Most of the rest of the afternoon, Beckett read while Castle wrote, although she set the book down once in a while to rest her eyes. Once she even dozed off for a few minutes, and woke up to an empty living room. Strange, she thought, thinking she couldn't have been out for long, and wondering where Castle had gone.

Meanwhile, Castle had gone upstairs with Alexis, who had wanted to show him something she had been working on for school. The beginnings of a poster were spread out on her floor, and she wanted his input on which pictures to include.

"What's the project about?" Castle asked her.

"Desertification and overgrazing in Africa," she told him. "It's terrible."

"It is," said Castle, as he started humming.

"What are you singing, Dad?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.

"You've never heard that song?" he asked, interrupting himself.

"No. What is it?"

Castle looked against, striking his chest with his open hand, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, that'll never do," he said. He dragged Alexis to his room, sifted through a box until he had found the old cassette he'd been looking for, and put it into the old tape player.

The song "Africa," by Toto came blasting through the speakers, and Castle enthusiastically sang along. Alexis eyed him skeptically.

"Okay, Dad," she said. "I'm going to go work on that poster now." She left the room, and Castle paid her no mind, carried away by the music.

While Castle was reconnecting with the 80s, Beckett was wandering the house, trying to find out where he had gone.

She found him right as he had launched into the chorus. She opened the door to his room, and found him twirling about and belting the song out at the top of his lungs.

"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you!" he crooned. "There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!"

Beckett raised her eyebrows. "Castle?" she said, eager for an explanation. "Castle! RICK!"

Finally he saw her, but didn't stop singing. Instead, he knelt down in front of her and continued the song, which had come around to the second chorus. Beckett found herself turning bright red, and she ran her hand through her hair and laughed, incredulous at his antics.

"Castle, what was that all about?" she asked when the song was finally over.

"Just the truth," said Castle with a mischievous grin.

. . .

Beckett hid her face behind Storm Rising, hoping Castle wouldn't notice her occasional outbreak of laughter. Since his singing telegram earlier, she couldn't get the song – or the image of him singing it – out of her head. Suddenly, the door to the loft opened, and Martha made her first dramatic entrance of the day.

"Hello!" Martha called as she swept into the room. "Now, what's this?" She looked over Castle and Beckett, presumably trying to imagine what they were doing. Beckett noticed Castle looked like he, too, had been in and out of sleep.

Martha pursed her lips. "This must be some case if you're falling asleep at this hour," she said. Seeing the copy of Storm Rising in Beckett's hands, she turned to Castle and asked, "Is someone copying your murders again?"

"No," said Castle, "Although the crime scene was pretty gruesome, so it might make it into a future book. Beckett's actually taking a sick day here." Martha's face registered a look of alarm, and she took a few steps back. Beckett sighed, looking down and feeling embarrassed. "Just food poisoning!" Castle cried. "And don't scare her away. I practically had to drag her out of the station."

"You weren't trying to work like that, were you?" Martha asked, turning her attention to Beckett again.

"Well... I thought I could, but..." Beckett stopped, frowning. The rest of the story told itself – there she was, sitting on their couch. She closed the book and sat up straighter. "Sorry to show up without warning. Like Castle said—" she turned to glare at him— "he practically dragged me out of the station."

"Nonsense!" said Martha. "You rest here as long as you like, sweetheart. We'll take good care of you!"

"Oh, you don't have to do anything," said Beckett quickly, remembering painfully that Castle had gone so far as to clean her vomit off the floor a few hours ago. "Castle's done... more than enough already," she said, picking up the book again.

"Don't you worry!" said Martha. "That's just what mothers are supposed to do!"

Beckett's heart sank under the weight of her statement. Yes, mothers. Beckett's mother would never again be able to do such a thing, nor any other thing. Her chest ached with the longing to be enfolded in her mother's arms, and the ever-present knowledge that she would never feel that warm embrace again.

Sensing that she had touched a nerve, Martha tried something else. "Why, I remember, once, when Richard was just a boy – second grade, was it?" She gestured to Castle, seeking his agreement. Castle raised his eyebrows curiously, and Martha went on. "He got so sick at school, he tried calling me thirteen times from the nurse's office –oh, you should have heard the messages he left— but I was at a rehearsal! Finally they got a hold of someone at the studio, and of course I went to go pick him up, and he had hardly gotten in the car when—"

"Mother, is that really necessary?" Castle interrupted, looking mortified. "Beckett's been sick all day, the last thing she needs is to hear some story about my childhood sick days!"

Beckett smiled in spite of herself. Martha had not only changed the subject, but managed, against all odds, to level the playing field of dignity, or at least to take a chip off of Castle's pedestal. Feeling a rush of gratitude, she reached out and touched Martha's arm, looking her in the eyes. "Thank you," she said.

Martha smiled knowingly and went upstairs to greet Alexis. When she looked back at Castle, his expression had changed from embarrassment to utter bewilderment. Beckett shook her head. He wouldn't understand.