Beckett was trying to pick out the sound of familiar footsteps in the hall, but it was very obvious when Martha and Alexis were approaching; Martha's voice was discernible, reading the room numbers aloud along the corridor. They burst in together and looked them both up and down. Alexis ran straight to her father, but instinctively, Castle flinched and hissed through his teeth as she approached. Maybe he'd thought she was going to throw her arms around him without thinking. She jumped back. "Sorry!"

"No, no, I'm sorry, sweetie," he said, reaching his hand to her. He strained to sit up further, eliciting another involuntary hiss, which didn't help. "Please, you can hug me. It's all on the one side, this side's just fine." Beckett ached for him as Alexis leaned in for an armless hug. It wasn't much more than holding their faces next to each other, which looked deeply unsatisfactory as a hug, and from somewhere within it a sob escaped. "It's okay. I'm okay, it's fine," Castle kept saying.

"I knew something had happened," Alexis said. "Dad! Why did you have to send us away?"

Beckett didn't know where to look, but Martha was upon her before she knew it, wrapping her up in a motherly embrace. "I'm so sorry about all this, Martha," she whispered.

"I know. You're okay, kiddo," Martha muttered back, and she breathed a deep, resigned sigh before turning to her son. "Well, Richard," she said.

"How was London?" he asked tamely.

The look Martha gave him could have stopped a rampaging bull.

"London? Well, let's see … Guys and Dolls was enchanting, As You Like It a revelation, and I think you owe us an explanation."

"I really am sorry," he said in a rush. "I know it was cowardly of me, but I just couldn't tell you over the phone. And we really did want a few days to wrap our heads around everything, before..."

"Not that explanation!" she said, waving him away. "I mean, yes, I'm mad as hell about that, but I'll get over it. But tell us what happened, already, and how bad it is. I was half expecting a Captain Hook situation after what you said on the phone!"

Castle froze, with a look on his face as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Martha looked from his face to his bundled up hand, and back again. "What?" she demanded softly.

"Well, you're half right, Mother" said Castle, darting his eyes quickly over to Beckett. "My hand was crushed, and I lost a couple of fingers." Alexis covered her mouth. "As for the rest," he went on, "we were in a fire, and obviously we didn't come out completely on top."

"What he means," said Beckett firmly, "is that he ran into a burning building and pulled me out."

Alexis still looked horrified, Martha rather thin-lipped. "Tell us," she said quietly, pulling up a chair. "From the beginning, please."

After they told their story, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Martha and Alexis both embraced Beckett again after hearing the details of everything she'd been through, and Castle was strangely touched to see that she let herself cry with them. It wasn't much, just a trickle. She hadn't cried at all, as far as he could tell, since that first night, and he suspected she was all spent. He knew they could never imagine the full horror of what she'd had to do to survive — evenhewas mostly just joining dots — but they were there for her, and they loved her, and it was that as much as anything that made Castle well up himself.

Alexis turned back to her father and pulled her chair up close to him. Castle gave Beckett a look, and she cottoned on immediately. "Martha, d'you want to grab a cup of coffee?"

They both dabbed at their eyes, and Martha gave Beckett a hand up and held the door.

Castle grinned at Alexis as soon as they were alone. "So how mad are you?"

She glared at him. "I'm not mad," she said. "I'm just ... kinda freaking out about it. Is that okay?"

"Oh, honey, of course," he said. "I know it's a lot to take in, and it's going to be … weird. For all of us."

For all she said she was freaking out, there was an air of stately tragedy about her, sitting at his bedside like some mediaeval noblewoman from a PBS drama, who'd buried five brothers that winter and become all too adept at mopping brows. She's getting good at this, he thought sadly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind, Instead, she started fiddling with the long braid slung over her shoulder, and with that small gesture, the weary woman instantly transformed into a fragile girl.

"Hey," said Castle, reaching out to her. "Don't be scared of me. Please. Ask me anything."

Alexis gave a watery smile. "I was just going to ask, how far do the ... the burns go?"

He traced the rough outline and explained as best he could remember how the flames had come at him, and where he'd been shielded.

"And ... are you in a lot of pain?" she asked.

"Oh, they've got me drugged up to the eyeballs," he replied cheerfully.

"That's not what I asked."

"Can't slip anything by you, can I?" She shook her head. "Yeah, sweetie, it's pretty bad. The fingers are the worst. Actually, the deepest parts of the burn don't hurt; I think they're just numb."

"Which parts are the deepest?" she asked.

"In the middle of my chest, here, and above the elbow, and the back of my shoulder. Apparently I'm going to have all sorts of fun with them when the nerves start trying to heal in the next couple of months."

Out came the stern glare again. "Dad, can't you just be serious for one second?"

"I am serious," he said. "Look, I need you to understand, I don't regret what I did. I mean, yeah, the stupid stumble on my part is pretty annoying, but if this was the price we had to pay to get that man off the streets, I would pay it again in a heartbeat. Not to mention, saving Kate's life." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "But the next few months are going to be rough, and I might forget about all that once they take me off this morphine, so I needyouguys" — he smiled at her — "to remind me from time to time. Even if I bite your head off."

"Wow, you're really selling it."

"I know." As if she didn't already put up with enough. "I do regret putting you all through another shock. You've hardly forgiven me for the last one yet."

Alexis curled her lip. "It's okay, Dad. But my therapy bills for the rest of my life are on you, okay?"

"Deal."

"So … can you feel that your fingers are gone?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he replied. "It's kinda hard to tell."

"Weird," she said, twirling the end of her braid again. She was trying not to look, and succeeding about as well as if his hand were a giant flashing neon sign. All those poker lessons he'd given her had been a complete waste of time. He could see the cogs in her brain turning and was pretty sure he knew exactly what was coming. "Wait — Dad!" she said, right on cue, with a more obvious glance. "What about—?"

"I know."

"But what are you going to—?"

"I don't know," he said, smiling calmly. She really shouldn't be allowed to bring those big, earnest eyes of hers to conversations like this. "Don't worry. You know I always was a terrible typist."

"That's not funny."

"I know, it's entirely unfair that I should benefit now from bad habits I picked up in my youth."

"But you still — don't you still use — those ones?"

"Yeah. Some." The quiver in his stomach leapt up again. He'd sprained his wrist once, a few years back, and tried to write longhand like he did in college, but it was hopeless. He'd finely honed his creative process over the years, and his brain just didn't work that way anymore. "I'll figure it out. Writing's going to find its way out of me, one way or another. Just try and stop it."

Alexis still looked troubled.

"Come here," he said gruffly, and beckoned her in for another hug. This time she took both her arms under his good one, grabbing his shoulder from behind as he wrapped his arm around her. It felt much more like a real hug. "See," he whispered. "We're adapting already."

When they pulled apart, she narrowed her eyes. "I am still mad at you, you know."

"You said you weren't!" he said indignantly, but at the look on her face he raised his hand in surrender. "Fair enough."

"But I'm proud, too. And I'm so happy you saved Beckett. In fact, it kinda sounds like you were a hero."

"I'll try not to get a big head."

"And you were right about 3XK all along."

Castle clenched his fist. And they'd been having such a nice chat. Burns and such. "Never been so sorry to be right."

"Well, the upshot is, turns out you haven't actually killed a guy yet. So that's something."

"Yet?" said Castle. This was what he got for telling her to ask him anything. "Same net result, of course."

"But not at your hand."

She always did have to look at a thing dead-on. "Has that been bothering you?"

Alexis hesitated. "Yes and no. Same as for you, I'm guessing."

"To be fair, I was, like, eighty per cent sure I hadn't succeeded. But the other twenty … had to contemplate the possibility." It wasn't the mechanics of it that had troubled him, though. "It's a disturbing thing to find yourself — any part of yourself — hoping someone is dead. Even someone like him. Much less hoping you'd killed him." In all of the last two years of wondering, he'd never quite figured out where he landed on that.

"Being glad you stopped someone, and being glad they're dead, aren't quite the same thing," Alexis said carefully.

"It's an awfully fine line," he said. "But hey, don't stress yourself out. These are my actions to carry, my moral conundra."

"And you don't carry things for Beckett, when it comes up?" Her eyes were gently challenging. "Like right now, for example? We all carry stuff for one another. It's what we're here for."

Castle felt another twist of guilt at the deception he'd played on them the last few days. She was probably right, but as far as he could tell a problem shared was often a problem doubled. How were you supposed to tell which problems were which, until it was too late?

"Speaking of whom," he said, "do you want to go rescue Beckett from Gram? There's only one cafeteria on this floor, you can't miss them."

"Sure," she said, getting up. "Love you." She bent over to kiss him on the forehead and turned to go.

"Alexis," he called, as she reached the doorway. "You know, if it had been you in that fire, I'd have done the same thing, right?"

She turned back towards him, half hiding her face behind the door. "I know, Dad," she said, smiling softly, and slipped out.

Beckett sat quietly as Martha ordered their coffee, wiping down her face with a packet of wet wipes she'd grabbed on the way out. Just as well she wasn't a big crier, she thought wryly to herself, or she'd be so dehydrated they'd have to put her drip back in. Between the smoke in her lungs and the terrible sleep she'd been getting, she was already running a constant low-grade headache.

She watched Martha at the counter, and thought she looked a little subdued. That was the effect of this place, and Martha was still taking it in. Beckett herself hardly felt like she belonged here, next to people facing real, life-altering challenges. Martha stepped aside to wait for her coffee, next to a teen girl with a heavily scarred face and neck. She quickly started up a friendly chat with the girl, and Beckett smiled as she had her laughing in less than a minute. No, there was no holding back Martha Rodgers.

When the drinks were ready, Martha brought them over and sat down across from her. "Well, Katherine," she began. "Do you know when you'll be coming home?"

"Probably the next couple of days," she said. "I think they could have done my grafts as outpatient surgery, if I hadn't already been in here with the smoke inhalation."

"It hit you that hard?"

"I guess I was in there a pretty long time. This burn's really just a nuisance."

"I don't think anyone — even you — can call a third-degree burn a nuisance," said Martha.

"So how are you doing, Martha?" asked Beckett.

Martha gave a brittle laugh. "Oh, you don't want to know," she said.

"I do, actually," said Beckett sincerely.

Martha ran her fingers across her forehead. "You know, everyone always warns you about raising boys," she said. "The fights, the pranks, daring each other to jump out the third storey window, landing in the emergency room every other week. And I used to thank my lucky stars that Richard wasn't like that. Don't get me wrong, he got into more than his fair share of trouble — in fact, sometimes I just wanted to take him by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shake..."

Beckett couldn't help grinning. "Really? I can't imagine."

"But the pranks he pulled were, you know, crafty, devious, foolish — not dangerous. I got called into the principal's office, not the hospital." She looked helplessly around her. "I never learnt how to do this."

Beckett twisted her mouth sympathetically. "I don't think anybody does." Were there any number of broken bones that could mentally prepare you for something big?

"I guess not." Martha gave a faraway sort of sigh. "He was always such a handsome boy."

A lump rose in Beckett's throat. "And now he's a very brave man," she said with difficulty. "And that bravery, he'll carry it with him — on him, now, for…" She let her hands gesture the rest of the sentence. She never could turn a sentimental phrase as grandly as Castle. Besides, it was hard to defend his actions without feeling like she was also defending herself as their motivating cause.

"Knowing Richard, he'll wear it like a badge of honour," said Martha.

"Yes, he will," said Beckett. She took a deep breath. "I'm so grateful to him, Martha, but he never should have done it. You know that, if I'd known, I never would have asked him to…"

"Oh, darling, my son makes his own choices," said Martha with a wave of her hand. "That one I did learn a long time ago. And here's Alexis," she added, waving to catch her eye.

Alexis passed by their table on her way to the counter. "I'll get one for Dad," she said. She ordered two lattes to go, and came to sit with the others while she waited.

"You okay?" asked Beckett.

"Yeah," said Alexis. "Just ... trying to wrap my head around everything. I mean, what do the rest of us do now? Should I be taking time off school?"

"Ladies of the Castle household," said Martha grandly, taking hold of their hands around the table, "it seems to me that this is the time to come up with a plan of action for how we can best support Richard over the coming weeks and months. And you, too, of course, Katherine," she added. "What can you tell us about what to expect?"

Beckett filled them in on the daily schedule of dressings changes and physical therapy. Surgeries tomorrow, and much beyond that was a mystery still. It was sweet to see them attentive to her every word. Alexis even made notes.

"And then, like I said, I'll be coming home in the next couple of days," she finished. She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, weaving her fingers through the handle. "But I can stay at my dad's, or with Lanie, so you guys don't have to…"

"Katherine Beckett Castle, what on earth are you talking about?" said Martha, looking affronted. "That is your home; we are your family. We do not evict people from our family just because they get a little banged up. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely," agreed Alexis. "We can work around whatever, you just have to let us know."

Part of Beckett squirmed to be the focus of so much goodwill, but she hadn't exactly expected anything different from them. "Okay," she said with a small smile.

"Good," said Martha. "The question, as Alexis says, is how much do we need to clear our schedules?"

"Well, I don't think you need to take time off school, Alexis," said Beckett. "It's not like he's far away. I'll have to come back to the clinic every day, but I'm planning on being here pretty much full time, anyway. I think the worst time's going to be when I have to go back to work. He'll be home by then, and bored all day with nothing to distract him."

"And it's not like you can stage another murder across the street for him," said Alexis.

A little flicker of smug satisfaction spread around the table among the co-conspirators.

"Should've saved that one up, if I'd only known," said Beckett, and their smiles cracked to laughter.

"We have pulled off greater things than this," concluded Martha, raising her nearly-empty coffee cup to clink with Beckett's. Alexis had to use an invisible one.

"I've got Spring Break in a few weeks," said Alexis, looking serious again. "Some of the girls have been asking me to go away with them, but…"

"Don't feel like you have to change your plans on our account," said Beckett quickly.

"To be honest, I've kinda been wanting an excuse not to go, anyway."

"In that case, I insist you change your plans on our account," said Beckett, smiling.

"And that's how you earn the step-mom points," said Alexis.

"I think it's a good idea to stay close to home, Alexis," said Martha. "Of course we don't want to be in each other's pockets all the time, but I think we should rally together for a while. I'm already thinking through what non-essential things I can cancel in the next few months."

"I'll let my friends know," said Alexis.

"Actually, that brings up an important point," said Beckett, as the girl behind the counter called out Alexis' name. "Hold that thought." She and Martha drained their drinks, and they all headed back to Castle.

When they got back to the room, he looked like he was about to drop off, but he perked up when he saw them. "I was wondering if you were ever coming back," he said to Alexis as he took his coffee off her. "Conspiring against me, the three of you, no doubt."

"Dad, don't exaggerate," said Alexis.

"Babe, I was thinking," said Beckett, taking the comfy chair by the bed again, "that we should talk all together about what we're telling people."

"Good point. We're trying to keep it out of the press," he explained. "My lawyer's been all over it, getting all the staff here to sign non-disclosure agreements, and the precinct. There's a few people at Black Pawn who'll need to know, but that's about it for now."

"Gates made a statement about 3XK," added Beckett, "but left our names out of it."

"Yeah, we saw the story on CNN at the hotel," said Alexis. "We wondered why you weren't mentioned."

"I don't know what you've got to be ashamed of, Richard," said Martha. "I'm sure people would applaud you for what you did."

"It may all be overreacting," he said, "but all I can think about right now is some sleazy paparazzo with a long-distance lens trying to catch a glimpse of my injuries through the bedroom window."

"Besides," Beckett added carefully, "we've made enough headlines lately."

"Okay," said Alexis. "So I take it you're saying that we shouldn't tell our friends anything?"

"You can go ahead and tell them we were in, say, a small workplace accident," said Castle. "Just maybe not the burns and the amputations, if you don't mind." An imperceptible shuffle went through the room, as everyone realised it was the first time that word had been said out loud.

"Maybe we can just say you broke your hand," said Martha drily.

"Well ... yeah," said Castle sheepishly.

"Come now, Richard, this is ridiculous," she snapped. "How on earth do you expect to pull this off? You don't think anyone's going to notice that you're missing some fingers? And burns aren't exactly subtle."

"Mother, as you frequently love to point out, I'm not exactly..."

"Jason Bateman?" finished Beckett innocently.

"Thank you for that," said Castle darkly. "My point is, no one's going to be looking at me unless we give them a reason to. It's not like I'm in the habit of leaving the house shirtless, and once I'm healed up a bit, I'll get myself some fake fingers that you'd hardly know aren't the real thing. Meantime, I plan on telling most people outside the precinct that I'm taking some personal time; I can't imagine why anyone would need any more information than that."

Martha was still sucking her tongue.

"I get it," said Alexis. "It's not a secret, so much as it's just … private. It doesn't have to be anybody's business."

"Exactly." He looked pleadingly back at Martha. "It may not be forever, Mother. Maybe one day I'll do a big tell-all on TV and get it out there. But for now, I just want to figure this out myself without anybody watching. Please, can you try and understand that? Or at least respect it?"

Martha slumped to a chair. "Well, of course, it's your decision, dear."

Martha and Alexis stayed until they were falling asleep on their feet from jet lag. They were sorry to leave, but they would have been kicked out of the room for the afternoon dressing change anyway. They promised to stop by in the morning.

Beckett hadn't known how to tell them there wasn't generally going to be a whole lot they could do for Castle by his bedside. They'd caught him at a good time of day. After the sedation wore off from the dressing change, he was back to being in the zone for most of the evening. There would be time enough for them to learn the daily realities.

He had a late dinner tray once he was up to it. Beckett leaned her head on the bed, and between bites he rested his hand on her shoulder. In just a couple of nights, they'd be through these surgeries and she'd be heading off with the girls, leaving him here. It was all progressing too fast, and taking forever at the same time.

The nurse smiled when she saw them, quietly slipped out and returned with a pillow, sheet and blanket. "That chair reclines," she told Beckett.

"Are you saying I'm allowed to stay here all night?"

"Technically, we're entering into a grey area with words like 'allowed' and 'all night'," said the nurse, with air quotes. She winked. "Just make sure you check in with your own team before the end of the day, okay?"

Beckett took care to stop by her room well before her pain meds wore off this time, and brought back the wedge pillow she'd been using to elevate her leg. With some creativity, and a bit more exertion than her doctors might have liked, she arranged the chair and adjusted the height of Castle's bed so that their heads would be as near each other as possible. Then she laid her pillow so that it edged onto the bed, hit the lights and curled up under the blanket to face him, intertwining her hand and forearm with his.

Maybe tonight, she could sleep. Maybe this bed, that wasn't a bed, would feel like a bed, not a psychopath's lair. Maybe the sounds of Castle's gentle snoring would cut through the nightmares and tell her racing heart that Kelly Nieman was gone and never coming back.

"Kate," said Castle gently. "What is it?"

She shook her head. Damn his mind-reading abilities. He was going through so much, and here she was, nearly unscathed.

He tried to reach over with his other hand, and, of course, that earned him nothing but frustration. He tried a few times before he had to give it up. "I can't … I'm sorry…"

"Shh, Castle, I know. It's okay," she said.

"What's the matter?" he pressed.

She couldn't even take comfort in Nieman being gone, without thinking about why, and how. And tomorrow, she would have to go under a surgeon's knife for real, yield her consciousness to a total stranger.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see her face," she whispered.

Castle took a deep breath. "I see his, too. Since that night on the bridge."

His big hand pressed her delicate one securely into the crook of his neck. "I got you, Kate. You're not carrying it alone."

There was more, so much more, but she tried to hold onto the warmth of his hand and his words.

And she slept.