Chapter 1

"The hell you don't remember. Do you want to know trauma? I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it."

And suddenly, she did. The world went black around her; she sat down hard in the chair, and everything stopped as she remembered. The searing pain in her chest, the fall, the hard ground and the burning blue sky; Castle leaning over her and pressing down hard and the blood spurting over his hands and shirt as he begged her to stay with him, told her he loved her, over and over. But it hurt too much then to say anything, as the lights went out.

Castle had slipped into Observation without disturbing Captain Gates, whose dislike of him hadn't softened by one whit in several months. He was looking forward to seeing a suspect eviscerated in Beckett's best take-no-prisoners style, and then maybe they'd get a chance to finish the discussion which, he was sure, had been leading towards an admission that there would be a change in their relationship. He could hardly wait: delighted anticipation and impatience barely contained.

And then she said I remember every second, and his whole life fell apart in four words. He spun on his heel, devastated, and left, white-faced, shocked and furious. He'd heard and seen nothing after Beckett's words: all his illusions ripped away. She'd known all this time. His world lay shattered around him, all his hopes and dreams destroyed.

Nobody noticed Castle leaving as the interrogation fell apart. Beckett said nothing, slumped in the chair and apparently barely conscious; the suspect totally confused, still reeling from Beckett's hard questioning and then her immediate collapse.

"Detectives Esposito, Ryan! Get her out of there." Gates had seen it all, from Observation, and acted fast. "Esposito, take over the interrogation. Ryan, you deal with Detective Beckett!"

Esposito and Ryan barged into Interrogation, where Beckett was entirely oblivious to anything around her, locked into a memory she couldn't escape. Their suspect was almost as shocked as the cops at the situation, of which Esposito took full advantage. While he took over, Ryan manhandled Beckett out of the room and planted her in the nearest conference room. She didn't notice; eyes blind, ears deaf; imprisoned.

"Beckett!" Ryan settled her on the couch, terrified. "Beckett!" She was entirely unresponsive, curling tightly into herself in a foetal ball, soundless, but her face bloodless and agonised. He had no idea what to do.

The furious form of Captain Gates gestured him out without speaking.

"Explain what happened in there," Gates snapped at Ryan.

"I don't know, sir."

"Detective Esposito?" He shifted from one foot to the other, and Gates caught it. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Do not lie to me, Detective. If you don't know, what do you think? Assuming that you are able to think. My detective is currently fainting in a conference room as a result of something that happened in that interrogation, so you damn well think."

In the silence that followed, Captain Gates preserved a steely countenance and did some focused thinking of her own.

"And where is Mr Castle in all this mess?"

"Uh?"

"Detective Beckett is ill. Why is Mr Castle not here? He was in Observation, I thought."

"He was here?" Ryan and Esposito looked at each other, confused. "He can't know."

"One of you tell him." She waited for a single beat. "Now. Not next week."

Ryan dialled. The call went straight to voicemail. "Castle, it's Ryan. Call me."

"Your thoughts, Detective." Gates frowned heavily at Esposito.

"No thoughts, sir."

Gates's expression said Liar as clearly as a photo. "In that case, I expect Detective Beckett to become present in this office immediately. Fetch her."

Esposito executed a smart about-face and exited. A moment later, he returned. Alone.

"Where is Detective Beckett?" Gates's tone would have blistered rock.

"She's…um…"

Gates swept out of her office and into the conference room – and stopped short. Her best (not that she would allow that to be known) detective appeared to be unconscious: small, fragile and broken: curled like a terrified child; bloodless and gasping in air. Esposito and Ryan arrived behind her, sucking in breath.

"Get her coffee."

Ryan obeyed with alacrity, and put it under Beckett's nose.

"Out." They left. Gates shut the conference room door, sat down, and waited. After far longer than it should have taken, and at a point where Gates was seriously considering calling for first aid, Detective Beckett blinked, partially uncurled, and opened her eyes.

"Detective." Gates was icy, though she was concerned by Beckett's vacant expression. "Explain what has just occurred."

"Sir?" Beckett's gaze wasn't steady, and both her voice and hands were shaking as she sat, slumped in a way Gates had never previously seen. Gates's concern intensified.

"Let me recall the situation to your mind." Harsh formality was required. "You were in the middle of conducting an interrogation. You then collapsed. Explain yourself."

"I don't know, sir."

"If you are sick, you should not be here. If there is some other explanation, you have ten seconds to begin it."

Detective Beckett shook her head, as if dislodging something. Her hand had slipped up to cover her chest. She began to draw her knees up, and stopped, though Gates thought that the defensive move gave away more than it protected.

"I… what did I say?"

"Your last comment" – Gates's eyes were sharp upon her detective – "was I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it." Every drop of blood drained from Beckett's face, and she lost all awareness, again.

Gates stood up and stalked out, closing the door behind her. She summoned Detective Beckett's team with a commanding gesture.

"Detective Beckett is clearly not well. You will continue the case without her. You may continue to use Mr Castle to assist, pro tem. I will revisit that decision in due course. One of you will monitor her, and when she rouses, you will escort her to me. Dismissed."

Castle couldn't remember anything about how he had travelled home. Alone in his study, his rage and misery boiled and bubbled. He'd really believed they were on the edge of becoming more. And she'd just been stringing him along, for months. He couldn't bear it: all his dreams, nothing more than soap bubbles, popping in the harsh wind of reality. He'd never believed she could be so cruel, so callous, and so calculating. She'd simply used him.

She'd never really cared, and all the closeness he had thought was building was simply exceptional acting. Well, if that was how she felt, fuck it. He switched his phone off. He didn't want her to call, because he'd answer: Pavlovian reaction. He wouldn't be her dog.

A small tendril of reason crept through his rage. If … if she apologised tomorrow, if she gave him a reason, if… well, if, then he'd listen. He'd go back tomorrow, and give her one last chance. But… then he needed time to think about her reason, away from her. Away from the narcotic effect she had on his logic.

Love, of course, wasn't logical. But love could die, or be killed. And logic could be used, if he wasn't too close to the woman he'd thought was falling as deeply in love with him as he already had with her.

He'd go away for the weekend. Vegas. As far away from Manhattan in attitudes as he could get: a hedonistic city with no names or recognition or caring. And then he'd decide what to do.

He went on line, and shortly his weekend was arranged.

"What the fuck happened in there?" Ryan almost never used that word.

"I don't know. 'S not like Beckett to be sick."

"You think she's sick? You looked like you had a different thought when Gates was yelling at us. Like maybe she'd had another flashback."

"I don't know, 'kay? I thought she was fine. There's been nothing for months. No reason she should spook like that."

"We don't know what went down in there."

"So let's listen to the recording."

They went and applied some gentle persuasion to the tech, who promised to produce the recording as soon as they could.

"Okay. Better go check on her."

"Surprised Castle isn't here. I'd'a thought he'd come running, or at least call back."

"Must be something up at home." They left it at that, not satisfied, but perfectly aware that Castle regarded his family as paramount.

Beckett had managed to drain the coffee when they sidled in, though she had her arms around her knees and her head was down.

"What's up?"

"You okay?"

She looked up. The boys managed not to react to the ghastly expression on her pallid face. "Yeah."

"You don't look it. You look like a truck ran over you. Twice."

"Can you walk?"

"Of course I can." Neither man was convinced, watching her struggle to her feet and wobble worryingly. "Where's Castle?"

"Don't know. Guess something's up at home."

"Oh."

"Anyway, Gates wants to see you."

"Oh."

"Better move. She wasn't in a good mood."

Beckett moved. She felt like hell. She couldn't get the memory of the shooting out of her head, either, and she had no reserves to face Gates. She wanted Castle, who'd get her through this just as he had before, and then she could… could what? She'd wanted to tell him everything and then they'd been interrupted and now… now things were shattering around her. The shell had broken, and she'd drained out, unable to put it back together. And Castle wasn't there, and without him… she wasn't strong enough.

"Detective. Shut the door." She did, and stood at her best take on parade rest.

It wasn't good enough.

"Sit." It was the least welcoming invitation she'd ever had. She sat. "Now, explain." Cold silence fell. Gates's fingers tapped irritably. "Have you any good reason why I shouldn't suspend you right now?"

Beckett simply stared, failing to process.

"Detective, you were conducting a simple interrogation and suddenly you shut down. Clearly you are unfit for duty. You can provide an explanation of why your final sentence had this effect, or I can speculate. I detest speculation, and if you force me to speculate I can guarantee that you will not like the answers or my subsequent actions. You are on the edge of disciplinary action, and I will not hesitate to take it."

"I" – Beckett paled further, and gulped, breathing shallow and rapid.

"Truth, Detective."

"I had a flashback." Gates blinked, slowly. She wasn't completely surprised. "I don't know why."

"How often has this happened?" Gates stopped. Cogs meshed in her head. "Five months ago, there was a case with a sniper. You were not yourself for part of that case. However, since it appeared that it did not affect your work or the eventual outcome, I did not pursue it at the time. I am now reconsidering my decision. Have you had any further episodes since that case?"

"Not since then. I was cleared for duty," Beckett said. "I was fine."

"You did not inform me of your…difficulties on the sniper case." Gates's glare would have pierced steel. "Did you have a flashback on that case?"

"I worked through it."

"Answer my question."

"Yes."

Gates was ominously silent. "As a senior detective you should have informed me of any matter affecting your fitness for duty," she hissed. "You did not."

"I was fine! I was cleared."

"Except today has proved that you are not fine at all. You are relieved of duty, indefinitely. You will return to the department-approved psychiatrist until you are re-cleared."

Beckett stared, horrified. "But…"

"No. You are a risk to yourself and others. Medical leave, Detective. I expect you to have left the bullpen in the next five minutes. If you return without a further psych clearance, you will be subject to a disciplinary hearing."

Beckett entirely failed to preserve a blank face. She looked as if Gates had shot her, and her hand went back to the scar over her heart.

"Gun and shield," Gates said. Beckett laid both slowly on the desk between them. "Dismissed."

"Sir," she whispered, and left. Gates watched her go, relieved that the gun was not with her detective, and watched her leave the bullpen without a word to a single person. Then she turned to her next problem. Detectives Ryan and Esposito. She decided to leave them until they had solved the current case. Then, however, she intended to have a very pointed discussion with both of them, and then with Mr Castle. After the case was solved.

Beckett stumbled out of the bullpen, shell-shocked and shivering. She caught a cab home, unable to collect her head together to drive safely. She kept seeing that day, almost a year ago. Hard blue sky and the hot sun and the pain. She… Castle had got her through the last time. She needed him, and for the first time, he wasn't there. She had to talk to him, to see him. She pulled out her phone, and tapped his number.

He didn't answer. She left a message. "Castle…call me. Please." She managed to make it sound normal, as if it was nothing major. She couldn't admit her pain and need to a voicemail service: it had taken all her nerve to try to call him and admit it to him in person. The cab jounced its way to her block, but he hadn't called back when she arrived.

She didn't know what to do, and every other minute, the memories bit at her brain, nibbling away her shell of control. She changed to a soft robe, and then, with still no word from Castle, lay on her bed and stared at the unresponsive ceiling, the thin, fragile shell of her life shattering around her as all her work to recover had done. Thin trickles of liquid leaked from her eyes. Everything she'd worked to try to mend…ruined. She stared at the ceiling for a long, long time, uncomfortably dozing. Her phone didn't ring, but, spiralling downwards, she no longer noticed.

When she eventually woke the next day, there was still no message. She didn't understand it, but sent a brief text. Hope everything's okay. Call me. KB. When that remained unanswered too, she didn't try again. Probably there had been a break in the case, she told herself, and, still lost and unable to move past the overshadowing memories, didn't ask why he hadn't called when the boys must have told him what had happened.

Gradually, however, a sneaking, subtle thought slithered through her mind. The boys had told him, and…he'd decided that since she wasn't fixed, wasn't allowed to work, she wasn't enough. Of course, the thought wasn't that specific, but its tentacles reached into her brain, and latched on. He'd given up on her. She couldn't really say she was surprised. She'd tried and tried to be fixed, but it was almost a year on, and she hadn't managed it. Yesterday had proved how little she had managed it. She couldn't have truly expected him to wait for her, when she couldn't be enough. She couldn't prove she was enough if she wasn't able to work, because if she was enough she'd be allowed to work, but she wasn't, so she couldn't be.

And if she couldn't be enough, why was she bothering to see the shrink at all? She'd only ever done it so that she could be with Castle, and if that were gone…

If that was gone, everything was gone. She returned to her bedroom, turned into her pillow, and tried not to weep. And then she didn't bother trying any more. Who was there to see? The same no-one as occupied the rest of her life. Since there was no-one to see, it seemed pointless to get up, so she didn't. She wasn't hungry, so she didn't bother eating. She simply lay there, disconnected, until she fell asleep again.

There was no point in doing anything, when she woke. So she didn't, vaguely moving from bed to couch and back again, her mind a fog of grey nothingness and her body exhausted.

In the precinct, Ryan and Esposito were working their asses off in an effort to remove themselves from Gates's beady regard. They had a horrible feeling that they were under intense and ominous scrutiny. Consequently, they were delighted to see Castle, who would be the first port of call for Gates's wrath.

"Hey, man."

"Yo."

Castle looked around, and didn't see Beckett. He shrugged, and assumed she was at the morgue. "What have we got?" Talk turned to the case, and nobody mentioned Beckett.

"You okay?" Ryan asked eventually. "Called you yesterday."

"Yeah, well. Something came up and it got a bit complicated. Personal stuff." He'd ignored Ryan's call just as he'd ignored Beckett's brief voicemail.

Ryan took the hint, and didn't ask. He also decided that if Castle had complicated personal stuff to deal with, then he'd let him get round to asking about Beckett in his own time, rather than adding another difficulty when the man looked pretty strung out already.

And then they hit a break and it was all go and frantic work and nobody at all noticed that Castle didn't ask about Beckett, even as they took down the suspect and she wasn't there. In fact, Castle had slipped away as soon as the killer was identified, even before the arrest was made. By the time Espo and Ryan noticed he was gone, it was late. They'd call him later. Beckett, too. All Gates had said was that Beckett wouldn't be in today. She'd be happy to know they'd caught the killer, and that she didn't have to do the paperwork.

Esposito and Ryan eventually left in a glow of conscious virtue entirely occasioned by both catching the killer and completing all the paperwork to boot.

"Think Beckett'll be back tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Really?" Ryan asked.

"Sure. Why wouldn't she be?"

"Gates was pretty pissed at her."

"Gates likes the solve rate, though. No chance she'll bench Beckett for long. Her stats won't stand it."

"Huh. We never worked out what set it off."

"Didn't we get that recording?"

"Yeah, but we didn't need to listen to it to get the perp, so I left it till we had time."

"Monday. Get it fixed, whatever it was."

They went for a celebratory beer, which turned into several, and by the time they remembered about calling Beckett or Castle it was too late to call anyone at all and survive the experience.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers.

This is a long story and my entry for the 2019 summer ficathon. Usual posting schedule: Sunday/Tuesday/Thursday.

If you haven't read my original novel, Death in Focus (SR Garrae), the summer holidays are your perfect opportunity. Available to all on Amazon.