1998

If there is one thing he is excellent at, it is the art of deception. It'd only been a few weeks of hard work, but he'd easily become of the most requested lawyers the firm had. It was such a shame that most of them would be left with the cases when he disappeared in only a handful of weeks. Bracken had left him messages through the woodwork; had requested why Johanna Beckett wasn't dead yet multiple times.

He didn't have any answer for that.

Stepping away from his desk, he made a casual step toward the break room, which was in the same direction as her office. It was late December by now, any plans she would have would be familial solely but he needed a moment, any moment, which would permit him a moment in private with her; a moment that wasn't in the office with multiple witnesses.

Johanna caught his glance as he moved into the office and smiled, waving him forward. "Well," she grinned wryly, leaning against her palm. "If it isn't the most popular guy on this side of the town," she drew out teasingly.

For a moment, he regretted his mission. Johanna was a nuisance, of course, but she was nothing short of dedicated for her job. But, like most moments he had, it was fleeting and left before he could think twice about stepping into her office in hopes to get a glance of her schedule. "Well, you know, I'm only doing the very best that I possibly can for this firm."

As he stepped closer, he noticed the stack of Richard Castle books and froze, gritting his teeth. His son's novels were fairly popular, but he hadn't imagined they'd be featured in the bookshelves that sat behind Johanna's desk, or that someone who spent most of her time fighting crimes like this would want to read books like that in her free time.

"Something wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as a sound appeared from her computer. He must've jumped at it because she shyly explained it was an email. He offered a smile in return.

"Uh, no, nothing," he stared back at the row. "You're a fan, I take it?" He asked, gesturing to the row of books. Johanna turned around to see what he was pointing at and then turned back around, nodding slowly.

There was an indescribable smile on her face. "He's a good writer." She told him, almost as though she were standing up for something she believed in. He narrowed his gaze, wondering if he'd ever get the chance to understand this enigma of a woman, but he didn't think time allowed it. "My Katie loves him, though she'll never admit that."

Katie Beckett was constant conversation around the office; she was studying to join the business and he stilled every time he heard about her, feeling somewhat irresponsible for taking a woman away from her family. He'd done worse, though, and with a soft smile he excused himself and slipped back into the break room. Jackson cursed himself the moment he walked inside. He hadn't caught a glimpse of her calendar, had been too distracted by the memory of his son to worry about it.

Damn it. He had to act fast.

Present Day

Beckett narrowed her glance at the victim once more, staring intensely at the shoe before it clued into her. "Wait a minute. These two shoelaces are tied differently."

Castle tilted his head to the side. "That is odd," he said, moving to step closer to what Beckett had just brought up when the floor creaked underneath his foot. His gaze fell to the floor, foot pressing on the floorboard as it seemed to dip down under his weight. "This is even more odd."

Beckett took a few steps closer to where Castle stood, her gaze on the ground next to his. "What are you doing?" She asked as he stepped away, reaching for something behind him.

Castle took a step back once the floorboards were pulled away, staring down into the hole in the ground. "Looks like Ted's got a secret compartment. And what's a secret compartment without a secret?"

The computer was a bust, originally. Tory seemed just as confused with the encryption software as he was and that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something about this case that just didn't add up. Well, multiple things that didn't add up, but this especially. They left Tory to fight the demon that was the laptop and moved into the break room, Castle on her heels.

"There's something about this case…" he shook his head as she poured them both coffee, putting the extra fixings he liked. "I don't know what it is, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something about this case we're missing."

"And what could we be missing?" Beckett's eyes narrow toward him.

Castle straightened up. "Well, for one, why was the body moved? Why did the killer drag him as far as he did… just to bring him back to his apartment?" Kate pulled a face as he spoke, seemingly asking the same question in her mind, but when she refocused on Castle, she came up with nothing. "And then we have this hacker who has an encryption software on his laptop that would put the military to shame and why? Why is he dead? Was he selling military secrets? Watching internet porn and didn't want his folks to find out?"

Beckett rolled her eyes and handed him his coffee, lifting hers to her lips. "I don't know, Castle," she told him gently. "But we'll find out in due time. We just have to let Tory do her thing and keep searching for answers of our own."

Beckett disappeared out of the break room after pressing her lips to his cheek, the scent of coffee on her breath a welcoming surprise. She was right; he couldn't over analyze the case this early. With a sigh, he settled into the chair with his coffee and took another long sip, trying to shake the feeling of impending doom that settled over him.

When Tory finally hacked into the system and lead them to Anderson Cross, Castle couldn't have anticipated the consequences that would come out of it. His fiancée was light when they walked in, bringing up his mother's earlier comment about eloping. He had to admit, the thought had been weighing heavily on his mind but in the same breath, he felt compelled to give Kate everything she had ever dreamed – even if she swore she never dreamed of such things – for their wedding.

"Beckett, I promise you. There is a perfect date for our perfect wedding and we will find it. Trust me." He told her, meaning it, as they walked into the office and she began to turn toward the receptionist's desk.

"I do," she murmured dryly, laughing quietly at her own joke.

"Oh, wedding humor. Nice." He chuckled lightly and she hummed in satisfaction, turning to greet the receptionist.

Jackson knew they were there before his receptionist tried to reach him; a feeble attempt, of course, but he'd been watching, waiting. He'd been on edge since leaving Ted Rollins body in the Detective Beckett's jurisdiction, knowing that it would eventually involve his son in some way. This wasn't his way of trying to maintain a connection with Richard, but he was sure it'd be taken as such. This was his way of keeping an eye on Katherine.

His call to his son was just courtesy, a hope that it would give him a moment to process what he was about to see. He wasn't Anderson Cross, no, but he wasn't Jackson Hunt either.

Jackson stepped out of the boardroom where he'd been hiding, catching Richard's gaze with a grain of salt. It was a mixture of surprise and happiness, oddly considering any other man who'd been without his father for forty years probably would have rather gunned him down than made friends with him. "Hello there. I'm Anderson Cross." He held his hand out for the Detective. Richard is slower to join them, he noticed, but didn't comment on it.

Katherine extends her hand in his direction and shook it slowly. "Hi, I'm Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." She smiled the faintest of smiles, almost as polite as he remembered Johanna being the first time they met.

Jackson straightened himself and stared her down. "Detective Beckett, so nice to meet you," he told her, meaning it. He'd been the same way the moment he'd met her mother. Politeness was one thing he could afford to share around.

It threw her off, he noticed, although he couldn't imagine why. She stuttered she introduced his son and he challenged Richard, asking him again. Richard was no less shocked.

"So why don't we go into the conference room where we can talk?" He asked, looking down at Katherine as warmly as he could manage. She seemed relieved to not have to meet his gaze a beat longer and began her journey toward the room in question. Richard, though, has to prod and pick and he glared gently. "Not a word," he told him, expecting a challenge. Richard backed down almost instantly.

He knew who she was before he saw her, but seeing her there brought him back to the last moment he spent with Johanna, the strain in her gaze is the very same that lay within her daughter. She was watching him, analyzing whether he was lying or not. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be as easy for her to deliberate the answer to that question. Another of the many things he prided himself on was the fact that he had an almost impenetrable poker face.

"Um, do you know a man named Ted Rollins?" She wasn't as suave as he would've pictured, maybe his appearance threw her for a loop, but it only took a moment of her eye diversion to notice that something else was on her mind. He stiffened and shifted his gaze to Richard, who was eerily quiet in that moment.

Jackson found it amusing considering the day they'd met, the only thing Richard had had for him was words; countless, angry words because he'd shot his phone. "No, I – I don't believe I do. Why?" He cleared his throat quietly, clenching his fists on the table.

His son's fiancé shifted again, struggling to gain control of the interrogation. "He was murdered last night." She said plainly.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Oh. Okay. I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

Katherine, he had learned in the past few moments spent being the subject of her interrogation, doesn't back down easily. As unsteady as she was coming into the boardroom, the shell of the uncomfortable woman he'd first met was gone in an instant and she spit out questions faster than he could think of intelligible answers that would keep him out of trouble.

He understood why his son was so enamoured with this woman, but at the same time felt a sickness roll within him as he remembered what he'd done. It's been fifteen years now, but her face still haunts his dreams and he thought there was some grand amount of karmic justice about to slam him in the face now. Months ago, he'd learned of his son's relationship with Katherine Beckett and had kept it quiet, wished it to sizzle out and disappear. He hadn't bargained for a change in relationship status. How was his son supposed to marry the daughter of the woman he killed?

Jackson made a split second decision: Richard had to know.

A/N: This is quite possibly the worst chapter of this one, but stick around kiddos. This fic's gonna be a rough one. Next update will be posted Monday. :)