Castle didn't know whether to be relieved or angered that his father was alive and in New York. He'd wondered for so many months after Alexis' kidnapping, wondered if he'd gotten out alive or if he'd gone down honourably. Unfortunately, the latter didn't seem like a possibility.

He remained quiet the entire ride back to the morgue, his feet bouncing against the floor of the car – which didn't go unnoticed by his fiancée, but he'd dismissed her with a soft, "just nerves" and hadn't elaborated any further. His mind was still in a meld; how on earth was he supposed to think straight when his father was back in his life and connected to a case they were investigating?

Lanie perked up when they entered the morgue, staring at him a beat longer than she should've normally. Maybe Kate had texted her something regarding his behaviour, but he thought he was just being paranoid and watched as she and Lanie spoke about the victim. "At the time of his death, Ted had a coin in his right sock. Due to rigor mortis an impression remained, including these faint markings. You see that?"

Beckett moved closer instinctively, narrowing her eyes at the spot on his foot and he hovered back, not meaning to, but when it caught her attention, he shrivelled further, bouncing back to his old self in milliseconds. Fake until you make it, he supposed. He'd been good at it in his earlier days of writing.

"Hey, Castle. You with us?" His fiancée asked softly, worry etching her face. He couldn't help but feel guilty again, keeping this piece of information from her. It would be so easy, but then he'd be putting himself in an awkward position because how was he supposed to investigate a case where his father was the main suspect?

"Yeah. Yeah." He stepped closer to the body, looking at the indent on his foot. "Of course."

Beckett looked visibly worried, still, but she didn't ask him about it yet. He thanked her silently for that, not sure what he would say or how he would say it. He needed to follow this case through until the end, find the answers he desperately needed; not just for himself, but for his father.

"Uh, let me get this straight. So after Ted was shot, the killer took off the shoe and sock, took the coin, and put the shoe and sock back on?" Beckett straightened up from hovering over the body, confusion spreading her features.

"It must have been a valuable coin." He interjected, meeting Lanie's gaze.

"Actually, it wasn't. I did some enhancement and based on the coin's diameter and the markings, we've identified it as an Iranian rial. Worth less than a penny." Lanie enhanced the picture on the tablet in her hand until the picture of the rial sat beside the picture of the victim's foot. Castle was confused now, too; why did Ted have a coin worth less than a penny in his shoe and what did it have anything to do with the case they were currently working?"

"Wow, an Iranian rial, huh?" She raised an eyebrow slowly. Beckett, on the other hand, looked to her fiancé with wonderment, waiting for the crazy theory that was coming up. Instead, she saw him staring at the body blankly, as though he couldn't put two and two together. "Castle? No theories on international intrigue or covert espionage?"

Castle's head bounced back up, pulling an unimpressed face and then speaking, "we really don't have the information to speculate at this point."

He tried to ignore how much that threw Beckett for a loop and turned his attention back to the body. Why Ted Rollins? What did he have to do with his father and more importantly, what was so important that his father had to be affiliated with this case? None of it made sense at all.

Beckett couldn't ignore the feeling that Castle was, somehow, hiding something from her on this case. The same feeling of apprehension that had followed her from their meeting with Anderson Cross settled within her again as they moved from the morgue, Castle moving a little too fast for her today.

She grabbed his arm and tugged him back, watched the confusion settle on his features as he swung around to face her. She chewed on her lower lip and looked into his eyes, suddenly wishing that she could read his mind successfully. "Rick," she said softly, slowly. "What's going on?"

He bounced back from the confusion quickly, the smile on his face almost taking the edge of her apprehension and curiosity, but not quite. The smile was too forced, too thought out and she forced herself not to question or doubt him. The last time he'd acted like this, though, he'd gone off and met Jacinda and brought her to a crime scene to show her off, just to hurt Beckett. She couldn't help but flash back to that moment now, couldn't help but feel the apprehension toward her fiancé.

What would be hiding from her?

"Nothing," he beamed finally. "This case just has me rolling over all kinds of theories," his voice is strained more than she could remember it being earlier, but she doesn't push, instead she sighed and relented to his thoughts. If he had something to tell her, she would be the first to know – this much she was sure about. "Nothing's going on, Beckett, I promise." He told her and pressed a kiss against her temple.

Before she could argue, he was in front of her again, moving toward the elevator while she hovered back, worry filling her.

"Have you noticed anything going on with Rick?" She asked later, squeezed between two red heads in the kitchen. Both of them turned their head slowly, looking at her quietly. Castle had made some half assed excuse that he had a meeting with Black Pawn and wouldn't be home until later and told her to go enjoy the chicken that Alexis had prepared.

Alexis furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly analyzing everything about Beckett; she felt scrutinized. "Like what?" She asked curiously, almost simultaneously to the time that Martha piped up and asked the same question.

"It's nothing, really," she told them, lifting mashed potatoes into her mouth to keep her from blurting out everything that had gone over the past day. After a moment of chewing and then swallowing, she straightened her back. "I don't know what it is… we're doing this case now and I've never seen him so on edge. He's defensive and I feel like he's lying to me."

Alexis furrowed her eyebrows again, this time for an entirely different reason. "What case is it?"

"Some college kid found in his bathtub that has hacking abilities well beyond most people," Kate shrugged, keeping it short and simple. She wasn't necessarily allowed to share information like this; it was going against the code that she'd sworn into when she'd become a cop but there was more on the line than just the injustice of breaking a code. "Nothing that makes sense, really, he's been acting weird since we spoke to this suspect earlier."

Alexis studied Kate for another beat before she dropped her head and shrugged her shoulder. "No idea," she said with a laugh. "Maybe he's getting a hernia from holding back on his conspiracy theories."

"Speaking of Richard," Martha spoke softly. "Where is he?"

Beckett turned to her, shaking her head slowly. "He said he had a meeting with Black Pawn, but I know his schedule better than he does, I don't remember him saying he had a meeting until today."

Her red head counterparts both looked at each other and then Beckett before Martha sighed softly. "Richard's up to something," she said finally. "And that's almost never a good thing."

Jackson had thought about a moment like this for such a long time, although he'd thought the confession would've come from behind bars and certainly not because he willingly spoke of it. In his imagination, William Bracken had screwed up and taken him down with him, along with anybody else who had lived within the cross hairs of his life.

Richard came from behind him, sat in the booth with a force that shook the entire seat. He looked tired, drained and angry. For such a public place, he should've thought to allow them some privacy for this moment, but he knew that Richard wouldn't have anything to do with moving to a more private location. Not now, not when he had so much to answer for.

"Hi," his voice is a lot angry than before when they'd spoken on the phone, but he couldn't be bothered to point it out now. If anything, it would only encourage the temper tantrum that was brewing. "Glad to see you are finally answering my texts," he added a few moments later, still angry.

"I'm a busy man, Richard," Jackson replied coolly, taking a sip of his coffee. The lovely waitress had given him a piece of pie to accompany his treat this afternoon. He'd almost wanted to ask for another, but at that point, it would be stalling the inevitable. "You can't possibly believe that you'd drop everything on the planet to come and see me."

"I just did!" Richard rushed, too fast for him to understand and at the cock of an eyebrow; his son repeated what he just said. "I hate lying to Kate," He added, sighing softly. "She worked Alexis' case, you know, eventually she's going to put two and two together and know you were affiliated with that somehow. She won't know who you are, but that's where I come in."

The wry smile that crossed Richard's face wasn't something that he could easily ignore. Of course, his son was emotionally invested in this Kate and felt remorse for hiding behind her back and not confessing what had shaken him up so much from re-meeting his father once more. There had been no guarantee that involving his son in this would have any kind of positive output, but he'd taken his chance.

Maybe he'd have to stop taking those.

"What Katherine doesn't know, won't kill her." He said as he sipped, watching the rage fill within his son's eyes. Of course Richard would react irrationally and appear like he was going to punch him out for not being on his side with this, but his son had lived a far different life than he'd permitted himself to live. The mere few hours he'd spent with Martha were leisure and had left him with a burden he'd have to deal with now. "Or I suppose, it might kill you."

Richard wasn't as receiving to his joke. "Why am I here, Anderson?" He snarled, the anger delighting Jackson more than it angered him.

"Can't catch up with you without having an ulterior motive?" He was stalling now, unaware of where to start and how to make everything seem like it wasn't his problem exactly, just something he got himself mixed up in accidentally. There'd been regret filled within him over the past few days since meeting Katherine, regret that hadn't been there the first time he'd learned whom his son was planning to marry next.

With a sigh, Jackson finished his coffee and set the cup aside, leaning against the table on his elbows. Richard flinched, his back pressing uncomfortably against the seat of the booth and for a long moment, there was silence. Jackson took a deep breath.

"Son," he paused, staring Rick down. "There's something you have to know about me… things I've done that I'm not that proud of."

Intrigued, Richard pressed forward, undoubtedly running through the first time they'd met in his mind, everything he'd told him then. His son's writer mind had an attention for detail that even he didn't withhold; he couldn't naturally tell a single truth he'd told him that day. When it appeared as though Rick was going to argue with him, he pressed his palm against his shoulder slowly.

"No, Richard, you need to hear this," he told him, striking down the last bit of guilt that swelled within him. "16 years ago, I met a woman named Johanna Beckett," his son swelled at that name, eyes filled with confusion and wonder. "Fifteen years ago, son, I murdered her."

A/N: Here we go, folks.