Rick was dreaming he was being watched. Sophisticated surveillance equipment was recording his every move, every twitch of his eyebrows, his words digitally broken down and examined. And someone was breathing, very close by.

As he struggled to wakefulness, he realised the surveillance might be just a figment of his imagination, but the breathing wasn't. Ungluing his eyelids, he lifted his head. There was a figure in the darkness.

"Jesus, Maggie!" he exclaimed, feeling his heart pounding as he switched on the light. "Are you trying to put me into cardiac arrest?"

She didn't answer, merely stood at the foot of the bed, staring at him.

"Maggie?"

Nothing, not even an indication that she knew he'd said her name.

Now he understood. As far as he was aware, it hadn't happened in years, but she was sleep-walking. The first time had been in college, just before mid-terms, when she was so concerned she was about to flunk out that she had studied enough for her brain to short circuit. He'd woken up in the apartment they shared to find the front door wide open, and she was standing out in the rain, oblivious and soaked through to the skin. Her eyes were wide open, just like now, but she didn't react when he took her back inside.

This time it was probably due to the somewhat unhealthy dose of being worried sick about him, and it made his guilt level rise. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, the lo-jack on his ankle making him feel clumsy, he grabbed his robe, shrugging into it and barely fastening the tie across the front.

"Come on," he said quietly, moving closer to her and gently taking her arm. "Time you went back to bed."

She let him move her, her body almost floating to his touch as he steered her out into the corridor and back to her room, settling her onto the pillow. Her eyes closed as he pulled the sheet up over the large t-shirt she'd worn to bed and she turned on her side, snuggling down.

He watched her for a few moments, then turned to leave the room, coming face to face with Kate.

"Shit," he breathed. "What is it with you women? Isn't my blood pressure high enough as it is?"

"I heard a noise."

"Yeah. Me."

She glanced beyond him towards the bed. "Is Maggie alright?"

Rick nodded. "She's fine. Just sleep-walking again." He chivvied her into the corridor.

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Does she do that a lot?"

"She's worried about me." He closed the door as quietly as possible. "Kinda makes me feel all warm inside."

"And that's why you're showing a lot more than necessary, is it?"

"What?"

Kate glanced down at his robe, lifting her eyes again immediately. "I know it's hot, Castle, but …"

He grabbed at the ties about to reveal his shortcomings and pulled them tighter. "If I want to sleep naked I can."

She backed up, her hands held in front of her. "Your apartment." She turned back towards her room.

He thought for a moment. "Kate, do you … want some milk?"

As she slowly faced him again, her eyebrows were raised. "Milk?"

"I don't think I'm going to get back to sleep easily. And sometimes, yes, milk helps. Warm milk. Probably from when I was a kid."

"That's very Oedipal. Were you breastfed?"

He grimaced. "That's sounds … all kinds of wrong. Coming from you."

She smiled slightly. "Sorry. But milk sounds good."

He grinned. "Good." With almost child-like glee he ran down the stairs into the kitchen, knowing she was following more slowly. It only took a minute to get out the carton, the saucepan, and by the time he found an open packet of cookies she was sitting on a stool at the counter. "This is nice," he commented, putting the milk on to heat. "Very … homely."

"Mmn." Kate suppressed a yawn.

"I'm sorry Maggie woke you up, though."

"She didn't. I think it was you."

"Sorry about that too."

She waved his apology away, resting her chin on her hand. "Not your fault."

He stared at the milk, deliberately not looking at her. "We've never really … talked about Maggie, have we?"

Kate shrugged, even though he couldn't see. "She's your friend. I get that."

"She's more than that. She's family."

"That's nice." She winced inwardly at not being able to find another word.

This time he twisted enough to gaze at her. "See, the point is … you wouldn't credit it to look at me now, but there was a time I was a geek."

Kate's lips twitched. "You?"

"Me." He grinned at her. "High school, even at the start of my junior year at college, I was more into science fiction and comic books than girls."

"That I find hard to believe."

"It's true. My mother was starting to worry about me."

"She was probably waiting for her share of your genes to kick in."

"Probably. And they did, eventually, just after my first Christmas there. When I met Maggie."

The look on his face had Kate almost squirming on her stool. "Love at first sight?" she joked.

"Maybe." He went back to the milk. "But whatever it was I knew we were going to be close for the rest of our lives." He glanced at her. "She's my best friend."

She nodded, then shrugged, finally nodding again, telling herself to make up her mind. "Well, we all need at least one."

"Like you've got Lanie Parish."

"Exactly." She took one of the cookies from the pack and picked one of the chocolate chips from the edge. "You told Maggie about Will Sorenson."

He flinched at the slightly accusatory tone of her words. "We tell each other everything."

"That's what Maggie said."

"Besides, I'm sure Lanie knows all about my little foibles by now."

"And the not so little ones."

He chuckled, pouring the now warmed milk into two mugs and putting the pan in the sink before turning back. "I'll have you know my large foibles are sought after near and far."

"Too much information, Castle."

"But she won't get in the way."

Kate stirred. "Won't … what are you talking about?" she asked, although she had a pretty good idea.

"You and me, Kate. If we ever want to get beyond the cop/writer thing." He gazed at her, his blue eyes surprisingly clear, his hair still mussed from his bed, looking almost adorable.

"There is no beyond," she said, slipping from the stool, hardening her heart. "We're colleagues. Partners. Friends, even. But that's all."

"Is it?" He put his hand on hers.

"Yes." She moved away, rounding the edge of the counter to pick up one of the mugs. "Don't complicate things, Rick."

"They already are." He smiled – she'd used his first name.

"No. They're really simple. If we don't figure out who framed you, who Honor was blackmailing, you're not going to have to worry about any kind of relationship. Except perhaps with someone called Jack 'The Knife' Benini."

He fell back on humour, his catch-all safety net. "But will you still love me when I'm covered in prison tats?"

"I don't love you now."

"You're breaking my heart, Katie."

"Don't call me Katie," she said, pinching him before turning for the stairs.

He rubbed his side. "Don't you want cinnamon on your milk?" he asked in surprise.

"No. I like it just as it comes." She started up. "Goodnight, Castle."

"'Night." He watched until she disappeared, her bare feet not making a sound on the polished wood. He picked up his mug. "Well, you managed that really well," he said, apparently talking to the milk. "There's only one thing left to do." He headed for his study, his big screen TV, and his big, soft, comfy brown leather armchair. "Porn."

---

"Dr Parish." Ryan sauntered in, a smile for his favourite medical examiner. "Here." He held out a cardboard cup.

Lanie looked up from her desk. "For me?"

"My mother taught me to never to go visiting without taking a gift."

She laughed lightly, taking it from him and lifting the lid, inhaling aroma. "You're a credit to her."

"And …" From behind his back he brought out a Danish wrapped in a paper napkin. "Breakfast."

"And just what do you think you're gonna get in return, Detective Ryan?"

He grinned. "The reason you called. At this time of day."

She put the lid back on the coffee, settling it safely on her desk before standing up and taking the Danish. "Oh, I think you'll consider it worth getting up early for."

"Getting up early?" He followed her towards the business end of the morgue. "I've been up for hours. Stavich likes his people in before the sun."

"And you thought Kate was hard."

"Oh, no. Beckett's a pussycat compared to him."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm going to tell her you said that."

He smirked. "I don't mind."

"Masochist." She led him through the plastic doors.

"So what did you want to see me about? Apart from insulting me."

"Isn't that reason enough?"

"If Stavich wasn't riding my case, maybe."

"Well, you don't have to worry, sugar." She pulled a drawer open in the metal wall. "Meet Marty Drexler."

Ryan looked down, barely flinching at the state of the face. "Do I know him?"

"Wouldn't know."

"Then why am I –"

She held up a hand to silence him. "He's an OD from mid-town, who decided to take a leap into the sweet by and by, landing head first."

"That I noticed. But, again, why am I –"

"Hold your horses. I'm getting to the juicy part. For a start, there's the fact that his drug of choice was almost pure, and there's no way he had the cash to purchase it himself, even if he knew where. Even if he hadn't jumped, he'd have been dead within half an hour."

"So somebody didn't like him. But that doesn't explain –"

She still didn't let him finish. "Then there's this." She held out something in a small plastic evidence bag. "It was in his pocket."

Ryan took it from her, studied it. It was a tiny watch, probably hideously expensive seeing as it appeared to be gold with tiny diamonds all down one side of its square face. "Buy a lot of blow with that," he muttered.

"Except I thought it looked familiar." This time she handed him a clipboard with a printed list on it. "It's stolen property." She waited. "Well, aren't you going to ask me who it's stolen from?"

"I was thinking you'd probably tell me without me having to make a fool of myself." He ran his eye down the list.

"Honey, that wouldn't be hard." She smiled. "I thought it looked familiar last night, so I checked this morning." She tapped the page. "It's on the list of jewellery taken from Honor McAllister's apartment, from the insurance company records."

Ryan stood straighter. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. Her initials are on the back."

He turned the watch over. MH. "Of course. Monique Hagan." He looked up at the ME. "You get the reports?"

"Kate arranged for me to have copies once for a case. No-one's ever bothered to tell them to stop."

Ryan grinned. "I won't tell." He handed the clipboard back.

"Thanks. It can make for some interesting bedtime reading when I can't sleep."

"Lanie, you only had to ask. I'd've come round and helped you nod off." He tried one of Castle's 'come hither' looks, but wondered if he hadn't failed badly and just looked like he was leering.

She swiped at him with the board. "Bad boy."

Ryan held up the evidence bag, his grin still wide. "Anyway, thanks for this. I'll see what else I can dig up."

"You're welcome."

"I have to say, though, I'm surprised you didn't call Beckett first."

She fixed him with her dark eyes, her lips twitching ever so slightly. "Who said I didn't?"

---

"Marty Drexler? Never heard of him." Rick joined the two women at the table, the fresh pot of coffee in his hand. Neither he nor Kate had mentioned Maggie's nocturnal wanderings, since she didn't appear to remember anything, and it would probably embarrass her. He lifted the pot in enquiry, pouring when Maggie held out her mug.

Kate shook her head, putting her hand over her cup. "He was a lowlife addict with a history of petty violence."

"Who escalated suddenly into murder and mayhem?" Rick scoffed. "Come on."

"Castle, I'm not as stupid as you think."

"I never said –"

"But you think I'd fall for –"

"That's not –"

"Just because according to Lanie –"

"Kate, I didn't mean to –"

"It's too neat," Maggie interrupted. "Can we just agree on that?" They both looked at her, and she shrugged. "Before you two start fighting. That it's way, way too neat."

"You mean a junkie having a nice piece of bling on him and not pawning it?" Rick filled his own mug with coffee. "I'd say that was pretty obvious."

"Lanie said the insurance detailed it as worth around $5,000," Kate said thoughtfully. "Even a fence would have given him five hundred."

"Maybe he had the cash to buy what he needed," Rick suggested. "If we're thinking what I think we're thinking, he might have had a lot of cash."

"Considering I'd hate to know what goes on in that head of yours, I'm not sure that what you're thinking is the same as what I'm thinking –" Kate began.

"Oh, you really don't want to know," Maggie murmured, but quietly enough to be ignored.

"But I wouldn't be surprised."

"He set me up," Rick said succinctly.

Kate shrugged. "Or he was set up. Either way, it's a speedbump in Stavich's case. But I need to see his sheet, see if he's capable of …" She stopped, realising her hands were in fists. She shook them out. "Damn it, this is so frustrating." She wanted to break something, anything to release some of the tension she was feeling, but the whole room was too nice to trash.

"You're just going to have to rely on Ryan and Esposito," Rick said, knowing exactly how she felt. "And you can rely on them, you know that."

"I know. I just … I need to be out there. I need to be doing something." She stood up, starting to pace.

"You can always help me wash up if you like."

Maggie raised an eyebrow, but he smiled at her, shaking his head slightly.

Kate stopped moving. "You have a dishwasher."

"And I'm trying to save the environment," he said, gathering the used plates. "Alexis is very keen on reducing our carbon footprint."

"Do you even know what that is?"

"Hey, I watch CNN. Admittedly, often with the sound turned down, but that Heidi Collins is hot." He let a beat go by. "Kinda reminds me of you."

"Castle …"

"Come on. You wash, I'll dry."

"No, I'll dry."

"Then I'll wash." He grinned. "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it."

---

Ryan had collected Esposito on the way through the precinct towards the locker rooms, carefully keeping out of Stavich's way. They could see him in the rest area, staring at the espresso machine.

"I hope he doesn't break it," Esposito said quietly. "I doubt Castle'll spring for another."

"Especially if he's on death row," Ryan agreed. "Come on. If we're lucky, we'll catch Daguerro going off duty."

They were. The fifty-five year old uniformed officer, with more than just twenty years under his expanding waistline, looked up. "Yeah, that's right. Marty Drexler."

"So you caught the call?"

"Nah. It was an anonymous tip." Daguerro pulled his jacket from inside his locker, obviously not bothering to change. "Someone rang, claimed this guy was responsible for all the car break-ins down around the East Village, only when we got there he'd done one line too many and decided to see if he could fly." He shook his head. "Man, that was a mess."

"Did you search his place?" Esposito asked.

"Nope." He shrugged. "Well, we did take a quick look but … look, he was a well known junkie. We called it in and left." He shrugged. "We don't have time to be waiting around for CSU to turn up. Besides, he went off the roof, not his apartment."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Oh, yeah. We saw it happen." Daguerro chuckled, clearly not phased by seeing a man kill himself. "Just pulled up in the car, got out and some old lady started screaming. We looked up just in time for …" He mimed a body falling from a height onto the sidewalk. "Ruskin had to go change his shoes from the splash-landing."

"Man or woman?" Ryan wanted to know.

"Who?"

"The caller. The tip."

"No idea. I guess it's still on file."

"Thanks." Ryan slapped the man on the back then walked out of the locker room, his partner following at a slightly slower pace.

"Where do you think we're going?" Esposito asked.

"Where do you think? Come on."

Esposito glared at him. "You know Stavich isn't going to like this, don't you."

"Not sure I care."

"You might have nobody to go home to at the moment, but I've got a lady who likes to be taken out, and if I'm fired –"

"You won't be. And I have a girlfriend."

"How old's this one?"

"That's not the point. And we won't get fired."

"No, maybe not. But I don't like the idea of ending up directing traffic for the rest of my career."

Ryan grinned. "Lots of fresh air, plenty of exercise … what's not to like?"