A/N: Okay, lovely people who are getting Story Updates from me, I know I have another fic going, but I had the idea for this one and I didn't want to lose it, so...here you go. My other fic "A Pen Without Ink", is more of a fluff fic, but this will not be...at least I don't plan to make it as such. It's more dramatic, so not as many giggles as there were in the last one. I apologize!

Disclaimer: The plot is mine, the characters are not.

Chapter One: A Little Bit Stronger

"Please, just let me go, I won't tell anyone, I swear!" Luna Welsh struggled against the rope that held her to her own bed. "Please, I swear. I haven't even seen your face, you can let me go!" She felt she sharp sting of the razor blade and closed her eyes, biting her lip. The pain pinballed its way through her abdomen all the way to her throat, and she swallowed, promising herself she wouldn't look. If her life depended on being blind, blind she would be.

The darkness in her room was only punctuated by the small lamp she had on the bedside table. It cast everything in shadow, and even with her eyes closed, Luna could feel him kneeling beside her, on the left, holding the razor blade aloft.

It tore along the lines of her hands, and she screamed.

"Shh, shhh," the man whispered to her, his lips on her ear. "The more you scream, the longer it will take."

She whimpered into silence, and squeaked when the razor sliced open her lip. She tasted blood in her mouth and spat it out, feeling her saliva and blood land on her naked torso. She sobbed, feeling the bonds tighten against her shaking. She felt the razor slice her upper thigh, and instinctively jerked away from it, making the cut larger. She heard the wet sound of blood dripping onto blood pooling between her legs.

"Drink this," the gruff voice pushed a glass under her cut lip, and she pursed her lips together defiantly. The razor nicked her cheekbone. She gasped and he tossed the liquid into her mouth. It burned on her cut lip. It was scotch. He poured glass after glass down her throat until she was coughing it up. The blood oozed faster from her cuts, and her vision was tunneling to black. She retched.

"No, no, not yet..." something silky was tied around her neck. He tightened it, and she choked, vomit rising again. The man watched until she stopped moving before grabbing the glass, razor, and yanking the sheets out from underneath Luna and tied them together. He sauntered out the front door, sheets thrown over his shoulder, and marched down the dark street.

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The sun had not yet risen when Detective Katherine Beckett's phone started ringing. The annoying sound pressed against her sleep heavy eyelids and she clenched them shut, trying to grasp at the escaping tendrils of the wonderful dream she had been having. When they eluded her, she opened her eyes and reached for her phone. The clock on her bedside table said it was only six in the morning.

"Beckett," she murmured sleepily, stretching her arms over her head like a cat. "Okay, I'll be right there," she said, letting the phone drop from between her ear and her shoulder. It landed with a soft poof on her pillow and she rolled over, already missing the bed she was still lying in. With a grunt, she pushed herself upward and stumbled to the bathroom to wash her face and put on her work clothes.

As she was slipping on her white button up shirt, she dialed Castle. He picked up on the third ring, sounding as tired as she felt. "Castle," he answered softly, sounding like he was still in his dream.

"A body dropped," she replied quietly, not sure why she was speaking so quietly. "I'm on my way to the site. Want me to pick you up?"

He mumbled into the phone, and she could hear the ruffling of the sheets on his bed as he sat up. "Mmm...sure. But you'll have to come drag me out of bed."

She smiled as she checked her appearance in her mirror. "Castle, I have no intention of entering your bedroom." She slipped her heeled boots on as she scooped her keys from the bowl by the front door.

He huffed good-naturedly. "Why not?"

"Because it might send your imagination into overdrive," Beckett purred into the mouthpiece. She heard him sit up straighter and covered her mouth with her fingers, stifling her laugh.

"I am officially awake," he sounded perkier already. "I will meet you at my building. Have no fear, detective, I will have coffee."

She chuckled. "Good, because I need it." As if on cue, she pushed back a yawn. "See you in five."

"Wait!" he exclaimed as she pulled the phone away from her ear. "Aren't you going to tell me that I know you so well? Or...you know...something about the murder?" Beckett stared at her phone, smirked, and pressed 'end.'

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Castle stared at his phone, with a picture of Beckett, from his call list, as he wrinkled his nose against the idea of getting out of his 820 thread count cocoon. He groaned, pulling the covers over his head and closed his eyes again. The idea of a new case, however, was poking him behind the eyes and before he knew it, he was wide awake. Annoyed, he got up, padded barefoot down the stairs, and put some coffee on so it would be ready when Beckett arrived.

"Dad?" Alexis yawned, trudging down the stairs in her slippers. "Why are you up so early?"

He smiled at his sleepy daughter, red hair tangled around her shoulders and drool crusting on her chin. Her sleepy eyes appraised him as he pressed the 'on' button on the coffeemaker and he hugged her close. "Beckett called, and there's been a murder. I'm getting coffee and getting dressed. Why are you up so early?" he asked, pulling her away, wiping the drool off her chin.

"I'm nervous. I have a test in chemistry today," she pointed to the pile of chemistry papers, books, and her notes that were still spread across the bar in the kitchen. "I studied all last week, but..."

Castle pulled her close again. "You'll do amazingly, as usual," he kissed the top of her head. "I would love to boost your confidence further, but if you want that to transpire, you'll have to follow me to my chambers so I can change." Alexis smiled, and shook her head.

"I think I'll look over my notes again," she moved toward the chemistry pile, already looking focused.

"Suit yourself. I'll be back down in a minute." He bounded up the stairs, and glanced back one time to see his daughter flipping through her notes before climbing to the landing. He turned left into his room and snatched a white shirt out of his closet and slipped it on. His phone buzzed while he was buttoning his pants and he reached for it, cradling it between his ear and his shoulder.

"Castle."

"You have two minutes, Castle. I'm still not going into your bedroom," her voice wasn't as alert as he was accustomed, but she sounded awake, at least.

"Coffee will be ready by the time you get here. Just give me a second to pour it, and I'll meet you downstairs," he responded, slipping on his navy blue jacket. She hung up and he slipped on his socks, making sure his phone was in the pocket of his jacket, and grabbed his shoes. He slid down the hall to the stairs, and took them cautiously, not caring to revisit the incident he had pulled a week ago, when he slid all the way down the stairs because he was careless with his socks and balance.

There were two coffee cups filled sitting on the counter when he got there. Alexis smiled behind her chemistry book.

"Did you do this?" he asked, sniffing them.

She smirked. "Who else? Gram?" Castle shrugged, conceding her point. He kissed the top of her head and grabbed his keys.

"You're going to rock that test, sweetie. Have fun, love you!" the door slammed behind him and he rode the elevator down, humming some unknown tune. When the doors opened, he took a sip of the scalding coffee and gasped, spitting it back into the cup, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth to cool. "Haaaaaa-hhtt."

"You better not be thinking about giving me that cup," Beckett quipped, leaning on the frame of her car. "Because I don't want your backwash."

He handed her the other one and slipped into the front seat. "Of course not, I would never dream of it," he put his in the cup holder. "But I don't recommend drinking it just yet, it could take all your taste buds off."

Beckett took a big swig and set it in the cup holder. "Nah, it's not that hot."

Castle looked astonished. "How did you...?"

She raised an eyebrow as she pulled away from the curb. "I'm amazing," she replied without looking at him. "So!" he jumped, and she flipped her hair away from her face so she could see. The sun was rising, and her eyes glowed green in the appearing light. "According to Lanie, this is a pretty gruesome case, I hope you didn't eat breakfast first."

He had the dignity to look offended. "Why would that matter?"

She took her eyes off the road to give him an exasperated look. "I don't want to see your vomit," she shuddered. "Again."

"That was one time, and no one is going to let me forget it!"

"That's right," she sing-songed, pulling up to an apartment building crawling with uniforms. "We're headed to the fifth floor. Our victim's name is Luna Welsh."

The door to the apartment was open when they got there, uniforms already inside, looking for evidence that could point to a suspect. "Where's the vic?" Castle asked.

"Bedroom," Beckett replied, leading the way. "Oh my..."

"God," Castle finished for her, feeling his stomach get queasy. "I'm glad I didn't eat breakfast." Beckett didn't even smile. She surveyed her victim, a beautiful brunette, naked and tied to her own bed. Bloody cuts marred the creamy skin of her upper thigh, her lips, and the palms of her hands.

"What is that around her neck?" Castle asked, unwilling to step closer. "And what is that smell?"

"What you're smelling is the combination of sex, sweat, vomit, and scotch," Lanie Parish answered his question from the floor, where she was taking scissors to the silky material around the victim's neck. "I would place time of death around one this morning. Her best friend came to the door to wake up our vic here for their daily run, and found her like this."

"It's her underwear around her neck," Beckett answered Castle's other question. He shuddered, and took a tentative step closer. "Where's her friend?"

"Esposito took her down to the station to get her statement, she was freaking out here."

"Yeah for good reason," Castle grimaced as he noted the vomit on the victim's lips. "How did she die?"

"She drowned," Lanie replied matter-of-factly.

"Drowned?" Castle and Beckett asked simultaneously.

"You mean...?" Beckett pointed at her throat. "On her...vomit?" Castle watched her stomach contract under her navy blue jacket, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked. She placed the top of her fingers over her lips and swallowed, nodding her head.

"I'll be fine," she snapped. "Did we find what made those cuts?" she asked, pointing at the victim's hands.

Lanie shook her head. "Not yet, but so far, we haven't found any DNA evidence. I'll have to get her down to the lab to do a SART kit, but until then, all we know for sure is your killer wore gloves."

"Of course he did," Beckett muttered. "Well, we should head down to the station, talk to that friend." She made a beeline for the door, Castle following behind.

"Shouldn't we make a sweep of the crime scene, do some reflecting, stare into space, think deep thoughts?" he glanced up, and saw Beckett leaning against the frame of the elevator, her hand across her stomach. "Beckett?"

"I've never been good at dealing with vomit Castle, it's no big deal. Like the childish 'if I see it, I'll do it' kind of thing." She pushed her hair out of her face and heaved a strenuous breath. "Let's just get out of here. When they move the body to the morgue, I'll come back."

They rode the elevator down to the ground floor, almost plowing into a blonde man going the opposite way when the doors opened. Castle stayed behind Beckett, keeping an unhindered eye on her as she made her way to her car. When she unlocked the door, she caught him staring. "What?" she asked.

"We match," he replied noncommittally and took the passenger seat. It was still early in the morning, and he felt his eyes drifting closed as Beckett drove back to the precinct. When she threw the car into park, he jerked awake, blinking against the sunlight. She smiled as she turned away, taking care to grab her coffee on her way out of the car.

Michelle Perkins was distraught, as well she should have been. The petite blonde girl had discovered her best friend naked, dead, and tied to her bed. Her round green eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was roughly the color of Rudolph's. She sniffed and wiped her nose again with her already saturated tissue. Beckett sat across from her and handed her a box. Castle watched from the observation room.

"Miss Perkins, when did you find Luna?" she asked gently.

The girl burst into immediate tears, and Beckett patted her hand awkwardly. "A...about fi...five AM."

"And you called 911 right after?"

The girl hiccupped and nodded. "We always go on a jog at about five o'clock, but she never gets up on time, so I can't meet her anywhere, I go wake her up. And after, we go get coffee and breakfast, and then we go to work together."

"And where do you work, Miss Perkins?" Beckett asked, writing down the usual timeline on her notebook.

"We work together at Starbucks. We're part-time students. We were working on our thesis," she sniffed and a snot-bubble appeared. She wiped her nose again and gulped. "I can't believe...why would someone do this?" she asked.

"We're going to figure that out, Michelle."

"Call me Minnie."

Beckett smiled comfortingly and nodded. "Okay, Minnie. Did Luna have any enemies at the university or at work?"

Minnie shook her head, sniffing again. "No...everyone loved her."

Beckett made a note of it. She suspected as much. "Did she have a boyfriend or husband?"

"Mark was her boyfriend until recently. They broke up, but Luna was talking about getting back together with him," Minnie replied, shredding her tissue.

"Mark who?"

"Mark Irving. He's a student. He's studying art," Minnie supplied. "They were together a really long time, and when they broke up, they were both really torn up about it. She thought Mark was cheating."

"Was he?"

"We don't know..." Minnie shrugged. "It doesn't really matter now, I guess." She made a choking sound, and wiped her eyes again.

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"She's really good at that," Castle noted, standing in the observation room with Esposito and Ryan.

Esposito looked offended. "I got all of that information, bro, no problem."

"It's because it's Beckett," Ryan nudged him.

Esposito smirked. "Of course it is. Everything Beckett does is awesome. Super awesome," he leaned against the glass. "So when are we getting rid of Motorcycle Boy?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Castle looked confused.

"Come on dude, you want a shot, we gotta get rid of that doctor boy," Esposito raised his eyebrows. "Think if he gets arrested, she'll dump him?"

"Guys, I don't think that would be smart..."

Ryan nudged Esposito. "We can plant some drugs on him...we have connections..."

Castle snapped and pointed. "Good one."

"What are you guys talking about?" Beckett was leaning against the doorframe, holding her coffee cup, the one she had gotten from Castle, her fingers interlocked.

"Nothing!" they all responded simultaneously.

"Really? That's funny, because I thought we had a murder to solve," she turned on her heel and clomped back to her desk, where she handed Esposito her notebook. "I need you to look up Mark Irving, he's a student at NYU. Bring him in when you find him."

"Will do, boss."

"How do you feel?" Castle asked, taking his usual seat next to her.

She put her head in her hands. "You know, it's never easy to talk to someone right after their friend is found dead, but then you have to call their parents and tell them that they outlived their offspring. And then...it's tough."

Castle placed a comforting hand on her back. "I mean the vomiting."

Beckett sat up straight. "Right, of course." She tossed her hair away from her face. "I'm fine." Her phone vibrated, and Castle instinctively glanced at the display. Josh's name popped up. Beckett stared at it for a second, and flipped the phone over, letting it go to voicemail.

"I have to call next of kin," she answered his questioning look. "I don't have time to be taking personal calls," she cradled her phone between her shoulder and her ear and dialed. "Hello, is this Mr. Welsh? This is Detective Kate Beckett with the NYPD, I'm calling about your daughter."

Surprisingly, Beckett felt her throat close up, tears stinging her eyes. She wasn't used to having an emotional response to a murder, not after so many years of working homicide. Watching her victim's friend fall apart, after seeing the body, alerting the parents was almost unbearable. She stumbled, and placed her hand on Castle's knee. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed.

She felt stronger already.