By the time they were finished in the bathtub both of them were very wrinkled and pretty hungry. Castle found her a pair of sweats and t-shirt to lounge in and dressed himself similarly and then the two went into the kitchen where Beckett sat at the island and kept him company while he made them a hearty lunch of sandwiches, chips and fruit. As they ate he read the morning paper to her, commenting on pretty much every article if it was something that interested her and listening with interest whenever the article provoked a response or comment from her as well. They were just cleaning up when Alexis called to check in with him and Beckett could hear the smile in his voice when he realized who was calling and answered it.

The conversation wasn't long, and she noticed that he didn't mention that he'd managed to hurt himself, but he did tell her that he was hanging out with Beckett, and immediately Alexis had asked to talk to her. Castle had given her the phone and kissed her ear, tenderly, (and quietly) and had told her that he needed to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Alexis started telling Beckett about the cruise so far – it was nearly over – and all the sights she'd seen.

"Ask her about Ashley," Castle suggested, loud enough for Alexis to hear.

Beckett didn't need to ask anything; Alexis was always willing to discuss her boyfriend and for several more minutes she told the detective what the two of them had been doing on the ship – a version that was probably at least slightly edited since Alexis had to know her dad was going to ask Beckett about it. She didn't mind; Alexis was a cheerful girl and even if Beckett had been in a grumpy, lousy mood, she'd have been cheered immediately. As it was, she was amused and charmed by the girl's narration and found that she was smiling when Castle returned from cleaning to claim his phone once more.

"You're having fun, then?" she heard him ask, his voice just as amused as she felt. Even Beckett could hear Alexis' response, and then she must have told Castle she had to go, because he ended the call not much later with a hasty I love you and a promise to be around when she called next.

Both of them were in a decidedly good mood when Castle took Beckett's arm in his and walked her to the couch, claiming he was tired and ready to get off his feet for a while.

"How's the wrist?" Beckett asked as she settled on the sofa, waited for him to sit beside her and then cuddled against him.

"It aches a bit," he admitted. He put his arm around her, and she noticed it was the one without the cast. "It's not too bad, though. How's your head?"

"Doesn't hurt much."

"Good."

"I should call and see if Ryan's found anything out," Beckett told him, sliding her hand idly along his stomach. "With Esposito down, too, he's flying solo and it's not really fair to leave it all up to him."

Castle had Ryan on his speed dial, so it was simply a matter of him hitting the right button and handing his phone over to Beckett. Since she was using Castle's phone it was understandable that when Ryan answered he thought he was talking to the writer.

"Hi, Castle, how's the wrist?"

"How did you know about his wrist?" Beckett asked, curiously.

"Beckett! How are you doing? And what are you doing with Castle's phone?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "His was closer than mine. How did you know about his wrist?"

"Javier came by a little bit ago to check on the investigation and told me. How's Castle?"

"Clumsy," Beckett replied, squeezing Castle's knee so he would know she was just teasing him. "What have you learned about the bomber?"

"Not a lot. We have plenty of suspects and of course no motive besides someone wants to blow up cops. I've been doing live interviews, but it's going slow. Sorry."

Beckett smiled.

"I'm sure you're doing the best you can."

"Javie said he's going to come in for a while tomorrow to help me, but I'm not sure taking him on the interviews is a good idea…"

"Yeah, I see what you mean. He'd be a trophy for the bomber if you guys stumbled on the right person."

"Might make him want to see who else he can blow up."

"Right." Beckett hesitated, thinking. "Castle could help you."

"Not with his wrist broken," Ryan replied. "Our bomber might think he or she did it, and we'd be back at the trophy thing…"

Good point. Beckett sighed, and Ryan heard it.

"It's okay, Beckett," he assured her. "Captain Montgomery is assigning some help. Don't worry about me. We'll figure it out."

"If you need me call, though."

"Will do."

Beckett handed the phone over to Castle, who ended the call, and she sighed as she put her head in his lap and stretched out fully on the couch, getting more comfortable. Castle leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, but rested his hand on her stomach, tapping his fingers on her as he tried to catch a stray thought that had been niggling at him for a while, but was pushed to the back of his mind in favor of all the other things that were going on just then.

"Castle?" Beckett spoke up, breaking his train of thought just as he almost had put his finger on whatever it was. He looked down and saw that she was looking up at him – or would have been if she could see.

"Hmm?"

"You owe me a story."

He smiled.

"A mystery?"

She nodded.

"That's fine."

It was the only kind he could make up on the spot, really.

"Get comfortable, then, and I'll tell you an adventure of Lachline McHappershap, Inspector for the famous Scotland Yard."

Beckett smiled.

"Why do I get the feeling you've used this character before?"

"I invented him for Alexis."

"I've never read anything with-"

"Just for Alexis," he told her, interrupting. "And now for you. He's a bedtime story fellow I made up."

If anything her smile grew.

"Did you save the stories somewhere?"

They'd definitely be worth reading.

He shook his head, even though she couldn't see it.

"I've never actually finished one. Alexis always fell asleep before we got very far."

"I'll stay awake," she promised him, sliding her hand down his arm so she could find his hand and hold it.

"Okay." He was quiet for a minute, thinking of a plot line – he was a writer, it was what he did for a living – and so it didn't take long. "It was a cold, blustery day on the moor, and Inspector Lachline McHappershap looked down at the footprint in the soggy grass with interest, trying to decide if it was a footprint left by the dead man laying in the bottom of the ravine, or if it belonged to someone who might have possibly pushed that man to his certain death…"

He went on to weave a story, his voice low and soothing, and Beckett understood almost immediately why he'd never had to finish one of his tales. Despite her best intentions – and interest in the story he was telling her – she fell asleep before the good Inspector even figured out how the man in the ravine had died.