Author's Note: I DO NOT OWN CASTLE. The beginning of this story follows Knockdown, but that's going to change. So while I've borrowed quotes and the beginning storyline from the show, I actually don't own it. I'm only a rabid fan. But hey, I'm not complaining!

So like I said, this part of the story...at least til the end pretty much follows Knockdown. I give my insiders opinion into what's going on in Castle's head, but I'll soon digress into my own little world. And yes, I realize that it sounds totally boring, but I promise you it isn't. I do my best to not write boring. Because then I wouldn't read it either. So read. And enjoy. : )

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He looked down into her eyes. Eyes that mystified him each time; he couldn't pinpoint their color. Not brown, but not green, maybe somewhere in between. A light brown with hints of green depending on the light. He chased the thought away, but in its place came a new one. Or rather, an old and familiar one resurfaced. Much like her eyes, she was a mystery. There were times, like now, that he could look into her eyes and see her very soul. He knew he could read her like no one else in her life, but that didn't stop her from shielding herself from him whenever he got too close. A defense mechanism, confusion, fear, distrust, or all of the above, he didn't know what made her do it. Sometimes he was sure she didn't even know the walls she put around herself. But he always tried to take them down. And he always would.

But in this moment, he'd managed to weed himself in before she realized what he was doing. And the pain he saw there was astounding. She gazed back at him almost desperately, silently begging him to save her. "Kate," he whispered, broken for her. Her eyes shifted. Not so much in position, but rather the door she accidentally left open suddenly closed. Steel rose back into her eyes and she challenged him silently to do something about it. But the damage was done, and looking close enough, he could see the broken girl behind the bars. Castle decided right then and there that he would let that child loose. No more running, no more hurting, just free.

Castle and Beckett had found a new break in her mother's case. Detective Raglan had called Beckett that morning, asking to meet with her at a diner in the city. Without meaning to, Kate had found herself knocking on Castle's door asking for his help. It was there in his doorway where Castle had first seen her fear and uncertainty. So many things had washed over her face at once, and Castle had just wanted to pull her in and never let her go. But her strength and determination had prevailed as it always did and before Castle could act or even ask, she'd asked him for his help. Pure and simple, and yet it held behind it so many things. Witty remarks didn't even make it into his mind, Castle had simply nodded, grabbed his coat, and followed her out the door. They'd made their way to the diner and found Raglan nursing a cup of coffee, appearing to savor the ceramic cup between his hands. Castle had noted that the man looked pale, almost sickly, and thought that maybe we was savoring the feeling of a hot mug warming his fingers. Raglan had looked up and took in the site of Castle. He rolled his eyes.

"What part of 'no cops' did you not understand?" He'd directed to Beckett.

"He's not a cop," she'd replied as she and Castle slid into the booth.

"So who is he?"

"Someone I trust." Castle had looked over at her quickly. She trusts me, was all he could think dumbly. But'd he pulled himself away from his thoughts and focused back onto what the old man was saying. They didn't get very far. Raglan had made a Scrooge reference as he admitted his overwhelming guilt over his former life as a cop. A lot of sins he held behind his badge, Ragland had said. Castle had wondered what they might be. He'd seemed sincere, though, when he told Beckett that nothing weighed on him more than her mother's case. He'd started to tell her why, that something had happened seven years before her death, when the sound of shattered glass had caused the entire diner to erupt in a frenzy.

"Everyone down on the ground! Back away from the window now!" Beckett had shouted, looking for the source of the bullet that had penetrated the safety of the diner. But all Castle could see was the red stain on her white sweater.

"You're hit!" He'd exclaimed, panicking and leaning in for a closer look.

"I'm fine, it's not my blood," she'd responded, her attention elsewhere. Raglan, he had thought quickly and looked over. Sure enough, the man had been sputtering, bits of blood escaping his mouth. Castle had crawled over to him, but it was too late. The lights in Raglan's eyes were fading. He'd looked over at Beckett and shook his head.

"Be advised, this is now a homicide," she finished saying into her walkie-talkie.

The defeat was evident in her voice and she'd let the device slip from her hands. Castle had wanted to say something, anything to bring a smile to her face and wipe away that haunted look, but he couldn't. He'd looked down at the warm, sticky solution that had diverted his attention. Raglan's blood was on his hands. A slight tremor shook them as he realized what that meant. So this is what it's like to be a cop, he'd thought numbly. He wanted desperately to wash it all away and go back to this morning when he'd been making waffles for him and Alexis, waiting for Beckett to call about a new dead body someone had found. Anything to give him an excuse to see her. A new dead body, he'd repeated to himself. How could he be so careless, so thoughtless? Castle just stared at the new dead body before him. He'd written this moment maybe a hundred times in his books, but nothing compared to the actual feeling.

Paramedics had arrived at the scene and took the body away. Castle couldn't let himself think of the dead man as Raglan anymore. He'd watched numbly from the doorway before turning and making his way to the bathroom where he spent the next five minutes scrubbing his hands. But even after he'd dried them, he could still feel the blood. Someone's blood on my hands, he'd thought wryly. Never thought of a context like this for that phrase before. Somehow he knew he would never use that phrase in his books ever again. Coming out of the bathroom, Castle had seen Beckett and made his way towards her. He'd taken her in, shoulders slumped, head down. God how this must be affecting her. She'd come so close. He was still wiping his hands when she looked up and saw him before her.

"Hey," she'd said. He'd responded in kind, still feeling a little lost, unable to fully grasp the situation. "You good?" she'd asked.

"Yeah, I think I got it all off my hands." Once again, that phrase haunted him and he lost himself in his thoughts once again.

"It's different when it happens right in front of you," she'd said, sympathizing, "You're close enough to watch the lights go out."

"Yeah," he'd nodded, and then caught sight of the blood on her shirt again. Another chill passed through him at what that could have meant. "When I saw the blood on your shirt I thought you'd been shot." The words came out before he could stop them. He knew the terror he'd felt had been written across his face. He'd never been able to beat Beckett's poker face. She'd stared at him, and he thought he'd detected fear for his own safety and a desire to respond to the unspoken truth behind his words in her eyes when she'd broken eye contact and said, "Um, I'm gonna go to the 12th." She'd started to walk away as she'd continued, "How about I drop you off at your place?"

"Not a chance," he'd said. He didn't even have to think about it. A man had died because he was going to give Beckett information about her mother's death. He sure as hell wasn't going to leave her now. Not if it meant she was next. Especially if it could even possibly mean that she was next. No. He wasn't leaving.

There must have been something in his voice that made her decide not to argue. She'd stared at him for a moment, surprised, but all she'd said was, "Okay," and lead the way out the door. They did stop at his apartment, however, after hers, and he'd invited her in while he went to change his clothes. He had pulled on something much less formal and this normal suit and tie outfit. There was something about watching a man die that made you appreciate the little stuff. Like wearing a button down tee-shirt and jeans. Sighing, he'd made his way out of his room and found Beckett standing where he had left her. In front of the closed door. She had that look about her again, he'd realized, that look that told him she was just barely holding it together. He'd only seen it on her a few times. The first when he told her what he'd found out about her mom, after he'd snuck behind her back, and the last time when she told him to leave after he came home from the Hamptons. There were only a few times in between that he could remember seeing her like this, and they'd all had to do with her mom's case. She may have healed enough to be able to live again, he'd thought, but there's only so much healing the body can do after a disaster like that. And she was damn good at hiding the fact that she'd hardly healed at all. The only sense of closure she'll get is when she catches the son of a bitch who ordered the hit on her mom. That's when she'll allow herself to heal.

Castle had made his way over to her slowly. He'd wanted so badly to hold her and take the hurt upon himself, to make it all disappear. But he had no words for situations like these. And the words he did have he was sure she wasn't ready for. He couldn't pinpoint the moment he fell in love with Katherine Beckett, it seems like he'd always loved her from the moment he met her. Or maybe he was just waiting to meet her but didn't know it. When she walked into his life she'd set about changing a lot of things for him. She'd messed everything up and she didn't even know. But she'd messed them up for the better and that's all he really knew, all he really cared about.

So, without knowing what to say, Castle just stood there and gazed into her eyes. Part of his mind contemplated their color, while the rest of him contemplated the emotions behind them. She'd had it. The answers she'd been looking for, waiting for, had been in her grasp and someone had rip them away in the form of a bullet to Raglan's chest. So now she was lost again, back to the beginning. Coonan was dead, Raglan was dead, and a man with a deadly aim was out there, laughing at her. It was like her mother had died all over again and the anguish and complete heartbreak threatened to overtake her once again.

"Kate," he heard himself whisper brokenly, and suddenly it was like she came back to herself. She slammed the walls back in place, was gone from him once again.

"Are you ready?" She asked forcefully, putting herself back together. "Because we really should get back to the precinct."

"Are you sure you don't want to think about this first?" Castle asked, finally finding his voice. He knew that was the absolute wrong question to ask, but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

"What's there to think about, Castle?" She asked, turning back to him. "Ragland is dead and his killer is out there. Someone who may know about my mother's case. I've got to catch him."

"I know," he responded, placating, "I know that more than anything. But Raglan was shot. You could have been shot! Can we take a moment and think about this for a second?"
"Castle, I signed up for this when I took my badge. You didn't. You can stay here and process, but I've got to go. I have to know who this SOB is. I've got to-" Beckett broke off and bit her bottom lip. Then she looked back at him. "You can stay, Castle. I don't want you getting shot. But I have to do this."

"Then I'm coming with you," he responded.

"But-"

"No. I did sign up for this, Beckett. I've got the paperwork to prove it. If I get shot I can't sue the city. If I die, I can't sue the city. I remember what I signed up for. But this is so much more than a signature. This is so much more than writing a book or following you around to satisfy some morbid curiosity with death. This is about you. And I'm not leaving you." Then, before he could say something really stupid, he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. But even so, he didn't miss the surprised look that passed over her face. There were so few occasions when she didn't know what to say back. It brought a little smile to his face, so he called over his shoulder, "You coming? I swiped your keys as I walked out, so does that mean I get to drive?"

He heard her gasp as she quickly ran to his side and stuck her hand down one of his jacket pockets. "Why, Detective, are you trying to feel me up?" He said slyly, wagging his eyebrow, "Because all you had to do was ask."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Where are my keys, Castle?"

"Mmm, no idea. Which pocket did you put them in?" He responded playfully.

"In this…one," she said slowly as she dug into her right pocket and found the keys resting against the bottom. Castle watched her roll her eyes again, but was pleased when she couldn't quite suppress a smile. They reached the elevator and Beckett pressed the down arrow, then turned to face him. She placed a hand on his arm and reached up till her lips were against his ear.

"Next time you want me to cop a feel, Castle, all you have to do is ask," she whispered seductively. Then she leaned down and flashed a wicked smile and sauntered onto the elevator. Apparently the doors had slid open. "You coming?" She asked, eyebrow raised in that way she did.

"Yeah," Castle gasped, still wondering how the hell she had managed to turn the tables on him once again.

The elevator doors closed and started its descent. "Hey," she said quietly, bumping her hand lightly against his. He looked down at her apprehensively, unsure of what he'd find. But her brown-green eyes stared into his, devoid of any humor. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"For what?" He asked.

A thousand thoughts seem to pass over her face as she thought of her answer. He wished she would voice them, but all he could do was hope for a day when she someday would. "For being here," she finally answered, keeping eye contact for only a moment longer before she looked down. The elevator doors opened and she quickly got off, making her way to the car.

"Always," he said softly, too low for her to hear, before he walked off the elevator after her. This was going to be one hell of a day.

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I really want to keep writing this. It's my first shot at fanfiction, so I don't really know what I'm doing. If you like it, then by all means let me know. It'll help my self esteem : ), though I think I'm gonna keep going simply because I want to know what the story's gonna be. xoxo Aubrey