A/N: First crack at story writing. Plot may already have been done by someone else, but don't care. Stopped reading fanfiction after season six. Still watch the show though. And since everybody seems angry at the writers for the show, I decided to take the bland and unnecessary plot device and do something with it.

Hope you guys like it. I'll introduce more characters next chapter and show you where I'm hoping to take this story. I think the biggest problem with the show at the moment is the writers coming up with evidence, and then throwing together conclusions to fit it, instead of the other way around. In other words, I don't think they even know where they're going with it, think they fell into a hole that they're going to have a hella hard time digging themselves out of with all the Castle fans willing to forgive them.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy read my story.

She hears them, knows they're making final preparations for take off. Her one and only chance to end this. It's all lead to this. The almost deafening hum of the jets engines numbs her senses for a second as she slams the stick of her rental car into park and shoves the door open, all in one quick motion. She takes off running, the blood in her legs pulsing with nerves she's tried to steel without success for the past two hours.

If that jet takes off, who knows how long it would take her to track them down again, how many alias's she'd have to dig through before one of them had just one bread crumb attached to it.

She can't think about that now. It has to end. She slows as she nears the back door to the hanger and pulls her gun. Waiting, listening for movement is pointless and she knows that with the engines of the jets blanketing everything. Maybe it's just the thought that it could finally end. That this is really it. After all this time, the sacrifices given or taken, may finally mean something. Taking one final breath, she moves, gun pointed forward and drawn in close to her chest.

Moving through a short, dark and narrow hall way, she hears the engines of the jet get louder and their pitch grow higher. She can't wait anymore. She quickly moves into the hanger and takes quick assessment of her surroundings. It's empty, a few skids of boxes sitting across the floor, and the air from the engines distorting the space just about the runway no less than two hundred feet away.

The jets sound picks up speed a little more and she knows from the sound that the hatch may already be closed. She can't let him get away. Not after all this. She lowers her gun and runs to make it before it does, her heart pounding in three or four different places inside her body. She makes three long strides across the hanger, her mind focused on stopping Colt from getting on that plane.

Her whole body sends a jolt of shock through itself when she feels something hit her chest hard. By the time it takes for the second to pass while she wonders what just happened, she's already on the cold ground, dizzy and shortness of breath already making it difficult to react.

She sees him slowly step around the corner of the tall stack of boxes. It starts off as fear in the pit of her stomach, but is rage by the time it reaches her heart. She rolls off to the side and quickly gets to her feet, putting a sizable gap between them. Her gun is on the floor, useless to her a few feet behind the man she's hunted with everything she had for far too long. "It's over, Colt!"

He says nothing, his expression still menacingly blank, and starts toward her in a quick walk. She raises her fists and puts everything into the strength of her arm, quickly reeling it back and sending it toward him. Fear and helplessness quickly overwhelms her when she feels her arm trapped and her feet being lifted off the ground.

She hits the ground hard with a grunt, Colt looming over her. No, she can do this. She has to.

She rolls to the side as quick as she can, getting to her feet which has much speed as she can, adrenaline loosening her movements. It's halted when she feels his hand gripping her shoulders, keeping her bent forward. Before she can struggle, she sees his knee thrust up and into her chest. She never felt this much pressure and this much out of breath in a long time, and only one before. But she's never felt this helpless.

His knee is thrust up twice more, but by the fourth time, she can't feel the pain anymore, but feels the breathlessness more than anything. His hands move against her shoulders and feels herself being pulls upward. She can't do anything at this point. Her mind is telling her to fight, fight back with absolutely everything she's got, but he's not letting her. She feels his arms on her and, as if she was a dish rag, he spins her in the air, barreling her in mid air.

She can't breath. Her vision blurs against the lights in the hanger, but sees him standing over her again. She hears him groan, and a second later, her entire side erupts in pain. She can't even beg. She feels tears roll down her cheeks as she limply curls up on the ground.

Everything slows when she feels his boot against her a second time. She feels everything, every moment that she's swallowed and chocked down when she started this floods her mind. But most of all...

"Castle..."

Her eyes flood over in another wave of tears when she remembers him. Remembers all of the moments they shared, moments that seemed insignificant at the time, moments that she knew they'd look back on and know they were important, that they were thinking the exact same thing, but just decided to spend the moment in each others presence, warming themselves in the each others smile. She can feel him kiss her, his lips slowly pressing against hers, feel his hands roam her back. She can feel and can remember everything in a rush of emotion that only takes a second, but feels like a minute.

She rolls onto her stomach, her arm struggling and shaking to try one last time to fight back. She hears his footsteps coming back, stopping when she sees his boots step in front of her. She hears the hammer of her own gun make two clicks, and she knows whats coming.

It's all been for nothing. He'll never know why she did this. He'll never know how much she regrets leaving. Everything she's repressed to focus herself breaks through in this moment she's facing her death. So much she regrets not telling him, so much more she regrets not repeating enough. He'll never know how much she loves him.

"I..."

The lights fade when her gun clatters to the ground.

Her eyes slowly open, but her vision doesn't focus for a long couple seconds. Her eyes hurt against the white light and she squeezes them closed to get it to stop. She nods and reaches up to rub the crust from her eyes. Her arm feels limp, not in complete control of itself, but she manages to scrap the crust from her eyes and reopen them. She looks around, and the first thing she notices is the IV going into her left arm, second is the monitor just a couple feet away from the bed.

It's a slow recollecting of what happened; the hanger, the plane, the fight. She should be dead, but...

She tries to sit up, but is halted by an extremely sharp pain in her ribs. She only makes it a few inches off the bed before she stops trying. She searches around for the buzzer and finally finds it next to her right side and hits the button as rapidly as she can, her movement still a bit drunken and lethargic. It's a minute or two before she hears the door open.

The nurse, a petite blonde, no more than five feet tall walks in with a smile. "It's good to see you finally awake, Mrs. Beckett."

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. How are you feeling?" The nurse asks, looking over her IV, then going to the monitor.

"Which one?" She asks while trying her hardest to push herself upright.

"Lincoln Medical, don't move so much. You need to relax." The nurse urges and softly pushes her shoulders back down to the mattress.

She's too weak to argue. She's tired, but can't fall back asleep. "What day is it?"

"It's the seventeenth." The nurse says and stops to give her her full attention.

"What month?"

"November." The nurse pauses as her expression goes from a soft smile to a concerned frown. "Do you... remember anything from the accident?"

"Accident... wha-"

"Mrs. Beckett." Another voice says from the door. She looks over and sees a man in blue scrubs and long white coat step into the room holding a metal clipboard. "It's good to see you finally awake."

"What happened to me?" She asks, anxiety gnawing at her stomach.

"You were brought into the ER a couple days ago. You were in a motorcycle accident." Her mind goes over everything she can remember and she knows for certain she wasn't in a motorcycle accident. "You've been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last twenty four hours, but not unusual for someone in your position. Now, you've got a few fractured ribs that I'll be giving you some medication for, and your midsection has some pretty big bruises on it. But what I'm most concerned about is your concussion."

"Concussion?"

"It's probably mild, but just to be safe, I'd like to run a CT scan when you're feeling up to it. But in the mean time," The doctor says and moves to the foot of her bed and slides the chart into the rack, "try to get some rest." The doctor turns to leave, but a thought enters her numbed mind.

"Wait," She says, stopping him as he reaches the door, "Who brought me in?"

"He didn't leave his name, actually. Just said that you'd been in a motorcycle accident. I wouldn't worry too much about it, Mrs. Beckett, your in good hands."

Before she can ask anymore questions, or before she can think of any, the door is shut, and she feels her head go light and nod off.

She feels herself wake up again, quicker to gain her senses than last time she remembers waking up.

"You're awake."

She jumps, the voice striking a chord with her. She quickly finds him sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. "You... You're Castle's father."

He smirks and stands up. "Please, call me James." He says and picks up her chart.

"You brought me into the ER? You were at the airport?"

"I heard about what you were doing. I heard chatter that someone high profile was planning on leaving the country from the air port to connect with a foreign vessel being watched by the coast guard."

"So... you were there. What happened with Colt? Last time I remember he was about to kill me."

"Sebastian Colt is dead. I was sent to do recon on the situation, but when I saw you there, I had to... deffer from my original objective. You are my daughter-in-law after all."

Just then, it all rushes back.

Castle.

It's over. She can go back. "If Sebastian Colt is dead, then it's over, right?"

"With Sebastian Colt dead, the FBI is launching a full investigation into him and anyone he's ever had contact with. It's over."

It's gone. The weight, she can feel it lift in that moment. The weight in her chest evaporates and every thing she's wanted to do, she can see her self doing them. Going back to him, picking up where they left off. She can finally be with the man she loves. "After all this time, it's over."

"Go home, Kathrine. Give Richard my regards." James says and turns towards the door. She would thank him, but a smile on her face is such an alien feeling that it feels a bit overwhelming to know that it's real. She can go home.

She can finally go home.

He lets out a breath and pulls a phone out of his pocket and dials the number, hearing it ring three times before he hears the line open. "Hello?"

"She's safe."

"So... it's over?"

"She believes it is. That's all that matters."

"Is it really over?"

"If she knew how deep and how far up this really goes, she'd be on the run her entire life. Believe me, that's a life I wouldn't wish on anyone." There's a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a long sigh.

"Thank you."