A/N: I've had the idea for this chapter in mind for a while now, but I'm not sure how I feel about the actual product...
Disclaimer: I can say I own Castle all I want, but that doesn't make it any less of a lie (unfortunately)...
Castle had been following her for little over a month, and, although Kate is hesitant to admit it, he is actually doing a pretty good job. The first few days were rough, but once he caught on to what was and wasn't appropriate, having him around became almost enjoyable.
This week, though, he is off on a short publicity tour for Storm Fall. Kate is infinitely grateful that he hadn't been there. She knows this case would have destroyed him, if the effect it had on her is any indication.
She had a sinking feeling that this case would be a bad one before she had even seen the crime scene. It had been her first on-call Saturday in a while; she and Will had been on rocky terms this last month, but had been trying to work past their argument since he had not been given the transfer. They had gone out the night before and had been up late; the call came in at approximately 5:27 AM.
When she arrived at the scene, her suspicions were confirmed. The victim was a thirteen year old girl, Charlotte Mason. She had been sexually assaulted and brutally strangled. Murder is always terrible, but children make it so, so much worse. She hated to relegate this girl to a box in the back of her mind, but she knew the only way she was going to solve this case was through compartmentalization.
The victim had been found by her father, who says he had gone to check on his daughter because something had woken him, though he couldn't remember what it was. The man seemed appropriately distraught, at the least; his reaction had seemed a little too controlled and his distress lacked a subtle air of authenticity, but Kate brushed it off as a coping mechanism.
The team had searched the apartment, looking for clues, but the killer had been careful; there was no sign of forced entry and nothing looked particularly out of place. There was not even a trace of foreign DNA on the victim's body or on the girl's bed sheets. They had hit a dead end that had lasted days.
Tuesday afternoon, Kate got a call. Another young girl was asking about their victim, saying she might know something. Kate went down to meet the girl and was immediately taken aback by her long red hair, tied back in a French braid, and her bright blue eyes; Kate wasn't sure she would be able to compartmentalize this case for much longer, at the rate it was going.
Caroline Maier was Charlotte's best friend, she said she had known something terrible had happened when Charlotte had missed two days of school. She told Kate how Charlotte's mother had run off with another man two years ago; the divorce had been finalized last year and Charlotte's father had ended up with sole custody simply because her mother hadn't wanted it. Around the same time, Caroline's own father had been killed in a car accident and Mr. Mason had taken her under his wing, acting as a father figure to her.
Caroline began to shake as she told Kate about spending the night with Charlotte last Friday night. She had woken up in the middle of the night to Mr. Mason touching her. Charlotte woke up when Caroline started crying. Charlotte had stood up for her friend, saying, "It's one thing to do this to me, but you leave her alone."Mr. Mason had called Caroline's parents, saying she had had a nightmare and wanted to come home, and then threatened to kill her and her family if she mentioned what had just happened to anyone.
Kate assigned a protective detail to the girl's apartment for the night, just in case. She promised she would keep them safe and then gave the girl her card, telling her to call if she ever needed anything. Kate hugged the crying girl, waiting with her until her parents arrived to pick her up; they were outraged, shocked, and appalled at the whole thing. Kate was too.
Seemingly unimportant or unrelated pieces of evidence subsequently started falling together; the lack of forced entry and the fact that the only other DNA found in the girl's room was her father's now made complete sense. Kate knew there was no way Caroline was lying, but she had no problem believing that the father's grief had been nothing more than an act.
They had arrested Charles Mason, charging him with child molestation and murder. He broke pretty quickly under the pressure. Ryan and Esposito had had to do the interrogation; Kate couldn't.
Anxiety had been building throughout the whole case, but, as soon as Caroline Maier had walked in and told her story, Kate had been on the verge of a breakdown. She knows all the girl wants to do is forget, but will probably never be able to get over her guilt- her best friend had been killed standing up for her. It's hard to convince yourself that isn't you fault. Not being able to help the living victims, such as Caroline, for Kate, is one of the worst feelings in the world.
She had been able to maintain a tight control as she completed and filed the paperwork but, as she walks to her car, she can feel herself beginning to break. She finally allows the sobs to wrack her body as she sits in her locked car, in the dark precinct parking garage. She hasn't felt this helpless in years.
With tears still streaming down her face, she starts the car. She needs to get away from the precinct and this case. She drives. When her car comes to a stop outside of Castle's building, she doesn't even bother to fight her anxious relief.
She jumps from the car, runs inside, runs up the stairs to the top floor, and rings the doorbell. Her heart is pounding and she can no longer suppress the panic rising within her chest.
An older woman, also with a head full of red hair, opens the door. "Can I help you?"
Kate stares at the woman blankly. Castle's mother, her mind finally supplies. "I, uhh, is Alexis here?" She doesn't even care that her words come out a jumbled mess.
The woman cocks her head at Kate. "Who are you?"
"Detective Kate Beckett." Her official title comes out with practiced ease; she extends a trembling hand for good measure.
"Ahh, the infamous Detective Beckett, it's nice to finally meet you. Martha Rodgers," she shakes Kate's hand as she introduces herself, before turning her head toward the kitchen and calling for Alexis.
Kate's breath catches as Alexis pokes her head around the corner, wearing an apron with a wooden spoon in hand.
"Kate, what are you doing here? My dad isn't here right now. You should know that."
Kate swallows past the lump in her throat, her voice cracking as she speaks. "I know. Alexis…"
The girl must see the tears in her eyes or hear the unspoken tears in her voice, because, before she knows it, Kate is being embraced by two small, gangly arms. Alexis looks up, her young face full of concern.
"Are you okay?"
"I will be," Kate chokes out. She wraps her arms firmly around the girl. "This helps."
Alexis buries her face into Kate's jacket. "Helps me too," she mumbles almost inaudibly.
