A/N: Once again, loosely based on real life events that happened to myself, and my family.

Wordlessly, Martha complied, hands trembling in fear. Glass dug into her palms, but she hardly felt the stinging pain over the thudding of her heart. She could clearly hear him move around her, sneakers crunching with each step, then she felt his gloved hand press her face harder into the ground as he growled, "Don't look at me. Don't move a muscle. Understand?"

"Yes," she breathed, voice cracking.

"Where does he keep the cash?" Martha was caught off guard, but didn't dare move. His voice sounded so normal, as he if was discussing the weather. "Hey, lady!" The shadow of his lean body towered above hers as he repeated, "Where does he keep the damn cash?"

As he waited for her response, she could clearly hear him ripping the cords from blenders, and toasters out of the sockets. He was suddenly above her again, roughly pulling her arms back and tying them up with the ripped cords, before moving down to her feet and doing the same. Martha could feel her skin crawling, despite the fact that he wore black gloves.

"You listening? Where's he keep the money!" he was shouting, and Martha could almost assume he thought she was alone in the house, otherwise he'd had been more quiet. She could feel tears pricking her eyes as she thought of her innocent granddaughter upstairs, sound asleep and oblivious. And when she thought the situation was bad enough, the sound of another intruder nearly had her sobbing.

"Yo man," the second man started, "Where should I start?"

From her position on the floor, she could see that the two men were wearing identical clothing. Blue jean shorts, black T-shirts, gloves, sneakers, and a white T-shirt with holes cut out for their eyes over their faces. They appeared to be African-American from their skin color, and to have tattoos on their forearms. But she couldn't make out the designs with her red hair covering her eyes.

"Start upstairs," the gunman told him, adding, "I'll check it out down here."

Martha's heart was now in her throat. Alexis!

"Grams?"

No!

"Shh...what was that?" The man without the gun moved to her side and nudged her hard with his shoe. "Who the hell is here?"

The gunman was already running up the stairs, and down the hall, sneakers squeaking with each step. Martha felt sick.

As Martha fought the urge to vomit downstairs, Alexis was sitting up in bed, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. She could have sworn she heard voices. Maybe her father had finally come home? She opened her mouth again to call out, when the door to her bedroom swung open and revealed a masked figure. Wielding a gun.

"What's going on?" she called out, confused. An odd feeling flitted through her stomach, as if she knew something was not right, but hoping to God to wake up from a bad dream.

The gunman didn't move, aside from motioning with his gun for her to get up.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, eyes widening with each second as the sleepiness faded away, and terror started to settle in. "I don't understand," she added in an inaudible whisper.

The gunman moved forward as she stepped towards the door. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the hall, heading towards the stairs. "Keep your mouth shut."

All Alexis could think was, What kind of sick joke was this?

And when she heard the muffled crying of her grandmother, she felt her heart skip a beat. "Grams!" The gunman pulled her around the large counter, and she saw Martha lying on her stomach, hands and ankles bound together by crudely cut cords.

"Alexis! Please don't hurt her!" cried Martha, attempting to lift her head up from the glass littered floor. "Please don't hurt her!"

Alexis, shocked at the surreality of the situation, could only look around at the two men with her mouth gaping open, with tears streaming down her face.

"Dee, change of plans. Stay down here, I'll take the girl back upstairs, see if she's knows where daddy keeps the cash," the man with the gun said. He roughly pulled Alexis to her feet, and tugged her back up the stairs, even going as far as pulling her hair and steering her like that. She cried out in pain, stumbling to her knees when they entered her father's bedroom.

"Where's he keep the cash little girl?" He demanded, pointing the gun at her.

"I don't know," she responded meekly.

"What you mean 'don't know?'" he growled, moving forward as if to strike her. She cowered back as he said, "Where the hell does the man keep the money?"

"I really don't know," Alexis claimed, her voice wavering with emotion. "I don't know!"

"Useless." He pushed her away as he began to rifle through all the drawers and cabinets he could find in Castle's room, turning towards her with the weapon. "Get working. Go through those drawers, and find me the money." She hesitated, before complying.

Opening one drawer, she awkwardly pulled out her father's boxers and socks, throwing them to the ground behind her as she began to pick up speed. She opened another and repeated the action, going through two more before the man stopped her and motioned towards a walk-in closet. "He keep a safe?"

"I don't know."
"Man, you don't know anything do you!" he sounded angry, but stalked into the closet and began to pull out clothes and shoes, tossing them out in the increasingly messy room. After several minutes, he returned and grabbed her arm again. "He keep any real jewelry here? Watches, necklaces, bracelets..."

"I think so," she replied, and wished she could hit herself in the head. Of course he did, he was Richard Castle! Famous, and rich, novelist. The gunman seemed to agree, as he chuckled and began to go through the cabinets holding the expensive items. Inspecting them before placing them in his pockets, he finally finished and pointed to the floor.

"Get down," he demanded, and waited till she was lying on her stomach before he moved to find some material to tie her up with. He came up with a woman's nylon pantyhose, presumably left by one of Castle's conquests, but he didn't ask questions as he tightly tied Alexis' hands behind her back. He searched through the huge pile of clothes on the floor for something to bind her ankles, but came up empty.

"You a virgin?" he questioned casually, entering the adjoining master bathroom as Alexis lay shivering on the floor.

TBC...

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