818. Chapter 818

After Slice of Death

Episode 3.20

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I'd like a slice of Castle, please. Rating: K Time: See above.

Sarajevo, Bosnia-Herzegovina 1995.

"Castle?"

"Beckett? What are you doing here?"

"Where else would you expect the world's best photojournalist to be?"

Castle laughed. "You'd expect me to be right here." He dropped the tone of his voice and said dramatically. "Crack photojournalist Richard Castle is covering the siege of the city of Sarajevo, the longest siege in Europe since the Second World War." His voice went back to its normal tome, "But what are you doing here?"

Sher smiled at him. "Well, while you're covering the war from the comfort of the bar at the International Hotel…"

"Comfort?" Castle broke in. "Three days ago the BBC crew's hotel room took a direct hit from artillery from the guns in the mountains. They were out covering the story, but a maid was hit with shrapnel. "

Beckett smiled. "Yes, Branka, the maid. I interviewed her in the ambulance and got some great photos at the hospital." She held out her camera and showed Castle the pictures she'd gotten. "The shots of the children's ward were particularly poignant."

"How the hell did you get in the ambulance? The never allow reporters in the ambulances here."

"They do if you've been providing first aid to the wounded." She tapped a small medical bag that hung from her waist. "You'd be better off carrying one of these than that silver flask of Glenlivet you're so proud of."

Castle nodded. "Okay, you did pretty good. How about I buy you a drink?"

Beckett giggled. "I'd just love to, but I'm going up to one of the UN observation posts to see if I can get some telephoto shots of the snipers closer to the city."

"They'd never let you…" Castle stopped speaking since he was addressing Beckett's back as she walked away from him."

Castle ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. "I've got to get some better photos tomorrow." He muttered to himself.

The next afternoon, Castle found himself in a Canadian manned UN observation post about as close to the front lines as the UN would allow anyone.

"See anything?" He asked the sergeant nearest him.

"Nothing, sir. A mortar found came over about first light and we've heard the sound of heavy engines and the squeal of armored vehicle treads. Sounds like they're moving tanks or other armor around."

"What are they up to?"

The sergeant shrugged. "Planning on killing people, I'd imagine, sir."

"That's not exactly headline news, you know."

The sergeant nodded and grinned. "No, sir. It's pretty much the weather report around here. Cloudy with a chance of shrapnel."

Castle chuckled. "I might just use that line, Sergeant."

Castle sat for an hour looking out of the narrow firing slit of the bunker he was in. Absolutely nothing was happening.

"Think they're planning something?" He finally asked.

The sergeant just shrugged.

As Castle sat there cursing under his breath, an artillery barrage began. Castle looked around frantically to see where the fire was coming from. "Where is it? Where's it coming from? Where's it landing?"

The sergeant got on his radio, speaking in nearly unintelligible militaryese. "All the way on the other side of the city, sir. If you move down the trench a bit, you might be able to see something. But don't stick your head up. There's still snipers about."

Castle crawled down the trench and stuck his head up a bit. Most of the city was between him and whatever was happening. "I've got to get out of here and over there." He called to the sergeant.

"APC'll be here in two hours, sir. You'd better wait. You try walking down the road and the Serbs will shell you for sure."

Castle sat there, increasingly angry and frustrated as the armored personnel carrier didn't show up for three and a half hours. By the time he got back to the city, the artillery had stopped. Disgusted, he walked into the bar at the International Hotel to find all of the reporters gathered around Kate Beckett.

"What happened?' He asked a New York Ledger reporter.

"Beckett was right in the middle of the artillery barrage this afternoon. She was with some Brits when a little girl was hit by shrapnel. Three of the Brits ran out, grabbed the girl and got her to safety. Beckett got the whole thing. Her photos will be on every front page on the planet tomorrow. You want to go see the photos?"

Castle smiled. "I've had a hard day. I think I'll go upstairs and get some sleep."

The next day, Castle got lucky. A Bosnian friend told him that some Bosnian soldiers were going to try to locate a sniper's hide and bring one of the few mortars in the city up to destroy it. He found himself in a wrecked house that was no more than a cellar with some rubble piled a foot deep into it. He heard a noise behind him and turned, finding himself looking into the hazel eyes of Kate Beckett.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"My job. What are you doing here? Is there a bar around here?"

"You'd better stay here. We're well within the sniper's range. Someone said they have some fifty caliber rifles out there. Those things can kill accurately from better than a thousand yards."

Beckett nodded. "I'm going to go over behind that wall over there."

"You'd better…" But she was already running to the wall. She got about half way when she suddenly was spun around and knocked down. She lay there for a moment, then rose and ran to the wall.

"Are you okay?" He screamed.

"Yes. The bastards hit my camera. It's blown to bits." Sure enough, he could see parts of her camera where she had fallen.

"Just stay there. We'll get you out when it's dark."

But they didn't have that option. In seconds, a shot tore through the wall a foot above Beckett's head.

"Dammit! That wall isn't thick enough to stop a bullet." No sooner had he said that than another shot tore through the wall. This one was three feet away from Beckett, but a couple of feet of the wall came tumbling down. "You'll have to run for it. They can shoot all day. Sooner or later, they'll get you."

"Castle, I did something to my ankle when I fell. I don't think I can run."

He heard the fear in her voice. "Oh, hell." He muttered, and jumped out of the cellar and ran towards Beckett, diving behind the wall.

"What do you think you're going to do?" She asked.

"Get you out of here." He grabbed her, slung her over his shoulder and ran, much more slowly than he'd have liked towards the safety of the cellar he'd just left. As he ran, he could see dirt spurting up from the sniper's bullets. He leaped into the cellar and collapsed with Beckett landing on top of him.

Another reporter took a photo of them. "Bloody wonderful, Castle. I got the whole thing. These shots will be on the front page of every newspaper in the world by tomorrow." He held his camera up and smiled at the two of them.

"I didn't get a single picture." Beckett said.

"Me either. Buy you a drink?"

"Maybe two."

Erbil, Iraq. 2005.

"Castle?"

"Beckett? What are you doing here?"

"Where else would you expect the world's best photojournalist to be?"

"At home with our daughter."

She shrugged. "Your mom is babysitting. Buy me a drink?"

"Maybe two."