So, like many of you in the writing world have experienced, this started out as one thing but became something else. Angel Junkie, I hope you like it anyway.

Richard Castle was usually able to keep his emotions on an even keel, or at least, appear that he was doing so. He had to in order to weather the storms of the gossip columns, two divorces, being required to maintain a working relationship with the other half of one of those divorces, the trials of single parenthood, and his mother's eccentricities. Every single one of those challenges was somehow connected to a person of the opposite sex, he mused. But when it came to her, he found himself 'losing it', more and more frequently, and with increasing intensity.

He noticed it for the first time when Tom Demming had started making eyes at Kate, and she seemed to return the sentiment. Jealousy had woken a competitive streak in him. He'd been so desperate to prove his worth in her eyes that he had aggressively questioned one of her suspects, causing her to sharply rein him in.

It happened again when they were questioning Vulcan Simmons. They'd had plenty of guys in the box, lower life forms giving her looks that made his skin crawl, but he kept his professional façade in place, knowing she could handle herself. But when the deep voiced drug kingpin started painting an ugly picture of Kate in her younger days, he simply could not cage his tongue. "That's enough" he warned the man. Much was left unsaid, but evidently not unheard by their suspect, who not only appeared unfazed, but mocked his devotion. When Simmons had finally stepped on the raw nerve that made her professional composure shatter, Rick silently cheered as she tried the put the scum through the mirror. He didn't even take offense when she snarled at him for trying to stop her. When the boys had separated them, Rick loaded as much menace as possible into the glare he shot Simmons as he followed Kate out of the room. He really would have decked the guy if Esposito hadn't been in the way, and consequences be damned.

Now tonight. He'd gone by her apartment on the pretense of keeping her in the loop about the case, sharing the news of the forged paperwork. But his motives ran deeper and she called him on it instantly. How could he tell her of the pressure on his shoulders? That her boss and her father, two of the men most important in her life, had both charged him with the task of convincing her that her life was too high a price to pay in the quest for justice for her mother.

But he had tried. He asked her to consider what her death would do to the people that loved her. As much as he wanted to include himself in that group, hell, shout it from a mountaintop, Josh was the rightful occupant of that honored place in her life, no matter how many meaningful looks they had shared out in L.A. Even when she called his bluff, "What about you, Rick?" he donned the mask of nobility, or hid behind it, if he were being truly honest, and called himself her friend and partner. When she engaged him yet again, "Is that what we are?" he finally snapped.

His voice went from velvet to steel in that instant. "I don't know what we are. We kiss, and we never talk about it. We nearly die, frozen, in each other's arms, and we never talk about it, so you know, I've got no clue what we are. I know I don't want to see you throw your life away."

That, for some reason, had brought the fighter in her to the surface. "It's MY life, not your personal jungle gym. For three years I've been running around with the school's funniest kid, and it's NOT enough."

Not enough. All he'd been to her lately, and it wasn't ENOUGH? Another cord tethering his composure fell away. And he got personal. "You know, this isn't about your mother's case, this is about you being afraid."

Her vocal volume went up another notch. "You don't know me, Castle. You think you do, but you don't."

Cutting words. He knew EVERY damned thing about her. He'd made a study of her for Nikki Heat, what made her tick, what made her happy. "I know you crawled inside your mother's case and never came out. I know you hide in there, just like you hide in nowhere relationships with men you don't love." His voice softened again. "You could be happy, Kate. You deserve to be happy. But you're afraid."

He stared her down, willing her to see what he couldn't bring himself to say. 'I've been here, doing everything I can think of to make you happy, and I'd continue to do it for the rest of our lives, if you would just take the chance on me.'

Instead her features hardened, in stark contrast to the softness in her voice. "You know what we are, is over. Now get out."

He nodded and walked away. He was angry with himself for fighting with her, when all he meant to do was persuade her. He was angry at her for pushing him away. And he was blood-boiling furious with whomever was pulling the strings of Lockwood's puppet troop.

After hurling a glass across his office, frightening his mother, and finding himself at a loss for words to describe what it would do to him if he lost her, he went to bed. He lay there, near tears at the thought that he had failed to convince her. The faces of the people involved in this complex case swam around in his brain. Lockwood, the now-dead Coonan, Raglan and McAlister, Johanna. Suddenly another face appeared, and he sat bold upright. Pulgatti. The man that was the target of a kidnapping, jailed for the murder of an undercover agent when the kidnapping went awry. He'd pointed the finger at McAlister. "There's nothing more dangerous than a killer with a badge."

The next morning he was at the prison's visitor sign-in desk promptly at 9am. Twenty minutes later he was sitting across from the balding mafia man.

"Mr. Castle. To what do I owe the pleasure? And where is your beautiful detective?"

"She's not my…" he automatically defended, since Kate wasn't there to do it, before the bigger business at hand refocused his attention. "She's in danger, Joe, a lot of danger. You remember how you told her not to get herself killed? She is trying her damnedest to do just that. Important people in her life seem to think that I'm the key to stopping her, but I'm thinking, if she can't be stopped then she has to be protected, and you may be uniquely suited for that task." He laid out what he knew about the case.

"Where do I come in?"

Rick took a deep breath and prayed that the visiting room was not being recorded. No one could ever know his part in this. "I need you to reach out to your network, find out who wants her dead. Then stop them, by whatever means necessary."

Pulgatti raised an eyebrow. "And in return for my assistance?"

"Freedom, of course. Once we find the third cop and get a confession that YOU didn't shoot Bob Arman, you'll be exonerated. I have an excellent criminal attorney on retainer that will be happy to prep the paperwork.

They shook on it, a gentleman's agreement.

Later that day, Rick picked up his ringing phone, registering the caller ID readout with surprise, then dread. "Roy? What's wrong? Is it Kate?" he inquired with no preamble.

"I know what went down between you and Beckett, but I need you to help me with her anyway."

"Name it."

"Meet me at the hangar where the chopper was found. One hour."

Rick agreed and hastily headed out. He called his car service and asked to 'borrow' one of the vehicles. As he was one of their best clients, the reservation agent agreed to his unusual request. It was faster than going through the rental agency, and having a driver along with him meant one more potential body in the line of fire.

He arrived at the airport and Roy explained what his role would be. "When I say so, get her out of here, however you have to. She's gonna fight you on it, but you have to fight harder, because you'll be fighting for her life, you got that?"

Rick took a deep breath and nodded. Before he could ask for details, they saw Kate's car pulling up. Roy shooed him into the shadows, before retreating to the opposite side of the hangar. He watched her enter the building and call out, watched Roy emerge from the shadows, gun out. What the hell? Confusion tore at him. He listened to Roy unburden his soul, and his gut twisted. This was a man who had sat in his home, and he'd been concealing this dark secret the whole time? Yet he knew it would all be ok, knew he was to be Kate's savior. If this had the potential to get ugly, Roy never would have called him, or, worse, would have gunned him down before anyone else arrived.

He approached quietly as they talked, sensing that the moment was near. Sure enough…"Castle, get her out of here."

He started to protest. Maybe, with the three of them, there was a chance of a happy outcome. "Roy, I don't…"

He was cut off. "No arguments. I need your help, that's why I called you. Get. Her. Out of here."

His eyes darted back and forth between the approaching car and Kate, protesting "No, I forgive you, Roy. I forgive you, you don't have to do this."

Roy's sharp voice cut through his focus on the car. "Castle, get her out NOW."

With a nod, he wrapped Kate in a bear hug and lifted her, walking out with effort, the woman he loved struggling in his arms, pleading, protesting. "No, please, no." He knew she had fighting training, but the adrenaline that surged through him when the car had begun its approach was more than enough to keep his grip tight, and allow him to be oblivious to whatever blows or kicks she might manage to land.

He finally got her out to his car and set her down, caging her against it with his body. He covered her mouth and shushed her, saying "I'm sorry" over and over again. When she stroked his cheek he drew some small comfort that she didn't despise him for his actions. They heard a volley of shots, then two more, then the final shot. Figuring the danger had passed, he let her push him aside. Panting from the effort of pinning down her struggling form, he watched her bolt for the hangar.

As they sat around her coffee table, he cast quick glances at his companions. Ryan, crying over the loss of his captain and the loss of the illusion that that leader had been perfect. Esposito, stone faced. And Kate, her voice quiet but serious, delivering the edict that Roy's part in the whole thing would never see the light of day. She bound them all in another conspiracy of silence, borne of loyalty.

For Rick, it was not the loyalty that came with a badge and an oath, but one of a man whose heart was committed. That created a moral conflict though. It was now confirmed that Pulgatti hadn't shot the federal agent. In fact, it had been an accident. However, with Roy dead, he and Kate were the only people left to testify to that fact, and he knew she would never do that, and if he tried, he would lose her forever.

The next day, all four of them acted as pall bearers. They willingly carried the burden of his body to its final resting place, as they would carry the burden of his sins in their souls. Rick stood near her as she delivered the eulogy. "Roy told me there are no victories, only battles, and the best you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand. If you are very lucky you find someone willing to stand with you." She turned and held his gaze for a minute. He realized the significance, realized that everyone who knew them would realize it, too. But before the elation could take hold, he was distracted by a flash of light, then another. He'd researched and written enough to know, it was the reflection off a sniper scope. He screamed her name and dove for her. As they fell and he saw the blood on her pristine white glove, he realized he'd been too late.

As he watched her fight for breath, he pleaded with her. "Kate, stay with me, ok? Please don't leave me, stay with me. Kate? I love you. I love you, Kate."

Suddenly his mother's words from the night of his argument with Kate rang in his ears, the irony eating at him. 'don't waste another second.' Kate seemed to register his words a second before her eyes slipped shut and her features went slack.

As they waited for the ambulance that seemed to take too damned long, he had an idle thought that since Pulgatti hadn't held up his end of the bargain to protect Kate, he wouldn't have to keep his agreement to work for the man's freedom, either. The idea eased his conscience, if only slightly.

Also like some writers I know, I'm not sure how I feel about this. How do YOU feel about it? Please push the little button below and share your thoughts?