Skepticism, like chastity, should not be relinquished too readily. – George Santayana

Ooops – forgot this in Chapter One: Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the result of the fertile mind of Andrew H Marlowe, owned by AHM & ABC Studios, and brought to life brilliantly by Nathan Fillion, Stana Katic, et al. I don't own them, I only abuse them.

From previous chapter (recent history in this AU): Castle had taken the bag, and started passing out food. "Okay, mu shu for Esposito, Beckett gets the specialty dumplings and the hot and sweaty soup, Ryan, here's your zha jiang mian, and I got my usual. Here's an egg roll for everybody, and egg fried rice in the middle. Oh, Espo, here's your sauce." He removed the lid from a bowl, and a bright purple and vivid yellow liquid dazzled their eyes. "You definitely want to stir that before using it. Chop sticks for everybody!" He passed those out then opened his own container. "Dig in!"

Esposito looked at his meal, and asked, "What is this, writer boy?"

"Oh. Okay. Here, Esposito." Castle unwrapped a small package of … somethings. "These are Mandarin pancakes. They're like tortillas." He opened the food container. "You take a pancake, put your mu shu on it, and wrap it up." He did. "Most people prefer putting their sauce on the mu shu before wrapping it, but past experience tells me you're a dipper." He nodded towards the brightly colored sauce. He then turned to look at Ryan, and grinned as the Irish cop struggled with his chopsticks. "Hey, Ryan, they're not pencils." He picked up his own chopsticks. "Just make the number two with your hand." Castle held up his index and middle fingers in a 'Vee', Ryan mimicking him. "Place one chopstick at the base of your thumb, and rest the middle of the chopstick on the inside part your ring finger. Your index and middle fingers are totally free. That's your base stick and won't move. Now, your Grasping Stick does all the work. It goes past the tip of your thumb, between your middle and index finger, like this. You move it by moving only the top of your thumb, leaving the base of your thumb totally still. Use your index and middle fingers as leverage to tighten or loosen your grasp, like this." Castle demonstrated by expertly snagging some of his food and taking a bite. After chewing, he asked "How are you doing, Ka … Captain."

Beckett put her soup spoon down and picked up her own chopsticks, expertly snagging a tiny dumpling. "Castle, not only are your stories highly entertaining, but you are a takeout gourmand. My congratulations, and I want the phone number of this culinary paradise before we're done here."

"Ooo. Good word usage. No problem, captain. Here." He put his takeout container on the desk, removed his cell phone from his pocket, and starting using his thumbs. "They're only about four blocks away. Little Fūqīdiàn place."

"A what place?"

"Fūqīdiàn. Chinese Mom and Pop. I'm amazed they haven't raised their prices yet, they're starting to get popular."

"This is the best hot and sour soup I've ev …". Beckett was interrupted by a fit of coughing from Esposito.

Castle looked at him and laughed out loud. "I warned you to stir it, detective."

Esposito hoarsely whispered "What is that shit?"

"That is, currently, an unblended combination of a sweet plum hoisin sauce and Chinese hot mustard; and when I say 'hot' I mean nuclear. When blended, it's nirvana." Castle stuck his chopsticks in the bowl, mixed it briskly for a few seconds, then returned to eating his own food. "Try it now."

"Really?"

"The lime and the coconut, Esposito."

Esposito looked a question at Beckett, who explained "It means that the toxin and the antidote are one and the same." She picked up another dumpling, reached over and dipped it in the blended plum-mustard sauce, and popped it in her mouth. "Oh! Wow! That's incredible." Taking pity on Esposito, who was still breathing through his mouth so rapidly he was practically whistling, she asked the writer "Castle, would you be kind enough to go get some water for us. There're some bottles available in the fridge in the 3rd floor break room."

Not fooled for a minute, Castle stared back at her briefly, then glanced at the detectives on either side, before returning to Beckett. "As you wish, Captain." He put his food container on her desk, plunking his chopsticks in the remainder, slid his chair out, stood, squeezed around Esposito's chair, and exited the office, leaving the door open.

"How you doing, Ryan?"

"I think I'm getting the hang of these." He transported another bite to his mouth, only losing a little off the chopsticks. "This is like the Chinese version of my favorite Italian restaurant's Bolognese, only better." He swallowed before continuing "What's the deal with this dude, Captain?"

"Yeah, boss, what's going on?"

"I don't know yet, but I plan on finding out. Let's review what we do know." She popped a dumpling. "This fairly well known but down on his luck author shows up, acting like he knows us, has details about this case that he has no business knowing, and pretends that we've worked together for years. We're not buying it, so he backs off 'til the case is resolved, then starts in on us again. After asking me out, he was actually trying to tell me what the 'real' Kate Beckett should be doing.

Now, whatever he's after, this is not something that was spur of the moment or trivial. At first I thought this was going to be some publicity stunt, but I no longer think so. For him to know all those old case details, he had to have studied them a long time. He's memorized them well enough to answer probing questions, and remembers details that I have forgotten. Some of the conclusions he's come up with have been nothing short of brilliant, so he's got to be working with other law enforcement personnel. He either has had help inside the NYPD, probably inside the 12th with someone who knows us well; or he has had a large team of professionals with access to our case information, reviewing our history and feeding him the data. It's probably some combination of both."

"Like P.I.'s, captain?"

"Maybe private eyes, though that would be unbelievably expensive. Maybe retired cops. Maybe feds. He talked like he knew Captain Montgomery personally, but that might just be a dodge. When we figure out what he's after, we can then figure out who's behind him, and what they want."

"So … what … are we … doin'?"

"Ryan, chew your food. Look, guys, I know it's late, but I want to keep going as long as we can. Two reasons. If Castle, or whoever is backing him, can help us close some open cases, then I'm not too proud to accept the help. Some of the case help he's come up with already, it actually rings true to me. Also, the longer we can keep him talking, the better chance we have of figuring out what he's after."

Ryan smiled. "That's why you wanted me on the laptop to look up the case data. It frees you to study him for his tells."

She threw a fond grin towards her subordinate. "Right! And I'm using you, Esposito, as the distraction. Just be your usual, irritating self to keep him from getting too comfortable. We should figure out what he's after eventually."

"Any guesses, Captain?"

Beckett opened her top right hand drawer and fiddled with something. "I don't know, Esposito. He might be trying to influence a past case, or get information on a pending case. Whatever it is, whoever's behind him, has got to be pretty big." She shut the drawer. "I realize he probably made a ton of money on his earlier books, and his mom's a Broadway star, but we're looking at a huge investment in time and capital."

"We'll get him to spill, Captain."

"Don't underestimate him, Esposito. It won't be easy. Guys, I realize he acts like a metro-sexual prima donna, but Castle is obviously highly intelligent, has a phenomenal memory, has great attention to detail, and probably has inherited some serious acting chops. Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if he has some very high level backers, with some kind of leverage on him, so he'll be highly motivated to succeed." She smiled wolfishly. "This is going to be fun."

"Well, whatever happens, at least he knows where to find good food."

Ryan was shocked. "Partner? You actually like Chinese food? It's a miracle!"

Beckett was laughing as Castle re-entered the room. He passed out the bottles of water before retaking his seat. He picked up his food container and resumed eating. "Hope I gave you guys long enough. My ears were burning the whole time."

Esposito, intent on filling yet another pancake, snarked "Maybe it's a weird STD, Castle, based on what I've heard about you."

"If you're doing it with your ears, Esposito, you're doing it wrong."

"Boys! That's enough! Castle, you need more time to eat, or can we pick up where we left off?"

"No, Captain, I'm good. Let me see. The next case after Doctor Joshua Leeds wasn't until September. Vic's name was John Allen, an insurance actuary. He lived on the Upper West Side, but was strangled and thrown off a building about a mile south of here."

As Ryan awkwardly entered the data, working around his carton of food, Beckett asked "Why was it 'not until September', Castle. What happened to your crime solving hobby during the summer?"

"A hiatus, Beckett. Summer is the usual time Black Pawn schedules my book tours, and it's when I take vacations with my daughter up in the Hampton's. Plus, I was behind on the final chapters and proofing Heat Wave."

The laptop's screen changed. "Okay, I got it." Ryan then looked to his left and asked "What in the hell is a 'Heat Wave'?"

"Besides an uncomfortable weather phenomenon, it's also the name of my first book about the 12th precinct."

"You wrote a book about us? When?"

"Obviously, Detective Esposito, it was during the spring and summer of 2009." Castle took another bite of his cooling dinner.

Beckett had stopped eating, and was studying the writer opposite her. "What else, Castle?"

A smile flickered across Castle features. "Well, we did kind of have a little 'falling out' during the Leeds case."

Esposito snorted. "Yeah, getting a federal witness and FBI agent shot to hell will kind of do that, writer boy."

"Ya' think, Detective?" If that's what they wanted to think, Castle wasn't about to correct them. There was no reason to mention re-opening Johanna Beckett's case now; that would definitely ramp up the amount of animosity in the room. Castle still hadn't decided how to handle their 'big' cases – the one's in the forefront of his mind were Dunne, 3XK, and, of course, Bracken. His performance here was going to become less of a deposition and more of a minuet in a minefield. His poor track record for fooling Beckett did not inspire much confidence in spinning her a bunch of bullshit.

She continued to stare at Castle as he continued to eat. Instead of pursuing her immediate suspicions, she asked "Ryan?"

"Captain, the Allen case was McNulty's, one of his last. On the way to the morgue, the coroner's van was stopped and Allen's body was stolen. It was later found further uptown, pretty cut up. Coroner determined the … hijackers had removed bags of drugs the vic had swallowed. He was a drug mule."

Beckett finished chewing a dumpling. "I remember Lanie telling me about that one! We were wrapping up the Strickland shootings. Is the case still open?"

Ryan nodded. "According to this, Bellman from Narcotics and McNulty nailed the body snatchers, caught 'em red-handed, so to speak. Nobody was ever charged with Allen's murder."

"Castle?"

He finished his mouthful and swallowed before responding. "Turns out, Mister Allen had been unemployed for over eight months, without ever telling his family. He was trying to make ends meet by playing high stakes poker down in Chinatown with some Russian mobsters. Before he could pay off his gambling debt, they killed him."

"Do you know which гангстер, Castle."

Castle shot her a huge grin. "Good to know that semester in Kiev payed off, Beckett. Perps name is Vladimir Borozov." He spelled it for Ryan.

"Any hard evidence, or should we just take your word for it?"

"Yeah, Esposito. The coroner, despite Mister Allen's horrific journey, was able to determine that the murderer had a significant injury to his little finger. I went into the Chinatown poker room wired with both camera and mike. One of the Russki's I was playing poker with had a prosthetic little finger. That, combined with the partials, hair, and fibers was enough for the DA."

"Why would we have sent you into a poker club, writer boy?"

"Because none of you could afford the $20,000 buy in, and your partner here said you'd never get a real cop into a Chinatown game room. As it turns out, getting in was easier than getting out. Borozov was considering where to shoot me, and how many times, before Beckett came in to save my ass."

"Ryan?"

"Borozov's in the system, boss. Currently in Ryker's waiting for trial on an assault beef. I can't access any of the physical evidence from here, the autopsy report must be attached to the hijacking."

"No worries." Beckett started typing a new e-mail, as the three men continued to work on their dinners. When completed, she hit 'send', picked up her soup bowl, and yelled "Next".

"Ahh, 'The Bet'. Victims were Ashley Cosway, a couples therapist; and Frank Anderson, a retired math teacher.

"Whoa! You mean to tell us that Ashley Cosway was killed by a serial killer?"

"What? No, Beckett! I just mean that we had both cases at once. They were killed the same night. Well, actually, you and I had Ashley and these two had Frank, which turned out to be an extremely lucky break. For us, anyway."

"Ryan, please look up Frank Anderson's case for us." Her gaze grew intent. "Why was it lucky for us, Castle?"

"It's still open, isn't it? Let me guess ... You always thought it was her husband Jason, but he had an air tight alibi, right? On TV at the time of the murder! How perfect is that? Nothing weird about his finances, nothing to lead you to a hired killer, right?"

"Castle, I don't just think, I know Jason Cosway killed his wife. I had that smug bastard in interrogation for six hours. I've never been more sure of a suspect's guilt, or more frustrated trying to prove it. What have you got?"

Castle turned to his right. "Ryan, did you find Frank Anderson's case file?"

He glanced at his boss, and at her nod, responded. "Yeah, Castle. Pop and drop right in front of his house. Assigned to the 5th. No known motive, possible robbery gone bad. Still open."

"Was his son-in-law, Eric Marx, ever questioned?"

"Let me see. Yeah. Twice. He was actually held for about ten hours, they thought he was somehow involved, but he didn't break. Had an air tight alibi. I don't see a motive, though."

"Frank Anderson had a three bedroom apartment. He was a widower, with only the one daughter."

Ryan scoffed. "An apartment is not normally a motive for murder."

"It was rent controlled. $562 a month."

Ryan blurted "Really? In midtown? I stand corrected."

Beckett was impatient. "Okay, Castle, I'll bite. How is a couples' therapist related to a retired math teacher."

"They're not related, Captain … their murderers are. Think 'Strangers on a train'."

Beckett's eyes grew huge. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope. Well, actually, it's strangers on a boat. They both take the same ferry to work. The trace water samples found on both victims matched the Hudson river estuary."

"Ryan?"

"On it."

"How'd they get 'em?"

"Jason was the alpha dog. You gave Eric Marx a glimpse of him in interrogation with us, then informed him that he'd been sold out. He couldn't write out his confession fast enough. Laid the whole plan on Cosway."

"Meaning … Cosway had no bargaining chip, and had to do the whole time." Beckett's smile was beatific. She started typing, and asked "Ryan?"

"Captain, it may be in the autopsy notes, but I don't see anything about trace water on Anderson."

"I remember Lanie mentioning something about trace salt water on Ashley when I revisited the case last year. Castle, if this pans out, you just earned your dinner tonight."

Ryan finished chewing his last bite. "Castle, what bet?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You mentioned a bet earlier?"

Castle lowered his voice, so it was just above a whisper. "I bet you guys that we'd solve our case before you solved yours. By the end of the cases, we had half the precinct in on the bet."

The Latino smiled. "Hey, if Marx rolled, we would have won the bet. That makes you a loser."

"Uh-uh. Beckett broke Marx. You guys just sat there with your thumbs up your ass."

Without looking up, Beckett retorted "Nice imagery, Castle. And, if I ever hear of any cops betting on the outcome of a homicide case in my precinct, there will be hell to pay."

Castle smirked. "I believe you put in a hundred, Beckett."

Without missing a beat, she added. "And, in Castle's imaginary world, we won." She hit enter, and looked up. "Wow. That felt good. Next?"

"Hmmm. I can't remember if it was Jenna McBoyd, the fashion model; Steven Fischer; con man extraordinaire; or Eliska Sokol, Czech émigré and grieving mother? They were all right around the same time. "

"Doesn't matter, they were all ours. Ryan?"

Instead, Esposito answered. "The fashion model came first."

Castle shrugged. "Okay. Jenna McBoyd, next poster child for Teddy Farrow. Stabbed to death by an award owned by a sleazy photographer, Wyatt Monroe. Killed by her jealous husband, Travis. Now I know why models are all so skinny. Everyone I met during this case made me want to throw up."

Beckett nodded. "That's pretty much how I remember it. Gentlemen, anything to add?" After getting negatives from both her detectives, she looked back at Castle. "Next?"

"One of my favorite cases ever! Steven Fischer, shot in the face during his filming of his fake arctic expedition. He was engaged to the wealthy Elise Finnegan, and when he tried to opt out of the con, his partner Susan killed him. She was caught right outside Elise's bank trying to con her out of a cool million."

"So, Master of the Macabre, how did you unravel that one?"

Castle chuckled, shaking his head. "I didn't Captain, that one was all you. Fischer had me believing he really was a CIA agent."

The Captain's stare intensified. "Good thing we're not all so gullible, Castle."

"Yeah, I remember you commenting during the case that people don't change, even if they want to. Sometimes, Captain, you need to have a little faith."

"Castle, I have faith in myself, my team, the NYPD, and very little else. Putting faith in anything more just isn't worth it, in my experience. Next case?"

Castle's shoulders' visibly slumped. "That's so sad, Beckett … OK, next case. Speaking of sad, not that the others aren't, but this case was so … melancholy. Eliska Sokol. Found stuffed down a manhole. All she wanted was her child back, her little boy having been switched at birth by Dr. Cameron Talbot. Apparently, the Talbot child had Niemann-Pick, which is invariably fatal. Eliska figured it out, and was well on her way to proving it, so Cameron Talbot killed her. I imagine he's a prison doctor somewhere nowadays."

She frowned at him, glanced at each of her teammates, then asked "Next?"

"Okay, that was right before Halloween, right? Victims were Mathew Freeman, also known as Crow; and his partner Jonas Westphall, AKA Damon. Crow was a graphic artist and wannabe vampire. Damon was a writer for Crow's graphic novel, a forensic pathology student, and wannabe werewolf. Killed by Crow's step mom to cover up her earlier crimes."

"Wait!" The interruption was from Ryan. "Step mom? What earlier crime?"

Castle looked around, surprised. "You guys didn't interview the Freeman family? Alan, Janice, and … uh … Rosie?"

Beckett looked disgusted. "Of course we did, Castle. They hadn't seen their son in months, and had no apparent motive. We found evidence at both scenes implicating Morgan Lockerbie, and had both APBs and BOLOs out for him. He eventually was found dead two years later, late at night just outside a soup kitchen in the Bowery."

"Beckett, do you remember the graphic novel found at Crow's?"

"Yes I do. It was actually very good."

"Indeed it was. It was about a New York City vampire, Murloch, right?"

Beckett blinked. "Lockerbie?"

"Yes. In it was a depiction of Murloch's lair, that was obviously a building at Broome & Clinton in the lower eastside."

"So we found him alive?'

"Yep. Do you remember the evidence hidden at Damon's that Lanie found?"

Beckett was thinking, so Esposito prompted "You mean his master's thesis, Castle? All the old crime scene data from all over?"

Castle sat up, excited, trying to get them to understand. "Right! In it was a series of stories and police reports about a murdered woman dug up from an 18 year old grave in rural Pennsylvania. The facial reconstruction had an uncanny resemblance to the woman, entitled the 'Angel of Death', in all Crow's art work."

"So who's the mystery woman, Sherlock?"

Exasperated, Castle snapped "You know, Beckett …" Confronted with her 'interrogation face', he slumped. In a monotone, as if he was giving up, he continued " … Elizabeth McGinty. Went missing from Summit, New Jersey eighteen years ago. Crow's mother, and Alan's first wife. Alan McGinty, after the disappearance of his wife, married his children's nanny, Janice Freeman, and took her name because of the notoriety of his first wife's disappearance. The 9mm used was a match in both McGinty's and Damon's murder, and found at the Freeman house."

Esposito was perturbed. "Wait a minute, Captain. How do we know Lockerbie didn't do Freeman and Westphall? He was a total whack job, and left his prints all over both scenes."

"Detective, Lanie found that Lockerbie was suffering from something called porphyria, a hyper-sensitivity to light. Westphall was killed in the middle of the afternoon. He couldn't have done it."

"Okay, Super sleuth, how do we get enough probable cause to search their home?"

Castle shrugged, looking defeated, and still spoke in a deadened voice. "Well, Alan didn't know anything about either crime, so will probably just give you the gun if you ask. Janice didn't get rid of it the first time, so she probably hasn't this time either. Not her first mistake: both her murders had witnesses."

"Witnesses? Who, Castle?"

"Crow witnessed the first one, the murder of his mother, when he was two. Lockerbie witnessed Crow's murder in the cemetery."

"Doesn't help us, writer boy. Lockerbie's dead."

Beckett smiled "Yeah, Esposito, but Janice doesn't know that." She started typing, glancing repeatedly at Castle's slumped form and despondent appearance. "We're not wearing you out, are we, Castle? According to page six, you should be just getting warmed up this time of night. You up for some more?"

Much to her surprise, Castle didn't take advantage of the obvious straight lines she'd tossed in front of him. He was either worn out, or was using his lack of exuberance to mask himself. Maybe, their constant sniping and ridicule was getting to him. Regardless, he simply nodded, sighed, and continued. "Hayley Blue, troubled pop singer, first abused then killed by her agent, Ian Busch."

Ryan was at the computer. "Yeah, I remember that. I was dating a girl that was into Hayley Blue at the time." He read the case file. "I think that was Karpowski's first case. Busch eventually bowed to the inevitable and pled out."

"Karpowski's first case? Why wasn't she a team lead before that?"

Beckett shook her head. "She was second on the McNulty team for ages. She was ready to take over, but after the Tisdale case, McNulty decided to stay on 'til he had a full thirty years on the job." She added in an arid tone "Karpowski practically led the team anyway, something I'd think you'd remember, Castle. After all, you were there. The Tisdale case was a big win for McNulty, his first in a while, so he withdrew his papers."

Esposito muttered something about "a couple of years too late" but Castle didn't catch it. Castle rubbed his forehead, then forged on "Captain Montgomery was all over the next one. Bike messenger, Caleb Shimansky, was killed while trying to deliver a package to Roy. Package was sent from one Brady Thompson, via his Aunt Sally. Turns out, he took the fall for the murder of Olivia Debiase to protect the guilty party. By party, I mean the ultra-rich conservative party of the Wellesley's, one of whom had fathered Olivia once upon a time. After a lot of misdirection from the Wellesley clan, it was found to be the family 'fixer', Frank Davis, that had originally killed Olivia. He'd arranged to have a prison guard … Peterson? … monitor Brady in prison. He was scrambling to cover his tracks."

Ryan supplied "Patterson. Nate Patterson."

"Okay." Her star witness, the high-spirited story spinner, was drying up on her – now relating just the bare facts in a careful monotone. He was no longer supplying those extra tidbits of information that could lead her to discover the source of his data, and eventually his ultimate goal. She looked at her father's watch. "Guys, it's after ten. Let's take a break for a few minutes." As they stood up, she requested "Please clean up your empty containers. I really don't need my office smelling like a Shanghai slum tomorrow."

As the men filed out, she caught Ryan's eyes. He nodded, grabbed Beckett's empty containers, walked to the break room and threw everything away, and promptly returned. "Captain?"

Beckett glanced through her blinds, seeing Castle and Esposito disappear into the men's room. She grabbed the elephants off her desk, and gently handed them to the smaller man. "Ryan, I want you to hide these guys. If you have room, put them in a desk drawer. CAREFULLY, Ryan!"

"Why, Captain?"

"Because Castle seems to be fixated on them, and I want to rattle him."

Ryan smiled. "From where I was sitting, I don't think it's elephants he's fixated on. With all due respect, Captain, he appeared to be staring at you more than anything."

"Not me, Ryan, or not just me." She followed him out of her office, swinging the door closed. Her one hand found its way to her necklace. "He either has a breast fetish, or is intrigued by my Mom's ring. Maybe both." She turned towards the ladies room. "Be right back."

Ryan knew both his and his partner's desks were crammed with files from previous cases, and would never accommodate the thirty inch long figurines. However, the newest homicide detective at the 12th, Marilyn Crane, was out on maternity leave. Since she was used as a floater by both Karpowski's and their team, he had her keys, and he knew she had the room. He went over to Crane's desk, slid the elephants into her bottom drawer on top of the neat row of compact disks, and slowly shut it, insuring that the top of the figurines would clear the bottom of the next drawer. After relocking it, he headed for the john. As he opened the swinging door, he heard his partner talking over near the sink.

" … 'elp me out here, Castle? If even half your stories in there check out, you're helpin' us out. If you know us, then you know we'll show our appreciation for any help you give us. We know you're not some fake psychic, 'cause you don't use the same pscho-babble those nut jobs do when they call in. Why don't we just cut this short. Tell me how you know all about us, and our cases, so we know what we're dealing with."

In a soft voice, Castle answered "I would, Javier, but what's the point? You won't believe me, and you'll just be pissed 'cause you think I'm bullshitting you. Believe it or not, I know how you react to people. If you think I'm holding out on you, you'll try both good cop and bad cop to get me to open up. However, if you're convinced I'm lying, you just go from bad cop to worse cop."

Ryan smiled as he finished at the urinal, thinking the writer had truly nailed his partner. As he made his way to the sinks, he asked "What about me, Castle? Think I'll buy whatever story you're selling?"

"Kevin, there was a time that you'd, at least, consider possibilities that did not fall strictly within so-called rational parameters. I guess it depends on how jaded you've become over the years."

"Okay, Castle, let me guess. You're from the future, and you're here to correct some problem before a global catastrophe."

"Close, but no cigar, Ryan. I have no more idea of what's going to happen next then you do."

"Bro, let me try." Esposito threw the towel he'd been drying his hands with away. "Castle, maybe you're the ghost of futures past, or Jacob Marley, or something. You're just here to show us the error of our ways."

"Not that either, Esposito. I assure you, there's nothing supernatural about me."

"That's too bad, Castle, 'cause I was thinking of a different Christmas movie. You sure you're not some angel, trying to earn his wings, or something?"

Castle turned towards the door, sadly shaking his head slowly. "Right movie, wrong character, detective. Don't think 'Clarence', think 'George Bailey." He swung the door opened and walked out.

The partners stared at each other, puzzled, then followed the big man out. Esposito quickened his steps until he was even with the author. "You know, Castle, you seem like a decent guy. You're smart. You're successful. Can you put yourself in our shoes? We're just a bunch of ignorant cops. How should we react, when some stranger comes in, knows stuff that he doesn't have any business knowing? Starts pointing out our screw-ups from years ago. How should we react?"

With Beckett's door closed, Castle turned to look at the Latino man, perching on the side of Ryan's desk so their eyes were level. "That's brings up several points, detective. One, you are not a bunch of ignorant cops, you're the best homicide team in the city. Two, you'll react to me the way you react to everyone: you'll check me out, talking to everybody you can think of that might have insight into the veracity of my story, while Ryan dissects my life from his computer. Unfortunately, that won't help you much in this instance." Castle looked at her as Beckett strolled up. "Third, if I were in your shoes and heard this story, my first guess would probably be some CIA conspiracy, followed closely by something miraculous or magical, possibly involving aliens, 'cause that's how I roll. Lastly, I'm reporting how I remember events from a long time ago. I'm not trying to point out errors or lapses, but if I can help close some cold cases, I will." Castle's gaze at Beckett intensified. "Perhaps, if you find my information beneficial, you might find yourself inclined to aid me if and when I need assistance."

Beckett showed a small smile. "So, you're either a spy or an alien?" When he returned her smile, she asked, disarmingly, "So, how can we assist the CIA or your alien overlords, Castle?"

"Not closing the current case would be a good start."

"Well, perhaps we can accommodate you." She looked at her detectives. "Did I miss anything important?"

Ryan grinned. "He thinks he's Jimmy Stewart."

She looked at the writer with a quirky smile. "You seeing six foot three inch rabbits, Castle?"

"Not 'Harvey', Captain. 'It's a Wonderful Life' ." Ryan corrected.

Beckett kidded, "Did the mean Mr Potter steal all your money?"

Castle's eyes fell immediately, as his smiling face transformed instantly into a look of abject pain. Beckett somehow felt she was looking directly into a man's tortured soul. In a tight voice, Castle lamented "I wish!". In her experience, nobody was that good of an actor, where they could have their blood drain from their face at will. Beckett watched him literally try to marshall his emotions, like a general rallying his troops after a bitter defeat. Without knowing why, she was rooting for his snarky attitude and sunny disposition to return.

It was at that moment that she realized she'd already come to a subconscious conclusion about the man. Her gut was telling her that he was one of the good guys, well meaning, and would not intentionally hurt her or her team. He undoubtedly had some unknown agenda, which may or may not be benign, and could be either his or someone else's; but the man himself wasn't an enemy. His brilliant blue eyes finally rose, to find her softened expression regarding him. She graced him with a gentle smile. "C'mon, Castle, let's review the rest of the year, and we'll call it a night. Just three or four more cases."

He gave her a firm nod and stood, stretching his back. Beckett opened her office door and quickly scooted around her desk. She remained standing, studying the writer's face as he entered the room behind Ryan. Castle glanced at the desk and stopped so suddenly that Esposito bumped into him from behind. He looked up into Beckett's eyes, his expression shouting extreme disappointment. He sighed, looked around the office, and asked "Ryan, could you come with me please?" Before Beckett could interject any comment, he cut her off. "We'll only be a few seconds, Captain." He side stepped Esposito and re-exited the room.

At Beckett's nod Ryan followed the bigger man out of the room. As they headed across the bullpen in the direction of the interrogation rooms, Beckett kept her voice quiet so they couldn't overhear. "Esposito, Castle has a daughter. If I remember correctly, her name is Alexis. After we're through here, I want you to check out her whereabouts, quickly and quietly. Get Ryan to find her cell number, and do a GPS locate. Let's make sure she's okay."

Esposito kept his voice low to match hers. "Yeah, I saw that too? Whatever your writer boy is doing, it's not for money. I'm guessing he's fallin' into some serious shit, and it may be way over his head. Do I need a warrant?"

"He's not my writer, Esposito." She continued to keep an eye on Castle and Ryan, as they apparently were rooting around in a storage closet. "We have cause to be concerned about the well being of a citizen, and to the best of our knowledge we're not pursuing any criminal activity, so a warrant isn't necessary. My call."

"On it, Captain. What should we do about all of Castle's cold case crap?"

"Nice alliteration, Esposito! Maybe having a well known writer around here is good for you." She smiled at his scowl, then grew serious. "Since I'm the only one who ever met Ben Davidson, I'm planning on swinging by Mrs. Marsh's place first thing in the morning and asking her about her previous police visitor." She shook her head at Esposito's puzzled expression. "Before you guys came in here tonight. I have already sent an email to the Lancaster Pennsylvania's Sheriff's Department to hold Mary Wright for us, and I'll follow up with a phone call early tomorrow. I'll send someone off Karpowski's team to pick her up."

"So, you think Writer Boy's facts will check out?"

"It would be idiotic for him to feed us lies that are so easy to corroborate. Castle may be a lot of things, but he doesn't appear stupid to me. So, I'm going on the assumption that his stories will check out. I'm taking both your team and Karpowski's out of the rotation until we can get caught up. We're only through less than a year! I need you and Ryan to get a warrant for the Freeman residence. I don't want to have to rely on Alan Freeman's generosity to get a hold of a possible murder weapon. If a CI source isn't enough for the New Jersey judge, talk to me. I also want you two to do a full background on two people: Brandon Funk, who should be about 24 years old now, and Paul Raynolds, who used to be Chad Ellis."

During these last instructions, Castle returned, followed by a frowning Ryan. Castle was carrying a 'snoop', a device used for detecting electronic eaves dropping equipment. As he started to sweep for bugs. Without thinking, Esposito asked, "Castle, what in the hell are you doing?"

If he didn't realize his mistake before, the ferocious glares from both Castle and his captain clued him in. Without missing a beat, Castle explained "I asked Ryan to get me this pencil and some blank paper. I'm drawing the three of you a pretty picture." Castle paused the snoop's wand in front of an electrical outlet, showing the dial on the device to the other three in the room. It was pinned to the maximum, showing the presence of a listening device. He started to sweep Beckett's desk.

Beckett continued issuing instructions. "I will handle the feds, as far as Carla 'Coldblood' Dante is concerned. I should be able to get a lot of mileage with them out of that one, if it pans out."

Castle paused again at her lamp; again, the dial was maxed out. Gently tipping it over, they could all see a tiny box clamped over the wires that entered the base of the lamp.

Beckett's face was now red, her expression incensed, but she continued with no strain in her voice. "As far as Jason Cosway and Eric Marx are concerned, that has to be carefully choreographed. I want Karpowski to pick up Cosway tomorrow, 'cause she has no prior history with him. We'll set him up in Interrogation 3, with the heater turned way up. He'll ask for his attorney, but we won't let him call until he's in there, so it'll take a while. Once his attorney arrives, Rosalyn will ask him to write out something, it doesn't matter what. At that exact moment, we'll walk Marx by the viewing window on the way to Interrogation 1."

When spouting her plan to break Marx, Castle had motioned her to stand. Fuming, she stood quietly, her hands at her sides. Again the dial pegged to the max, this time right at Beckett's blazer pocket. She reached in and pulled out the offending device, her department issued cell phone, and placed it on her desk before resuming her seat.

Castle moved back around the desk and quietly squeezed into his chair. "Very good, Beckett. By then, Cosway should be sweating up a storm. Marx can't help but think he's being sold out." He paused, reached over and picked up a piece of paper and shook it noisily, before replacing it. "Here, Captain. I drew you a pretty picture. As you can see, it's the picture of a bed. My bed. Unless there's some compelling reason to continue tonight, that's where I'm heading." To keep up appearances, he added "I think we're all pretty beat. You are welcome to join me …" a long pause with a big smirk, before adding "… in calling it a night."

Beckett stared at him, her mind racing, before agreeing. "Okay, Castle. Looks like it'll be a big day tomorrow. Let's pack it in."

They all stood, Beckett gathering her things. Castle smiled, reached over, pulled open her top right hand drawer, and pointed at the small tape recorder that was on top of her copy of 'Storm Season', which she had tried to hide. "Don't forget that, captain. It's bound to come in handy."

They left the room, Beckett turning out the lights and shutting the door. Castle quickly marched over to Beckett's old desk, where he plied the wand once more. The device showed another bug was in her old phone. She quietly placed her cell phone on Esposito's desk and motioned the others to follow, leading the way to the conference room. She and her senior detective stood quietly as Castle swept the room, Ryan following and occasionally pointing out potential hiding places. After a few minutes, Castle turned off the device and grabbed a chair.

"This room appears clean."

Beckett sat opposite him, setting the tape recorder down. She turned it back on. "What in the hell is going on, Castle?"

"Where are the elephants, Beckett?"

"Somewhere safe." She unconsciously grabbed her Mom's ring. "Why are you so fascinated by them?"

He stared at the hand fingering her necklace. "Let's skip forward to the start of the New Year. A Westies' enforcer, Jack Coonan, was knifed to death in his own apartment, despite being heavily armed." As Ryan opened his laptop to turn it on, Castle objected. "Hold it, Ryan. We don't want anyone to know we are revisiting this case. Let's just do this from memory, shall we?"

Beckett responded, "It was Rosalyn Karpowski's case, but Captain Montgomery asked me to ride shotgun with her."

"Really? Why?"

"Because it got really big and really messy in a hurry."

"Tell me about it."

"Isn't that your job?"

"Not this time." There was more than a hint of iron in Castle's voice. "Tell me everything."

Esposito, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet the past few minutes, started to explode, but stopped at Beckett's calming gesture. She nodded. "Okay, Castle. I guess it's my turn. Karpowski braced Finn Rourke, head of the Westies, twice in his own bar, which took a lot of balls. Coonan's girlfriend led us to a cache of drugs, which led us to Johnny Vong, the heroin importer. He, in turn, led us to his boss, who just happened to be Jack Coonan's brother, Dick. Why is it, I'm thinking none of this is news to you?"

"Keep going, Captain."

"Turns out, Dick had his brother Jack iced by using an international hitman named Rathborne. Karpowski set up a sting to trap Rathborne by pretending to buy a hit on Vong. She raised the money, found a replacement Vong, but the sting didn't work. For some reason, Rathborne never showed."

"How did Karpowski raise the money?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It was a mess. A city councilman, Roselawn, and the Captain over at the 133rd, O'Connell, managed to come up with the money from somewhere, but it took too long, and the scam leaked out. It's too hard to keep a secret with that many people involved. Montgomery managed to make sure that Karpowski's career didn't take a hit, even though there were a lot of pissed off people."

"What happened to Coonan?"

"I have no idea. We'd given him immunity, but I heard the feds got a hold of him. Threatened to turn him over to the Afghani government if he didn't play ball. So, tell me what you know, Castle." Now it was Beckett's voice that had steel in it.

"Turns out, Jack Coonan wasn't this mysterious hit man's first New York victim. Prior to that, he'd killed, using the same method, several others. In May of 1999, he killed Jennifer Stewart, a paralegal. Prior to that in March, a document clerk named Scott Murray and a legal secretary, Diane Cavanaugh. And, in Washington Heights, on January 9th, 1999, he …"

"STOP!" Beckett found herself on her feet, trembling. She was leaning over the table, just inches from Castle. In a trembling voice she asked "What do you want?"

Castle's eyes never wavered, his voice never faltered. "I want to make sure that he doesn't get away with it. I want to see you finally get justice. I want to make sure you don't get yourself or anyone else killed on this case. I want to make sure that a couple of other psychotic sociopaths aren't loose in this world of yours." A tear leaked out of one eye, but his voice remained steady. "But more than anything else, I desperately want, with all my heart and soul, to go home, Beckett. I just want to go home."

A/N – Another good stopping place. Like any journey, I know our eventual destination in this story, but there are many different routes that can be taken before safely arriving. If you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear from you.