Castle opened his eyes slowly, and the first thing he saw was Beckett's head buried in his side. She was okay! He thought he'd just look at her for a minute, or maybe reach out and stroke her beautiful hair — it was spilling out from beneath a sort of shower cap, which seemed odd. But before the thought had even finished forming in his mind, the pain flooded into his consciousness. The crushing strength of it pressed down on him from every side … and yet it seemed weirdly disconnected from him, as though it was happening to someone else. He was just observing it.

Accompany and observe,he thought aimlessly to himself,not participate and … that other thing… But Beckett, she was definitely here, and alive. And that was … that was a big deal because … yes … the last couple of days. He wanted to weep with relief, but all that came out was some sort of unearthly moan.

Beckett's head shot up. "Castle! You're awake! Where's the…?" She looked around until she found the call button. He couldn't seem to stop making that awful moaning sound, and he could tell it was freaking her out. "Just breathe, babe. Hold on."

A nurse came rushing in, a young guy, and fiddled with something beside the bed. "That's it, Mr Castle, you're okay," he said. "Take your time. I know it hurts, but I've given you an extra boost of your pain medication. You've been under sedation. It's gonna take a minute to clear your head."

Castle could barely tell which way was up, but he clenched his jaw and focussed on Kate. She was shoving her hair back inside her cap, but even before it was out of view, she didn't look quite herself. She was pale and hunched; there were dark circles under her eyes and worry etched all over her face. Gauntwas the word. Not at all the calm and controlled Beckett he usually had at his bedside in places like this. He locked eyes with her and concentrated on steadying his breathing, first to a rhythmic hum, and finally to a shaky but quiet pant.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

Am I?he thought, beginning to register that there were quite a lot of thick, gauzy bandages on the bits of him he could see. He moved his fingers within hers, noting that this hand was one part of him that seemed not to hurt. Good.

The nurse was looking him over. He was tall and well-built — not quite a jock, but still well outside the stereotype. "I'm Graham, your nurse for tonight. Do you remember what happened?" Castle glanced at Kate and nodded. "You're in the hospital. At the Carter Raymond Holst Burn Center, to be exact, Wainwright Riverside-Hudson University Hospital. We'll be quizzing you on all that later." It took Castle a second to catch on to the joke. Burns … right … that made sense. "You are in very good hands here, and you're going to be just fine. Can you tell me what month it is?"

As soon as he took a breath to answer, Castle practically coughed up a lung. "February," he wheezed, and gratefully accepted an ice chip from a spoon.

Nurse Graham also showed him where his call button was, and the button to give him another boost of pain relief if he needed it. "I'll be back in a bit. Call me if you need me before that." He caught Beckett's eye across the bed and she nodded.

Once he'd gone, Castle jerked his head after him and looked back at Beckett. "Ga- … galaxy of … Graham," he rasped. His throat felt like sandpaper.

She gave him the side eye for a second, before collapsing her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking. When she looked up, there was laughter lighting up her face. Much better. "Well, if there is a galaxy of pretty nurses orbiting around this place, I might be insisting we stick with him," she said. Oh, that look in her eye! There was his Kate.

He wanted to stay in that moment, let the memories of a case far, far removed from Jerry Tyson occupy their minds for a minute. But then he noticed the wheelchair she was sitting in, the IV post attached to it, the oxygen tube winding around her nose and ears. His heart leapt into his throat.

"I'm fine," she assured him, before he even got a word out. "I just inhaled a whole lot of plastic, by the sounds of it. And I got a little scorched up the back of my leg."

"Aah, I'm s-sorry," said Castle, his teeth chattering as a peculiar chill washed over him. "Clumsy r-rescue attempt, huh?" He tried to give a cheeky grin, but everything hurt too much.

"It's nothing," she said firmly. "Apparently I have your expensive taste in coats to thank for that."

"You never were … a cheap date …"

This time, he barely got a smile out of her. He met her gaze soberly. There was going to be no escaping everything that had happened.

"You did it, Castle," she said quietly. "You found him. He's gone. He's never going to hurt anyone again."

Castle nodded, and for a moment he was too choked up to speak. All those faces smiling at him from the murder board, an ever-growing array since that night at the motel. Despite what Beckett said, he couldn't help thinkinghewas hurting pretty bad right now. But there would be no more faces to add.

"And you," he said, swallowing all that away, "you took down ... her. Uh …" He knew the name, he just couldn't think of it. "The doctor. I saw her." A shadow flickered over Kate's face. "Wanna talk about it?"

She looked away. "Maybe. Not today." Her eyes were hollow and haunted, and he wanted so badly to hold her. She turned back with a gentle smile and took his hand again. "Thanks for coming to get me," she whispered.

"Always," he replied. He tried to reach over with his other hand, but it was strangely heavy and wouldn't move. He craned his neck forward and saw the wad of bandages.

"What's going on ... with this?" he asked shakily.

Kate's eyes flickered slightly. Something was wrong and his belly filled with dread.

"Babe, we're all a bit mystified as to what happened," she said slowly. "The guys say they heard a crash over the coms and you yelled. Do you remember if something fell on your hand?"

Castle closed his eyes and tried to think. "I tripped," he said. "Had you ... over my shoulder. Reached out with my ... free hand ... grabbed a table." He could see it now. He'd shut the door to the makeshift operating room, keeping the worst of the smoke contained. The rest of the house was decorated meticulously in colonial style, which he remembered felt utterly incongruous to the haunting sterility of Nieman's room, and her dark purpose there.

He'd thought he was free and clear then, but he'd stumbled and caught himself on a little hall table. The combined weight of their two bodies slamming the table into the wall had knocked something off a display shelf above. What had it been? An ornament? No, a clock, maybe?

Whatever it was, it had hurt like hell when it landed on his fingers, and he didn't have a spare hand to get himself free. He didn't dare put Kate down, as he didn't know how he'd pick her up again with one hand. The smoke was getting to him, though he tried to breathe through the edge of his coat that was sticking out from Kate's deadweight.

It was possible he'd blacked out briefly from the pain, because suddenly the flames seemed to be everywhere. They were leaping around the door. He'd never know how he did it, but somehow he wrenched his hand free and ploughed them both through the fire and into the sweet, clear air.

"Castle, are you okay?" Kate was saying. "Don't worry about explaining now, it can wait. But you should know, you crushed your fingers pretty bad, somehow. You've got a couple of fractures, and ... Rick, I'm so sorry..." He'd heard her deliver bad news a thousand times before, and wished she'd just get to it already. "Two of your fingers ... they couldn't save them."

Was that all? It didn't seem like a big deal. He looked at the bandage again and saw the tips of his index and middle fingers poking out. He couldn't quite connect what she was saying to the hand he was looking at, right where it had always been. He was too tired to think about it. "Hey ... don't cry," he said, reaching his right hand up to cup her cheek. "It's all right. I don't m-mind. It's … gonna be okay."

She wiped away the escaped tear. "I know," she said, sounding stuffy. "I'm sorry, I've been like this all day. Those fumes really did a number on me."

"Don't worry 'bout it. So … uh … how badly'd I grill myself back there?" he asked, bracing himself. Most of his body was obscured by bedding, and he'd slowly been trying to figure out what hurt. "We talking … medium rare or … well d—"

"Don't," said Beckett, closing her eyes and shaking her head tensely. "Don't finish that sentence." She really did look a bit queasy.

"Sorry. Can't help it."

"I know you can't." She leaned onto the bed again and stroked his hair. "It's third degree, babe," she said gently. "Some of it, anyway, I'm not exactly sure how the numbers break down. They're saying up to fifteen percent of your body surface altogether."

"That all?" It didn't sound like the kind of numbers you heard on all the harrowing stories on TV.

"I think you're gonna find that's plenty. Could've been a lot worse, though: Espo says he grabbed me and then pretty much kicked you to the ground." That sounded about right. He remembered suddenly finding himself with a faceful of grass. "They're all outside, by the way. They'll want to say hi, but they don't have to stay for long. Gates couldn't stay, but she'll stop by another day.

"And your mom and Alexis are staying the night in London. They've been told that it's over, but I haven't spoken to them myself yet. Just let me know if you want them to rush back, or take a day or two."

"Day or two, thanks," said Castle. He didn't seem to be in any danger, and hopefully by then he'd be a bit more together. "Unless ... d'you know if the press have gotten a hold of this?"

Kate looked blank. "I didn't even think of that!" she said. 3XK was pretty newsworthy. It would be awful if the family heard what had happened before they'd had a chance to speak to them. Not that it was likely to make the British news, but the internet or one of his mother's loose-lipped friends could easily beat them to it.

"Can you call Henry — um, Lawyer Henry. And, you know …" He pressed his fingers to his eyes. Names just weren't behaving for him today. "Publicist. Stone. Cindy. Say I'd rather ... I don't want anyone to know I'm involved ... if it's not too late." If anyone got wind that Richard Castle and his famous muse had been part of it, they wouldn't get a moment's peace. Besides, it had been personal between him and Tyson. He didn't care to have his rage and grief and torment splashed all over page six.

They were joined by the nurse again. "You look more awake," he said. "Has your wife explained a bit about what's going on? You'll see the doctor in the morning, and he'll be able to talk about it all in more detail, okay? But I can tell you that we aren't going to know much more till they change your dressings and get another look."

"I think you've got some fans around here," said Beckett, looking slyly up at the nurse. "No doubt you'll get the VIP treatment, as usual. And you'd better be ready to sign some books before the staff will let you out."

"Guilty as charged," said the nurse, grinning. "I love your books. You really know your anatomy. And you've got a knack for injuring people just the right amount, not overdoing it to the point they'd never survive."

"I sound like a mob enforcer," said Castle.

"Well, hey, maybe it'd be a transferable skill. You know, if you ever need something to fall back on."

"I like this guy," Castle said to Beckett. He wondered what the kid's story was, to bring him to a job like this. Childhood illness? Sick parent? Or just the happy confluence of a capable brain and a strong stomach?

"And for the record," the nurse continued,"allour patients are VIP patients, but it sounds like your captain made it very clear we should treat you like one of New York's finest. And to keep the adoring masses from bothering you, she's had you guys put in the system as" — he double-checked the chart — "Nick and Nora Charles."

"You're kidding!"

"Thought you'd like that," said Beckett. "Her little get-well-soon present for you."

"Now, Detective Beckett, I hate to say it, but you really should be getting back to put that leg up properly. Sorry we can't have you in a shared room just yet, but we do need Mr Castle in here for at least a couple of days."

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Castle," she said. "And I'll make those calls. I love you." She kissed his hand one last time. "Can I send the guys in?" She glanced at the nurse to confirm, who nodded.

"Yeah, I don't mind," said Castle. He could probably summon enough energy to pull an awake face out of the bag. "They've seen worse. Love you, too."

The nurse wheeled her out, and she turned her head to look at Castle for as long as she could, giving him a little wave as she disappeared round the corner. He suddenly felt afraid to see her go, felt lost and alone like a little boy, and he swallowed hard as Ryan, Esposito and Lanie walked in. They were shrouded in shapeless yellow gowns, with gloves and hats to complete the look.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Castle," said Ryan, strain and fatigue and relief written all over his face.

"And you guys are just a sight," said Castle, looking over their attire. "Three spectral apparitions for my death-bed. The ghosts of cases past, present and future, perhaps?"

"Which is which?" asked Ryan.

"Don't get him started!" said Lanie. "He'll be doing a full retelling next, and I really don't have it in me for Dickens tonight."

Ryan smirked.

"Bro," cut in Esposito, "that was some dumb-ass move back there. Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again." But he was beaming. "You are one lucky son of a bitch."

"Yeah, sorry for taking off with the car," said Castle. "Should have waited for you. Don't know what came over me."

"Oh, you don't?" said Lanie, cocking an eyebrow.

Castle gave a sheepish grin.

"Meantime,Ihad to scramble around for Tyson's keys and find his car so I could chase your ass," said Espo. "Do you know what it's like to be driving a psychopathic serial killer's car? Do you know how many unspeakable things probably went down in there?"

"Yeah, I think you mentioned that at the time," said Castle. "Emphatically. Guess I'm not living this one down, am I?"

"Not in a million years," said Ryan cheerfully.

"Hey, Espo, I hear you stop-drop-and-rolled me — are we gonna find your bootprint branded into my chest under all this?" said Castle, looking down at his bandaged torso.

"Just trying to leave my mark," said Esposito with a modest shrug.

"Well, you did," said Castle sincerely. "Thanks. Both of you. For everything." It seemed such an insufficient thing to say, in light of it all. They'd had his back, trusted his play, with nothing but his hunch to go on.

"Any time, partner," said Ryan with a sideways smile.

"Yeah, you know we'd do anything … for Beckett," said Esposito. Even Castle laughed, though he quickly wished he hadn't. "You know, I never thought you'd be the first one of us to lose body parts for this job," Esposito continued.

"Javi!" exclaimed Lanie, but Castle didn't mind. It was wonderfully reassuring to hear them giving him a hard time about it. It helped ward off the sick feeling he was starting to get in his gut that he really had screwed himself up this time. His mother was going to kill him.

"So, you guys just been hanging around my sickbed all day?" asked Castle. "Don't you have ... cop stuff to do?"

"We've been in and out," said Ryan. "And yeah, we do have a mountain of paperwork waiting for us. But there's no hurry. The killers are dead, kidnap victim and cowboy rescuer are safe and sound. Danger's over, now we've just got to tie it all up. By the way," he added, "Jenny sent these." He placed a tin of cookies on the nightstand. "Your favourite. I told her you might not be up to eating much, but she wanted to do something."

"She's sweet. Thanks." Castle was suddenly overcome with tiredness and stifled a yawn.

"Why don't we leave you to get some rest," said Lanie.

"What time is it?" asked Castle.

"After ten."

"Aw man, guys, yeah, get outta here," he said. "You've had a long day. Go get a drink. And don't worry about me. I'll be back to running circles around you all before you know it."

They jeered this away, clapping him lightly on his good shoulder before filing out. When Esposito reached the door, he turned and said, "We'll raise a glass to you, bro." He gave Castle a solemn nod, and Castle returned it, pride and gratitude swelling inside him like a balloon.

And yet, he felt foolish, because all these injuries were really caused by a clumsy stumble. Any one of the others would have done a better job than he had. Heck, Ryan and Espo had once spent hours inside a burning building and come out with nothing worse than a sore throat. It wasn't as though he'd gotten hurt actually facing down the killer, either. Just a stupid accident. It wasn't even a good story.

Kate, he reminded himself. It all came down to Kate. She was safe, and alive, and he'd give more than a couple of fingers for that. And, really, wasn't that the greatest story of all?

He was not allowed to muse long on this, because the nurse was back to take his vitals. The monitor was doing a lot of the work, but he did take his temperature and BP, and ask about his pain levels. "I'll have to do this a couple of times in the night," he said as he jotted it all down in the chart, "so I'm sorry in advance for waking you."

"Sure. Thanks … um, what was your name, again?"

"Graham."

"Thanks, Graham. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"'Course."

Castle swallowed. "Listen, I'll be the first to admit that everything I know about burns is from watchingER,but third degree on the torso … that's bad, right?"

Graham gave him a sizing-up sort of look, and Castle hoped that meant he was going to be straight with him. "You're nowhere near the worst I've seen," he said. "But you won't be just walking this off, either. Around here, you're what we call moderate."

"Okay. And … those dressing changes you were talking about" — a shiver rippled through him — "they can be … pretty awful, right?"

"You'll be sedated," Graham assured him. "For these early days, at least. Don't worry, they know how to send you to all sorts of happy places."

"But do they let … will my wife be sitting in?"

"Nah, definitely not at first," said Graham. "Like I said, you'll be completely under. Later … well, you could ask, if you really wanted some support, but it's not what they normally do. Given her line of work, they might decide she can handle it."

"Actually, I meant just the opposite," said Castle. "Please, don't even tell her if it's an option. Because shecouldprobably handle it. But I don't want her to."

Graham's nod was very understanding.

"It's not what you think," said Castle, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "I don't care about … looking tough or anything. But I know she's gonna be blaming herself for all this. Comes with the job — you probably have people like that around here. She already carries the weight of the world. And if this is going to start getting excruciating … I don't want her to have to see things she can't unsee, that'll haunt her the rest of her life." His mouth twitched. "Plenty of time for that once she gets me home, right?"

Graham smirked. "Seriously, don't sweat it. It probably won't come up, but I'll make a note, just in case. You can always change your mind if you want."

Castle was really shivering now. He couldn't seem to stop.

"You cold?" asked Graham. Castle nodded. "Let me get you another blanket."

"That's w-weird, I don't know why I sh-should be …"

"It's completely normal," Graham assured him as he gently laid a blanket over him. "Sounds crazy, I know. One of the things your skin does is maintain your body temperature, right? You put a big hole in it, and the heat just gushes out. Hypothermia's a real risk. You probably can't tell, but we've actually got the room as hot as a sauna in here for you. So don't tough it out: let us know if you're feeling cold and there's things we can do.

"Right, have you got everything you need?"

"I guess." What could he need? It didn't take much just to lie here.

"Okay, well, you know where I am." When he got to the door, Graham teetered and then turned back. "And, hey, that stuff you were saying about your wife? There's people here who'll be able to help her with all that. Herandyou. The kinds of things that land people in here … it's real trauma. And you don't just walk that off, either."