A/N: *peeks out from beneath my hiding place for pitchforks and other sharp instruments of torture for not updating this story in so long*

Am I safe?

Gah, I am SO incredibly sorry this hasn't been updated in a while. I hit a major case of writer's block—or, as seen on the Richard Castle website, writer's embarrassment wherein I'm "so embarrassed by the horrendous drivel you're writing that you can't bear to see it on the page." Thankfully, I think I'm back in the swing of things because the next chapter of this is already half-written.

To the anonymous reviewer whose question I forgot to answer a couple chapters back: I couldn't find the exact review, so I hope I'm getting this right, but I think the question was whether, at this point in the story, Kate had begun investigating her mother's murder. This is a great question because it's something I've changed from the canon. In this story, Kate has indeed tried to go through the old case files, but she hasn't gone to therapy for it.

I'm always welcome to any questions you may have about the story. If it's something that I think will not spoil the story, I'll be happy to answer it for everyone to see. Otherwise, I'll ask you to either PM me or ask me on my Tumblr (scripting-life), and if you really want to know, then I'll answer you privately so as to not spoil the story for everyone else.

I'm also open to any corrections and/or mistakes that you pick up. I don't have a beta, but I do proofread several times before I publish. However, it's inevitable that some errors escape my eye. If you see something, please do mention it, and I'll try to get it fixed in a timely manner. Thanks!

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Saturday night rolled around, Kate was second-guessing herself like no other.

She'd agreed to hang out with Alexis one-on-one, but it was just now that she was remembering that she didn't really know how to interact with kids, never mind one that kind of just attached onto her like—what had Castle called it?

Oh yeah. Like a baby bird.

She didn't know what to do with baby birds, much less baby people.

She wracked her mind trying to remember what her parents had done with her for fun when she was four, but jeez, that was more than twenty years ago and who actually remembered stuff from way back when?

They'd gone camping on numerous summers when she was a kid, but that obviously wasn't going to be an option. She'd also spent a lot of time exploring magic shops with her amateur magician grandfather, and she and her dad were almost religious about attending Mets games at Shea. Unfortunately, it was dead in the middle of winter so baseball was out. And somehow a magic shop didn't seem like the right thing to bring a four-year-old to.

Of course, there was always the museum, but Kate got the feeling that Castle was a dinosaur and history kind of guy and would have probably already brought Alexis to the museum at least once or twice before.

What else could she do?

Something caught her attention from the corner of her eye and gave her pause. It was just the ostentatious cover of a novel she'd purchased and hadn't yet read, but the bright flash of color gave her an idea.

Now, where did she put them again?

…

Alexis didn't like it when she made her daddy sad. Well, he didn't really get sad. Not like Alexis got when she was sad. Daddy didn't cry or need Monkey-Bunkey to go to sleep.

It was a different kind of sad. The kind of sad that he got when Alexis slept bad. His eyes would get all dark, and sometimes he looked a little mad too. Daddy never lied to her, but sometimes she didn't really believe him when he told her that he wasn't mad at her. She didn't know who else he would be mad at. After all, Alexis was the one who couldn't sleep, so it had to be her fault, didn't it?

She didn't get it, but she knew that she wanted Daddy to not be sad.

So Alexis tried not to tell Daddy all the times she slept bad. Some nights though…some nights were really really bad, and she couldn't stop the need to go find Daddy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

With Monkey-Bunkey tucked securely under one arm, Alexis crawled out of bed. She reached up on her tippy toes to get turn the doorknob to open the door. Down the stairs she went with one hand always holding onto the railing like her daddy told her, the dim glow of a couple nightlights making it easy for her to make her way to Daddy's bedroom.

She raised a hand to knock on his door, but just before she made contact with the dark-polished wood, she stopped.

She hesitated outside his door, not really wanting to wake up Daddy, but her dreams really were bad tonight. There was a bad man—a scary man—in her dreams, and she wanted Daddy to scare him away. Because if Daddy didn't make the bad man go away, then Kate would get taken away.

Alexis hugged Monkey-Bunkey a little tighter for comfort.

She didn't want to wake Daddy up. She was a big girl now—all of four years old. Big girls didn't wake Daddy up in the middle of the night because of a bad dream.

Besides, she'll see Kate tomorrow.

Maybe then Alexis will stop seeing the scary man in her dreams.

Alexis went back to her room without knocking on the door.

…

Kate showed up outside Castle's building at eight the next morning.

The doorman, Eduardo, ushered her in after she gave her name, telling her that Castle had already mentioned that she was coming. She was in the elevator and out on the top floor before she could catch her breath. Then she was down the hall and ringing his doorbell and—

Holy smokes!

This was where Castle lived?

She felt like Alfred in the Batcave for the first time.

"Beckett, come on in."

Castle ushered her inside, and she couldn't help but breathe an impressed "Wow" when she took in the loft apartment.

Maybe it hadn't been entirely fair, but she'd imagined that his place would be more of a bachelor pad, with cool toys and worn-in sofas with thick cushions meant for days on end of mad gaming. She's also imagined that it would be messy.

Instead, she'd walked into a tastefully decorated abode that, for all the affluence on display, was surprisingly family-oriented.

She shouldn't have been surprised that it was all very kid-friendly despite the elegant stainless steel and black marble theme of the kitchen and the dark-themed sophistication of the living room, but she was.

Along the top of one long cabinet sat a progression of framed photos of Alexis as a newborn to one of her on her latest birthday. Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky shared shelf space with Stephen King and George R.R. Martin on the artistic bookshelf walls that separated the open plan kitchen-living room area from what looked like an office or a study. (She wasn't surprised to see a whole shelf dedicated to Castle's own books.) On the lowest shelf and within easy access for Alexis were a row of Dr. Seuss and a slew of other picture books.

Favorite toys occupied the open cubbies located next to a sleek black baby grand piano. Of course, there wasn't a lack of "big kids" entertainment, judging from the Xbox 360 and the Rock Band/Guitar Hero equipment set up to the side of the 60-inch plasma TV.

Still, all in all, this wasn't a place meant to wow with its accoutrements; it was a home where comfort was the highest priority.

It seemed like every new piece of information she uncovered about him proved her preconceptions just a little bit more wrong.

"Nice place, Castle," she finally said, hoping that she didn't sound as cowed as she felt.

Was it strange that she was more intimidated by how lived-in loft felt than by the proof of his wealth?

"Thanks," he replied with an uneasy grin.

It took her a few seconds to realize that he was…shy? No, that's not a word that could ever be used to describe Richard Castle.

Uncomfortable.

Apprehensive, maybe? Almost like he wanted her approval.

Oh, wow. Not going there, Katie. So not going there.

She glanced at him and noticed that he was watching her reaction curiously, and she flushed despite herself.

Rich or not, Castle was still the same annoying (entertaining), childish (sweet), pain-in-the-ass (surprisingly helpful) shadow that he was before. No reason to feel so squirmy just because he has the most gorgeous home she'd ever laid eyes on.

She cleared her throat. "So is Alexis up yet? I know this is kinda early, but I have to get into the station by one, so—"

"Detective," he cut off. "Alexis was so excited, she took forever falling asleep last night, and she was up at five thirty this morning, scared that she might miss you."

"Oh," said Kate a little dumbly. She'd never had anyone look forward to seeing her that much before. It was kind of humbling.

He didn't notice her moment of quiet surprise, having already turned his back to her as he made for the open staircase to their right. "Let me go get her. She's been really looking forward to this."

He took one step, paused, and then came back.

"My mother would throw a melodramatic fit at my manners—or lack thereof," he laughed self-deprecatingly when he saw that Kate was standing hesitantly just inside the front door.

He stepped behind her to take off her coat and hung it up in the coat closet in an unnecessary, but gentlemanly gesture that kicked up her pulse for absolutely no reason other than the fact that his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. A wave of electricity shot through her body and she tensed to stop the shiver from coursing through her.

Damn the man and his heated touch.

"I made you a cup of coffee on the counter, but if it's not hot enough, there's more in the carafe," Castle said as he led her into the kitchen and gestured as his coffee condiments. "Milk—skim and regular—and sugar are next to it, and if you want to go flavored, I have French vanilla, hazelnut, and Irish crème creamers."

Slightly overwhelmed by both his hospitality and her nerves still rattling from his touch, she forced a shaky laugh from her lips. "I'm fine, Castle. Go get Alexis."

He hesitated for a second, looking like he wanted to say something, and Kate didn't know whether she wanted him to say whatever was on his mind or not. In the end, he didn't, leaving her in the kitchen to fix her coffee to her heart's content.

When she was sure that Castle was upstairs and firmly out of hearing range, Kate let out a huge breath of air.

She really had to get a grip on her response to him.

Or, suggested the devil on her shoulder, you could take Lanie's advice and get him out of your system.

She shook her head. Lanie was a terrible influence.

Kate had barely settled her nerves when she heard the jangle of keys outside the front door.

Oh god. What if Castle was involved with someone else? Someone who had his house keys?

She suppressed the irrational wave of jealousy (he wasn't anyone to her but an annoying shadow, she reminded herself firmly), and belatedly realized that the bigger problem was her own presence in Castle's loft at eight in the morning making herself at home in his kitchen.

She hoped that Castle's girlfriend wasn't the type to shriek first and listen later.

The door swung open and Kate froze in place when she recognized the woman who made her sweeping entrance.

That wasn't Richard Castle's girlfriend.

Oh no. This was worse.

She was Martha Rodgers—his mother.

Kate recognized her from a couple of stage productions she'd attended with her parents, and she had about two seconds to process the realization before the older woman spotted her in the kitchen.

"Well, look at who we have here! And here I thought I'd be the only one doing the walk of shame this morning."

"Oh, I'm not—that is—I'm just—"

"Darling, I'm hardly one to judge."

"No! I'm really not—"

"Though I must say," Martha studied her with a critical eye that made Kate want to squirm in embarrassment, "you do seem different from my son's usual fare."

Kate blinked stupidly. "Uh, thanks. I think." Then she hurriedly added, "But I'm not sleeping with Castle."

"Oh?"

Kate was saved from an answer by the hurried stomping of small feet down the stairs and she found herself with an armful of four-year-old before she knew it.

"Kate!"

"Oof! Oh wow, Alexis, you must've grown a foot since the last time I saw you."

The little girl giggled and hugged Kate tighter around the neck. Kate didn't need experience with kids to feel the light tremors coursing through the Alexis' body and to spot the quiet neediness that laced through her enthusiasm.

Castle was right. Alexis had really needed to see her in person.

Kate met Castle's eyes over Alexis's shoulder, and she gave him a small nod of understanding. Kate still wasn't sure how much she could help, but it was no hardship on her part to spend some time with the girl.

Martha cleared her throat lightly. "Ah, I see how it is. Alexis has a new friend, so she doesn't even give her poor grandmother a kiss good morning."

Alexis giggled again, removed herself from Kate's arms, and launched herself into Martha's embrace. "G'morning, Gram!" she greeted with a loud smack of her lips on Martha's cheek.

Martha winked at Kate, and the detective found herself smiling in response. The actress was just as charismatic off-stage as she was on it.

"Richard, aren't you going to introduce us?" Martha asked pointedly when Alexis removed herself from her grandmother and latched onto Kate's leg like a starfish.

Kate was torn somewhere between laughter, embarrassment, and stupefication. This family was way too much for her.

"I was hoping to avoid traumatizing her, but if you insist," Castle replied dryly. Then he cleared his throat and straightened his back theatrically. "Ahem! Mother, this is Detective Kate Beckett. Beckett, this is—"

"Martha Rodgers," Kate interrupted. "I know. My parents and I have seen a number of your productions on stage."

Martha clasped her hands together and her eyes—already filled with all manner joie de vivre—lit up considerably. "Oh, what discerning tastes you have! It's nice to see Richard bring home a girl with some class for once."

"Mother, one: stop slandering me in front of my guest. Two: as you can see, Beckett is here for Alexis, not me. And three: I agree completely that Detective Beckett has excellent taste." He grinned at Kate. "I am her favorite author, after all."

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't go putting words in my mouth. Just because I read your books doesn't make you my favorite author. I enjoy the genre. That's all."

"Mmhm. So you've said." He turned to his mother in a mock aside. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"You're misuing the line," Kate shot back immediately. "In Shakespeare's time, to protest isn't to deny. Gertrude was criticizing the Player Queen in Hamlet's play for protesting too much—that is, being too fervent in her avowal of undying devotion to the Player King as to be credible. Everybody just bastardizes the usage nowadays."

She reddened when she realized that she'd just corrected Richard Castle, best-selling author and son of renowned Broadway diva Martha Rodgers, who'd probably done dozens of Shakespearean productions in her time, on his use of a line in Hamlet.

Castle and Martha stared at her in surprise for a moment before a low chuckle hummed from the throat of the matriarch. "She's got you there, kiddo."

A slow grin spread across Castle's lips. "So freaking hot."

Kate's flush deepened when she saw Martha give Castle a not so discrete thumbs-up approval. Oh jeez. Their family was incredibly forward.

She felt a light tug on her pant leg, and she looked down to find Alexis shyly waiting for her attention.

Ah, yeah. The adults had been kind of neglecting her, hadn't they?

"What is it, Alexis?"

"Where we goin'?"

Kate pressed her lips into an enigmatic smile. "Unh-unh. No clues. You'll see when we get there. But first, do you have a beanie and some mittens?"

Alexis nodded. "In my backpack. Daddy put them in."

"Great! Then I think we're good to go." Kate turned to face Castle. "If that's okay with your dad, that is."

Alexis turned huge, luminous eyes on Castle, and Kate wondered if he ever managed to say no to that face. She sure as hell wouldn't be able to. "Daddy?"

Apparently Castle was made of tougher stuff than Kate (at least when it came to his kid) or he had a damn good poker face because he didn't say yes immediately. Instead, he turned his attention to Kate to ask, "You're not going to tell me where you're taking my kid either?"

She pressed her lips together and lifted an eyebrow. "No. Girls' day out, Castle. You asked for it."

He sighed dramatically, but Kate could tell that he was happy with her response. It took her a second, but she quickly figured out that it was because she was making this a true her-and-Alexis thing. She'd never seen anyone so glad to be not included before.

"Ah well, I guess I'll just have to grill this little pumpkin," he scooped up Alexis and pretended to chomp on her neck, "to tell me what manner of madness you corrupted her with when you get back."

Kate snorted inelegantly. "Yeah, somehow I doubt I'm the corrupting influence here."

Castle nodded. "You're right. My mother is."

Martha smacked him on the arm with the pair of aqua gloves that Kate just now noticed was in her hands. It wasn't all too surprising that Kate missed seeing them though. The actress was nothing if not flamboyantly, albeit tastefully, dressed.

"See?" Castle insisted. "Teaching my kid violence right there."

"Aren't you just the funny man?" Martha turned to address Kate. "Detective Beckett, I think you'd best run along with Alexis now before this one," she gestured at Castle, "fills the poor girl with anymore lies."

"Will do. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Rodgers."

"Oh please! Call me Martha. Ms. Rodgers makes me sound so…stuffy."

Kate grinned. "Okay. And it's Kate for me."

Alexis tugged on the hem of her shirt. "Come on. I wanna know where we going!"

Kate gathered up her coat and Alexis' backpack and hastily waved goodbye.

It should have been awkward really, what with the misunderstanding with Martha and everything, but there truly was something special about the Castle-Rodgers clan. They made it almost impossible to feel unwelcomed.

…

Rick knew he was in trouble when he saw the devious twinkle in his mother's eyes.

"Sooo. That was Detective Beckett."

He busied himself with making a cup of coffee. "Yes, that was."

"Charming girl. I was surprised when you told me you trusted her enough to let Alexis spend half the day with her alone, but I suppose I can see why."

Rick tensed, not sure exactly what his mother meant by that. If she was insinuating that he was using Alexis to get close to Beckett...

Martha rolled her eyes when she correctly interpreted the look on his face. "Oh relax, kiddo! I just meant that the detective is very good with Alexis."

"She is."

Martha studied him. "Not often you get so tight-lipped about a girl." When she couldn't seem to elicit a response, she shook her head and headed for the stairs. "Fine, fine. Be that way. Don't say I didn't warn you though: the good ones always take a helluva lot more effort than you're usually willing to put in."

When Martha was out of sight, Rick sighed and rubbed his jaw, the stubble he hadn't yet had a chance to shave prickly against his palm.

"I know, Mother. I know."