Authors Note: This is my first Castle fic. It takes place after the S3 finale. Like most of my fics, it's just an idea that got stuck in my head, and I had to get it out. Hope you like it.

Beckett woke with a start and sat bolt upright at her desk. She looked around at the empty bullpen. The quiet was deafening and she could not recall what she was doing there so late. She must have been working on a case. And then what? She'd fallen asleep? That didn't seem right. She looked over at the murder board, and was met with a blank surface staring back at her. What ever she was working on, she hadn't gotten far.

A light thud snapped her out of her reverie. She turned back to see a cardboard coffee cup in front of her. Castle stood at the edge of her desk.

"Hi." He greeted simply.

"Hi." Beckett replied. She picked up a piece of paper and began making notes. "What are you doing here, Castle?"

Castle looked at her surprised. "I'm here to help you with the case."

"What case?" Beckett asked. She put down her pen and looked at the sheet of paper.

The third cop – it's Montgomery.

Roy Montgomery is dead.

She gasped. Eyes wide she held the paper out to Castle. "What does it mean?"

Castle looked confused. He took the paper from her and scanned the page. "It's blank." He declared, turning the paper back around to show her.

Beckett's voice cracked. "Wha...?"

"Are you coming?" Castle asked.

Beckett looked up. Castle was no longer standing at her desk. He was on the other side of the room, waiting for her. She was beginning to realise something was wrong. "Where are we going?" She asked, not moving.

Castle looked at her like she was crazy. "Lanie called, remember? She's got an update on the vic."

Striding through the double doors at the morgue, Beckett tried to regain her composure, and reinstate her usual no-nonsense demeanour. "What have you got for us, Lanie?"

The ME was all business. She barely looked up as they entered. "Female. 30 to 35 years old. Single gun shot wound to the chest. Vic was pretty. Probably had half a dozen guys after her. Too self-absorbed. Some would say career driven, I suppose. That's probably what she told herself anyway."

Beckett was surprised. "That's a hell of a lot of conjecture, don't you think?"

Lanie narrowed her eyes at Beckett. "Just telling it like it is."

Castle screwed up his nose as he looked down at the victims body. "I don't think she's that pretty."

"She's dead Castle. Very few people maintain their sex appeal..." Beckett looked down at the body for the first time, and froze. She stared wide-eyed for a moment.

"You were saying?" Castle prompted.

The double doors swung open and Esposito and Ryan sauntered in. "We've got an ID." Esposito announced.

Beckett tore her eyes away from the body.

Esposito continued, reading from the open file in his hand. "Katherine Beckett. 33 years. Lives right here in Manhattan. And get this, she's a cop! Homicide detective. Never married. No kids. Got a boyfriend, some doctor type, doesn't look serious though. We're still looking into it."

"What the hell is this?" Beckett demanded. She glanced back down at the pale lifeless version of herself spread out on the slab. She couldn't look at it, couldn't see herself like that. "Is this some kind of joke?" Beckett persisted angrily.

The others looked nervous. They exchanged worried looks. Finally it was Lanie that spoke. "Sweetie, you were shot. Don't you remember?"

Beckett calmed down instantly and stared with disbelief. "Shot?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, at Montgomery's funeral. You were in the middle of the eulogy."

Beckett chewed her bottom lip. "I remember." She confirmed slowly. "I remember reading the eulogy." The others watched as she surveyed the floor. She held her finger up to stop them from speaking. Her mind whirred into action, pulling out all the pieces from her memory that she could grasp. "Somebody said something to me." Her body tensed as all the goings on of that day played through her head in a mixed up montage of sounds, images and the unmistakable thud in her chest of a heartbeat slowly fading. She felt the emptiness in her chest suddenly replaced with an overwhelming sense of content.

"Somebody loves me." She concluded, her eyes resting on Castle. He looked confused, glancing to either side of himself to see if there was someone beside or behind him that she might be looking at.

Lanie made a noise of derision. "Now who's getting all conjecturey?"

"Conjecturey?" Castle repeated, shaking his head at her.

"You know what I mean." Lanie insisted. "Now get the hell outta my morgue." She playfully threw a rubber glove at them.

Beckett strode into the, now bustling, bullpen. Determination growing with each step. She grabbed a whiteboard marker from her desk and began constructing her murder board.

"Somebody loves me." She repeated. "And whoever it was had something to do with my getting shot."

Castle had followed her the whole way. "Seems a little far fetched. Why would someone who loved you have anything at all to do with you getting shot?"

Beckett didn't look up from the board. "I don't know, Castle, but I have a hunch we find our guy, we find our shooter."

There was a beat before Castle replied. "Assuming it's a guy."

The murder board was now full. A row of photographs lined the top section, with hurried notes below each. Beckett stood back and looked at her handiwork. "That's it." She declared.

"That's everyone?" Castle asked. By his tone, she took it he thought there was something – someone missing.

"That's everyone I can think of." Beckett confirmed.

"Half these guys alibi out," Castle said thoughtfully, "and I'm not sure the rest have motive." He pointed as he spoke. "Sorensen isn't even in New York. He's leading a task force in Chicago last I heard. Demming was there, at the funeral, but he was with somebody. Some girl he's semi-serious with. Esposito thinks they're even moving in together. Doug Eller, your high school boyfriend, is married and lives in Brooklyn with his wife and three kids. He was at his sons baseball game when you got shot. The rest of these guys, you can barely call ex's. Guys you went out with once, maybe twice. Where's the motivation?"

"So who are we left with?" Beckett asked, frustrated.

Castle pulled the last picture off the whiteboard and handed it to her. "Josh." He confirmed. "Only person with means, motive, and opportunity."

Beckett stared down at the picture for several seconds. When she spoke her voice was cold. "Bring him in."

Beckett leaned back against the glass, arms folded. Josh looked up at her from his seat at the interrogation table.

"Why am I here?" Josh asked.

Beckett paused. She wanted to make him sweat. She pushed herself off the wall and with feigned thoughtfulness stepped towards the table. "You're a doctor, right Josh? I'm assuming you know all about the heart?"

Josh smiled. "I'm a cardiac surgeon."

"Right." Beckett leaned down and placed her palms flat on the table. "So you know all about the heart?"

Josh looked to be getting impatient. "Yes, I know about the heart."

Beckett glared at him. "Where were you yesterday afternoon, between 2 & 3pm?"

Josh was getting annoyed. "In surgery. I was doing a valve replacement on a 40 year old construction worker."

Beckett pulled back. "We'll check that."

"I'm sure you will." Josh stared up at her. "What's this about?"

Beckett ignored his question. "When was the last time you spoke to your girlfriend?"

"Before the funeral. I called to check if she was alright." Josh answered.

"And was she?" Beckett persisted.

"Seemed to be. As much as a person can be when they're on their way to a funeral."

"Did you tell her you loved her?" Beckett pressed.

Josh paused. "What?"

"Did you tell her you loved her?" Beckett repeated.

Josh looked away from her. Beckett saw shame in his expression. "No."

"No?" Beckett was surprised.

"No." Josh confirmed. He hesitated. "I didn't. I've never."

"Never?" Beckett was caught off guard. Josh watched her. She looked away, realisation dawning. "No, you haven't, have you?" It was rhetorical. She blinked, returning her attention to him. "But you stayed. You didn't go to Haiti. You must feel something for me?"

"Kate," Josh leaned forward, "you and I, we're the same. We're driven to do what we do." He paused. "But it's lonely sometimes. When I met you I thought, this is great, here's a girl that's busy doing her own thing, and I can do my own thing, and we can meet somewhere in the middle. Kate, I care about you. I really wanted this to work. You have to know that."

Kate lowered herself into the chair opposite him. "But it isn't. I care about you too, but it isn't working. Isn't going to work." She sat for a moment and let it sink in. She felt her face begin to burn and her eyes begin to well up. This was not the time to break down. She pushed her chair back and stood up. She hesitated for a split second, then without looking at Josh, turned and strode out of the room.

Ryan and Esposito were waiting outside the door.

"Cut him loose." Beckett instructed. "He's not my guy – our guy," she corrected, "he's not our guy."

Beckett and Castle stood in front of the murder board. The pictures had been removed, and the notes wiped clean. In the centre of a board she had drawn a large question mark.

"You okay?" Castle asked.

"Who shot me, Castle?" Beckett was sounding defeated, she didn't let her eyes leave the board.

Castle turned to her. "That's not what this is about."

"Of course that's what this is about, Castle." Beckett replied, turning to him.

"No, it's not." Castle insisted.

"Yes, it is." Beckett responded more forcefully. "I'm dead. My body is lying on a slab in the morgue right now."

Castle looked surprised. "You're not dead. Who told you you were dead?" Beckett was speechless, so Castle continued. "You were shot, yeah, but we already know who was responsible for that." Beckett stared at him open mouthed and shook her head, uncomprehending. "The same guy that had your mother killed. It doesn't matter who the shooter is, we have to figure out who hired him." Castle paused, "and I can assure you, you are very much alive."

"So, we're back to my mothers case." Beckett turned back to the murder board.

"You're missing the point." Castle pushed. "This isn't about you getting shot, and it has nothing to do with your mothers case." He took her by the shoulders. "This is about you, Kate, it's always been about you."

Beckett's attention shifted to the sound of clicking heels on the precinct floor. "Oh darling," Martha's voice rang out, "I heard what happened. You must be beside yourself."

Beckett turned to her. "Martha? What are you doing here?" Castle had disappeared.

Martha threw her arms around her. "I'm here to help, of course." She released Beckett and stood at arms length surveying her. "How are you?"

"Confused." Beckett confirmed. "I'm missing something."

"You're a smart girl," Martha encouraged, "you'll figure it out."

"What? What will I figure out?" Beckett turned away from Martha, and when she turned back Martha was gone. She stood alone for a moment.

"Figured it out yet?" Ryan interrupted. Beckett turned to him. Where had he come from?

"It's not that hard, Beckett." Esposito had appeared behind her.

"What's not that hard?" Beckett asked.

"He loves you, Kate." She turned to find Montgomery standing right beside her. All three men were watching her, concern etched on their faces.

"Who? Sir. Who loves me?" Beckett demanded.

"You must know." Montgomery insisted. "You must have seen it a million times."

Beckett searched his face for the answer. His blank expression stared back at her. Finally he turned and began walking away. She watched as Ryan and Esposito turned as well, and followed him towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Beckett called after them. "Aren't you going to help me?" Her arms fell helplessly at her sides.

The three men stopped and turned. "You don't need our help." Montgomery replied. "You're Kate Beckett. You've got this." He gave her a final nod of encouragement before stepping into the lift and leaving her alone again.

"Detective Beckett?" Maybe not entirely alone.

Beckett turned. "Alexis?"

"I hope you don't mind." Alexis smiled politely, and shrugged. "I thought I could help."

"Do you know who they're talking about?" Beckett implored.

"Yes," Alexis confirmed, "and so do you. But you're asking the wrong question."

There was a loud beep. Beckett turned to find the source, but the bullpen was empty. She turned back, suddenly afraid Alexis had disappeared like everyone else. But she was still there, smiling, as always.

"Umm," Beckett's head was beginning to feel cloudy. "The wrong question? But, what's the right question?"

There was the beep again. It was a horrible noise. It hurt her head. Again she scanned the room, trying to locate where it was coming from.

"This is about you, Detective Beckett." Alexis brought Beckett's attention back to her. "It's always been about you."

Beckett stared at Alexis. "That's what your father said."

The beep sounded again. This time Beckett ignored it.

"He's a smart man, my father." Alexis beamed with pride. "But you know that already."

"I do." Beckett admitted.

"He loves you, Detective Beckett. The question is, do you love him?"

Beckett tried to speak. She felt her lips move like they should, but no sound came out. The words were drowned by the fogging in her head, and that damn annoying beep. Beckett squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. When she opened them, she found herself in her apartment. She heard footsteps and turned to see Castle.

"Well?" He asked, a look of both apprehension and expectation on his face. "Do you?"

Beckett's heart skipped a beat. The fog was so thick now, and the beep so much louder.

"Rick?" Her voice was weak, she could barely hear it. "Rick?" She said again. This time it was slightly clearer, but still muffled. She became aware of something covering her mouth. She reached up, her arm could have weighed a thousand tonnes. She felt the oxygen mask that was covering her mouth and nose. Her fingers struggled to grasp it, but she was able to push it off her face. "Rick?" She tried opening her eyes. She hadn't even realised they were closed. Her whole body ached.

Beside her, Castle lifted his head. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He must have been dreaming, he thought. He'd been sure he heard her voice. He looked down at her, and saw the displaced oxygen mask. She was cringing, as if she was in pain. His brain took a moment to wake up and connect the dots. She was awake, he suddenly realised. "Oh my god, Kate?" Castle grasped her hand and reached up to touch her cheek.

"Rick." Kate's voice was weak.

"Kate." He breathed her name, and choked away a sob of relief.

"Mmm." Kate cringed again, and writhed, arching her back.

"Hey, hey, hey." Castle soothed. "It's okay. Kate, you were shot. You're in hospital, but you're going to be okay." Kate settled. Her eyes were barely open, and she didn't seem able to focus properly. No doubt it was the aftereffects of the coma, but he still worried. "The nurse," he suddenly realised, "I should get the nurse." He went to stand, but he felt her hand tighten ever so slightly on his.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Don't leave me. Please. Stay with me, Rick."

He settled back in his chair and hit the call button above her bed. "Don't you worry," he told her, squeezing her hand. "I'm not going anywhere."