Beckett walks home slowly, ruing her decision to not change at the precinct; seven blocks in heels isn't her idea of a good time, but she's not in any hurry to be alone within her four walls.

She toys with the idea of calling Lanie. She could call her friend, maybe they could go out. Dancing? Drinking? She doesn't care. She's on call tomorrow, but since they wrapped up the case today she need only go in if a body drops. But as she continues her trek home, sluggishly placing one foot in front of the other, the idea of collapsing into bed doesn't sound so bad after all. Maybe she'll even sleep; she knows she could use a solid eight hours.

At the thought of how tired she is, she's shocked once more by the conversation that transpired two days ago. She's furious all over again. What was Castle thinking? Beckett freezes abruptly, stilling on the sidewalk. She scowls back at a middle aged man who throws her an angry look as he brushes past her roughly.

Her gaze catches on a child dragging her heels, her mother tugging on her hand. She wishes she remembered more of her own childhood. Wishes she could ask her own mom about the good and the bad. Wishes she could relive it all, do it better this time. Savor it.

Deep breaths, she reminds herself, but there's no peace to be had on this busy New York street. The days are getting longer and warmer, but Beckett pulls her jacket closer around herself, shaking her head and averting her eyes.

She's nearly home; in fact, her apartment is in view, so she continues walking. She will cross the road, walk another hundred yards, and she'll turn into her building. She will take the elevator to her floor, and collapse in a heap once she steps into her apartment. She's forgetting something, though. She pauses at the stop light, waiting impatiently for it to change, before it hits her. Will. She hasn't seen him or returned his calls. Beckett runs a frustrated hand through her hair as the light changes, hesitating.

She doesn't want to see him, doesn't want to explain herself.

Beckett sighs; better to do this now, get it over with. Instead of crossing, she sticks her hand out, hailing a cab instead, and asks the driver to take her to the hospital.


The cab drops her off a block away from the hospital; she knows it's ridiculous, but she figures one last donut won't hurt. It was always their thing, and she gets a cup of coffee too, draining the cup before she even reaches the hospital entrance. It's the first hit of caffeine that she's had since she'd left Esposito's coffee cold on her desk.

Kate shudders as she steps over the threshold of the hospital, past the nurses smoking on their break, and through the automatic doors, recalling the way she fled two days ago. She steels herself and heads up to Will's room, knocking lightly on his door before letting herself in.

"Hey…" Will's voice is soft, and he struggles to sit up when he sees her, but he smiles broadly. "I missed you."

Kate bites her lip. There's hope in his eyes that makes her uncomfortable. "Hey," she returns, tentatively stepping closer and sitting in the chair beside his bed. She pushes the box with the donut toward him. "I- uh-" She falters, feeling stupid.

"Kate?" Will asks. There's concern in his eyes now, and she grimaces. "You okay?"

She shrugs. "You're- I should be asking you that," she tells him wryly, and he grins.

"You should," he agrees, and in spite of his teasing tone, she flinches. Well. Yeah. She deserves to be berated. He reaches a hand toward her, though, and smiles. "Seriously, Kate? I'm okay- it's you that I'm worried about. What happened? You ducked out of here, and I figured you'd be back- and then one of the nurses told me you ran off crying…"

"You said 'he likes you'," she starts, and Will nods. "Well-" She shrugs again, and it tumbles out. "He's been looking into my mom's case. Behind my back. He- he said he wanted to stop looking, when he realized that I- but-" Beckett swallows angrily, unable to finish that sentence. "But before he could stop, his expert found something. His expert," she spits out again, and Will raises his eyebrows.

"He what?" Will's tone is incredulous, and Kate sighs.

"He- he didn't know," she offers, feeling foolish. Now that she can hear the disdain in Will's voice, the anger on her behalf, she feels an irrational need to defend Castle that she tries to suppress. "He didn't know," she shrugs, trying this time for anger, but mostly she's just tired; she feels, among other things, like the last few days have added a decade to her life.

Will shrugs, wincing as he moves, and Kate squeezes her eyes shut. Her ex-boyfriend is in pain; he's been shot, for crying out loud, and the last thing he needs is her unloading on him. She shifts uncomfortably in the hard hospital chair, and looks around the room, needing to look at something other than the pain that passes over his face.

"I shouldn't have come," she says at last, staring steadfastly at the crooked painting on the wall opposite. "I-"

"Hey." Will reaches for Kate, grabbing her wrist before she can get up. "You can tell me stuff, Kate. I'm going to be out of hospital in a few days time, and you know I'm back in the city now. It's going to be okay."

Beckett shakes her head. Does he think they're going to pick up where they left off when he left for Boston? "Will, no. We're… over. We're not going to see each other again… you know that, right?"

He shakes his head. "I thought-" he falls quiet, and Beckett matches his silence with her own. She knows what he thought.

"I know," she says at last, because it's easier to lie. "But…" She bites her lip. "I can't," she says, at last. "I'm not- I'm not the same, Will. Not-" Not the kind of woman he needs. She's too complicated. She hates that Castle is right, that she and Will are too similar; they bring out the worst in each other. They have fun, but they also get competitive. They get caught up in their own cases; they don't operate as partners.

And, when all is said and done, she just doesn't want to get into a relationship. Not right now, and not with Will.

"You know that right?" she asks again, sighing.

He nods at last, and smiles at her ruefully. "It could have been great," he tells her.

She shrugs. "Yeah," she agrees softly, because she has to say something, even if it's untrue.


She leaves the hospital less angry than when she'd arrived. She feels empty, if anything. She'd made small talk for a few minutes longer, until Will had feigned tiredness with a yawn. She'd gratefully excused herself, walking away from his room with an accompanying feeling of relief.

Beckett makes her way home, jumping on the subway this time, walking up the stairs to her apartment instead of waiting for the elevator. She reaches into her pocket to fumble for her keys, stumbling on the torn carpet at the top of the staircase. Man, she's exhausted. She huffs aloud when her fingers close around the keys, not quite able to believe she'd been entertaining the thought of calling Lanie. She's so tired now, seeing Will has sapped her of the last of her energy, and she thinks she's beyond even caring that Castle-

Castle? There's a familiar figure slouched in her doorway and Beckett grimaces, releasing her hold on her keys and reaching instead for her piece almost automatically. "Castle?" she exclaims, narrowing her eyes. "You need to leave."

She releases her grip on the gun and reaches again for the keys, brushing past him roughly before he's even said a word. She inserts her key into the lock and opens her door. He straightens up, unfurling to his full height, and Beckett straightens her back a little too. She's grateful, suddenly, that she's spent the evening marching around Manhattan in these god-uncomfortable heels.

"Leave, Castle," she tells him, pushing past him and stalking through the door of her apartment. "Just- stay away." She moves to close the door, but she hesitates when he speaks.

"Beckett- wait-" he says, and she sighs.

"Why, Castle? So you can trample on some more of my life? Find a few other wounds to open?"

"No-" There's genuine despair in his eyes, and even in her haze of anger, Beckett recognizes it for what it is. Guilt. "No- just hear me out. I didn't mean to meddle- I got the file, and I started looking-"

"Ah, yes," she spits out. "The file. But here's what I can't figure out. I told you about my Mom, and you took matters into your own hands, you looked through the file. But how? I know you didn't get my copy of it- so who gave you access to the locked archive room? You've been following me around for months, and I know I certainly never let you loose in there."

Castle shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he tells her, and she shakes her head. It does matter. He's wormed his way into her life, but more than that, he's entrenched himself at the Twelfth to such a point that someone obviously agreed to let him look at evidence. She's livid, now that she thinks about it. Montgomery may not have written her up, back when she was a uniform, but she won't hesitate to do so to whoever let Castle have the file.

"Seriously," she says, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes as she exhales slowly, counting to three in her head before she opens her eyes again. "Who?"

"I-" Castle shakes his head. "It's not important."

"Come on, I know you didn't just bribe an officer-" she looks at him. "You didn't, did you?"

"No." Castle runs his fingers through his hair, apparently considering, before shaking his head. "Seriously, Beckett. It's not important. Let's say, yeah- I bribed an officer. Let's leave it at that."

Beckett raises her eyebrows at him. "Let's leave it at that, then," she agrees, and shuts the door before he can say another word.


A/N: Made it back to this one after my mad dash to get the last fic out before season six began! (And hurrah for Caskett back on our screens, I say!) Trish, thank you for the last minute beta. :)