Author's note: People! I am almost finished writing this story and I'm so proud of myself for actually continuing all the way through. Your kind words have been the greatest support, and I'd love to keep hearing your ideas and comments going forward. I believe this story will end up being 17 chapters, so buckle up, because we haven't reached the end just yet ;)

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Andrew; the words and narrative are mine.

It seemed like hours since Castle had been on national TV asking for leads on Beckett. It seemed like weeks since he'd last been in the precinct. The ride back to the city had been a big blur; as if his mind had just quit. It was only when he set foot on the homicide floor and three people came storming at him, that he awoke from his daze.

"Mister Castle," Captain Gates's voice raised.

"Care to explain your little stunt that was not only reckless but is causing us hundreds of men hour? The phones have been ringing off the hook!" Next to her, Special Agent Sorenson and Cho were glaring at him with matching looks to the one Gates was giving him. He could see Ryan and Esposito behind them, both at their respective desks pretending to work, in reality, eavesdropping on the biggest tell off Gates was about to give him.

"Wait, did you say off the hook?" stepping past them, into the bullpen towards the murder board.

"Mister Castle," they all followed him. His eyes inspecting the board, finding no mention of their eyewitness, except for the description of his father, with a glaring gap next to it where the sketch used to hang.

"Ryan, Espo, did any of you ever look into the woman that gave us the description?" he said, ignoring his superior and the feds breathing down his neck.

Ryan and Esposito glanced at each other, then at Gates before they came stand beside him.

"No, we didn't ever see reason to. Why? You think she's involved?" Ryan asked, trying his best to avoid Gates's glare.

"Just think about it. She said she's been calling on her neighbors for years, right? But she never had evidence so the police never bothered. According to Interpol, the brothers only came to the US about 8 months ago. Even if she was exaggerating about the duration, think about it… I don't know about you, but if my backdoor neighbors would keep calling on whatever illegal activity I was doing, I wouldn't keep a door in place that connected my garden to theirs."

"What does any of this have to do with Beckett? Your MEs said that whoever shot 3XK and took Kate weren't the ones who tortured the Ivanov brothers. Who says they weren't killed for some other reason entirely? Who cares about a stupid door between two gardens? It's just a door," Sorenson interjected.

"On the contrary, it explains everything. Ryan, I bet you that if you check that woman's call history you won't find any of those alleged calls she made to the New Jersey PD."

"You think that she and those guys were working together?" Esposito pitched in.

"Yes I do. Even more so, I think she made up the guy in the sketch to distract us from what's really happening. Like you said, Sorenson, Lanie and Perlmutter already confirmed that whoever took Beckett wasn't the same person who tortured these guys. Who cares who tortured them, it's the people who have Beckett that we want. And I think that that old woman was working together with those two for whoever their boss is. We question her, we find them. We find them; we find Beckett."

Before Castle had left, his dad had asked him to – when given the chance – erase his involvement in the case. Hunt had said it would hurt the CIA deeply if his identity would become known to the public. Castle knew his theory was farfetched at best, but he needed for them to find evidence of Volkov's involvement; he hoped that the story he had come up with would suffice to convince them.

Glancing around the room he saw he had half the crowd convinced. Ryan and Espo who had come to learn and trust Castle's crazy theories over time, were fully on board. Ryan had even run back to his computer to start digging into their witness. Gates and the feds seemed less convinced, especially Sorenson. But before he was able to speak, Castle interrupted, deciding now was the time for damage control.

"I'm so sorry, Captain Gates. I should have convened with you before going on national television. But you know me, my emotions tend to get the better of me. I apologize deeply for the hundreds of men hour I will possibly have cost you. If it helps, I will gladly pay these officers out of my own pocket for the extra work my little stunt has cost the NYPD. I just think it is important that we go through all possible means to find her back as soon as possible. For the team, but also for her poor father."

He knew that last sentence was a stretch, knowing that Gates wasn't one for sympathy. There must have been something in his words, however, that moved her, because her face softened just for a second before it strengthened again; her authority back in place.

"I will let our people send the bill to your accountant, Mr. Castle. Now continue this angle, but if it doesn't pan out, my detectives take over again and you will let it go. Understood?"

Castle nodded, doing his best to contain his glee. His father seemed to be in the clear... for now. The women returned to Gates' office, when he remembered:

"Captain Gates?"

She turned around, having close to no patience left for Castle today.

"The people who called with information, where can I find their notes?"

"Ask LT and Detective Ramos, they've been working on it since lunch."

With that, she closed the door behind her.

"There's something you aren't telling them," Sorenson stated, having remained next to Castle at the whiteboard.

"I don't know what you mean?" Castle pretended.

"You go on national television, practically declaring war on the guy in the sketch, then it takes you, what? Three hours to return? And now you come in as if nothing has happened, denouncing the old woman based off a door between their gardens, claiming that the guy from the sketch isn't at all relevant. In fact, you think he must be made up?"

"Pretty much," Castle saw no point in denying it. It was better to have Sorenson have his moment than to try to convince him otherwise.

"Where were you these past three hours? I know you weren't here. I also don't believe your ego needs three hours worth of stroking at the TV Network."

"How do you know? Maybe three hours is exactly the time I need to get my ego boost," Castle countered.

"I called the station, seeing as your phone went straight to voicemail. So, where did you go?"

"If you truly want to know I went by the hospital to get a check-up; as you might recall I took a fall yesterday. My shoulder was hurting, and my head was still spinning."

"And you so happened to turn off your phone for those three hours?"

"I had to turn it off when they took a scan, must have forgotten to turn it back on. Now, are we going to do this all day because I was under the impression we had leads that didn't include me," he raised his voice just enough for some heads to turn. Esposito looked up, noticing the rising animosity between the two guys.

"Everything ok?" checking for Castle's response, ready to pounce Sorenson if need be. Esposito had never liked the guy. He remembered how heartbroken Beckett had been when he had chosen Boston over her.

"Yeah, everything's just fine," Sorenson gritted his teeth, deciding to leave them to it for a while as he headed towards the breakroom.

Once he was gone, Esposito beckoned Castle to his desk.

"Where did you go?" he looked around, making sure no one was paying attention.

"The hospital, like I said."

"Uhu, sure you were," Esposito did a mean impersonation of Lanie.

"Lanie took scans on the scene yesterday and she said everything was just fine. Everything got a bit jungled up, that's all. At least tell me who tipped you off on this new hunch."

"There's nothing to tell. It just came to me; you know how those things go?" Castle damned himself for his wavering smoothness. Esposito noticed it too, but decided not to comment. Whatever Castle hadn't gotten himself into, as long as it provided results, he didn't care.

"You were right, Castle," Ryan said behind them.

"I was?" Castle said with a little too much surprise that had both boys look up.

"Yeah," Ryan decided to let it go. "I looked at her call list from this year; there were no calls to any police department. Yesterday either; which means she lied to us."

"Are there any reoccurring calls? Or anything on her? Who is she?"

"Wait, let me just…" he started typing away.

"There you go. Tatiana Molinskaja… wait, it says here she is related to Gregor Volkov,"

"Volkov?" Esposito asked, while Castle pretended not to know who he was either, thanking his lucky star that they found the connection so easily.

"Did you guys say Gregor Volkov?" Sorenson walked into the bullpen, his cup of tea fuming.

"Yeah, why? Who is he?" Castle asked.

"He's an old KBG spy, notorious for psychological torture. He escaped prison years ago, and is rumored to live in New York City. It's all speculation, though. No one has seen him in years. What would he want with Kate?" Sorenson came to a halt next to their desk.

"No clue, but it looks like we are going to have to pay our freakish puppet lady another visit," they were all getting up, moving towards the elevator when they noticed Castle hadn't moved.

"Castle, you coming?" Ryan asked.

"No, I think I'm going to sit this one out."

"But it was your theory?" Esposito said questioningly.

"Yeah, but I also asked people to call the NYPD with information. Doesn't seem right to let LT and Reggie sift through it by themselves. Who knows, if the old lady doesn't pan out, maybe these calls will. Plus, her dolls really creeped me out." Ryan and Sorenson seemed little convinced, while Esposito had already stepped into the elevator.

"Sort yourself, Castle." The doors closed.

If the woman was really involved with Volkov, he didn't expect her to hang around for much longer. She would have been notified the moment Volkov had had his talk with Hunt; he would probably have warned her that their might be a chance the NYPD would come knocking. Instead of wasting his time on a useless trip to New Jersey, he'd sift through calls.

Even if they knew Volkov was involved, that didn't mean they were any closer to figuring out where he held Beckett. Like Sorenson had said, no one had seen him in years. From what he could tell, Volkov had a whole network of people working for him. He would probably not have gone out into the field himself to murder 3XK and take Beckett. He'd leave someone else to it. So, that meant that right now, those phone calls where his only lead.

He had been at it for the last two hours or so, when the boys made it back. As expected, most of the people who had called were fans hoping to get to hear Castle's voice. There were some saying they were the man in the drawing, which of course, Castle knew they weren't. Others had said they'd seen Beckett at their local hairdressers in Queens; that she'd been a regular for the past three years. He should come by, maybe bring a signed copy of his latest Nikki Heat?

He'd had hope briefly when someone had said they had seen a brunette with curls near Tyson's lair, but when Castle had called them back, they said they were mistaken, and they'd actually just seen their neighbor Bettie.

"How did it go?" Castle looked up, glad to have his neck in an upright position again. Ryan and Esposito looked tired; the day had been a long one. The sun had set half an hour ago.

"Total bust. The woman's in the clear. Talked to some of her neighbors who said she had left around the time our sketch artist had left. They said it seemed like she was going away for a while; like she was going on a trip," Esposito said, flicking through his notepad.

"Did you have any luck?" Ryan asked, taking a seat while he untied his tie with a sigh. He started skimming through the dozens of notes still unchecked.

"Nope, but be my guest. These people are a real treat. Their imagination and desperation to meet me is unparalleled. Some actually gave me ideas for a next Nikki Heat which weren't half bad. Where's Sorenson?"

"Went to report back to Gates and Cho. Come up with a strategy. He said they would likely set up a call system in case they would call with demands," Esposito took the chair across from Castle, placing his feet on the notes, not caring that he was messing up the system Castle had meticulously created over the past two hours.

"Wouldn't they have called by now if they had any?" Castle asked, pushing Espo's feet of the table which rewarded him with an ugly glare.

"I don't know man; it doesn't make any sense. Who would kill 3XK to kidnap Beckett?"

"Do you think this has something to do with her mother's case?" Ryan lowered his voice, making sure no one was paying attention to them.

"No we checked; Maddox is still in Ryker's, and she struck a deal with Bracken remember?" Castle replied.

"Plus, there's the Russian guy, Volkov. I asked Interpol to send us his files over; if we believe what Sorenson had to say on the guy, he's bad news."

"Maybe it has something to do with when Beckett was in Europe on exchange. Didn't she spend a semester in Kiev?" Ryan offered.

"I don't know, bro. Do you really think a college girl could possibly do something on her exchange to anger one of their top KGB agents?"

"Okay, what about the guy in the sketch. Castle, I know you think she made him up, but, why would she? Someone did torture the two brothers; their bodies are in the morgue as we speak."

"Maybe she murdered them himself? I have no clue. Even if she was telling the truth about the guy, he doesn't belong to their organization. Otherwise, she wouldn't have given him up so freely," Castle countered, hoping it would be enough to stir them away from Hunt.

"You have a point. Wait, actually. How would she know to run? We didn't warn her we'd be coming-"

"which means someone must have tipped her off. Maybe it was Volkov himself?" Castle added, already getting up and heading towards Ryan's computer.

"You already managed to get her phone records, right?" Castle said as he moved the computer into action. Password protected, the screen said.

"Right, forgot I wasn't a cop for a second," he got up, let Ryan take over. After some clicks and some taps, he had pulled up her records.

"There you go."

"There, that number. Seems like she called it every week at the same time. Except for today, the number called her," Castle pointed, grateful for his speedreading ability.

"What's the number?" Esposito asked from his desk. Castle read the numbers out loud, hoping it would be that simple. That all they would need was a number that would lead them straight to where Beckett was being held captive.

"It's a blocked number. There's no way to trace it nor know who it belongs to."

Back to square one, he thought.

With the old woman on the run, and no sign of the man in the sketch, they were out of leads. No one on the island of Manhattan seemed to have seen or heard from Beckett. Neither CSU nor Lanie found any new details that could provide them with a possible lead. They had run out of options, and they were getting desperate. Two weeks had passed, with nothing to go on. They checked all available camera footage without success. The system the FBI had set up for the kidnappers to request demands had remained unmoved. No one came forward. It seemed as if Beckett had simply vanished from the earth.

Castle spent his days at the precinct. With Martha and Alexis going into the final stretch of their holidays, the loft was empty, uninviting. Castle and the boys kept going through the phone calls, but they too seemed to lower in number with every passing day. They retraced leads, went back to the scene of the crime; anything, but alas.

Every now and then, Castle returned to the loft; it was his obligatory outing to not worry any of the others at the precinct. He'd go home to take a shower, maybe change. When it was later in the evening and he was sure everyone he knew would have gone home, he'd return to the precinct. He'd sit in Beckett's chair, and he'd stare at her portrait. Hoping that by some magical power, a new lead would reveal itself.

Whenever he went home, he went by foot. Made sure to enter every park on his way to his loft. He would never have imagined a day would come where he'd hope to be taken at gunshot in a park; now, it seemed like it was the only thing that kept him sane. He kept seeing his father everywhere he went; on the street, in his local coffee shop, in the mirror. But whenever he'd blink, it would just be someone who vaguely resembled his father.

At one point, he had even driven back to the motel in New Jersey. But if he had to believe the concierge, the man in question had never even stayed there.

Twenty-one days had passed since the morning that Beckett was kidnapped from her own precinct. The FBI had left the day before, stating that with the longevity of Beckett's radio silence, there was little hope left of finding her alive. Castle too had lost all hope. If Hunt had been right about Volkov, it meant that they had two days left before he would dispose of Beckett.

Overrun by emotions, and surviving on the small amount of adrenaline his sleep deprivation provided, Castle's anger had shifted from Volkov to Hunt. If it were not for him, Beckett would have been home, she would have been safe. You don't know that, a voice said. You don't know what would have happened if Volkov's people hadn't come in and killed 3XK. Maybe Beckett would have been dead already?

Even so, where was Hunt? Castle was beyond annoyed that he had no way of contacting him. All he had left to do was wait, and hope that whatever Hunt had been up to for the past three weeks, he was closing in on Volkov.

He was chewing on some cold leftover in the kitchen, when the door of his loft opened. Putting on an act, he got up to welcome his two favorite redheads back from their trip.

"Daddy," Alexis dropped her bags and jumped into Rick's arms.

"How I've missed you, Pumpkin," he hugged her tightly, a little longer than he normally would. It was the first instance of joy he had felt in these past three weeks.

"Richard, what have you done with the place?" his mother said, noticing the many empty boxes of take-out food he had compiled in the few hours he spent at home every day.

"And how I've missed you too, Mother. How was it? Tell me everything, I want to know absolutely everything" he said.

Alexis and Martha had talked throughout dinner nonstop. Telling him about all the wonderful places, "Dad, we should go there together next time, you'll absolutely love it," Alexis had said. Castle had lied to them about Beckett. He didn't know what had gotten in to him, but he didn't want to spoil Alexis's graduation holiday. After dinner, Alexis had retired to her bedroom, exhausted from her trip and the pending jetlag that was waiting to happen. Martha had stayed behind, to help clean up.

"So, any word on Beckett?" her tone serious.

He should have known his mother wouldn't believe him. It was she after all who had taught him how to lie.

"Nothing, mother. It's like she's a ghost."

"Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something we could do." She opened her arms and hugged her son.

"I know, mother. Me too."

"Do you want some company? We could have a whisky night? Maybe it will make you feel better for a little while?" He appreciated his mother for trying, but if he was being completely honest, he wanted her to leave him alone so he could go back to the precinct without judgement.

"I'm fine but thanks, mother. You should go to bed, I'm sure you are exhausted," it seemed for a second like she wasn't going to give up, but then she shrugged, gave him a kiss and went upstairs.

Only thirty more minutes and he would go back to the precinct. He walked into his office when he heard the voice behind him.

"Richard," Castle turned around. His father was sitting in the chair next to the window, a whisky in his hand.

Author's note: Prepare yourselves for the next chapter, ladies and gentlemen. Guest reviewer was right, shit is going down in chapter thirteen. Until then, lots of love x