Not particularly happy with this chapter, and I could probably make it longer but I wanted the next chapter to be the fallout of this one. Yeah, anyway. Next chapter will, I hope, be better.

"There's not a lot I can say," Dr. Clark Murray says with a sigh, flipping through the file one last time, "not that you don't already know, but around the same time of this murder, there were three more. Another lawyer, and two graduate students. No one put them together, no one made the match. But… having looked at all four cases, I can't deny that there's something tying them together."

Castle leans forward in his chair eagerly, hands gripping the arm rests. "Like what?"

"I'm just a doctor, Mr. Castle. You know that."

"But it's not random gang violence? There's something – it was something bigger?"

"Well, it certainly looks that way. But I'd leave it at that. You, are a writer and not a cop and whatever has got you hooked on this case is better left alone. Getting messed up in this will do you no good."

"What if I told the NYPD? I know people."

"People being the cop whose mother this is? I don't think the NYPD have any hope in doing this. If they've had four people murdered, if they can afford to do that, and they've stayed hidden for the past twelve years what hope in hell do you think they have?"

"You don't know them." Castle defended, arranging the folder back into a respectable pile. "They could. We just need a lead."

Murray stood up with a shake of his head. "You're not going to get any leads. The case has been dead for years."

"Except she killed the guy. I mean, not the guy. Not whoever it is that's behind all of this, but the guy who they hired to do the killing. She killed him. Isn't that a lead?"

"Not when the guy is dead. Dead men don't tell you who hired him. Not twelve years ago, at least. They aren't that stupid. Names are changed, banks are emptied and paper trails are long sine extinct. Trust me, Castle. You're better off forgetting all off this. Put it away."

"I can't." Castle admits, sitting back into his chair. "You know I can't just stop, not when something's dragged me in."

"And I am giving you some friendly advice," Murray reiterates, picking up his jacket and slinging it over his arm, "stay away. This is not worth you risking your life over. If she doesn't want you to look into it then you don't look into it."

"My Daddy is a fire-fighter," Ellie Maguire smiles, looking across at the class with her hands clasped smugly behind her back. "And he saves cats, and cuts people out of cars, and puts out fires, and he has this yellow helmet and he rides around in a big red truck and sometimes he lets me come with him, and I have my own helmet. It even has my name on it. But I'm not allowed to help him when he has to do dangerous things."

The class burst into polite applause, though none of them are at all interested in what Ellie has to say, mainly because they hear the stories of how William Maguire did this and how William Maguire did that whenever Ellie has the opportunity to talk about it. Personally, Harry has had enough of fire and firemen for a lifetime.

"I want to tell you about my Daddy." All eyes turn to her, surprise in every one of them because it seems that everyone knew about her supposed lack of a father figure in her life, even though she can't remember ever mentioning it.

Miss Ford smiles and gestures for her to stand up and Harry brushes off the invisible dust from her jeans and stands up. She remembers the last time she was up here, and for once all eyes were looking at her like she was amazing. Of course, she could pretend that they thought she was amazing and clever and all kinds of cool, but she knows it was just because she was talking about her mother. But Harry will take what she can get. "Go on, Harry. The floor is yours."

"My Daddy writes books. He murders somebody, and then he makes somebody find out who did it. Like my Mommy does, only she doesn't do the murdering. She just finds out who did it."

"Is that how they met?"

"No." Harry says with a firm nod. "I don't know how they met. But I met him in a park, and I recognised him from the back of one of her books."

"Do we know who he is?"

"Richard Castle. And he has a daughter, called Alexis, and she's two years younger than me. I like her. One time, we went to the park and we found a dormouse, he was called Dexter and I wanted to keep him but mommy said we had to take him back to where we found him because he had a home, just like I did, and I wouldn't like it if someone took me from my house-"

Jason interrupts her with a hand flung up in the air. "My Dad buys my mom those books. She says he's ruggedly handsome."

"Your Daddy isn't Richard Castle." Emily scoffs, folding her arms. "You don't have a Daddy. Everybody knows that."

"Emily." Miss Ford warns, fixing the girl with an unusually stern glare. "Carry on, Harry."

"Um, well, when our apartment blew up last week-"

"That was your apartment?" Emily shrieks, sitting up on her knees. "My Daddy-"

"Emily, let Harry talk."

"When our apartment blew up he worked it out, and he took me shopping to go and get some new clothes because mine smelt of smoke. Oh, and he took us to the aquarium and he bought me this giant seal, and last week he took us all to the Hamptons. Like, the house is right on the beach and we walked along during the sunset and we found a rope swing! And then the next day we went swimming in the swimming pool. He has a swimming pool! And I got to pick my own room, and it's blue and it has a balcony. And the next time we go away we're going to go to my Granddaddy's cabin, and I'm going to show Alexis the lake, and the boat and I get to share my room which most people wouldn't be happy with because no one ever likes sharing, but I like sharing because I don't get to share with anyone and I think it's nice."

"I brought you lunch!" Castle says, with far too much cheer as he drops the brown paper bag on her desk, right on top of her files. "I didn't think you'd eaten, and if you have that's fine because I'm starving." He drops into the chair, pulls the bag towards him and pulls out a Tupperware box full of what looks like chicken and pasta and baby spinach. "Do you want coffee? I want coffee."

He's up again and heading for the break room before she can even reply. "Castle, we need forks."

"They're in my bag," He calls over his shoulder, "just root around in there, they'll be somewhere." It's not until he's past Esposito's desk that he remembers, realises his mistake and doubles back. "Kate – wait-"

But it's too late, her fingers have already found the edges of the folder, has pulled it out before he can even get to her desk. It's stupid. He's stupid. He should never have bought it with him, should have kept the forks in the brown bag because now this has … this is going to blow up in his face.

"Castle…" He winces at the sound of her voice, that calm and measured tone that he's used to in interrogation rooms, the underlying anger at the culprit that is so subtle you almost don't pick up on it. And he's so not used to hearing it directed it at him. "Castle, why is my mother's murder file in your bag?"

"I was – it was – I was just trying to help. I wanted to know what happened. I thought I could help. I have connections and I thought-"

"You thought? Castle, I have told you – I told you – I didn't want to do this. I didn't want anything to do with this, not anymore. You didn't have the right to get this file, you didn't have the right to stick your nose in my private life! I know you think you might think that your nose thinks it has a home in my life, I can understand why you might think that way, but you are wrong."

"Kate, I wasn't – I was going to drop it. That's why I bought it with me. I don't know what you do with unwanted files – it's just a copy and I didn't want to leave it just lying around at home. And I know you didn't want to do anything so I'm not going to do anything. I mean, I want to. I want to help, and I think I could. I have connections and information, and I could help. But you don't want me to, so there you go. I am giving you the file back."

"I want you gone."

"What?"

Kate pushes the Tupperware away from her and towards him. "I want you gone. Out of the precinct, I want you to go back to your loft and I want you to put all of my clothes in a suitcase and leave them by the door. Harry's too."

"You can't take Harry. I won't let you."

"You do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do with my daughter. You do not get to play that card, not now."

"She's my daughter too! "

"You know what, I'm not doing this now. Just go, go and we'll talk later. Can you pick Harry up? I won't be home in time."

"Yeah, yeah I can… pick her up. Kate, just-"

"Castle, go home."