This is purely optional reading. The whole story was pretty much told by Dickie's letters to Alek...

and yet... and yet...

except that when I tried to go to sleep Friday night, Alek came and started whispering in Kate's ear, so to speak. Dipping my toe in Serbian history, staring at the old photos and reading some accounts of the horrors those people experienced... whew. I had NO IDEA. I know that every nation participating in that war suffered too much. It really should have been the War to End All Wars. Yet we have a number 1 behind it. Because we went up to 2. I can only pray there will be no 3.

After having spent many hours writing Alek's letters, I did a side trip for some research and found one of the most popular Serbian songs from World War 1. It pretty much broke my heart to do this research. So many sad stories! So get your angst on.

Nizamski Rastanak
Get together now, my good friends
may the trumpet play until night sets, signalling our departure.
Our last soldier's song
let's all sing, may it be heard.

Well for those old days, you can let out a tear
were we not good friends.
Who yearns for the nights, who yearns for the days
the departure is preparing but there is no time
oh, good friend.

Still in my heart, like a hardened bell
are heard the sounds of a sad trumpet, through that garrison.
The last, sad soldier's greeting
let's all sing, may it be heard.

May every girl hear what a soldier recommends to her
now when the service ends, when we all depart.
I live madly now, a strange sadness is present
a distant memory from my soldier's days,
oh, good friend.

Love Letters Chapter 2 – A Castle Fan Fiction

After Ms. Ziglar threw them out of the history archives (okay, it was time to close), Castle and Beckett walked hand in hand toward the subway station, through the crisp October air. She was wearing one of the best of her dizzying selection of coats: a long, red woolen that made her look glamorous and unfathomable, brought out the red in her cheeks and yet in some way made her mysteriously cozy-looking. Rick just wore the brown leather jacket he'd won back from Slaughter in that arm wrestling match. He knew she liked its buttery softness, although he'd had to get it cleaned three times to remove the lingering stench of cigar smoke. They ambled down the stairs at a quick enough pace not to evoke the ire of every commuter behind them.

When their already-crowded subway train arrived, he held onto an overhead loop and she held on to him, bodies pressed together, a bit too warm and not caring, her head on his shoulder, him with his nose pressed gently to her temple, oblivious to momentum and gravity and inertia, as if they were lying alone together in bed, not surrounded by humanity and hurtling along at 45 mph through mutant-alligator-infested tunnels.

After one of the longest and most convoluted sentences ever written, they left the subway system and went back to the loft for dinner and then, oh, finally, bed.

They made love differently every time, and tonight was no exception, but the sameness of being them made it a deep joy. As is often the case with men, Castle fell asleep on top of Kate, drooling adorably into her shoulder, and she lay awake for a while, just enjoying the weight he so carefully distributed across her. It always made him nervous, afraid he'd squish her, especially after the occasional scumbag got a punch in. But at those lovely times when she wasn't covered in the bruises that sometimes came from being (in his eyes) New York's Very Finest Indeed, she liked having the World's Biggest Teddy Bear, especially since he didn't shed much.

She closed her eyes, feeling him relax into sleep, and just before he was really out, she murmured, "That wasn't a stunt to get back at me for your birthday prank, was it?"

"What."

"The letters. You didn't have that all made up as an elaborate joke?"

He rolled off her. "What joke?" He pulled her in to spoon with him then purred appreciatively, "You smell like sex."

"As do you. But I'm beginning to smell a rat as well."

He'd been too close to sleep... he let out his usual deep sigh just before his brain went to dreamland. Which meant he probably wasn't guilty as charged. Kate's mind spun a little bit, like the cogs and wheels in a trick mechanism in an old chest his great-grandfather had left to his mother. "Yes. Like this," she thought, watching the wheels, her mind spinning, ticking and whirring, spiraling, time passing so slowly and so fast, coming full circle, a combination's letters falling into place, the tumblers aligned: Snick. Tick. Click. Tripping a gentle spring that unlocked a drawer that hadn't been opened in seventy years.

A tall young man in a turban bent over her and whispered a name in her ear, and she jumped bolt upright in bed, gasping, reaching out in the dark.

Startled, Castle jumped awake. "Beckett?" He squinted when she turned the lamp on.

"I know what the combination is." She pulled on fresh panties, her little cream silk slip and her lavender kimono.

Castle nodded. Sitting up naked in the bed, he stared at her raptly, giving her his very best come-back-to-bed look. "Strawberries and cream?"

OH, no. She was on a mission. "Martha's off on that Fall Colors tour thing, right?"

He deflated slightly. "Yellow and orange?"

"I've been thinking about your mother's chest."

"My muh... Please tell me that's not how it sounds."

"What? Eeiw. No! The trinket box that belonged to Rodgini. Martha said it has a locking compartment nobody knew how to open."

Martha had shown it to her a while ago, after Kate's apartment was firebombed, when she stayed with them a few days. It was a sturdy, handmade wooden gear box, 12" deep by 18" wide by 15" high. Rodgini had used it for his act on the road. Inside, the drawers and compartments were velvet-lined to protect the tools of his trade: a crystal ball, a telescoping dowsing rod, a battered tarot deck, a jeweler's loupe, the paste "Eye of the Goddess" ruby brooch he wore on his turban, a ceramic hand with palmistry charts glazed onto it, a tiny metal detector he'd invented himself but never patented – Rick had put the objects themselves out on display around the loft, and for years now, Martha had used the case for her extensive collection of costume jewelry. They went into Martha's room – which, in her usual disorganized haste to get out of town, looked like a tornado had blown through - and found Rodgini's case sitting atop her dresser, as ever.

Castle pulled it away from the wall and palmed it between his hands, and Kate smiled, reminded of Indiana Jones.

"Aaah, Beckett," he intoned. "The arcane secrets hidden in this trove of wonders."

Kate smiled wryly. "I guess magical thinking runs in the family."

"Apparently in yours as well, my dear Beckett." Now that it was away from the wall, Kate could see in Martha's mirror that

"RODGINI

THE GREAT"

Feats Of Mental Agility

was stylishly emblazoned in red and black paint across the back. Castle picked up the box and tilted it carefully onto its back. "Hidden compartment," he smiled. "Apparently he was something of a tinkerer. He loved making gadgets like this."

Somewhat to her relief, the lock looked nothing like what she'd dreamed about, which had been a simple barrel lock with cylinders to spin into place. Instead, there were four little brass wheels, each engraved with twelve tiny, seemingly random letters of the alphabet, like the numbers on a clock face. Kate peered at it, and Rick grabbed a set of Martha's spare reading glasses. Centered between them was a sort of four-pointed star.

He grinned. "Thought that might be a compass, but it didn't seem to work that way. I used to spend hours trying to figure this out. I have a whole notebook filled with four-letter words."

"I can only imagine," Kate murmured. "May I?"

He hesitated, then looked dismissively at his thick fingers. "Sure."

She used her nail to catch the grooves between letters, aligning them against indicators at what would be twelve o'clock, three, six, and nine.

A

K -+- L

E

Castle frowned, puzzled. "Kale?"

Kate "Clockwise. From the top. A, L, E, K. Alek."

The wheels, having tumbled into place with a soft, satisfying click, released a rectangular wooden panel about 6" x 8" embedded in the bottom of the trinket box. It popped up gently, as if on a weak, hinged spring. Castle said, "I'll grab my camera."

"No," Kate said, "Remember what happened when Gerardo Robera opened Slim Shiv Cooper's safe on live TV?"

"Whole lotta nothin'. You're right. A camera would jinx it."

"What, is this Shrodinger's trinket box?"

"For all I know there's a tiny miniature multidimensional cat in there. Or maybe a singing cartoon frog in a top hat."

Beckett rolled her eyes.

Castle sang, "Ev'REE boDEE do THA MICHIGAN RAAAAG..."

"You're nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"You are a total motormouth when you're nervous."

"What, you're not?"

Kate sighed. "No. I'm just a little freaked out."

Castle grew surprisingly serious for just a moment. "Me, too." He nodded toward the little door. "Go ahead."

Kate always kept her nails clipped short, so she used the tip of Martha's rat-tail comb to pry the door open.

Inside was wedged a bundle of envelopes, tied with a brown velvet ribbon stiff with age. Kate wanted to reach in, but Castle pulled a clean hankie out of his robe pocket - ("How does he do that?") and handed it to Kate. "I'm sure Rodgini didn't worry at the time if they got bent up, but your hands are smaller." Kate nodded and, reaching in carefully, she pulled out the bundle of letters addressed to one

Serjeant Richard Rodgers
General Delivery
In the Care Of Mrs. Gladys Cooper
Schenectady, New York State,
United States of America.

The writing was almost childish, plain and blocky, but clear enough. Now Castle perched the reading glasses on his nose (they went a little crooked), and he pointed, frowning, at the return address. "I can't read it, can you?"

Kate cleared her throat. "The alphabet's cyrillic, Castle."

His eyes went wide. "You think it's Serbian?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm almost scared to find out."

"I'll take it down to the library in the morning while you're stuck with paperwork. Velma will love to see it."

"Velma?"

"You know. Maddie Ziglar."

"This is so... odd." She frowned at the handkerchief, protecting the little parcel of history. "I won't be able to sleep now."

Rick kissed her. "I think I can help you with that. But not on my mother's bed."

"Right. Yeah, no."

•

The following Thursday, Castle texted Kate at 4:45 p.m.
"Velma came through. Library, 5:30?"

"YES!"