as rage and grief fought for the upper hand. Grief won out and Alex sunk to the floor, despair claiming her. Alex curled up into a ball, letting the pain of the last few hours overtake her thoughts. It had been years since she had felt this way.

The first time she could remember was when her father had been killed. The foster parents she'd been sent to live with had tried taking her to see a therapist because she wasn't really eating anything and never talked to the other kids at the home. Eventually, she'd been relocated, hoping that a different set of parents would have better luck with her. They'd been more successful, but Alex had still felt empty and abandoned.

Until Michael Stevens had come to adopt her. At first, he'd done everything he could to cheer her up. They went to the movies and amusement parks. And for a while, it worked. She had begun to feel like she had a father again. The training started soon after, but at first, it was always about self-defense. She had been fourteen when he'd first started to teach her to kill. Fear had become the predominant emotion then. She'd begun to fear him and he made sure to instill that as much as possible.

She hadn't really feared him when he told her the truth. By then, she'd learned to separate her emotions from the situation; learned to not feel when the knife plunged into someone's back. That had helped her to finish her training, but at night, it didn't keep the nightmares at bay. The ones where she was being hunted by the very people who had been killed by her hand. In time, hatred had banished the nightmares. Hatred toward the man who had trained her to be the weapon she'd become. The weapon she wore like her own skin. When she turned nineteen and Rathborne told her he was the one who killed her father, she felt the despair she'd felt when she was eleven creep back up on her. It was like losing her father all over again. The realization that she was now more like her father's killer had haunted her for the first few months after she severed ties with Rathborne.

That's when the hatred set in. The desire for revenge had descended upon her like a second skin. That was the moment she decided to take the skills he'd given her and use them against the man who had essentially ruined her life. The plan was formulated and executed. Her patsy took the fall for a crime he never committed, taking the blame for the injuries she'd sustained without being able to defend himself. Unfortunately, Rathborne had somehow known she was coming and had been prepared. She'd lost the fight, ending up in the hospital with a gash that ran from her wrist to her elbow. She wasn't losing this fight.

Alex sat up, rage finally winning as the predominant emotion. A fire that hadn't filled her eyes since the day she'd gone after Rathborne was back. If anyone saw her now, they'd be able to see that something dark had been hiding within her, a dangerous creature just waiting for release. Alex stood up and crossed to Sloan's computer network. The Gentleman had let the name of her fiancé's killer slip when he thought she was too out of it to remember. Thank you for that. She hacked into the FBI network, using a backdoor Sloan had "installed" years ago.

After only a few minutes of typing, Alex found what she was looking for. Francis Locken, a.k.a. the Chameleon, was known for using a variety of M.O.'s to kill people, which explained his name. And why he used the same knife Rathborne did. He was copying Rathborne, not her, but because he'd never been trained in the very specific thrust technique she'd been forced to learn, his kills were sloppy at best. A few more minutes spent at the computer and Alex knew right where to find him.

Just before she logged out, she noticed an icon at the bottom of the screen that was almost the same shade as the wallpaper. Curious to know what Sloan had been hiding, she clicked on the link. It opened up a window asking for a password. I wonder if the password Sloan gave me was for this. She typed in "furtive" and a file folder opened up. Alex poked around in the files a little till she realized what the contents were. Glad for the first time that Sloan had ignored her request to not look into The Gentleman, Alex copied the files onto a flash drive and added it to the bag she would be taking with her. After she killed Locken, she would need the information in the files. Ready to get to work, she shouldered her bag and headed out. It was time to teach this monster just who he had stolen from.

Beckett was punching the bag at her apartment. She was angry; angry that Karpowski had been unable to find the copycat and angry that Captain Gates was keeping her out of the loop. She could help with the investigation, even if it was from a distance. But the rules were the rules, and even after all these years at the twelfth, Gates still loved her precious rules. Yes, the copycat had killed her father, but that didn't mean she was incapable of investigating the death of someone she loved. Her mother's case proved that. Well, sort of. She had to admit that even she had lost her cool on more than one occasion in that case. But the team she had was willing to help her out whenever she needed their help. They had proven time and time again that they had her back.

Beckett stopped torturing the bag when she heard her phone ring. "Beckett."

Karpowski was on the other end. "Look, I'm sorry about my behavior earlier. I was out of line yelling at you like that. Again."

"It's fine. You were just trying to protect your case."

"Maybe. Listen, you seem to know Alex pretty well. Better than anyone else, for some reason. I need your help."

Beckett was surprised. "I'll try to answer any questions you have…"

"No, it's not that. I came back to the crime scene because there's some evidence here that I don't understand. Dr. Parish is adamant that Alex didn't do it, but looking at the evidence, I'm not so sure. Could you come down here? Maybe help me put some things into context?"

Beckett glanced at the clock on the wall. "I can be there in an hour." She hung up. Maybe Karpowski wasn't so bad after all.

Castle's cab pulled up just after Beckett parked. "Got your text. Everything okay?"

"Karpowski asked for my help. I could use some moral support."

Castle paid the cabbie and fell into step with her. "I'd be happy to help."

Karpowski met them just outside the warehouse door. "Thanks for coming. I'll show you what has me confused." She led them inside to the spot Ewan's body had been. "This is where the victim was, his hands cuffed in front of him as I'm sure you saw. And this handprint belongs to Alex." Karpowski led them to a worktable near the large blood pool where Ewan had been. "The fingerprints are a match to her and the blood belongs to the victim. Over here," she led them to a smaller blood pool, "is Alex's blood. And CSU collected her hair from over there." She pointed at a low toolbox a few feet away from the blood pool and directly across from Ewan's blood. "I don't know what to make of it."

"Alex wouldn't kill Ewan. She cared about him too much. But," Beckett knelt in front of the toolbox, "if she was kneeling right here, being forced to watch his execution, I could understand why you found hair here."

Castle nodded. "She would have struggled to get free. And they probably knocked her out afterward, hoping she would take the fall for her boyfriend's death. She's probably injured. Blow to the back of the head, maybe?"

"That would certainly do the job. This means she was laying, unconscious, right here for at least a little bit of time." Beckett glanced around the crime scene, trying to see what Alex would have seen. "The handprint over on the table most likely came after she woke up and remembered what had happened. You saw me after I found my dad. My hands were covered in blood. The handprint was left behind when she used the table to stand up."

"She might have needed to steady herself." Castle shook his head. "She's probably going through hell right now."

Beckett nodded. "Whoever the copycat is, he's in danger. More than the danger he would have been in for using her technique. Now it's personal."

Karpowski shook her head in wonder. "I'm curious. How do you understand her so well?"

"I've been in her shoes. My mom and her dad were killed by the same person. The difference is that I was an adult and still had my dad. She was only eleven, had no one, and ended up getting adopted by the very man who had killed her father. I may not know exactly what she went through, but I can at least sympathize."

Karpowski nodded. "I'm sorry for pulling you into this, Kate."

Beckett shook her head. "Don't be. Look, I know this is your case…"

"But you want to be kept in the loop. I understand. Gates may not like it, but you deserve to know what's going on. And I will. Thanks for your help."

"Of course. And I meant what I said earlier."

Karpowski nodded as they all walked out of the warehouse. "I'm trying, I really am. The thing is, these people; they don't leave clues behind. No hairs, prints, DNA, nothing. I don't know where to start or what to do with the evidence I have. How do I know whether the evidence came from the killer or was planted?"

"I know." Beckett sighed and closed her eyes. "As much as I hate saying it, I wouldn't be surprised if Alex is killing the son-of-a-bitch right now."

A/N: Just a reminder, Sloan and Ewan are the same person. Beckett and Company don't know his real name; Alex does. And in my story Lanie is married to Esposito, but I think that in a professional setting, she would still go by Dr. Parish to avoid people getting confused. Hope that clears up any confusion. Please leave a review with your thoughts. Liked it, didn't, confused? Let me know!