A/N: My first attempt at a Castle fic! It's a story about the father-daughter bond, but it's meant to be a love story of sorts too. Will be three chapters long. Feedback is always welcome.

Usual fanfic disclaimers apply. These characters don't belong to me.

And lastly, huge thanks to my fanfic partners-in-crime, Kel and Annie, for your enthusiasm and for keeping my grammar in check.

Allegra (/əˈlɛɡrə/; Italian: [alˈlɛːɡra]) is a female given name of Italian origin meaning joy (happy) or lively.

Ten

She turned ten last week.

My baby girl's been on this planet for over a decade and it seems like I changed her diapers only yesterday.

I'm sitting on a fat log that's lying on the side of a forest trail and watch her long arms make their way across the monkey bars, one by one, in quick succession. She's so fast.

Watching my daughter fly across the bars makes me cringe. I'm pretty sure it's hazardous for my cardiac health. So I watch her with one eye open and for a instant I wish I believed in a god of sorts, so I could shoot him (or her) a quick prayer to end this day without any broken bones for my kid.

We're at a forested area about an hour north of Manhattan. A park with a giant, outdoor obstacle course. There are old tires strung together, climbing walls, rope swings, and a host of other crazy contraptions you couldn't pay me to go on. But this is what she wanted for her birthday and because she has me wrapped around her little finger, I caved. Thankfully all those parenting books that scoff at indulging your kid's whims and lecture you that you'll end up with a spoiled and entitled brat, are dead wrong. Because, like her older sister Alexis, she's neither.

"Slow down, Allegra!" I yell, cupping my hands over the sides of my mouth in the hopes that she can hear me better. But hearing and listening are two different things. So she ignores me. I'd love to say she got that from her mother, but I think this particular trait is all me.

If Kate were here right now, she'd probably laugh and call it karma. Payback for the all the times I didn't listen to her. Not that she really believed karma or any of that stuff.

Allegra leaps off the monkey bars, hits the ground running and trips over a root and nearly falls, one hand touching the ground, before stumbling back up ungracefully in order to tackle the climbing wall.

Her clumsiness makes me chuckle a little. It brings back memories.

A couple of years ago she went through her first major growth spurt.

Suddenly she was all legs and arms, long gangly limbs that she didn't know what to do with. She still isn't happy about it because all she sees when she looks into the mirror is a skinny girl who's taller than most of the boys in her class and one whose pre-teen face hasn't quite grown into her dramatic features yet. The wide-set eyes, full lips and high cheek bones that are all Kate Beckett. (Lucky kid, I'd say. Rugged handsomeness probably wouldn't have fared as well on her face).

Anyway, during her growth spurt she'd trip over her own feet sometimes climbing the stairs at our loft. And the first time I took her skating in Central Park she ended up face down on the ice, spread-eagle. Part of me still regrets not taking a photo when I had the chance and keeping it to blackmail her for when she turns into a moody, rebellious teenager. Instead, I panicked. I jumped on the ice, collided with no less than two skaters and cursed them both before scooping her up in my arms.

I told her we could call it quits after that (and I really hoped she'd say yes) but she's stubborn, so damn stubborn, and for that one I'm totally going to blame her mother, who was the most wilful and stubborn (and infuriating and amazing) woman I'd ever known.

Allegra got back on the ice and kept trying until she could finally do a few laps without landing on her stomach. It was a process that took a couple of hours. We were both freezing at the end of it.

That night, I made her an extra large cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows and shaved chocolate on top. She deserved it.

But anyhow, back to the present.

She doesn't make it up the climbing wall on her first try. Or the second. It's the third one that gets her to the top and when she does get there and flings one of her long legs over the top, her fingers don't get a firm hold of the ledge. She slips.

In a split second, Allegra loses her balance and falls down the other side with a thud.

I jump off the log I'm sitting with a speed I didn't think I still had. Or ever had.

My heart's in my throat when I get to the other side of the climbing wall where my daughter's lying on the ground, her arms and face covered with mud as she makes a clumsy effort to push herself back up. I kneel down next to her, totally oblivious of the mud and dirt that's getting all over me too and carefully help her back up, steadying her. I don't even notice that my hands are shaking until I see her face light up in a lopsided grin.

"You better not have filmed that, Dad."

"Are you okay?" I ask, because seriously, who can fall off that thing headfirst and be okay?

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

She wipes the mud off her pants with her hands and when she rolls back a sleeve I notice that one of her elbows is bleeding. "I can't believe I finally got over that wall. How cool is that?"

"Cool isn't what I was thinking."

"Did you see how high it is?" she asks me incredulously. How can I possibly not be impressed is what she's implying.

"Yeah...yeah, I did."

"I didn't think I could do it," she points out, jutting out her muddied chin in a defensive little gesture of pride.

I didn't doubt it for a moment.

"You're amazing," I tell her, because it's true. And because she's so damn pleased with herself, I don't ruin it. I bite my tongue and don't add that I also think she's crazy and reckless. (Just like her mother)

She uses the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe some mud off her face and turns to keep going, her blue eyes already set on the next prize. The rope swings that dangle over a small pool of water.

"Whoa...not so fast." I manage to grab her sweatshirt just before she gets away.

"Dad...what are you doing? I'm only halfway done!"

"Not before I clean your elbow," I point to the blood that's now starting to smear all over her skinny arm.

"Ah come on, Dad," she whines and tries to weasel out of my hold. She doesn't succeed. "It doesn't even hurt."

"I don't care." Sometimes even I manage to stand firm where my daughters are concerned. Especially when there's blood dripping from their limbs. "I brought a first aid kit and we're gonna use it to patch that up."

She protests some more but eventually follows me back to the log where we left both our back packs. Mine is full of all sorts of outdoor equipment that I won't need for this trip. There's a Swiss army knife that's got a spoon inside it and a compass that I barely know how to use.

But I am glad I brought the First Aid kit.

Given how plucky she is, I'm sure Allegra's a world record holder when it comes to cuts and bruises and scrapes. Over the years I've gotten really good at fixing them up. I'm sure I could do it blindfolded and in record time.

I make her sit down on the log and whip the First Aid kit out my backpack, grab some cleaning wipes, antiseptic ointment and a bunch of band-aids.

"Ouch!" She pulls back her arm when I clean it. Guess she's capable of feeling pain now that there's no wall to scale in front of her. She glares at me. "Dad! Don't press so hard."

"Hold still," I admonish her. She does, just long enough for me to get the job done. My thumb smoothes out the band-aid and I'm pleased with my handiwork.

Allegra looks at it sceptically before mumbling a reluctant 'thanks'.

"Why don't we take a break?" I suggest. We've been here almost two hours, my daughter already looks like she trekked through a jungle. Plus, I'm kind of hungry. Mind you, I'm always hungry. "Let's have lunch."

"Okay," she agrees with surprising ease. She's like her mother when it comes to food. She sees it as a necessary pit stop. Fuel for all the energy she's burning every minute of the day. Sometimes I literally have to pin her down and force her to slow down and eat. Unlike her older sister, Alexis, who enjoys the awesomeness of hot fudge sundae as much as I do.

Allegra grabs her own backpack and hoists it onto her lap. She opens it to take out the sandwiches, fruits and granola bars I gave her this morning.

When she opens her bag something familiar catches my eye.

"Hey...what's that?" I point to the item in question, partly hidden inside her bag.

Her blue eyes look up at me and she flutters her long lashes, hesitating instead of answering my question. It's as though she's debating whether to answer with the truth or a lie, before deciding on the truth.

"It's the Nikki Heat comic book."

That's what I thought it was even though I didn't want to believe my eyes! The thought of her looking at...those scenes. In vivid colour illustration. It makes me a little nauseous.

I grab the graphic novel and yank it out of her bag.

"Where'd you get this?"

She hesitates again, then looks at me with a certain defiance and spits it out. "It was a gift. I asked for it, for my birthday...because the guy at the comic book store wouldn't sell it to me."

"That's because it's not a comic book!" I point out angrily. "It's a graphic novel for adults!"

I don't want to think about who got it for her, but I've got an idea. I'm willing to bet money on Espo. He's even worse than me. Javi can never say no to her. I am so calling him tonight and giving him a piece of my mind.

What the hell was he thinking?

I fume a bit then realize, I won't. Call him that is. Even though I'm so sure it was him.

But I owe him way too much to get worked up over a book.

In fact, I dedicated my last Nikki Heat book to him. Well, not just Esposito, but my entire 12th precinct family. Him and Kevin and Jenny, and Lanie, especially Lanie. Aunt Lanie who patiently brings out the girl that's hidden underneath my tomboy with the muddy knees. She takes Allegra out for brunch once a month, choosing a different fancy Manhattan hotel every time (without even letting me pay for it and not before coming over to do my daughter's hair and nails) She also calls her almost every day for no other reason than to check up on her and say hi.

Espo's the one who takes my daughter to see the Yankees in the summer and the Islanders in the winter. He's taught Allegra enough Spanish so she can now chat with Maria in her native tongue when she comes by to clean the loft once a week. He also has the patience of Job when she randomly bombards him with endless questions about her mother's early days as a cop.

Ryan and Jenny are the ones who look after her when I go on a book tour once a year. I often leave her with the two of them and their kids for days at a time. Their oldest daughter is a few years older than Allegra, their second, a son, is nearly the same age and their youngest, another girl, is a few years younger. Their kids are my daughter's best friends and sometimes I have a hard time getting her to come back home after her stays with the Ryans. That's how much she loves it there. We even spent last Christmas at their house.

I always thought of them as my friends back when I was still helping out at the precinct, but in reality, all of them were Beckett's friends first. I became a part of their circle only through my partnership with her. Friends by association. Because of it, I never imagined they'd be so fiercely loyal to me and my daughter long after Kate left us. I never thought they'd become my own family.

Allegra never met her grandmothers and barely got to know her mother. But, between myself, a big sister that showers her with a love every single day and a whole team of friends from the 12th Precinct that adore her, Allegra is definitely not alone.

I'll never be able to thank the boys and Lanie enough for that. For giving my daughter a family.

"I don't care about the sex stuff," Allegra tells me, swiftly whipping my thoughts back to the present. To the book I have in my lap.

So she's already seen them and she acts like it's no big deal. My little girl. Looking at sex scenes that were basically the result of me fantasizing about her mother. Long before it all became real. This is seriously awkward. It's making me uneasy and I'm not sure how to deal with it.

"I only wanted it because of the pictures, Dad," she explains, taking out a sandwich from a freezer bag.

"This..." I'm holding up the novel in my hand. "This is not cool, Allegra. You do know there's a reason I wouldn't let you get this book, right?"

"Sorry," she mumbles. No longer looking at me. She first stares down at her sandwich and then takes a tiny bite, her rueful face looking like she's lost her appetite. Suddenly I'm the one who feels bad. She doesn't mind defying me, but she hates to disappoint me and I've made her think she did.

"Hey..." My anger fades and one of my hands reaches over to her chin, lifting it up. "Tell me something, why do you want to see the pictures?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"I think you do."

She frowns. Hating that I know her so well.

"Sometimes when you read me parts of the books, I can't picture it...I can't picture Mom as Nikki."

"How come?"

"I dunno..." My daughter's serious now. Trying to find a way to explain. "Nikki's so...she's so badass. So strong and so beautiful."

Badass?

"You can't picture your Mom being those things?" I question her in disbelief. "You've seen photos of her, right?"

"Mom was pretty too," she acknowledges.

"She was so much more than that, sweetheart," I try to explain. But it's hard. How do you put into words all the million little things that made Kate Beckett extraordinary? It's not possible. Even for someone who's very good with words.

But I have to try. Have to make her realize it's her mother who's the hero in our story. Not Nikki Heat.

I put down my sandwich and open the graphic novel. There are three of them currently in print and I wasn't sure which one this was just from looking at the cover.

Ah...the locked basement room and the tiger. Nikki and Rook waking up disoriented and handcuffed to each other.

"Pretty sure Mom never escaped from a tiger," says my daughter, with a certain smugness that reminds me of someone else I once knew. The little sneak already read the whole thing.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll have you know, this one is based one a real case that your mother and I worked on. All of it is true, including the tiger." Okay, maybe not the sex at the end part. Or the motorcycle.

"No way. You're lying, Dad."

"Scouts honour," I tell her, and I make the sign with my fingers, linking my thumb and pinky finger while holding up the rest. It's a sacred thing with me and Allegra. We need it because sometimes I do mess with her for the heck of it. Because it thrills me to see her clever mind trying to figure out the truth from the fibs. She's only ten, but she does it to me too.

But making the sign lets us both know we're dead serious. No messing around when we use the sign.

"Really?"

"Really." She moves a little closer, squishing her skinny body next to mine when I start flipping through the pages. I start reading her parts of it because I know how much she loves it when I read to her. She tells me I'm the best storyteller in the world (She doesn't know it but that's probably the best compliment you could ever give a writer) and same as when I read her parts of the actual books, I skip through anything that I don't think she's old enough for. We've had the talk a long while ago and of course she knows about sex and babies. She probably knows a lot more than that at this point, but I don't need my mind going there right now.

"This part is different from what happened to me and your Mom," I explain. "Rook's the one who gets out of the room first here. Then he helps Nikki out by reaching for her."

"So what really happened?"

"Your Mom got off the box before me. I helped lift her up, 'cause it was her idea to climb out. She wasn't very good at waiting for me to rescue her."

Allegra smiles and takes a bigger bite of her sandwich. "So why did you change it in the novel?"

"My publisher told me I had to let Rook be the hero every now and then. I should've told her to stuff it but I guess at the time my ego was okay with that."

"So you're saying Mom was even more badass than Nikki?"

"Heck, yeah," I'm the one who looks at her incredulously now. "Way more. A zillion times more badass."

Allegra blushes. Pride. That's what I see on her face now.

Mission accomplished.

"Did you guys ride off on her bike afterwards too? After you caught the guys that were stealing the tigers?'

For a second I debate saying yes. But then I remember that I made the sign. Scout's honour. "Nah...I put that in the novel only because I thought it'd be cool. For her to put on her leather jacket and for them to ride off into the sunset together."

"I love that motorcycle," Allegra sighs, running her index finger over the picture of the red bike.

Of course you do.

"So Mom didn't ride a bike?"

"I didn't say that," I tell her. "She had her motorcycle license and the same leather jacket that Nikki has in the books."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," I tell her. "I mean, by the time we were together, she didn't own a bike anymore, but every now and then she'd take Uncle Espo's Suzuki out for a spin, thinking I didn't know. Until we moved in together and he'd forward some of his speeding tickets to us in the mail."

Allegra grins. A giant, conspiratorial grin full of life and joy. Knowing now that she shares something else with her mother. Something new. A love of speed and bikes and... the ability to give me heart palpitations.

"Do you think I'm like her?"

You have no idea.

"Yeah..." I answer, the word getting caught in my throat. "I do."

"Okay." Judging from her little nod, I think she's alright with that and that makes me proud.

I close the novel and we finish our sandwiches without another word, watching two teenage boys try (and fail) to climb the wall she just scaled.

When she's done eating, Allegra loosens the pony tail holding back her thick, dark brown hair and then puts it back up, ready to conquer the next obstacle. Needing her unruly hair out of the way in order to do it.

"Are you gonna make me give the book back?" she asks, standing up.

She wanted it because she needed to see her mother come to life. As if I'd ever have the heart to take that from her.

"No," I tell her truthfully. "You can keep it. But I might rip out a couple of pages."

Allegra rolls her eyes, exactly the same way someone else I once loved used to do.

Then she bends down and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Dad."

With those two words, Allegra runs off, her long legs catapulting her towards the rope swings, completely unaware that she holds my heart in her hands with every fearless step she takes.