A/N: I'm still here, I promise. And I'm still writing. But as the story goes on, the chapters get harder to write. We are kind of coming into the home stretch, which is both a relief and sad at the same time. I have an idea for a new fic, though it probably will not be a crossover. This is another four-part chapter, and it has a pretty good length. I hope you enjoy it!

"This could very well be your missing girl," Perlmutter said to Beckett. He stood beside a stretcher that was lined with a body bag. The garbage bag on top of the body bag was sliced open in one long incision, and the bag spread as wide as possible. Beckett tried not to look at the contents for more than a moment.

"The bags match, Beckett, butI'm not sure how much that really means," Esposito added. He and Ryan were next to the dumpster while two techs sorted through the top layer of trash.

"Perlmutter, Lanie, how much can you tell me about what we do have in that bag?" Beckett asked.

"Honestly? Not much. I can tell you what a couple of the body parts are, but there are a few smaller—chunks." Lanie grimaced. "I'm not going to be able to do much with those until we can get this sorted out at the morgue." She looked at Perlmutter for confirmation, who nodded in agreement.

"How fast can you process?"

"We've still got some time here and then we'll head back. It'll be priority one for both of us."

"Would it help if you had a certain Jeffersonian anthropologist helping you out?"

"Dr. Brennan?" Lanie asked. "Yeah, certainly."

"Booth and I have something to do with Booth and Brennan when we leave here. If she is free, I'll see about sending her down to you."

"You'll call first, right? Because we wouldn't want to make a bad impression," Lanie said, clearly concerned that her New York City morgue wouldn't be quite up to standards.

"Sure, Lanie. Don't forget to touch up your hair and makeup." Beckett rolled her eyes.

Castle stepped forward. "If this is Hattie, we caught one hell of a break."

"It's her," Beckett said. "I know it."

"We've got about five minutes before we need to go," Castle added.

Beckett nodded. Overwhelmed was the right term for how she was feeling. Glancing at her watch, she saw that Castle was right about how much time they had to be across town at the warehouse. The past twelve hours had been emotionally, mentally, and physically draining. Waking up draped over Castle in the precinct; having to download all her case info to Booth and Brennan; forced out of the precinct by Castle—who also insisted on driving—only to fall asleep during the ride home; waking up to the sound of her door being keyed open and realizing that she was being held securely in her partner's arms as he carried her to bed; the feeling of gentle hands removing her jacket and shoes and tucking her under blankets; the phone so rudely waking her from the blackness of unconsciousness; worrying about Castle not answering his phone; finding Castle fast asleep and then finding herself on the floor beneath him—on top of him—all over him; the thoughts of naked, wet Castle that were still invading her brain; a girl cut to pieces and stuffed into a trash bag. When it rained, it poured, and Beckett was feeling soaked to the bone by how much was going on around and within her.

She looked up to try to clear her head, taking a deep breath of what she hoped wouldn't be garbage-scented air. She opened her eyes, which were aimed up and away from the crime scene—and directly into a security camera lens.

"Ryan, Esposito? I think you have some footage to review," she said.

Booth crouched down and put his hand to the floor. Sawdust and regular dust coated every surface on this floor of the warehouse. The almost nonexistent glow from the naked light bulbs that hung every fifteen feet would make it hard to find evidence without flashlights in hand. In concert, three flashlight beams swept around and past him.

"There aren't any footprints, and there would be if our guy had been here recently." Beckett's heels sent out a muffled click every time she took a step.

At her side, as usual, was Castle. "We've got a lot more of this floor to go before we give up hope entirely." He took a step and slipped, nearly taking Beckett down as he attempted to right himself. Once he had regained his balance, he nonchalantly added, "Everybody be careful. The floor is extremely slippery. Don't you laugh at me, Beckett, you did the same thing the other night."

Booth watched as Beckett rolled her eyes, then trained his focus on Brennan, who had moved ahead of them already. "Bones? Don't get too far ahead, okay?" The place made him uncomfortable, especially knowing that the entire building was empty due to a holiday. He rested a hand on his sidearm, noticing Beckett doing the same, and clicked on his flashlight. "Anything up there?" he asked his partner.

"Not yet," she replied.

Castle followed behind him as he stepped into the next room on the floor, Beckett bringing up the rear. Booth made his way up closer to Brennan, stepping in front of her in case they weren't alone.

"Booth, I can't see now."
"Bones, I don't want you ahead of me. It's pretty dim up here and there are a lot of rooms that anyone could be holing up in. Just let me take point, okay?"

"There is backup downstairs, I don't know why you are so worried, Booth."

Booth sighed, but kept himself ahead of her.

Castle closed in behind Brennan, and Beckett followed suit. "I know what he is worried about, Tempe. It's creepy in here," the writer said. "The way the sawdust muffles the sounds of the building and yet somehow our voices are still echoing in the void."

"Castle, just keep your eyes open, please," Beckett said.

If Booth didn't know any better, he'd say there was something going on between them. He paused for a moment as he realized that he did know better. He and Brennan had walked in on them asleep on the same couch the night before. This morning when the taxi had brought them to the warehouse to meet the detective and writer, Booth had sworn he had seen them lean in close for a moment inside the car. When the two greeted Booth and Brennan, something seemed different. He was almost certain he and Brennan were giving off the same vibe. That alone made the evidence much more recognizable. Booth's spidey sense was tingling, if that's what he wanted to call it.

Of course, this building wasn't helping. Looking up ahead, it seemed the place was endless. He stepped carefully, glancing up and down to keep an eye on both the floor and what was up ahead of him. He approached a small office slowly, shining his flashlight inside to an empty, untouched room. Dust clung to everything inside, and sawdust had blown and been swept in as well. He moved ahead, glancing back to make sure everyone was still in position. He shined his flashlight up ahead to a set of fire doors. The doors were open, but gave limited sight to the space beyond. He continued on, sweeping his flashlight slowly to try to see as much as possible into the new area.

The thud of something heavy hitting the floor sounded from up ahead. Booth had drawn his weapon and levered it up with his flashlight in a heartbeat, recognizing that the people behind him had also stopped. He stepped to the side, making his way to the fire doors. Brennan stayed close behind him, Castle and Beckett lined up on the other side of the doors. A glance over showed that Beckett also had her weapon drawn. Her flashlight had disappeared, and her left arm reached back to her partner, keeping him behind her. Castle now held both flashlights. After quick nods of agreement, Booth and Beckett moved simultaneously into the new room, weapons raised.

There was no more sound, and the flashlight sweeps from Brennan and Castle showed nothing out of the ordinary. Sawdust still coated everything, and the dim lighting continued down a new corridor. Booth holstered his sidearm slowly and cautiously, not removing his hand from it once it was in place. He took the lead again, and Beckett fell back to keep an eye on the space behind them. Booth swung his flashlight back and forth—and stopped.

"Bones," he said, raising his hand and pointing where his flashlight beam landed. "I think we might have a crime scene."

Castle watched as techs, organized efficiently by Brennan, swarmed the crime scene. He watched Beckett and Booth chatting from several yards away. He should probably be over there helping, but his head was fuzzy and he was so tired that leaning against the wall was about all he could manage. He had been previously running on pure adrenaline—and testosterone—based on his rather interesting morning. He watched as Brennan swabbed and bagged, marked the bag, and repeated the process over and over. Between the footsteps in the sawdust, the blood spatters all over, and the table saw itself, there was a lot of evidence to collect.

And all Castle could think about was Beckett. Beckett on top of him, Beckett beneath him, Beckett sitting outside while he was in the shower; he couldn't stop it. The flashes he was getting of Beckett's blood on his hands in that cemetery kept throwing him off too. It had felt so real. Even now, it felt more like a memory than a dream. He wondered why was it resonating so soundly. He reminded himself that it didn't matter. Beckett was twenty feet away from him, and she was alive.

That make out session was what felt like a dream. He'd also had that dream on many occasions. He didn't usually tackle her before they made out, and he usually got to at least second base, but if anything that morning had a dreamlike aura surrounding it, it was him and Beckett on the floor of his bedroom in almost total darkness. Castle kept playing it over and over again, grasping for every detail he could to file it away until he could write it down. When he had realized that he was awake, and even though Beckett had her knee so effortlessly—yet firmly—pressed to a part of him that would not enjoy further pressure, he still hadn't been able to separate the dream from reality. Had he woken from a nightmare into a real-life fantasy? Had Beckett being shot been the reality and now he was dreaming she was with him again? He hadn't been able to sort it out. He spilled out his dream to her, hoping that would help. It hadn't. She had assured him that she was there in front of him, she was alive—but still he didn't know. So when she eased off him a bit, and her knee retreated to safe distance, Rick bumped her locked elbows and caught her as she collapsed on top of him. He mumbled something irrelevant and kissed her.

She kissed back immediately. And he knew in that moment that he was not dreaming. Castle had a good imagination—make that impeccable imagination—but that had been way more that he could ever have imagined. Dreaming of Beckett was hot, but it was also slightly dry. Like there was a film over everything, dulling out sensations and muting colors and tones and emotions. Muted and dull was not what he had experienced in that moment. There was more emotion there than he had ever experienced in a kiss. He had still been reeling from seeing that blood on his hands, and poured his regret and need into the kiss. He had felt her hunger, and relief. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight. When she had stopped moving so suddenly, he felt it. He stopped himself as if she had commanded it. She didn't say anything; she just rested her forehead on his. She he asked what he had been dying to know.

If that was what he got when his phone battery died, he was going to start "forgetting" to plug it in. He'd regretted having to get up, but he had to if they were ever going to solve the case. One last kiss and a very cold shower had him pulled together enough and getting ready for the long day he had known was ahead of them. The best reward he had gotten was the misty look on Beckett's face as she sat on his bed, when he had to assume she was thinking about him. Watching her now as she talked with Booth, he still could see just a glimmer of that look in her eyes.

Beckett answered her phone, Booth nodding as she stepped toward Castle to get away from the din of the crime scene. Castle stayed still and let her approach slowly. He watched her emotions range from excitement to intense concentration to skepticism as she listened intently to the other line. He could hear only her brief answers and comments. "Yes. Okay, you working on it? Anything yet? Yeah. We will. Not much. Good. Yep." She stepped closer to him as she ended the call. "You okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah." He smiled at her warmly. "Tired, you know?"

She sighed. "We'll stop and get coffee this time. Those cameras got us a license plate number. Boys are tracking it down now and they should have something in the next hour or so. Booth and Brennan are going to stay here for the crime scene. They'll meet us back at the precinct."

Castle nodded at her. "We heading out now?"

"Yeah."

He pushed off the wall gingerly and followed her as she waved good-bye to their FBI counterparts and crime scene team before walking out the door to the stairs. When she was on the landing between the second and third floors, he reached forward and snagged her hand. She turned to him, a question in her eyes. His other arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her close. For a brief moment their eyes met and he was shocked by the fire she had hidden there. When he pressed his lips to hers, she gave him just a little bit of that fire in return.

"I'm sorry, I just needed to make sure I'm not still dreaming," he told her after several moments of holding her close.

Beckett shook her head. "You're not."

"Good." Castle released her waist, but not her hand, and used his new found energy to pull her gently down the stairs. "Let's go catch bad guys."

Brennan watched as the evidence was unloaded from the crime scene tech's SUV. Booth was speaking to their supervisor, making sure that the evidence got priority by using his FBI voice. He hailed a cab when he they were done talking and Brennan walked back towards the street to get in the car ahead of him. He told the driver where to go, and settled back into the seat.

"Why couldn't the crime scene techs give us a ride to the station?" she asked.

"Come on, Bones. Even I know you want that evidence processed and copies of everything sent to the Jeffersonian. But they can work faster if they don't have to drop us off. They can also work faster if I don't let you stand over their shoulders while they work. Plus, the Jeffersonian will reimburse you for this cab ride."

"Implying that I will be paying?" she retorted.

He smiled at her and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I love how quick you are."

"My physical speed does not factor into this situation, Booth."

"And how slow you are."

Brennan gave him an annoyed look and waited patiently for the taxi to get through traffic. When it finally did, Booth got out to open her door while she paid, and the two made their way up to the bullpen to regroup with the detectives. They found it in a flurry of movement. Beckett was on the phone while Castle typed away on her computer. Ryan was hastily pulling chairs out of the way in a large interrogation room, and Esposito was nowhere to be found. The din in the large space was louder than Brennan had ever heard. Booth made his way through the other officers and detectives bustling about, and Brennan followed close, using the path his larger build created to avoid running into anyone herself.

"What's going on?" Booth asked Castle.

Brennan got around to Booth's side so she could hear the conversation.

"Not only did we find the van with the license plate the camera caught, but we found ourselves a pretty convincing suspect too." Castle continued typing as he answered.

"What are you doing, Rick?" Brennan asked.

"I'm searching a couple of extra databases for any more info we can get. Beckett doesn't usually let me do this, but she is otherwise occupied." He jerked his head in an upward motion towards Beckett, who was still in conversation on her phone. "They found blood and a box of garbage bags in the van, we found lots of prints. The prints led us to our suspect, who just recently got out of jail. He'd been there for six years."

"That fits the murder timeline pretty well," Booth said.

Brennan watched as the two of them talked about the case. They had clearly resolved whatever issue had been between them, and she was more than glad. If Booth, the man she loved, couldn't get along with Rick, who was like a brother to her, one of the relationships would have to come to an end. She liked this way much better, when she could have both men in her life. She caught the way Castle's arm rested on Beckett's desk in just the right direction so that his fingers brushed hers where she braced herself on the desk as she talked. Brennan knew that if she had noticed it, Booth had too. As long as Booth knew that Castle was interested in someone else, Brennan knew they wouldn't be having any jealousy issues any longer.

Beckett hung up the phone abruptly, but didn't move her hand from the desk. "He's here. Castle, you cannot be in there. You can be in the observation room with the captain. Booth, I'd like you observing too. If you catch anything, let me know. Tempe said you are really good with picking up on subtle movements and words." Beckett sounded authoritative in a way that Brennan had not heard before. It suited Beckett, much the way that a similar tone suited Booth.

"And me?" Brennan asked. She didn't want to be the only one who couldn't watch, but until the evidence was processed, she wouldn't have much to do.

"I'm going to have someone take you to the morgue. Lanie and Perlmutter, our resident medical examiners, will be there waiting for you to help figure out what parts of Hattie we recovered this morning. We also need to verify that it is Hattie, based on more than the blood we found at the crime scene. They'll need you and as much of your Jeffersonian team as you can gather around a computer screen in DC." The elevator dinged and Beckett stood up straight, nodding to Ryan and Esposito. "Castle, show Booth to the observation room," was all she said before she put on a tough face and walked away.

Castle nodded and stood. Booth stepped closer to Brennan. He gave her the quickest of kisses before pulling away. "I'll see you later," he said, following Castle through the desks and chairs. "You go give that victim a voice."