Somebody's finished off the communal bottle of ibuprofen in the precinct kitchen. Beckett rubs her throbbing temples and tries to focus on the case file she's read four times already. She's running on nerves and too many cups of bad coffee, most of her evenings given up for hospital visits or excursions to find food for the Castles.

It's been two weeks since the stroke. Rick barely leaves Martha's side. She's getting better, but slowly; the hospital has her in physical therapy and speech therapy. Everyone's frustrated.

A shadow falls across her desk. Karpowski says, "Someone's here to see you." Behind her is Alexis, clutching a purse and looking unsure of herself.

"Hey," Beckett says, surprised. "Something wrong?"

"No," Alexis says. "I just came to give you this. You left it at the hospital." She pulls a thick book out of her purse and hands it over.

Beckett fingers the worn cover. It's a collection of Arthur Miller plays, a favorite she's kept since college. She'd brought it last night in hopes that Martha might like it if they read a play to her. Beckett and Alexis had taken turns doing the character voices—quietly, because Castle was napping in a nearby bed. Martha smiled throughout most of it. They'd had fun, in the moments they could forget they were in a hospital.

"Why don't you hang onto it for me," Beckett says, holding the book out. "Maybe we'll do another reading next week."

Alexis smiles shyly. "Really? That'd be cool."

The youngest Castle hasn't been smiling much lately. The girl has already had to grow up too quickly, given her parental situation. Add a grandmother's serious illness to that and Alexis is on track for an eventual implosion.

"Want to sit down?"

"Sure." Alexis sinks into the chair her father uses.

"How are you doing?" Beckett asks.

Alexis shrugs. "Okay, I guess. We pretty much live at the hospital. So that's kind of weird."

"Still haven't been able to convince your dad the beds are more comfortable at home?"

"He claims he can sleep anywhere. Personally, I think it's too noisy. I don't know how anyone sleeps in hospitals. Though Dad says it helps to be on happy drugs."

"Oh, it does." Let's see if she'll laugh. "This one case, I got shot. Suspect got a little trigger-happy and I was standing in the wrong place. Nothing major, but they gave me some truly excellent meds. It was like a vacation. All I did was sleep for two days." The detective refrains from mentioning she'd been so obsessed with solving her mother's case that the hospital had actually kept her for exhaustion and dehydration.

Alexis chuckles. There we go. Beckett: 1, hospital: 0.

"You know, it has been sort of like a vacation for us, because the hospital's so completely different from our normal life. Except there's a distinct lack of spas and massages, and umbrella drinks for Dad."

That has the ring of a classic Castle-ism. Beckett grins. "Do you have to keep up with school, or are they going easy on you?"

"They tried. I told them no." And there's that Castle stubbornness. "I want to have classes and homework. It keeps my mind busy."

Beckett toys with her coffee mug and says, "Are the other kids treating you okay?"

"I guess, yeah. Everyone's really nice to me. I get a lot of hugs. Couldn't go anywhere last week without getting ambushed by a hugger. They just appear from nowhere, like ninjas."

Beckett has been watching Alexis' face closely. She spots the flash of quickly-hidden emotion before that answer, notes the humor used to deflect attention. A good homicide detective would suspect something at this point. Beckett only needs to remember the way her classmates related to her in her sophomore year to know for certain.

"It's weird, isn't it? The attention. People treat you differently, like you're some kind of celebrity. Even your friends do sometimes." Granted, Beckett isn't the daughter of an actual celebrity like Alexis is, but the particulars of her mother's murder had held enough shock value to intrigue what seemed like the entire university. "Sometimes you're grateful that people care. Sometimes you want them to treat you like nothing's happened."

"Yeah," Alexis says fervently. "Or you feel like screaming if someone asks you one more time if you're all right."

"Hey, screaming can be good." Beckett leans forward with a conspiratorial air. "You know, we have a nice little padded holding cell in back where we put the loud ones. I could let you have some time in there for, say, a quarter."

Alexis laughs for a little too long. She needs to de-stress, do some normal things away from the hospital. "How much time?"

"Ten minutes."

"Two quarters and I get half an hour."

"A dollar for forty-five minutes. But you get a complimentary straitjacket."

Alexis pulls a tiny coin bag from her purse and peers into it. "How about seventy-three cents?"

Beckett sighs and holds out a hand. "Done. You drive a hard bargain, Castle."

Karpowski's staring as they shake hands, but at least Alexis is laughing again. Beckett: 2, hospital: 0.

"Hey," Beckett says casually. "How would you feel about a movie night? Get out of the hospital for a bit, have some girl time?"

Alexis is clearly caught off-guard, though she looks shyly enthusiastic. "Sure! Um. Could we maybe watch a movie at home instead of going out?"

She'd feel guilty if she wasn't at the hospital or at home. It's too early for going out. "Sure, whatever you want. How about Friday night? Say around 7?"

"That sounds great. Thanks, Detective."

"Kate."

"Right! I forgot."

A tired-looking Ryan is hovering in the background with a file. Beckett is pretty sure she sees a word balloon proclaiming "URGENT" above his head. She stands, collecting her own file, and offers her visitor a smile. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Great. Until tomorrow!"

Ryan joins her as Alexis walks away. "Cute kid," he says. "I still don't get how she's related to Castle." He rubs the bridge of his nose, then pulls a few pills from his pocket and dry-swallows them. "Got a lead. Last known contact for the vic."

Beckett glances at his file and memorizes the address. "All right, find Esposito and let's check it out. And Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"You owe the precinct a bottle of ibuprofen."

* * *

Alexis is adorably awkward when she answers the door; Beckett has to correct "Detective" with "Kate" again. Rick's actually at home for once, holed up in his office with the door shut. Alexis informs her that he's doing research on at-home palliative care and has been warned not to intrude upon girl time.

"Who's on deck?" Beckett asks, settling on the couch as Alexis retrieves the popcorn from the microwave.

"Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy." Alexis looks over at her. "Do you like Pride and Prejudice? I have plenty of other things we can watch if you think stuff like that is stupid."

It's not her favorite genre or era, but Beckett can appreciate witty repartee. She selects a diet soda from the small assortment on the coffee table. "Sounds fine to me. Why would I think it's stupid?"

Alexis frowns as she fiddles with the remote. "I don't know. I guess I wasn't sure if you like chick flicks."

"Generally I find the ones with corsets more well-written."

"Ha. That's a good rule. Okay, here we go."

As the movie begins, Alexis remarks ruefully, "Gram refuses to watch this. She says you can't top the six-hour BBC version. I love the BBC one, but I always try to convince her that the cinematography and lighting in the movie are worth the cuts in the script. She won't change her mind, though."

Beckett smirks and snatches a handful of popcorn. "I see her point, but she doesn't know what she's missing. Darcy in this one is pretty hot." She's pleased to get another giggle. Beckett: 3. Hospital: losing badly.

Halfway into the movie, her phone rings. It's Ryan. They tracked down the vic's last-known contact, under an assumed name. The guy had gone off the grid years ago, according to records; the captain had concluded they were at a standstill and sent Beckett's team home for the night.

"I played a hunch, though," says Ryan. Esposito protests in the background. "Fine, we played a hunch. Talked to that guy at the eco organization a second time, asked him a few pointed questions about his coworker. Took us all evening to track our boy down, but we picked him up. We'll be at the precinct in about thirty minutes. Detective Green's waiting for us."

The vic's twin sister went missing a few weeks before; they've been working closely with Green's team from Missing Persons. It's a long shot, but the twin sister might still be alive.

"Got it. See you at the precinct. Good work," she adds before hanging up and turning to Alexis, who's already anticipated what she's going to say.

"You have a case," she says, hitting stop on the remote. "It's okay, I need to study anyway."

Beckett stands and shrugs into her jacket. "I'm so sorry, Alexis. I was enjoying myself. I wish I could stay."

Alexis gathers up the popcorn bowl and takes it to the kitchen. Her voice is too cheerful when she says, "You don't have to apologize. I know you've got a busy schedule."

Beckett snags her arm as she starts back for the empty soda cans. Alexis is a little teary-eyed, doesn't want to look at her. "Hey. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'm off next weekend, so we can do something, no calls from work."

"But Gram—"

"—would tell you to stop spending every minute at the hospital, and to go get a manicure or go to a play," Beckett finishes. "It's okay to do something normal every once in a while and not think about speech therapy and doctors."

"You think so?"

She remembers days of Derek Storm reading marathons and a friend who kept dragging her out to walk in Riverside Park. "I know so."

Castles don't surrender easily. "You don't have a lot of free time, Kate. You shouldn't spend it all with us."

"It's no trouble." Beckett is firm. "Next weekend. You and me. Something fun."

After a long moment of grave consideration and a bit of sniffling, Alexis finally gives in. "Okay. I'd really like that," she says, looking up at the detective.

Oh no, not the puppy-dog eyes. Beckett can't resist them. She wraps Alexis in a hug, then presses a kiss to her forehead. "Good luck with studying."

"Good luck with...detecting."

Grinning, Beckett shoos her up the stairs and watches her disappear into her room. She's about ready to leave when she notices Castle. He's leaning against the doorframe of his office.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he says, coming forward. "You're really good with her."

"She's a great kid, Castle. Unlike you."

A smile flickers around his lips. "Well, she's got plenty of time to go tragically wrong. She is young, after all."

"I'm hoping that me spending some time with her will decrease that possibility."

"You can try to steal my daughter all you want, Detective. I want you to know"—he shakes a finger at her—"that I fully support your initiative. Seriously, I want to thank you for spending so much time with her."

"It's no trouble," Beckett repeats. She doesn't like how fluttery her stomach gets when he does that thing with the seriousness.

He just looks at her like he's tallying up the hours she's spent with them over the past few weeks. She turns away, uncomfortable with math at the moment. "I've gotta go, Castle. Need to get to the precinct."

Castle falls into step beside her. "You know, it means a lot to Alexis that you want to spend time with her. Mother's been her main source of maternal interaction."

They're at the door but he's still talking. And he's standing a lot closer. "It's been an incredibly hard few weeks, and I've been so busy dealing with doctors and therapists. She just needed someone to let her be a kid and tell her things were going to be all right. And you were that someone."

She opens her mouth but he has one more thing to say. "I'm not sure we would've made it this far without you. I can't thank you enough." He does this little half-shrug and somehow looks honest, adorably boyish, and ridiculously flirty at the same time.

When he leans in to kiss her goodnight, she lets him. Later, she tells herself it was only because he needed it.

Author note: I live a day's drive from the hospital. Didn't stop me from feeling vaguely guilty for watching TV, going out with friends these last few weeks, or not calling every hour. Thus: more writing therapy.

Also, I wasn't planning to continue this story, but Beckett's standing in a corner of my brain holding a "Team Castle" sign and looking rather impatient. Let's not call this a series; I'm just going to write until Beckett stops looming over me. (She's kinda tall.)