Kate sat in the back of the ambulance; Esposito wouldn't let her move from there, wouldn't let her go back to the scene. Back to Castle.

"He'll be here soon enough," said Espo. "Sit tight."

The EMT iced her cheekbone and wrapped her wrists where the cable ties had cut into them, asked her a few questions, told her they're going to take her to the hospital. Another paramedic popped round the back door to tell him to bring the gurney, and Kate tried to spring to her feet but staggered into Espo's arms instead.

"Uh-uh," he said firmly, and she remembered the bruising on her shins and sank back down.

Esposito doesn't have much of a bedside manner - he's more the silent, solid rock type - but comfort wasn't what Kate needed, right now anyway. Right now she needed facts. She went over what she already told Esposito and the other cop.

She and Castle had been grabbed off the street (walking to the Old Haunt after their first date) and taken to this warehouse by the docks. (Kate made a note that when she takes over Manhattan, all the empty real estate on the docks is to be leveled.) They came to, both bound to metal chairs bolted to the floor, and after some desultory threats and slaps from their unseen captors, it became obvious that they were being held for information about an old case, one about which Castle knew nothing.

Once the thugs were convinced of his ignorance, they had detached him from the chair and taken in to another room (shouting all the way, Kate realized, to give her some idea which direction he'd been taken). Some time later, a monitor was brought into the room where Kate remained bound, along with the same thugs who'd been questioning them.

When the monitor was positioned in front of her and activated, it revealed an image of a larger room, brightly lit, with five people in it, all with their backs to the camera. One of them was Castle; he'd been stripped to his boxers and was balanced, barely on the balls of his feet, wrists bound and fastened to a chain hung from the ceiling.

The EMTs came into view, slowly rolling a gurney with a body on it, covered with a sheet, only the head showing. A head of thick, dark hair, on a body tall and broad and apparently still alive.

Esposito kept a hand on her shoulder as the gurney came to a stop at the open doors of the ambulance. Kate got to her feet, carefully, and stepped back to give the EMTs room to load it.

It was the first look she'd had at her friend (her date) since the monitor had gone blank. He lay stomach down on the gurney, one arm lying down straight along his side, the other tucked up with a hand next to his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow, and there was an IV running into the back of his hand.

"He's alive," said Espo quietly. "Come on, you're going in the other unit."

At the sound of Espo's voice, a soft grunt came from Castle, but his eyes remained closed and the emergency personnel were already sliding the gurney into the ambulance. Kate was rooted to the spot, watching, but Esposito squeezed her arm gently.

"Don't make me carry you, Beckett," he said.

She had to lie down on another gurney, strapped in for safety, staring up at the roof as the ambulance plowed through traffic, lights and sirens and firm, insistent voices asking her more questions. She answered automatically while forcing her mind to go back to the scene. She didn't want to forget a single detail, not when it meant she could help put those animals away for life.

In the bright room, Castle was going for nonchalant and cocky.

"I'm guessing this isn't a day spa you guys are running," he said. "Still, you should at least buy me dinner before getting me naked. Beckett's going to be so pissed off that you got my clothes off before she had a chance."

The men in the room with him ignored him; one was testing the restraints and the others were just standing around watching. Yet another man came into view and Kate's blood ran cold. He was holding a whip.

"He doesn't know anything," she said to the two men watching her. "There's no point in hurting him." (Hurt me, she thought. I can take it. I'm trained to take it.)

Castle on the screen was breathing deeply, turning his head as far as he could as if listening, still not far enough to see what was behind him.

"Castle," Kate yelled. No one on the screen so much as blinked.

One of her guards said shortly, "He can't hear you."

Kate could hear him, though - and the sound of the whip as its wielder cracked it in the air. Castle flinched, but went on with the banter.

"Hey, that's definitely not an option on a first date. Whips and chains I only consider after dinner and a movie and some plain vanilla sex. Not that I'm suggesting that last item. Dinner and a show would do. Maybe a few drinks, loosen up the old inhibitions, maybe - "

The whip cracked again, across his thighs, and he let out a pained "ah!" in mid-soliloquy.

"Hitting below the belt," he growled. "Cheaters."

Another bark was wrenched out of him as the blows continued, marking the backs of his legs, moving upward, over his spine. Kate clenched her jaw and tried to tune out the sound of Castle's pain, the sharp sound of the whip, the gut-level grunts of the victim that turned into open mouthed cries.

On the screen, one of the men stepped up behind Castle, staying slightly off to the side, and swiftly yanked down his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. Castle was completely bare now, the smooth curve of his buttocks a stark contrast to the welts rising above and below them.

Amazingly, he found his voice again.

"You know, it's kind of chilly in here, can I have those back? They're not much, but I'm a firm believer in covering my ass whenever possible - HEY!"

His voice rose in response to a quick squeeze from the man who had pantsed him, who now stood back and out of the way as yet another man came into view holding a cane. He tapped the backs of Castle's knees with it and his captive went very, very still.

"What do you want from him," Kate shouted desperately. "Leave him alone. He's just a civilian - he was my date, all he knows is my phone number and where I work."

She jumped when a voice behind her said, "We will stop the treatment when you tell us what we want to know."

She'd been expecting that statement, though not the level of torment being visited on her favorite novelist. She prayed that Castle was tougher than most people believed.

She prayed he'd forgive her, if they both survived.

Lanie came into the ER an hour after Kate had arrived; she could hear her friend hold a brief, determined conversation with the ER nurse before the curtain swung open and shut and Kate tried to smile.

"They got me on the good stuff," said Kate. "Dammit."

"Good thing, too," said Lanie. "You'd be AWOL for sure if they didn't. I know where they'd find you, though."

"Castle. Have you seen him."

"No one's seen him, no one from the twelfth, anyway. There's a uni outside the door to his room, says he's waiting to get a statement."

"Is he conscious?"

"According to the nurses, conscious but not talking. He's probably on the good stuff, too." Lanie leaned over to drop a kiss on Kate's forehead. "You're both in good hands, baby. Just get some rest, and you'll see him soon."

"Promise," Kate murmured as her eyes drifted shut.

When she awakened, she was in a dimly lit hospital room, and it was dark outside. She cleared her throat and someone in the shadows stirred.

"Katie?"

"Dad," she croaked. "Can I get some - thanks," she added as her dad held a cup with a straw to her lips.

"How do you feel?" asked Jim Beckett.

"Banged up," she replied. "What's the bottom line?"

"Lacerations, cracked shinbone, contusions, concussion...the usual, I guess."

"No morphine, right?"

"Nope. If the pain gets too bad, I can holler for a nurse...?"

"I'm okay for now." Kate pushed the switch to elevate her torso a little. "Thanks for coming, Dad. Have you heard anything about Castle?"

"I haven't. But Martha Rodgers is here, hovering over the nurses' station in the trauma center; if there's any news to be had, we'll hear about it."

"They worked him over," said Kate. "They wanted me to give them information, so they tortured him, and they made me watch. I couldn't stop them."

Her father laid his hand on her head and said, "I know, Katie. I know. You can't do anything about that now. You're safe, and Castle's safe, and you can tell him when you see him."

What on earth was she going to say to him?

As it turned out, Kate had some time to figure out what to say.

She was allowed out of bed the day after her arrival, then permitted to walk a short distance with a cane. Her head was relatively clear but mildly painful as she resolutely made her way to the ward where Castle was being kept.

"Are you a family member?" asked the woman at the nurses' station, looking at something on the computer.

"No," said Kate. "I'm with the NYPD. Sorry, I left my badge in my other gown."

Her faint joke fell flat, but a moment later a very familiar voice said over her shoulder, "She has my blessing. Katherine Beckett, she's on the list."

"Ah," said the nurse. "Sorry about that, Ms. Beckett. Go on in. Only two visitors at a time."

Martha Rodgers linked arms with Kate and gave her a weary smile.

"Come and see him, Katherine, I know you won't rest until you do."

"If you're sure..."

"He's asleep most of the time," Martha went on. "But he'll know you're here, even so."

Kate had to smile at that bit of good faith. Martha pushed the door open and waved Kate into the room.

There was only one bed, along with an armchair which Martha had apparently made her spot; a scarf, a book, a handbag were piled on and beside it. The curtains were partially drawn and the lights were off, but the room was bright enough for her to make out the face of the man in the bed.

He was lying partly on one side, partly on his stomach, one leg slightly bent as a prop, a sheet suspended a few inches above his skin by a tent-like contraption. His face was turned toward the door, but his eyes were closed.

"Castle," Kate whispered. She didn't want to wake him if he needed to sleep.

"Here," said Martha quietly, placing a chair next to the bed near her son's head. "Sit down, my dear."

"Thank you."

Kate seated herself and Martha went out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The last time Kate had seen Castle conscious, he'd still been hanging from the damn chains, struggling to hold back his screams. His butt and upper thighs had been striped by the cane, and there were several open cuts on his back. And he was cursing at his tormentors, fluently and at maximum volume and, Kate thought, in what sounded like Chinese.

Her own keepers had been firing questions at her and slapping her, hard, when she refused to answer or tried to close her eyes. Her ears were ringing, but she could still hear Castle howling intermittently.

She still didn't know how anyone had found them. All she remembered was the clang of an industrial door and voices shouting, "NYPD! Show me your hands!" and she thanked God that none of the men questioning her had a gun. As it was, she got a fist to the side of her head that knocked her out briefly, and when she came to Esposito was releasing her and hollering for the medics to hurry up.

"Castle," she'd managed to say; the monitor screen had gone blank.

"Where?"

"Don't know. Tortured." There was blood in her mouth and she spat, trying to clear it.

"We'll find him." That was Ryan's voice, and the hammer of feet as he and some others ran out of the room.

With Esposito's help, Kate staggered out of the building and was guided to sit in the ambulance, though every sense was straining for news of Castle.

"We got him," shouted someone from the warehouse. "Need another ambulance."

She knew that would be all for now; nobody in law enforcement was going to shout anything about the scene out of a window.

Cautiously, Kate edged her chair closer, until she was a mere arm's length from the bed. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she studied her unofficial partner in repose. At least his face had relaxed, smoothed out, no longer twisted in pain or anger. His lips looked like he'd been biting them, and there were dark hollows under his eyes.

"You're going to be okay, Castle," Kate whispered. "You're a fighter. They got the bastards, too, did anyone tell you? They won't be hurting anyone else for a while. Ever, if I have anything to say about it."

Castle sighed in his sleep and Kate fell silent, not knowing whether she really wanted him to hear her. After a while, though, she couldn't keep herself from speaking.

"I'm sorry, Castle. Sorry you were put through that - I know you knew the risks involved, following us around, but still. They didn't even tell you what they wanted - they were trying to get information from me. I know, you'll say it wasn't my fault, and I'm not saying it was, but - "

She leaned in, close to hear him breathing, and laid a hand on the top of his tousled head.

"I just wish it could have been me and not you. That I could take on your pain. Because I don't - "

Kate took in a deep breath. What was she saying, really? Castle would sleep through it all, anyway, it didn't matter what came out of her mouth.

"I don't want you to hurt because of me," she whispered. "Because - I love you, too, Castle."

Then she knew that what she was saying mattered - it mattered to her. It was as though she were trying out the sound of it.

"I love you, Castle," she said again, and it came more easily the second time.

By the time he was awake enough to hear it, she'd be ready for him.