Thank you to those who left kind reviews for last chapter. It meant a lot.

Victoria Gates was not often wrong.

She knew people, knew how to understand their mindset, their motivations, their actions.

Her ability to read others was part of what made her such a good cop, a good captain. But even the greatest– and she was by no means among the greatest– were not infallible.

Sooner or later, they all made mistakes.

And now, it seemed her time had come. They were her team; she was responsible for each and every one of them, for their wellbeing, their safety. She was supposed to know them, protect them, understand them.

Instead, she'd misjudged them.

Deaf to the buzz of activity filtering in from the bullpen, Captain Gates stood silently before the window that separated her office and the meeting room, staring through the half-closed shutters at the agitated figure pacing on the other side of the glass, her arms folded and eyes thoughtful as she watched the seemingly indestructible foundation atop which she'd built her team slowly beginning to crack apart.

And as Beckett continued to stride back and forth, prowling the room like an enraged tigress confined to a too-small cage, Gates finally came to understand her error.

She had believed that Beckett was the center, the core, the keystone that held their team together; but her conclusion was not entirely correct, her logic marred by a single flaw.

Richard Castle.

Before she'd even met the man, it had been her first instinct to dislike him, a reaction that she considered justified– even if it was one based purely on his reputation and her own principles.

Whatever friendship Mr Castle had shared with her predecessor– Roy Montgomery had been an exemplary cop, but his laxity concerning protocol was a dangerous failing– she'd felt no hesitation in making her distaste for him known right from the outset, felt no obligation to humour this slick playboy who had somehow managed to charm his way into her precinct, this spoiled man-child who believed he could treat her profession like a game, making a mockery of the job that she and many other good men and women had dedicated their entire lives to.

And so, as was her right, she had removed him from the precinct at her first opportunity, had banished him for his apparent frivolity and often blatant disregard of the rulebook she loved.

But she'd been wrong.

Castle may not be a cop, may not be cut from the same starched-and-folded navy cloth that she and her officers were, but his unorthodoxy– as she was finally coming to understand– did not in fact make him a liability, nor the dangerous hazard to her team that she'd previously thought him to be.

It was what made him essential.

Castle was the linchpin, the one tiny screw that kept the whole machine functioning. Her earlier confrontation with Beckett was proof enough of that; she could not forget how close her brightest and most capable detective had come to turning her back on everything she'd ever worked for, could not stop seeing the tormented, despairing look in the younger woman's eyes, Castle's ghost haunting them all even as he still lived.

But, if the events during that chilling phone call were as she suspected– if he truly was lost to them– she now held no doubt that Beckett would surely follow; and, just like that, Gates' supposed keystone would crumble, the entire structure collapsing into rubble around them, far beyond any hope of repair.

Now, glancing at the splintered mess in the corner of the meeting room– a pile of broken wood that had once been a sturdy chair before Beckett had forcefully introduced it to the wall– she could already see the cracks widening, spreading outward like fractured glass, inching ever closer to breaking point.

And the hard truth was that there was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing she could do to shield her people from the destruction that would soon envelop them.

All she could do was stand aside, and watch the dominoes fall.

She was so immersed in her fatalistic contemplation that she didn't immediately register the light knock at the door, looking across with muted surprise when the newcomer approached, speaking softly from beside her.

"Captain Gates," Lanie Parish greeted quietly, her eyes slightly reddened, entire demeanor subdued. "Esposito called me. He thought she might need a friend with her."

Eyeing her, Gates nodded once, both in acknowledgement and assent.

Looking out into the room beyond, Lanie's features darkened briefly at the sight of her grief-stricken friend, a shadow of that same grief passing over her face before her expression smoothed out, adopting the steady, empathetic look that she had no doubt developed from years of witnessing pain and loss firsthand. Gates was more than familiar with that look, had worn a similar one far too many times during her career.

But it was the flash of anguish that had preceded it that held her attention; here was further evidence of Castle's reach, proof of his infiltration throughout the depth and breadth of her precinct. It seemed undeniable to her now that, were he to be lost today, the repercussions from his death would ripple far beyond what she could contain, would affect far more than she could control.

Seemingly having prepared herself for what she was about to face, the doctor turned to leave, but Gates needed to hear her beliefs confirmed.

"Dr Parish?"

Lanie paused, eyes glancing to the door. "Yes, Captain?"

Gesturing slightly towards the meeting room where Beckett continued to pace, she began carefully, "If Mr Castle doesn't return, Detective Beckett…"

Taking a deep breath, Lanie met her gaze, held it without blinking as she finished the sentence. "Won't either."

Despite her similar train of thought, Captain Gates arched a brow at the younger woman's words, inviting explanation.

"With all due respect, Captain, there's something you need to understand about those two. What they have, it's not just a partnership, it's…" Pausing, Lanie frowned and looked down, struggling to find the words.

"Love?" Gates supplied, her voice devoid of emotion, giving away nothing.

"Well, yes, but it's even more than that," the doctor countered, a quiet intensity to her words. "What's between those two is… well, it's almost like some kind of extreme symbiosis, an interdependence, two beings who simply cannot survive without the other. They need each other, Sir, and if we lose one, you better believe that we've lost both."

As the weight of her words settled between them, Lanie at last looked away, her voice softening as her gaze found her friend once more. "I'm going in to sit with her."

Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, taking several steps before Gates spoke, halting her a second time.

"Dr Parish."

"Yes?"

Staring contemplatively through the window, Gates sighed, then turned back to the other woman. "In your honest opinion, do I need to be concerned for her wellbeing?"

Lanie frowned from her place by the door. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Symbiosis, Dr Parish. You said it yourself. Beckett owns multiple firearms and is highly trained. I need to know whether she will be a risk to herself or others, if... if today's events do not end well."

"I– no, she would never–" the doctor began, then abruptly broke off, running a hand through her hair as she clearly struggled with herself.

Finally, her eyes lifted to meet Gates' waiting gaze once more, her voice low, pained, as if she wanted to give any other answer than the one that left her lips. "Since they started working together, I've seen those two follow each other to the brink of death more times than I'd like to count. I– I could believe that she would follow him past it."

Shaking her head, she fixed her eyes through the glass, her worried gaze following her friend. "But not now, not yet. Not until the... the person responsible was caught and put to justice. But after... I don't know if she could survive that kind of loss a second time."

Eyes lowered, Gates gave a slow nod, her voice equally quiet. "Not many of us could."

Then, turning her back on the meeting room and the broken woman inside it, she met Lanie's eyes once more, straightening her spine.

"Go. Do what you can."

With a slightly tremulous nod, the other woman obeyed, exiting the office to approach the room beside it.

Watching her go, Gates released a slow sigh, then picked up her phone, doing the only thing she could do.

When the voice answered at the other end of the line, she drew a silent, steadying breath, feeling the weight of each of their fates pressing in on her.

"Detective Esposito. Tell me you've got something."

Hope you like my Gates, and just a note: I personally don't think Beckett would ever directly harm herself if she lost Castle, but I can 100% believe that she'd become extremely willing to throw herself recklessly into life-threatening situations. And I think the entire team knows it too.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

-Laura