Castle spent a fairly relaxed evening at home with his daughter – and eventually his mother, who came home around ten. She was filled in on the story of the boy, took a moment to look in on him sleeping on the couch and came back smiling.
"He's cute."
"Yeah."
"Reminds me of when you'd fall asleep on the couch."
Alexis smiled at the look on her father's face at that.
"Are you going to leave him there?" she asked.
Castle shrugged.
"It's there or in my bed," he told them. "If I put him in my bed then I have to stay up there in case he wakes up and starts screaming. If I leave him on the couch I can stick around until he wakes up so he knows he's not alone."
It was clear he'd thought it out – and he had. Alexis leaned over and kissed him.
"I'm going to go do my homework and go to bed."
"Night sweetheart."
Martha looked at him.
"Do you need any help with him?"
"Nah. He and I get along well. If he wakes up I can handle him."
She didn't look convinced but she rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment before turning and heading for her room.
"Call me if you need me."
"Thank you, Mother."
"Goodnight, Richard."
He smiled and went into the living room, checking on the boy to make sure he was asleep and then looking toward his office door. He hesitated, well aware that if the boy woke up he'd raise a fuss if he found himself alone. Instead of sitting in his office, he went into the room long enough to pull his laptop off his desk and then went back into the living room. He double-checked the blanket that covered the boy to make sure he was warm, and then settled himself on the other end of the couch from where the boy slept.
"If I'm going to be up, I might as well do some reading…" he murmured to himself with a slight smile, turning on the laptop and getting comfortable.
OOOOOOOOOO
The man was about 6 foot tall – maybe a little more – with dark hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a suit that was worth several thousand dollars, and had a pistol hidden in a shoulder holster under the jacket. He wasn't thin, but he wasn't fat, and he wasn't really happy at the moment, which showed quite clearly in his expression as he looked at the people who were standing around him.
Tough looking men, they were watching him carefully. All of them were well aware of his vicious temper and none were willing to say the wrong thing just then, despite the fact that all of them were well-armed and more than capable of killing. All of them had proved just that at one time or another. And all were fiercely loyal to the man in front of them. They were just aware of how dangerous he could be.
"Any news?" the man asked.
"Not yet," came the reply.
"Someone has to know where he is," the man told them. "I want you to find that person and make them talk. Wherever he is, I want to know. Whoever has him, I want to know." He looked at the men around him, catching the eyes of every one of them one after another until he'd looked at each of them. "Find him for me."
They all nodded, and left the room. The man waited until the door was closed, and then sighed. He didn't like to wait – he much preferred to be out on the street himself – but this time he knew he had to be very careful. There was too much at stake for him to allow impatience to cause something to go wrong.
"He'd better be safe," he muttered to himself, looking out a window at the city that was spread out below him. "Or someone is going to pay."
OOOOOOOOO
The sound of rustling pulled Castle from the story he was reading and he looked over at the other end of the couch just in time to see the boy sit up and look around. In the faint light of the laptop and the only lamp that was on he saw first worry and fear and then relief when the boy noticed Castle sitting nearby.
He smiled, setting his laptop on the coffee and patting the spot beside him.
"Good evening," he said as the boy pushed the blanket aside and scrambled over to sit beside him, pressing tightly against his side but not holding onto him. He looked at his watch. "Or good morning, I suppose…"
The boy looked up at him, and Castle tapped his nose, which elicited a faint smile.
"Did you sleep well?"
The boy nodded.
"Feeling okay?"
Another nod.
"Good. Are you hungry?"
The boy shook his head.
"Still tired?"
He shook his head again.
Even in the ill lit room, he could see there were smudges of dirt on the boy's cheeks, left over from all the crying he'd done that day.
"You need a bath, little man."
The boy shook his head again, this time grinning at him.
Castle nodded, tapping him on the nose again and standing up.
"Come on. We got you some pajamas remember? We'll get you cleaned up, get you fed again and then we need to get some sleep."
He headed for the stairs, looking back and gesturing for the boy to follow him. After a slight hesitation, he did just that – much to Castle's surprise. Stopping just long enough to grab pajamas out of the bag and some clean underwear, he led the boy upstairs.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Richard, what are you doing?"
Man and boy both looked up, startled, at the sound of Martha's voice coming from the bathroom door. She frowned in confusion but only for a moment, and then smiled. The bathtub was filled with bubbles and steaming water, and the little boy was in the tub, covered in suds with his hair soaped up and styled into a Mohawk. Her own son, having decided that it looked like way too much fun to be left out, had done the same thing with his own and had stripped himself down to boxers and a t-shirt to keep from getting his clothes wet.
He looked at her guiltily.
"Nothing."
She rolled her eyes and took in the mess of water and bubbles on the bathroom floor.
"What on earth made you think that you had to give him a bath at 3 AM?"
"He was dirty, Mother."
She looked at the boy, who grinned up at her, and she smiled, not at all immune to his innocent charm.
"Rinse him off, Richard," she ordered, going back out into the hall and getting a fluffy towel. "He should be in bed at this time of night, not cavorting with other children. You're going to throw off his schedule and he'll be a zombie tomorrow because of it."
Castle winked at the boy, but did what he was told, rinsing the shampoo out of the boy's hair and then rinsing off all the bubbles just as Martha reappeared. She swooped in without any fuss and swept the child out of the tub, wrapping the towel around him and hugging him close to her as she dried him off expertly.
"Now… what's your name?" she asked the boy as she dried his hair.
"He's not going to tell you, Mother," Castle told her. "He's not talking."
She waved a hand at him. "Nonsense. He'll tell me, of course." She turned her attention back to the boy, brushing his hair back from his eyes. "What's your name Sweetheart?"
"Joel."