A/N: Once again, thank you for all the wonderful support and for your patience. This chapter finally deals with Castle telling Kate about the stalker. I've also added another flashback sequence which will continue into the next chapter as well.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: There would never be a hiatus to torture us all with. I miss them so much. Sigh.

Chapter 61 - Your Fragile Heart

"Yo, Beckett, we got the financials." Esposito dropped a file on Kate's desk. "Our boy spent a lot of money on his secret. . . honey." He grinned, wriggling his eyebrows.

Kate glanced up and rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Hemmingway. How much are we talking?" She rubbed the back of her neck and paged through the paperwork.

The Hispanic detective propped his hip against her desk. "Oh, quite a bit. Check out the 11th – he spent about fifteen thousand at Tiffany's."

"Mm. How do you know it wasn't for the wife?"

He snorted. "They have two different addresses."

Kate lifted an eyebrow. "Oh. Separated?"

"Busy with divorce proceedings."

"I smell a motive."

The other detective winced and shook his head. "No can do, Beckett – wifey has a solid alibi. But we still don't know who this mystery woman is. Maybe she had a motive. Maybe our vic didn't spend enough doe on her. Who knows?"

Kate shrugged and dragged a hand through her hair. "It's possible. Where's Ryan?"

"With the tech guys looking over the CCTV footage."

She nodded and gave her mug a forlorn glance. Damn, she missed coffee.

"Okay, when he's done, you guys go ahead and talk to his co-workers; focus on the secretary. See what you can get out of them. I'll talk to the estranged wife."

He nodded briskly and got up, already pulling out his phone.

"On it."

She sighed and stood up, grabbing her mug and resigned herself to making a cup of tea. Before she could make it to the break room, a uniform stopped her.

"Detective Beckett, this package just arrived for you at the front desk."

Kate frowned and took a folder from the officer. "Thanks, Martens."

She dropped it down on the counter and busied herself with making a cup of tea. Finally, she perched herself against the counter and reached for the folder. It was unusual for her to receive personal mail at the precinct. There was no return address or no indication as to what it could possibly be. Kate sat down at one of the round tables with her cup of tea and started to tear open the folder. Maybe it was some official document-

Photos. Of her family. With her and Lizzy's faces scratched out.

It felt like a bucket of ice water was thrown over her. A shiver crawled up her spine, her hair standing on end as she fumbled through the disturbing range of photos. In each, her face was scratched out and Lizzy's was either scratched out or marked with an X. Her hands were trembling, her whole body vibrating, her heart thrashing against the barriers of her chest.

The room was suddenly spinning and she could feel the bile quickly rising in her throat. Kate stumbled off the stool, a hand to her mouth and rushed to the bathroom. She crashed through the door and into a stall and heaved out the contents of her stomach. After a few moments, she staggered away from the bowl and sat against the stall wall, covering her face with shaking hands. She released a quivering breath and tipped her head back against the divider. She dragged the phone out of her pocket and called her husband.

He answered after a few rings. "Hey, honey. What's up?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, her body still shaking. When she didn't answer immediately, Rick spoke again, concern bleeding into his voice.

"Kate?"

"Can you come to the precinct?" She blurted out.

He sucked in a breath, answer suspended for a moment.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." She could hear him moving in the background. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

She swallowed, her throat working against the tidal wave of emotion.

"No, I-I'm fine. Just. . . I need you here."

"I don't like this."

She sighed and flipped the tasteless red wig over her head. "Me and you both, Castle." She turned back to face him, plucking her service piece off the table.

"Why does it always have to be you? Can't they get an officer to do this?" His mouth was in a pinched line, his brow furrowed, arms forming a barrier across his chest. She was quiet for a few moments, holstering the gun to the strap high around her inner thigh. Usually, he'd find that ridiculously arousing.

But not so much now.

His wife was dressed up like a cheap prostitute – overdone make-up, a very short skirt, fishnet stockings (how original) and an excuse of a blouse; basically just flimsy pieces of material covering the bare essentials. Any jackass with a pair of eyes could get a pretty good idea of how she would look like without any clothes on. His jaw tightened at the thought.

"Because, Castle, I know this case better than any of these inexperienced officers and I have Vice background."

Their team was investigating a string of murders involving young girls who were working as prostitutes. They were coordinating with Vice on bringing down a human trafficking ring that had ties to the Russian mob – someone was ordering the killing of these girls.

And now his wife had to enter into that world.

"I still don't like this," he muttered unhappily. Of course, he couldn't be joining her undercover on the case because it was deemed too risky. Even the Captain agreed on that. The second Nikki Heat movie came out in a week's time and Rick had done his fair share of promotional work. They couldn't risk sending him in with Kate because some idiot might just recognise him. However Rick doubted that the Russian mob cared about some writer.

But you never know.

Kate pulled on a tacky leather jacket and adjusted her wig again. She made her way to him, touching his forearm. He immediately lowered his arms and reached out to curve his hands at her waist. She could sense the possessiveness in the way his fingers were nudging into her side.

"I'll be fine, Rick. It's the job." He nodded, but still wore a frown. Kate cupped his cheek and brushed her lips over his, light and gentle. "Besides, you like my Vice stories." She gave him a saucy wink and grinned, waiting for the corresponding twitch of his mouth.

After a moment, he relented and gave in to the lift of his lips – more for her benefit than his own.

"Yeah, I do."

She smiled softly and rewarded him with another kiss, her smile caught in between his lips. He gripped her hips and roughly drew her closer. She was his. He growled and moved one of his hands to the back of her neck, holding the base of her skull, his fingers tangling in the fake hair of the wig. He marked her with his mouth, biting her bottom lip before driving his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moan.

Kate clutched at his shoulders, her body lithe and strong, but so petite against the ferocity of his in that moment. Finally, she gentled the assault of his mouth and swept her hands across his chest, pushing slightly until their lips unlocked wetly. He closed his eyes and took a deep, stuttering breath and then released her from his arms.

"Please be careful," he managed to croak out, tangling his hand with hers and squeezing her fingers.

She tilted her mouth into a smile. "I will, I promise."

He watched her walk away with a heavy heart, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Caste - in here," Montgomery called, standing just inside his office doorframe. Rick hurried towards him, spotting his wife sitting at the desk. Kate's head was bowed down and a curtain of hair was obstructing his view of her face.

"Kate, what's wrong?"

She sat up slowly, her dark eyes finding him. Her face was carefully controlled, a mask covering everything she doesn't want to show. But he saw all of it – the clench of her jaw, the pulsing vein in her forehead, the faint sheen of moisture in her eyes, how her hands were balled up in tight fists. Rick gravitated to her, sitting down in the chair next to hers, immediately dragging her chair closer. She fumbled for his hand, gripping it tightly and desperately like it was a lifeline, a piece of solid ground.

"This package arrived for Beckett."

Rick turned to look at Montgomery; he was holding out a file. The writer took it from the captain – his heart rate spiking – and opened it. He blanched when he saw the photos.

Oh, God.

This was his worst nightmare. He scratched a few fingers across his pinched forehead and swallowed thickly. He paged through the few pictures and eventually placed on the table, his breath like a prisoner in the confines of his lungs.

"When did you get this?" He rasped, calm and grim. Kate shot him a look, her brow coming together.

"About an hour ago. We've had CSU dust for prints and any other fibres, but there was nothing on it."

Rick dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes glued to the disturbing photos. This was getting worse. His PI wasn't getting any closer to identifying who this crazy person was. And clearly the private security wasn't very secure.

Finally, he sat up and looked at his wife. She was rigid in the seat, but her hands were trembling and she was as white as a sheet. Shit. All of this couldn't be good for the baby. Oh, God, damn it. He had to tell her. He had to.

But she was going to hate him for it.

He scraped a few fingers across his jaw, his skin catching on the coarse stubble dusted over his face.

"I know what this is about."

She removed the NYPD jacket with shaking hands. Her skin felt hot, her cheek throbbing with pain, her busted lip smarting under any movement. Kate glanced at herself in the mirror – despite the broken skin and cut marks, she was as white as a sheet. Her top was ruined, ripped to pieces in the attempted-

She swallowed thickly and flicked her eyes away from her own disturbing, twisted reflection. She tightened her hands around the cold porcelain edges of the basin, hoping that it could absorb the shivers running through her body like an electrical current. Kate let her eyes fall shut for a moment, just concentrating on getting her breathing under control.

But all she could see behind the lids of her eyes was the cruel face of her attacker, the scars on his cheek, the nasty twist of his mouth and his dark, lustful eyes. Her eyes popped open and she lifted a hand to her throat, feeling the phantom fingers closing around her neck, how it cut off her air supply. She could still feel the abrasiveness of his skin, the callous hands groping at her. She could still sense how his other hand had grabbed her shirt and yanked, tearing the cheap material and exposing her in the most intimate of ways.

How he forced his body onto hers, suffocating her with the revolting scent of sweat mixed with the smell of cigarettes and too much alcohol on his breath. She could still feel the wet, disgusting line he had licked up her throat, how the moisture stuck to her skin. How his hand tugged fiercely at the short skirt, ripping the fishnet stockings in the process.

Oh, God, he almost-

Without warning, Kate crashed forward and vomited into the basin, her stomach churning violently. Her head was pounding, the pain like claws digging into her skull. They got the bastards responsible for the murders and also the much needed evidence to close down the human trafficking ring, but it was too close for comfort.

Way too close.

She didn't expect their suspect to take such an interest in her. Maybe it was because she was playing hard to get. Maybe it was the short skirt. Whatever it was, it turned him on. Before she knew it, the guy had gotten her isolated like some rookie and caught her off guard. When had she tried to break free, he landed a blow to her cheek - hence the bruise - and then another back-handed slap across her face. It left her dazed and vulnerable.

Luckily, she had regained her wits before he could do too much and fought back, getting a black eye in the process. Eventually, they called in the team and arrested everyone - they had the information and the killer. She recalled how Esposito and Ryan had busted in and hauled her attacker away, using more force than was strictly necessary. Ryan had come to help her up, regarding her warily, but not saying a word as he draped his NYPD jacket over her battered form in a brotherly attempt to protect her modesty.

Thank God Castle wasn't there.

She exhaled a shaky breath and pushed herself back from the mirror, straightening her spine. Time to face the proverbial music.

"What the hell were you thinking?" She hissed, her eyes flashing. She was basically panting, her body thrumming with restrained fury. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

He held up a hand and approached her slowly. "Kate, I was just trying to keep you and Lizzy safe."

"By lying about it? By keeping me in the dark?" She growled.

"I didn't want you to have this on your plate as well. You're under enough stress as it is."

She rubbed both hands over her face. "Oh my God, I can't believe this," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Damn it, Rick, I could have done something about this."

"I'm handling it," he barked, his face contorting.

She released an acidic laugh. "Yeah, and you're doing a great job, honey."

Ouch, that stung. Fine, he may have deserved some bitter backlash.

"Look, I have a security team on us at all times and a PI investigating things."

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you, Castle?"

He clenched his teeth to keep from lashing out against her. "They're working on it – they've already combed through the fan mail and identified a few potential red flags."

"Oh, really? Maybe things would go quicker if you decide to stop playing cop and get the real cops to do this."

That was it.

"God damn it, Kate! Yes, I know I'm not the cop and yes you are the one with the professional training – as you so frequently love to remind me. But for fuck sake, you're my wife first! My wife! You and Lizzy – our family – is my responsibility to keep safe."

She was shaking her head and bit her lip, her eyes teeming with tears. She turned her body sideways, orientating it to the windows and away from him, her arms folded across her chest.

"You don't get to make these decisions alone, Rick. You should have told me," she rasped, her voice like a fragile piece of string about to snap.

He deflated slightly and sank down into a nearby chair. He dropped his elbows to rest on his knees, wiping his hands over his face.

"I know. But. . . I thought - I hoped - that this would have blown over by now."

They're quiet for a while, each dealing with the reality of the surreal circumstances.

"I have a plan B," Rick said, breaking the silence. Kate turned to him, lifting her eyebrows, her thumb caught in between her teeth. She usually chewed on her nails while deep in thought.

"So, what is it?"

He hesitated. "I don't think you're going to like it."

"I don't like any of this," she growled, throwing her hands in the air. "Spit it out, Castle."

"You and Lizzy get out of the city, go to a safe spot until we catch this nutcase."

She stared at him before shaking her head slowly. "Yeah, you're right - I don't fucking like it."

"Well, what other suggestions do you have?" He shot back, standing up again. He was pacing back and forth. "Because the way I see it is that this dumbass isn't going to stop, Kate. Not until. . ." He didn't finish the sentence.

"Not until one of us gets hurt," Kate filled in softly.

"Or worse," he added grimly.

The detective tipped her head back and rolled her neck from side to side, feeling the tension infecting her muscles.

"So, we don't have another option. We have to get out of town."

He nodded, releasing a bated breath. "Yeah, exactly."

She squeezed the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Okay, the Hamptons is not that far-"

"No, not the Hamptons. It's too risky."

She dropped her hand, her eyes flinty as they bored into them . Her brow furrowed, her mouth pursed.

"Then where, Rick?" She asked in exasperation.

"Your dad's cabin."

He stared at her, stock still and wide-eyed. She had texted him an hour ago that she was on her way home and that they had gotten their man. Except, she forgot to mention the part where she looked like a human punching bag.

Kate dropped her bag and keys on the nearby table, completely oblivious to her husband's attention. She tried to remove her jacket, grunting in pain. Finally, Rick got his feet unstuck and hurried towards her, his heart thundering.

"Kate," he breathed out, his voice like mist. She stiffened and slowly turned around, already knowing how he would react. He visibly flinched when he saw her battered face, his eyes dimming, shadows ghosting over his features.

She attempted to build a smile for him, but it collapsed, demolished by the pain.

"Hey."

He didn't reach for her, just flicked his eyes over her, his mouth twitching. He gave a hesitant step forward, tentatively lifting his hand before letting it fall away.

"W-what happened?" He scraped out, a hand finally falling to her arm, cradling it between his fingers.

God, she couldn't-

She swallowed, letting her gaze fall away for a moment. "One of the henchmen got the drop on me. He surprised me and we got into a. . . scuffle." She flailed a hand around her body; highlighting the bruised cheek, black eye and split lip.

However, she neglected to mention the nature of her attacker's assault.

He pushed towards her, breaking the unseen barrier and gently wrapped his arms around her. "God, Kate," Rick breathed out unsteadily. She could feel the shake of his head, his chin bumping against her temple, his hands jerking around her shoulders.

"I can't - God, this was such a bad idea."

She puffed out a thin laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Yeah, clearly."

He smiled for her benefit, a faint tilt of his mouth. He led her to the couch and sat down.

"Are you okay? Where else does it hurt?"

She hesitated for a moment, but the intensity of his attention swayed her.

"I'm okay, it's just. . .my ribs. He got a few punches in."

Rick visibly paled, struggling to keep his expression blank. His jaw tightened, his shoulders tensing.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to regain control. "Okay, I'll get you some painkillers," he ground out. He snapped his eyes to her again. "You got yourself checked out, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, on the scene."

"Good, good." His hands were shaking. "Uh, what do - are you hungry?" He asked, the words stumbling out. He stood up, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I made some lasagna. You should probably get something in your system before taking medication."

She hasn't eaten since late morning.

"Yeah, come to think of it, I'm actually starving," she answered around a frail laugh.

He cocked his head and watched her for a moment. He lifted his hand to her beaten face, lightly trailing a couple of fingers along her jaw and up her uninjured cheek. He bent down and dusted his lips over her forehead, lingering for a moment.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath caressing her skin. "God, Kate." He couldn't add anything more, the words wedged in his throat, his heart thumping too loudly in his ears.

She grasped his wrist, her throat closing up. It was too much. The way he touched her - gentle and as if she was a gossamer thing. His fingers were dancing over her skin as if in supplication, in worship. In stark contrast, the bruises and broken skin spoke of a destroyed altar, a violated temple.

But her husband couldn't know that.

"Love you too."

A/N: The next chapter will follow directly from this one and will also include flashbacks.

Thanks for reading.

Apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes.

Title: from Sleeping at Last's 'Turning Page'.