AN: This episode is near and dear to my heart so I had a hard time with whether or not to even write this. I liked the idea though, so hopefully I did the episode justice. As a precaution, this does include Beckett's breakdown in the episode, so though I feel it is mild, if that sort of thing triggers you at all, proceed carefully. Also, I know that this type of story has been done a lot for this episode. I honestly haven't read very many Kill Shot stories (I will be now that I've finished mine), so if there are similarities I am sorry but I am not trying to copy anyone.

That being said, I really hope you like it. Please review and tell me your thoughts.

"You know he saw her face when he killed her? People always think that snipers are so removed from their targets, but he wasn't. He was as close as we are now, looking through that scope."

Rick watched as Beckett tried to hold herself together. It wasn't working. She was on the verge of falling apart completely and it was breaking his heart.

"We're gonna catch this guy." It wasn't enough. All Rick wanted to do was fix this, solve this damn case and help her heal whatever wounds she was still trying to deny she had. He just wanted to get that look off her face so that she could move on with her life. It wasn't even about her "moving on" and healing so that she could be ready for that relationship she mentioned on the swings. No, this was about her. He needed her to be whole, with or without him.

Words just weren't going to cut it.

"Yeah, like we caught the guy who shot me." Her voice broke ever so slightly and it was all he could do not to run and pull her into his arms.

This case had to end. Now.

"Dad, why are you still up? It's two in the morning." Alexis's voice was soft as she padded into his office, reminding him of days when come to find him after waking from a nightmare.

"I could ask you the same thing; you've got school in the morning."

"And that's why I was asleep," she said as she stepped around the desk to stand beside him. "I woke up and decided to get some water; I saw the light on and came to check on you. Your turn."

"I'm working on the case, trying to figure out why our sniper's leaving these damn dolls behind." He held one up to show her. "If I could just figure out what painting they're from.

"Let me see." Rick gladly handed it over. "Chiaroscuro."

"You recognize that?" He had the best daughter in the universe.

"It's a style of painting that was invented during the renaissance. Try looking up Caravaggio or Petrazano." He quickly did as he was told.

"Hey this might be it, Petrazano. The Persecution of Kings." Rick held the paper doll up to his laptop. "You my dear child, are incredible."

"But why these paintings? They're obviously important, so what do they mean?" They both thought for a moment. Rick was pretty sure he shouldn't be roping Alexis into a murder investigation, but she was helping.

"Well, this doll was left at the first scene. Persecution of Kings..." He stared at the doll, trying to come up with something. "Wait, our second victim was killed on Kings street."

"So what? The dolls are clues to where the next shooting will be?" Alexis' eyes lit up. "Dad you have to tell Beckett."

"Yeah, but it's two in the morning." She looked at him reproachfully.

"If she's half as freaked about by this case as you are, you need to tell her now."

Rick knew this is probably a bad idea, showing up at Beckett's place in the middle of the night. Every time he considered chucking it all in and going back home though, he remembered the look in her eyes, and he told himself it's worth the risk.

Riding in the elevator with his laptop in hand, he knew he could just show her the paintings on hers but he already had them pulled up on his, he couldn't help but wonder what would greet him when he knocked on her door. Would it be the stone-faced detective he knew she could become when she felt she has to, or would it be another version of the broken woman he got a glimpse of earlier.

He found himself almost hoping for the latter; at least she might allow him to help her.

After knocking on her door quietly, it is the middle of the night after all, Rick listened for movement. When he didn't hear any for a few seconds, he knocked again, louder this time.

Then he did hear something, but it sounded more like a struggle than her grumpily making her way to the door. When he heard what he could only describe as Beckett panicking, Rick made his decision.

"Beckett!" He was yelling now; he didn't care who he woke up or frightened, as long as she was safe. "I'm coming in; I'm gonna use the key." He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, searching desperately for the one she had given him not long after she had leased the place.

This is only for emergencies Castle, she had told him. So help me god if I find you've entered my home without my permission you will lose both your ears.

At the time he'd made some clever quip about her never finding out, but he'd understood how much the gesture had meant. This was an emergency though, was it not? Well, he wasn't going to wait any longer to find out.

Bursting through the door, the first thing he saw was the glass; it was everywhere. Frantic, Rick set his laptop on the chair and scanned the apartment, but he couldn't find her. Then he took a closer look at the glass and realized it used to be a bottle.

Rick stood perfectly still for a full ten seconds, just listening. He hated himself for it, because what if Beckett really was hurt? What if he could have been doing something to help her but he was just standing there? But he can't risk it. There's very little alcohol on the floor, so either the bottle was already close to empty when she started, or she'd had more than he'd ever seen her drink.

He held his breath for the last three seconds of his self-imposed torture, but the silence persisted. It was only when he took a few cautious steps through the kitchen that he heard anything at all.

The ragged breathing was coming from her office, and he had to fight every instinct in his body not to whip his head to face her. Instead, he slowly pivoted until he saw her.

Beckett was huddled tightly against the wall behind her desk, complete terror in her eyes when they met his.

He forced himself to hold her stare, even as his peripheral vision registered the fact that there was blood dripping from her arm and her hands were shaking slightly as she pointed her gun at him.

The fear in her eyes exploded for an instant before reigning itself in and hardening.

"Beckett, please," Rick whispered. He wished he could tell himself that he wasn't actually afraid in that moment, because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this woman would never hurt him. But this woman was not the same woman he followed around everyday, the woman he fell in love with, the woman who routinely threatened to shoot him but would never in a million years actually do it.

Her expression changed ever so slightly, a tiny sliver of confusion adding to the cloud the alcohol had put in her eyes.

"Kate, you're safe. It's just me." Rick raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. Her hands started to shake violently and his heart broke.

He wanted so much for Beckett, and to see her in this much pain... it was agony. Not knowing how she would react, he slowly took a step towards her.

"Kate, I'm the only one here. It's just me." She didn't pull the trigger, which was a good sign, but she didn't lower the gun either.

"You're okay." He took another step closer and shrugged, trying to act like he wasn't this entire situation didn't scare the living daylights out of him. "You're bleeding a little, but it's nothing we can't fix." Another three painstakingly slow step. "You've gotta put the gun down though."

Rick was now standing only a few feet from Beckett. When he crouched in front of her, she steadied her gun an inch from his forehead.

She was absolutely terrified; he could see it all over her face as he forced himself to look past the barrel. He was terrified too. Now that he was so close, he could tell she recognized him, that whatever delusion was currently overpowering her impeccable sense of logic must be fading at least a little. She was realizing exactly what was happening and the reality of the situation seemed to scare her more than the story she'd created.

Tentatively, he reached his hands out to cup her jawline. She flinched at his touch and another icy shot of adrenaline coursed through his blood.

"Kate, you're going to be okay. Just put the gun down. You're safe."

Rick watched as she blinked, tears welling up in her eyes. Her hands wobbled one last time before slowly falling to the floor. The moment he heard the gun clatter faintly against the hardwood, Castle collapsed as Beckett sunk into him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered into his shoulder between sobs. Her entire body was trembling.

"Shh, don't worry about me. Actually," he laughed nervously, "you might wish you'd have shot me when you find out I used the key you gave me."

"What?" Beckett leaned back and glared at him and for a second Rick got his partner back, even if the word did slur a bit. But then she hissed in pain and both of them looked down to see her arm bleeding all over his jacket.

"Shit, I'm bleeding all over you." She moved to stand, but had to lean against the wall for support. Rick, stood, took her uninjured arm, and began walking her to the living room.

"Don't worry about my clothes Beckett." He already missed being able to call her Kate. He knew that wasn't what he should be focusing on, but he couldn't help it. She sat on the couch and calmly started to investigate her wound, but Rick could see confusion and fear returning to her eyes no matter how hard she tried to mask it.

He didn't want to leave her alone, but it was obvious she was going to need bandages, possibly a lot of them. Searching her face once more for signs that the storm might return. Though her eyes were anything but clear, Rick was mostly satisfied that she would survive the couple minutes it would take him to gather first aid supplies.

When he returned, he found he had a rare opportunity to observe Beckett without her being aware of his scrutiny. Her face was, for once, open and unguarded.

She was trying to remember how she'd cut herself and shake off the affects of the liquor. As he kneeled down in front of her he wanted to find the slight frown on her face cute, she truly was adorable when she was frustrated, but there was glass cutting into his kneecaps, reminding him that none of this was cute.

"Well, I don't think you'll need stitches. Take these." Rick offered her the Tylenol he'd found and a glass of water. He tried to keep his voice light as he carefully began cleaning the blood off her arm. Fortunately, the wound seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding, but she hissed every time he touched her.

They continued in silence for several minutes, Beckett downing the water as Rick made sure there wasn't any glass still digging into her skin.

"You let yourself in?" Her words were clearer now; she was obviously not sober yet, but she was working to get there. He froze halfway through securing a bandage. When he looked up at her, she had her head cocked to the side as she squinted over his shoulder.

"Uh, yeah." After wrapping gauze around her bandage and making sure it wasn't going anywhere, Rick rubbed a hand through his hair before standing and taking the empty glass from her. "I knocked and heard... noises. When you didn't answer I guess I panicked."

He was staring at the glass in his hand. He might have joked about it earlier, but he was legitimately concerned about her reaction. It hadn't been his brightest idea, but he couldn't find the strength to regret it.

Rick almost jumped out of his skin when Beckett took his free hand in hers, forcing him to look him in the eyes. They were puffy and bloodshot.

"Thank you." Her hand tightened around his and he reveled in the feel of her skin against his. This was the type of contact that they just didn't have. It made his whole body ache to hold her again. But then her fingers slipped from his and he had to force himself to breathe again. He went to refill her water, handing it to her just as she was getting to her feet, still a bit wobbly.

"Go change. I'll try and clean this up." Beckett nodded gingerly and he watched as she made her way towards her bedroom. When she reached the doorway, she placed a palm on the frame and looked over her shoulder at him. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly in a soft smile. God he loved when she smiled like that.

She turned away, but he just stood there for a few seconds, not willing to allow reality to come crashing down on him again. It took him longer than he would care to admit to pull himself out of the fantasyland he'd created, wherein Beckett had welcomed him in and there wasn't blood and glass all over the floor.

Eventually, he shook the dream out of his head and found a broom. By the time all the glass was gone, he could tell he was being watched. He glanced towards the kitchen and saw her leaning awkwardly against the island.

"You should sleep, Beckett. I'll lock the door on my way out."

"Don't." Her voice was soft, but strong. He wasn't looking at her, preferring not to see just how broken she looked, but he could tell she was struggling. He'd crossed a line tonight. She needed space to recover alone; this wasn't the kind of thing with which she was willing to let him help her, and that was okay. Well, maybe it wasn't okay, but he was willing to let her have this one.

"Look, I'm sorry about using the key you gave me. If you want it back I'll leave it, but you have to promise me that you'll sleep." He picked up his keys from where he'd dropped them and started searching for the right one.

"No, that's not," she sighed heavily, pinching her nose in a way that would make him laugh in any other circumstance. "Stay, please. I... I'll feel safer if I know you're out here."

Oh. Rick didn't move. He was afraid that if he moved she would change her mind. She wanted his help, and she wasn't too stubborn to ask for it.

"Uh. Yeah, okay."

Rick didn't sleep, not really. Between his worry about Beckett and the fact that her couch really wasn't all that comfortable, he had enough to keep him staring at the ceiling until dawn.

He checked his watch when he heard her alarm go off. 5:15. He hoped she'd at least gotten a little sleep. Her face when she appeared a half hour later, showered and dressed in her Detective Beckett shell, told him he was probably kidding himself.

"I made breakfast." He had wanted to make pancakes again, to try and get her to actually eat them this time. But alas, all he had to work with were eggs and bread, so he settled for egg sandwiches.

"Castle, we really don't have time for all that. I was going to grab coffee on the way; we need to figure out this guy's next move." She said it like he should've expected it, like she was disappointed that he thought she would pause for a moment, even to eat. All of the vulnerability of the previous night was gone. She'd had time to pull herself together, expecting him to accept it. He would, for now. But she was still going to eat.

"That's why I came over here last night." A flash of pain and embarrassment clouded her face before she could school her reaction. He ignored it. "I know what the paper dolls mean. Eat and I'll tell you."

"You're blackmailing me into eating breakfast when there's a sniper wreaking havoc on the city? Castle, your priorities-"

"Are exactly as they should be. Now eat. Please." He placed the plate in front of her and watched as she reluctantly took a bite.

"Happy now?" She was pouting like a petulant child, which he supposed was preferable to not eating at all. He nodded.

"The paper dolls are predictive." He spun his laptop to show her the photos he'd found. "They're cut out of paintings that literally tell us the location of the next target."

Rick continued to explain what he and Alexis had learned, but before they could so much as discuss a course of action, Beckett's phone rang.

"Breakfast's over."

Whatever control Beckett had summoned up to keep herself in check earlier, she was losing it. She had been silent for the entire ride to Grace Point Tower and he'd been worried, but this was worse.

She was pushy with the victim, losing the empathy with which she usually conducted interviews. He didn't blame her, not after everything, but when the woman grabbed her arm, he could tell she was panicking.

Out of breath, she told the medic to get the woman out, and then her hand was on his forearm, gripping for dear life, and they were running.

"Beckett?" She pulled him through a side door. "Kate what-"

"I can't," she cried as she released his arm, only to start shedding her jacket. Rick just stood there for a second, trying to decide if this was real. It was one thing for him to barge into her apartment and force her to accept his help; it was another for her to actively seek his comfort as she broke down.

Her badge hit the floor and she slammed into him. He felt her arms lock around him as she buried her face in his shoulder. She was holding onto him so tightly that he could feel as she started to hyperventilate.

Rick tried to soothe her, ran his hands over her back as he gently worked to calm her down. It wasn't working. Her sobs only became more violent and he could feel tears soaking through his shirt.

"Kate, you're safe," he whispered in her ear, repeating the words that had gotten through to her before. When her only response was to pull her grip on him even tighter, he realized words weren't going to work.

This wasn't something he could pull her out of, but he would do what he could. So he let her hang onto him.

He stood there, just holding her, for as long as he could stand it. He listened to her erratic breathing until it slowly began to even out. The moment it was over for her he knew; her fingers, which had been steadfastly clenched around the fabric of his jacket, smoothed themselves out over his back.

He froze for a second, because despite the fact that he hated what she just went though, he was holding her. He was holding her without pretense, without fires or freezers or bombs. Then she sank into him, now all loose and exhausted, and he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she wouldn't run this time.

After a few minutes she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye. The fear had been washed away from hers, leaving only a soft determination mingling with the final few tears.

"I love you," she said as she lifted a hand to his face. "You deserve to know that."

AN2: Was that decent? Honestly was terrified of ruining this amazing episode, but I've always been very intrigued by the idea of Castle finding her in that state.