A/N: Ah, the skeletons in the closet . . . Kate's Closet. Going to start gaining momentum from here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle – all credit goes to Andrew Marlow and the writing team for ABC's Castle; my thanks to them for providing a foundation for this little exercise.

Chapter 12

Kate had her marching orders. Since it was her and the team that had fallen into the trap, it was now her turn to find out who had set it, and to bring them in. She had been down to dispatch to review the recording of the call-in personally and had not crossed paths with Castle when he came and went. The recording seemed to offer little to go on; however, they sent it to audio processing just to make sure. Now that Captain Gates was out of the way, Kate checked her list – Lanie had to be next so she headed down the tunnel to the ME's offices.

The morgue was busy. A traffic accident victim with no ID, and a body taken from the East River, obviously with no ID, were being examined. Lanie was testing out Dr. Morris and Miss Rosenbloom while examining the body from the East River.

"What do you make of this Martha?", Lanie asked Miss Rosenbloom. "Accident or murder victim?"

"Looks like a murder victim to me . . . I mean, his throat's been slit."

"Right. Pretty obvious isn't it, stated Lanie, but then turned toward Dr. Morris. "Ok, Dr. Morris, you can't hide that smirk from me, now it's your turn. Care to comment further on cause of death?"

"No doubt this was intentional. Lividity and bruise marks show there was a struggle, almost like a wrestling match I would say. Look at all of this on the upper arms, both sides. Looks like someone pulled a knife, and our vic here got the bladed end to the neck. The common carotid artery has been opened, and it looks like the external jugular vein got nicked as well. He obviously bled out and was dumped into the river."

"Agreed", said Lanie as Miss Rosenbloom looked on, nodding in agreement also. "Now, does anyone care to comment about the murder weapon given the forensic evidence?"

"It was a knife, like Dr. Morris said", stated Miss Rosenbloom.

"Yes, it was. But there's more . . . you can do better than that" replied Lanie.

"Well, it wasn't a carving knife. No smooth blade here. Look at that pattern", he said as he adjusted the magnifier over the spot. "I'd say it was a hunter's or fisherman's knife."

"Oh, now I see what you mean", added Miss Rosenbloom.

The forensics lesson was cut short by Kate Beckett, who made her entrance with the assumption that Lanie was alone.

"Lanie, if you've haven't had lunch yet, I suggest Remy's", she called out as the doors swung open. "Oh, sorry I didn't know you had company."

"Well if you'd stay at your desk once in a while, you might have the opportunity to learn of the changes around here", Lanie remarked sternly, giving Kate a look, being somewhat irked by Kate's assumption that nothing went on in the ME's offices unless it was one of the victims pertaining to the 12th precinct's homicide teams.

"Looks like some introductions are in order", announced Lanie as the three on the ME's staff removed their gloves and disposable smocks and dumped them in the bio-waste hopper.

"Kate, this is Dr. Larry Morris, recently transferred here to our great city from Arkansas, and this is Miss Martha Rosenbloom, from the Bronx, our new lab tech."

"Larry and Martha, meet Kate Beckett, a lead detective at the NYPD 12th precinct, next door, and good friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you Detective Beckett, we've heard a lot about you from Dr. Parish", came the responses almost in unison.

"I hope what you heard was good", Kate replied, feeling a slight flush on her cheeks and her ears getting warm. "I'm sorry to have interrupted . . ."

"Well, folks, I know this is going to sound rude, but please forgive me, and please don't take things the wrong way . . . I didn't have lunch plans a few minutes ago, but now it looks like I do", Lanie announced while shooting another look towards Kate. "I'm going to leave you two on your own this afternoon. Let's talk at the end of the shift. I'd like to see your reports."

Kate and Lanie were soon seated at their favorite booth at Remy's, which wasn't a problem since the lunch crowd had already dissipated. As they waited for their usual orders to be prepared, the topic turned toward Kate's social life, or rather the lack of it.

"I take it this is about the 'Girl we've gotta have a talk' looks we exchanged in front of the art museum some days ago and not about some file you need on your team's latest vic" began Lanie.

"Lanie, who is this Dr. De Torres I saw you with?", Kate began.

"Riiiiight . . ." Lanie drew out the word for extra effect, ". . . and who was missing from the scene in Manhattan while Kate Beckett was sitting on the steps . . . alone . . . eating brunch, when she could have been enjoying breakfast and mimosas and God knows what else in the Hamptons? . . . I'll get to Dr. De Torres in a bit, but first we're going to get Kate Beckett to start seeing straight again."

"I don't like mimosas all that much."

"Shut up. You know what I mean. . . what you don't seem to like all that much is being seen with Richard Castle. So, what I want to hear is your admission . . . not that I need it . . . but you need it, your own ears need to hear what's coming out of your mouth. Are you done with the Castle-Beckett relationship?"

"No, no, I'm not done. . . I mean, I don't wanna be done with it."

"Then why are you acting like you are?"

"I . . . I don't feel safe with him. I mean, when we're alone together, I feel completely safe, comfortable, and loved. . . but when we're outside in public, I feel like I've got a target pasted to my back; not so much for a bullet these days, but for a dart from every social headhunter in the jungle. I mean, the first time we were cuffed together and thrown into a basement with a tiger for company, I hated being stuck with him like that, but this last time when someone wanted us out of the picture, and we were stuck together, I wanted him to hold me and make me feel safe again."

"That sounds ridiculous . . . but coming from you . . . I know it's not, you've got your reasons, but you don't have the luxury of time to work them out. Remember what I said back at your place one night about circling until the fuel runs out? That fuel is his patience, girl . . . with you. That man may be downright childish at times; and act like a real jackass at others; but one thing that is not childish about him is his degree of understanding and patience with people, especially with people who are troubled about something . . . if you're anything like a good detective I'm sure you've picked up on that when he's relating to people in the field. You mean to tell me you haven't realized he does that with you? But no human being is capable of infinite patience . . . this is going to crash land sooner rather than later . . . I can just feel it."

"Lanie, what should I do?"

"I've already told you what to do, go back and look at your notes, and go talk to Dr. Burke, the more often the better. Now let's eat."

When Kate returned for the afternoon, she met Karpowski in the hallway.

"Hey Kate, I saw Castle after his debriefing with Gates. It's been awhile since he's consulted on a case with you here. Are you breaking up with him, because if you are, just let me know, I have half a mind to ask him out, as would Vera, and Missy, and about half a dozen of our friends up north. Just say the word."

"Wow, Karpowski, that was kinda forward, even for you . . . but right now the word is No."

"OK, Kate, no offense, I'm just saying . . .", she concluded as each continued toward their respective stations.

Wow, where did that come from? Castle's on my team. I can just imagine Gates if she got the impression that Castle was hopping from one female detective to another in her precinct . . . Ha, that would go over like the proverbial lead balloon. She' have him outta here in an instant, and even his high-placed friends wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. But better not let things come to that . . .

The late lunch was not what Lanie had in mind because it was going to ruin a dinner date she had already accepted, and the intended place for dinner was not the kind to visit if you didn't feel like enjoying the best cuisine Manhattan had to offer – at least that's what she had been told. She made a call to see if it wouldn't be too much trouble to move the reservation to about an hour and a half later than originally planned. If she had known what her date had in mind, she would have never dared to put him up to that much trouble – certainly not on a second date. He called her back about an hour later and reported that the nearly impossible feat had miraculously been accomplished; they could meet at 9:00 PM.

Dr. De Torres had told the cab to wait, while he went in to get Lanie. They both entered the waiting vehicle and headed uptown. During the trip, they practiced a few phrases in Spanish, much to the amusement of the cab driver, who smiled a lot yet remained silent. The trip ended in front of none other than the Q3 Restaurant.

"Francisco, you really know how to impress a girl. . . If I had known what you had in mind, I would have never asked you to change the time . . . I've heard it's nearly impossible to get reservations here."

"Well, there is a good reason to believe in miracles", he responded as they waited briefly for the maître d'.

Their dinner was exquisite, as expected, offering a perfect opportunity to chat more and get to know one another better. During the dessert course, the owner, dropped their table by to see how the meal and the service were.

"Good evening. I'm Madison Queller, I hope you're enjoying it. Was everything up to your expectations?"

"Good evening Ms. Queller, I'm Dr. De Torres, and this is Dr. Parish. I've been looking forward to dining here ever since someone recommended the place to me; and yes, everything surpassed our expectations . . . didn't it Lanie?" Lanie nodded in agreement.

"Oh, you're both doctors, you work out of one of the local hospitals together?", asked Madison just to get a little more demographic on her clientele.

"Oh, no. we don't treat the living . . . we're both with the City's ME's office downtown."

"Oh, the ME's office. I know someone working very close to your office. She's been a very good friend of mine ever since high school. She works at the NYPD's 12th precinct as a detective."

"A female detective at the 12th precinct you say . . . that doesn't leave too many guesses . . . you wouldn't happen to be talking about Detective Kate Beckett would you?", inquired Lanie with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes! That's exactly who I'm talking about, how did you guess?"

Dr. De Torres looked on with interest as Lanie explained that she and Kate had become friends and confidants not long after Kate had been assigned to the 12th precinct.

"Listen Ms. Queller. . .", began Lanie

"Just call me Maddie . . . that's what Kate calls me."

"Ok Maddie, I need a favor . . . We have to talk, and soon. Can we meet sometime this week? I know you're busy; you must be running this place, but can we find an hour or so somewhere . . . anywhere . . . you name it. Here's my card, it has my cell phone number on it . . . please let me know. Thanks."

"May I ask what was all that about?", questioned Dr. De Torres, as they were waiting for the doorman to hail them a taxi.

"Oh nothing special. Just some girl issues . . . and don't worry it's nothing about you . . . or about us. I'll let you in on it when the time is right . . . just not tonight, OK?", explained Lanie.

"Well, come on Cinderella, let's get you home before this cab turns into a pumpkin or something like that" Dr. De Torres teased.

He got a tender kiss on the cheek for his efforts. "And there's more where that came from", Lanie whispered.

Lanie had just finished her extended thank-you and have a good night session with Dr. De Torres when her phone rang. She didn't recognize the caller ID or the number but again took the chance and answered it.

"Hello Dr. Parish, it's Maddie. We just closed up for the night, and I took the chance that you might still be available. God, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Relax Maddie, you're not interrupting anything, but if you had called thirty minutes earlier that might have been a different story . . . and by the way, just call me Lanie."

"Lanie, I'm sorry to call so late, but things always get so busy . . . and then I'll forget . . . and I know this sounded important, so I figured I'd take the chance and we could discuss it right now. That is, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind at all. The sooner I get some background on this enigma, the better for all of us. And what better way is there than to interview her BFF from high school."

"Ok, this doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out . . . it's about Becks, right? Let me guess, she still has the hots for that Richard Castle guy . . . and boy I can see why . . . but she's pretending she doesn't want anything to do with him . . . is it something like that?"

"You get a gold star honey. That's spot on."

The conversation was going on almost two hours; not that Lanie was bored with it, she was just the opposite. So many things now started to make sense as to Beckett's outlook and attitudes on certain issues. Lanie was carefully making mental notes to be used as ammunition later. Boy, if Castle only knew the half of this . . . well maybe it's better that he doesn't. He got enough tidbits on his one date with Maddie.

"Lanie, I've drawn two conclusions regarding Becks. The first is that she's a consummate professional at talking and acting like a bad-ass tough girl, but inside she's just kind of a nerdy little girl socially; smart as heck academically, knows just how to give the right answers for the tests, but she's kinda sheltered in my opinion. All that talk about guys . . . yeah she's got some experience; I mean, come on, those of us endowed with lots of womanly charms always get the attention of men, and she's had them stuck to her like flies on candy since ninth grade onwards. They taught her some stuff, but what they didn't teach her was how to relate to someone when you're in love, because those weren't true love affairs. Aren't too many of us around actually married to a high school sweet heart – that is happily married to one.

"I'll agree with you on all counts. What else?"

"Well this may be nothing but there was one event that really blew her mind. I had never seen her so upset. She was darn near inconsolable for a couple days. Took hours of convincing by both me and her boss to go back to work . . ."

"Do tell . . . because I don't think I've ever heard this one before", said Lanie as she perked up even more.

"Of course you know about her mother's death. . . but that's old news. It was the summer after her mother had been murdered. Her father was a mess. She just wanted to get away and do something to keep herself busy, like a decent paying summer job, and working at a restaurant chain or whatever was not her idea of a decent summer job. She applied as a fashion model, and with her looks and body type, acceptance was almost automatic. About midway though the summer, she called me one night, completely in tears, said that she didn't know who else to tell, and that she'd never be seen in public again. I mean, were only nineteen at the time. We didn't know what to do about the situation. It turns out she had a wardrobe malfunction, which of course happens in that business, but Becks just couldn't take it. I couldn't get her to laugh it off no matter how hard I tried. And you know the scores of photographers, not a second of a model's walk down the runway lacks a visual record of the trip. It seems she had on some kind of weird dress, like the kind you might see some famous chick wearing at a red-carpet event, specially designed to call attention to the wearer. Instead of pleats, it had half-lapped slats of material, like those vertical blinds . . . know what I mean? Well, anyway, a couple of those strips got caught on her heel as she was turning and heading back up the runway, and of course, they ripped loose and fell to the floor, and everyone could see her legs and derriere quite clearly, and she was wearing only a thong underneath not having the time between displays to have put on anything more. A couple of photographs got posted the next day. The only good news was they only got her on the turn, so her hair hid her face and the next shot was her backside. She acted like everyone in the whole darn world was going to know who she was, and was going to recognize her on the street, and well, you know the rest."

"Well Maddie, I know one thing . . . this little chat has explained a lot."

A/N: To be Continued.