Chapter 3

"Oh, Martha, I'm-" Kate stood before Castle's startled and confused mother, utterly mortified by the absurdity of own behavior. She hadn't thought this through. She hadn't thought at all, actually- not the usual Kate Beckett way. She barely recognized herself, the previous minutes playing back in her mind, the heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck and across her cheeks as she tried feverishly to brainstorm an easy way out. "I'm so sorry, Martha. I didn't mean to upset you. It's nothing, really." She took a step backward in retreat. "I'm just going to go."

"Katherine Beckett, you stop right there. Don't be ridiculous. It's clearly not nothing- of that, I've never been more certain." She reached out and wrapped a hand around Kate's wrist, tugged gently to encourage her inside. "Come on, come with me."

Absent the presence of mind needed to formulate an immediate and adequate objection, Kate submitted to the pull and followed Martha into the loft. It was quiet and dim inside, no obvious signs anyone else was around- namely Castle- and seemingly little chance Kate could feasibly hope to get out of this without bringing him up. After all, why else would she possibly be there?

A faint whistle invaded the initial moment of awkward silence between them, and Martha turned for the kitchen. "I was just making myself some hot tea. Always helps when I'm feeling under the weather. Magic potion, I say. Looks as though you could use a cup too, my dear. Come and sit."

Kate followed, stepped up to the breakfast bar and slid out a stool as Martha pulled two mugs from the cupboard. She glanced over her shoulder toward Castle's office, the lights off and his desk chair empty. "So, he's not here then, I guess." There was both melancholy and relief. She really hadn't thought this through.

Martha poured the boiled water into each mug and returned the kettle to the stove. "Well, naturally I assumed he was with you, dear." She moved around the counter and took a seat next to Kate. "You haven't seen him?"

The gold tag of Kate's tea bag dangled loosely against the side of her mug and she fidgeted with it, her nervous energy craving any possible outlet. "No, I haven't seen him since last night. He showed up at my crime scene, but then he left shortly after, didn't say a word to me- to any of us."

Kate's fingertips tightened around the tiny gold paper and it separated from its anchor of string. She pushed it aside, its usefulness now diminished. "I don't know, Martha." She shook her head, bewildered. "Is Castle okay? Lately, he's just seemed…distracted or bored or I'm not sure what, and it's been pretty obvious that he doesn't want to talk to me about it."

Martha knew plenty, none of which she could admit to without the possibility of hurting her son even more than he already was. "Look, Kate, my son-"

She didn't let Martha finish, her brain doing its very best to try and rationalize his behavior. "I'm probably just overreacting. Maybe the stress of trying to finish the book and Alexis' college stuff is just taking its toll." She sipped her steaming tea cautiously. I'm sure that's it slipped out in an inadvertent whisper, more for her own benefit than Martha's.

"Yes, perhaps you're right." She touched the back of Kate's hand in motherly fashion. "Richard has been quite on edge about Alexis and her forthcoming decision about school. I shudder to think what things will be like around here if she's more than a few miles away- let alone across an ocean. He loves that girl more than anything in this world." But Martha knew well how much he loved Kate too, how devastated he was to learn that she didn't love him in return, not in the way he so desperately wanted. "I'm very glad he has you, you know that?" She squeezed her fingers around Kate's hand. "You really have changed his life, Katherine."

Kate smiled lightly. "Thank you, Martha." How she wanted that to still be true. "He's changed mine too."

Seconds later came the unexpected interruption, the giggling and the commotion as the loft door suddenly flew open with a flourish. The high-pitched sound was definitively female and equally grating, their heads pivoting swiftly to survey the scene.

Castle stumbled through the doorway behind a petite blonde neither Martha nor Kate recognized, bumping clear into her and nearly knocking her over in the process. He steadied himself, his arm wrapped around her midsection and his face buried awkwardly in the hair across her ear.

"Well, hello, darling." Martha's tone was laced with disapproval.

He released the hold on his companion, clearly caught off guard by the unanticipated company. "Mother? I wasn't expecting- I thought you had class tonight." He took a few steps forward, noticed Kate sitting next to her at the counter, her expression flat. "Oh, and Detective Beckett, the NYPD must need my help solving a case, huh? Again. It seems the city can barely function without me." He looked back and winked at the blonde, pompous and adolescent and with unabashed intent to impress. And impressed she was, the mammoth grin of wonderment on her face evidence of it.

Martha interjected before her son could bury himself any deeper. "I wasn't feeling well, so I canceled my class for the evening." Kate hadn't taken her eyes off of him, off of them, and Martha was keenly aware of it. She knew exactly what he was doing, his defense mechanism in full and biting practice.

Kate stood and tucked her stool back under the counter, thanked Martha with a hug and a manufactured smile. She approached Castle with purpose, never again acknowledging the unknown woman standing next to him. "Castle, can we talk? Please?"

"I'm kind of busy right now, Beckett. I don't want to be rude to my guest."

The woman never looked up, her attention buried in her chirping cell phone. "I can just call a cab if it's important. It's fine, Ricky."

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm sure whatever it is isn't urgent enough for me to have to cancel my plans, right, Detective?"

"No, Castle, I guess it isn't that important- not anymore." Kate stepped around him and reached for the door, disappeared without his objection.

Martha caught his eye and he hers. She shook her head, slight but effective, and he looked away, felt everything unsaid as though she'd shouted it at him. Her cup of tea still sat on the counter next to Kate's, but she abandoned it and made her way to the stairs. "Suppose I'll leave you two alone then. I'll be in my room."

She stepped slowly upward and out of sight. Castle watched silently, remained still until he heard the bedroom door shut behind her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, did his best to purge the ache of seeing Kate there, without warning or time to prepare, and of letting her walk away. And with a grin of feigned well-being, he turned his attention back to the evening's distraction. "So, where were we?"

XXX

The light of morning trickled in through the loft's oversized windows, and Castle stood alone in his kitchen, the hiss and gurgle of the coffee machine at work behind him white noise in his ears. His body leaned heavily against the edge of the counter, its weight in near-full support of his own, and he rubbed repeatedly at his eyes, the stubborn haze that blanketed them seemingly impossible to shed.

"Is the coast clear?" Martha peeked around the loft's open space, exaggeratedly so, from her position on the staircase's landing. "I do hope you got her home in time for curfew, Richard. I'm in no mood to deal with calls from angry parents today."

"It's a bit early in the day for this, Mother, don't you think?" His fingers pressed and circled his temples. Thirty seconds of grief from her and his head was already starting to pound.

"Apologies, darling, I'll wait for you to have your coffee first." She shuffled across the floor and into the kitchen, clearing the two discarded cups of tea from the previous night off the counter as she passed. "Then I'll tell you all about what an ass you're being." With the dishes in the sink, she spun around to face him, stood a moment in front of her broken son. "You look how I felt last night."

"Yeah, well I haven't been sleeping much lately."

Martha's hand flew up in preemptive protest. "Please, spare me the details." The coffee machine let out a final purr and she pulled two mugs from the cupboard, handed them both to him to fill. "The faux-blonde is gone, yes?"

Castle leered at her as though the question were entirely ludicrous. "Yes, Mother, she left last night." Each word was punctuated with his growing irritation. "I do remember that I still have a daughter living in this house." He poured coffee for each of them, leaving behind a small puddle on the counter courtesy of his all-too-early fluster.

"Alexis is a big girl, Richard, and she can handle it, but I'm glad you're keeping her out of it anyway- whatever it is. Where did this one come from anyway?"

He turned and walked away, headed for his office, but Martha followed close behind, not at all accepting of his silence as the hint it was, that he didn't want to discuss it any further. When he pulled out his chair to sit, she was standing right there at the edge of his desk. "Please, Mother, would you just forget about it? Leave it alone."

Martha's expression alone assured him she wouldn't.

"Fine, I met her when I flew to Vegas last weekend."

Her eyebrows crept up her forehead as the pieces began to fall into place. "And would this be the friend who called you the other night? The one you left Beckett for?"

"I didn't leave Bec-"

She pointed her finger at him angrily. "You, Richard Alexander Rodgers, are playing with fire, and I hope that when your head clears, you haven't done anything you're truly going to regret. Katherine is the best damn thing to happen to your life, kiddo, aside from that angel of a daughter of yours, and you're both being so damn foolish."

Martha stormed off, left Castle to stew in the truth that was her accusation.

XXX

Kate paced around Burke's waiting room, impatience dripping from her like rain. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket nearly once a minute, her sense of time all but lost to the meld of day and night that was her current sleepless existence. She'd been up for more hours than her brain allowed her to keep count of, and she hated that even a small piece of her time had to be spent in this office right now- over this. She was also painfully aware of how much she needed to be there.

Four magazines later- none of them read, merely handled and dropped as she wandered aimlessly- Burke opened the door with a morning greeting that went unanswered. Kate barely acknowledged him at all as she walked swiftly past and into his sanctum, her exhaustion temporarily cloaked beneath a veil of resilience.

He sat, as he always did, while she continued her erratic path of steps, her mind and body unable to cease their motion. "So, I haven't seen you in a few weeks, Kate. Anything in particular going on that you'd like to talk about?"

"I felt so ready. And now-" Kate wasn't even facing him when the mumbled words came out.

He gave her a moment, an opportunity to elaborate, to complete her thought, but she offered nothing more. "Kate? Perhaps you'd like to sit for a minute and talk." It was quite clear to him that she was in some sort of distress. This wasn't the Kate Beckett he was accustomed to seeing.

She moved to the chair opposite his and sat, her settled position allowing him full view of her worn appearance. Her hair was pulled up loosely, the dark under her eyes both pronounced and worrisome. "Have you been sleeping all right, Kate?" He already knew the answer. It was written all over her.

"Not really, no." She sounded ashamed to admit it, tough Kate Beckett, her voice falling off as she spoke.

"Tell me why."

Kate liked Burke's way. She'd resisted it at first, both him and the process, when all she'd wanted to do in the wake of her shooting was to run and hide. The NYPD had forced her into therapy. If she ever wanted to return to duty, she had no choice, and a life for her without the 12th, without that strength behind her, meant little. So she'd shown up, hesitant and reserved, played their game as they'd required of her. And slowly, very slowly, Burke's patience and his veracity began to draw her out, the person she'd kept locked away. And though it terrified her, she felt safe with him.

"Because I can't stop thinking about why he's being like this. Because I don't understand what's happened or why." Her knuckles were white, her hands clasped fixedly in her lap.

"You're speaking about Mr. Castle, I assume? You two aren't getting along at the moment?"

"No, it's more than that. He's been different toward me, and I don't know what I did wrong. And I just keep playing everything back in my mind, waiting for something to make sense, but it never does."

"Have you confronted him about it?"

Kate sat forward in the chair, blanketed her hands over her knees. "That's part of the problem. He won't let me talk to him about it. I keep asking for his time, but he always has some excuse- when he even shows up at all."

"What do you mean?"

"He just left us at a crime scene two nights ago without saying a word, and now he's-" Her eyes began to fill with tears, and she fought earnestly but futilely against them, using her sleeve to catch those that managed to escape. "Castle's gone and he only told Captain Gates he was leaving. He quit the precinct. And me. And I just want him to tell me why. I feel like after everything we've been through, he owes me that much."

Kate eyed him, waited for affirmation that what she sought was valid, but instead, his response landed like a kick to the gut.

"You just left once too, Kate, after the shooting. You had your reasons for doing it. You said it was what you needed to do for yourself at the time, and that wasn't wrong. Everyone needs space sometimes, Kate. And as hard as it may be for you to accept, perhaps that's what Mr. Castle is telling you now, through his actions. You can't make him do anything, any more than he could you."

It stung, his reasonableness, and she wanted to push back against it, but part of her knew he was right.

"You need to take care of yourself, Kate. You're no good to anyone like this, least of all yourself. Give this time. Whatever it is."

On her way in to the precinct, she thought about what Burke said. She thought about the amount of time she'd spent away from Castle the previous summer, time she'd needed, and how she'd imagined what he must've been feeling given that she hadn't said a thing to him before she'd left.

Now she knew.

XXX

Ryan and Espo were standing in front of the Murder Board with a third man when Kate arrived. The man wasn't anyone she recognized, but, to her, he definitely carried the look of a cop. She hung her jacket over the back of her chair and dropped her phone on her desk, approached the group who appeared to be studying the lineup of security video stills from the motel parking lot on the night of the murder. "What's up, guys? Something new come in?"

"Hey, Beckett," Ryan jumped in, "this is Jack Cooper from Vice. We worked together a few times when I was in Narcotics. Jack, this is Kate Beckett."

Cooper pivoted slowly and reached out a hand to shake hers, the look on his face a clear indication of his surprise at just how attractive she was. "Wow, well, it's nice to meet you, Beckett. You know, I've heard about you, but they sure didn't do you justice." Evidently he had no idea what boundaries were, certainly not in the workplace, certainly not with Beckett. "Say, where's that writer shadow of yours? I'd love to get my mom an autograph." He chuckled, the only one of the four to do so, and shrugged his shoulders when no one else joined in. "No fun here in Homicide, I see."

He instantly rubbed her the wrong way, but she reciprocated the handshake out of professional courtesy and then proceeded to wipe her palm against her jeans. "How can we help you, Cooper?" She cut right to it, hoped it was something she could dispense with quickly and then send him on his way.

"Actually, I'm the one providing the help today, Beckett."

He looked her up and down and Espo caught the entire tasteless trip. "Yo, just get to it, okay? Cooper, here, thinks he may recognize our vic and possibly one of the two guys from the parking lot video."

Ryan already felt apologetic. "Yeah, it was a long shot, but I thought since we're looking into the club world, Jack might've seen them before, or at least know of some people we can talk to."

"And I'm so very glad you reached out, Ryan." He was still ogling Kate like Ryan and Espo weren't even there. "Now, let's get the business out of the way. We had a case about a year ago, involved some club owners and an alleged narcotics ring- Liquid X, Meth, Special K, etc. We had teams on the inside; hell, we were in the car every damn night watching these clubs, so we have photos, and a lot of them. When Ryan brought me your stuff, I was sure I recognized your Jane Doe and this guy right here." He tapped one of the photos on display in front of them.

Kate's brow furrowed with doubt. "That photo is grainy as hell. You can barely see any faces at all. Are you sure?"

"I've been doing this a long time, Detective- probably longer than you. And I'm doing you a favor here. Do you want the info or not?"

"Give it to Ryan. I need to make some calls." She walked away, left Ryan to get whatever details Cooper thought he had.

"You're welcome!" Cooper yelled conceitedly after her, loud enough for anyone on the same city block to hear.

Kate didn't utter another word, merely mouthed the word dick and kept moving.

XXX

Kate was finally able to reach two of the three club owners she'd left word for the previous day, one of whom preferred to talk in person rather than by phone. He'd reviewed the photo she'd sent of the vic, but he wouldn't say anything more about it unless it was face to face. She left Ryan with Cooper and took Espo with her to the club, not wanting to show up alone to something that could end up being a bad situation.

The club didn't officially open until 11 P.M., but someone from the owner's security team was there to meet them when they arrived. He didn't say two words to either of them, simply directed them to the front door and followed them through, activating a myriad of locks once they were all inside. Espo couldn't help but stop and look back over his shoulder, the shower of sound unsettling enough to draw his already heightened attention.

Kate was already several steps ahead, as she moved across the dimly lit room toward the outline of a figure seated on a stool at the bar, her forearm brushing across the bulge of the weapon beneath the jacket at her waist. The man stood as she neared, took two steps forward into a break in the shadows, and waited, Espo back in line just off her shoulder.

"Mr. Vincent?"

"Detective Beckett, thank you for coming all the way down here. Please, call me Jimmy. Sorry about the hassle, I don't much like conducting business over the phone- especially potentially sensitive business, like this."

"It's no problem, really. This is Detective Esposito. We're working this case together."

Espo held an oversized envelope in his hand, copies of the still photos they'd brought with them for Jimmy to look over in person. The muscular and stony-eyed bodyguard hovered close-by, his presence oddly discomforting given his current position of employ, and Jimmy looked to him often for what one had to assume was reassurance. It was quite obvious that Jimmy wasn't comfortable around those he didn't know- or perhaps, just around cops.

"So, what can you tell us, Mr. Vincent- Jimmy? Did you recognize our victim from the photos I sent? We-" She reached for the envelope and took it from Espo. "We brought copies if you'd like to take a few moments."

He didn't respond immediately, looking first to his companion and then to the offering in Kate's hand. "Let's sit, detectives."

XXX

"Espo, when we get back to the precinct, you and Ryan dig up whatever you can on Jimmy's brother, Micky: prior arrests, outstanding warrants, anything, and run the addresses and phone numbers he gave us and see if any of them are still active. I need to locate Talia Thorne's next of kin and tell them what's happened."

He exhaled sharply. "You'll never hear me complain about the grunt work as long as you have that job. Don't know how you do it, boss."

"Sometimes, I wonder."

The remainder of the trip back in was quiet, more Kate's choice than Espo's, her mind preparing itself for the somber task ahead. It never did get easier, no matter how many times she'd spoken to a family, remembering her own in the process. But the understanding was her gift to give, spoken or not, and if there was any amount of comfort to be found in the awful responsibility, it was in that.

It took Kate hours that afternoon- the surname, Thorne, a common one in and around the Chicago area, apparently, where Jimmy had told them he believed Talia was from- to locate any information about her family. Absent a date of birth, absent any of her personal belongings, the search proved difficult. Jimmy had indicated that Talia was a friend- though he suspected more- of his brother Micky's, also the club's co-owner, who'd incidentally left town a couple of weeks prior and hadn't been heard from since. Jimmy's relationship with his brother was strained, to say the very least (his words), Micky's business practices and lifestyle away from the club the source of the rift. But, their father had left them the club when he passed, the two of them, and neither brother was willing to let his share go, so they were forced to deal with each other, no matter what happened.

Kate began her calls with local Chicago hospitals, finally got a hit with the 23rd, and, after providing her NYPD credentials to them, they were able to send along Talia's birth records. She searched the databases for her parents, discovered they'd perished in a car accident in 2004, leaving Talia and her two years older sister, Taryn, without any other immediate family. Both had come to New York a short time after their parents' deaths, she learned, as Taryn was arrested twice that year by the NYPD for marijuana possession, and both girls were listed at the same address in Brooklyn.

Kate's eyes grew heavier as the hours ticked by, her computer screen and its endless strings of data responsible for the soft throb that'd begun behind her left temple. It'd been a day- a long, tiring, but ultimately victorious day that'd left her with her vic's ID, a door to her vic's next of kin, and at least one person of interest for her to track down. Given how the day began, she'd take that.

As Kate pressed on to try and put pieces of the Talia Thorne puzzle together, Gates approached, stopped with her hands gripped around the back of Castle's empty chair. Kate hadn't seen her coming, her blurred focus elsewhere, but Gates waited and watched. "Go home, Detective." It wasn't stern, but protective. "You look like a zombie, for crying out loud. You're no good to me like this."

Kate's head snapped to attention, the paper she held dropping from her fingers to the floor at the surprise of her captain's unexpected voice. "Sir, I'm-" She looked down for a split second, noticed where Gates' hands had come to rest and immediately felt more flustered. "I'm fine. I may have an address on Talia Thorne's sister here in Brooklyn, so-"

"Have you spoken with him?" It was as though she hadn't heard a word Kate just said. The case, there was news about the case.

"Sir?"

Gates tapped the back of the chair. "Mr. Castle- have you spoken with him about his leaving the precinct?" She stepped around and sat, something she'd never done before, not in all these months. "I assumed that's where you went when you ran out of here yesterday."

Kate could feel the knot building inside. "No, I tried but, no."

"Take it from someone who knows, Detective Beckett; good partners are very hard to come by and they're most certainly worth fighting for." She leaned over and pulled the loose piece of paper from the floor, handed it back to Kate with an encouraging nod. "Nice work today. Now, get out of here. That's an order."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Kate stepped onto the elevator and grabbed her phone from her pocket, but she couldn't do it, couldn't dial Castle's number, couldn't listen to the silence of him saying nothing again. Not right now. Her day had finally just taken a turn.