AN: Only a short chapter today. I promised myself I wouldn't write whilst I was literally in a lecture, but it's only day two and I've already blown that one. My bad. If I don't manage to get an update up tomorrow there should be one the next day. Clearly I'm super committed to my studies and all that. Also, the lecture I wrote this is in? - Literary Criticism - on that note, please review!

Chapter Seven

Her tone as she spoke revealed as much as her words did, she sounded desperate, hungry and at the same time reassuring – a fierce promise that she would find him and bring him home.

For the first time in this bizarre nightmare he was blissfully happy. The madwomen, however, was evidently not. She growled, angry and possessive.

"She's not your family – I am!" Her eyes were slits as she spoke, her voice low and controlled. She was definitely not satisfied by these turn of events, Castle knew he would have to mask his abundant joy, and quickly.

"Er, family as in sister. She's like my sister…" He spoke softly, entreating her to believe him, all the while his mind screaming his objection – that she was the love of his life and he wouldn't deny it. He really didn't want to deny, but he also wanted – desperately – to get home to her as she'd pleaded and the likelihood of that increased only if he kept the madwoman holding him captive content. It broke him to deny the reality that Beckett's emotionally charged phone call wasn't the best thing he'd ever heard, and the words weren't absolute truth.

"What did she mean about remembering what you said when she was shot? It sounded significant…" Castle flicked his gaze to hers to find her brow furrowed in fierce anger. "There should be no secrets between us, honey. What was she on about?" That was a question in Castle's mind as well. Of course he understood literally what Beckett had meant, that she recalled his heartbroken plea as she had been shot to not leave him and that he loved her, but he wondered if it meant she'd never forgotten. That thought stung somewhat, the memory of her words from the hospital – maybe some things aren't worth remembering – running through his head. Bitterness clouded his conscious at the thought. Somehow, he knew with certainty running deep within him that if he weren't to make it home from this encounter, Beckett would never forgive herself for the wasted time and fake forgetfulness, and that was reason enough to not begrudge her for it. If she would regret not taking the plunge with him if she never had the chance, then he shouldn't regret the wasted time if they did get the chance. The chance to be with Beckett was worth a hell of a lot more than his bitterness over her secret. He wondered how she would react to his own secret of his continued investigation into her mother's murder. That could be the crux of whether or not they truly got their chance, and to be honest he still didn't know what to do. All he wanted to do was protect her and that seemed easier if she was in the dark. However, Beckett was not a woman to be grateful for considerate protection no matter the source. Something would have to be done about these secrets, but now was not the time. It was the time to calm the increasing spark of anger and jealousy that was evident on the face of the madwoman holding him captive. He drew his mind back to the conversation at hand, and the question that she had no right to ask – it belonged to him and Beckett. Nonetheless, he had to form a coherent response.

"When she got shot, I told her to be brave and hang on. It's just a little brother-sister thing between us. She's my friend. We just look out for each other is all, she must be worried." That was a half-truth mixed with a significant understatement. Plus, his relationship with Becket was nothing like siblings, there was far too much sexual innuendo for that to be remotely possible.

"I don't like it," she drew out slowly, her jaw clenched. "It's over, okay? You must promise me that you'll never see her again. There will be no communication between the two of you. Swear to it?" There was nothing under heaven or earth that could persuade Richard Castle to agree to that – unless of course in was in direct correlation with Beckett's life. Hence, he did the only thing he could think of, childish as it may be, he crossed his fingers tightly behind his back and uttered –

"I swear." She seemed satisfied with that.

X-X-X-X-X-X

Tracing Castle's phone proved futile. There were no outgoing calls since he'd left the precinct. The only ingoing ones had come from Beckett and Martha. They were all on edge and the sense of frustration was overwhelming.

"We're going to have to try create a timeline of exactly what he did after he left the precinct," Beckett muttered, mostly to herself. "So, what on earth did he do?"

"He was on foot, right?" Alexis' voice probed into her thinking out loud.

"Yeah, unless he hailed a cab. We should check that. Ryan, Espo, run the security footage from out the front of the precinct, we'll be able to see which was he headed, and hopefully it he was on foot."

"Well, I was thinking," Alexis added, "that we might be able to literally retrace his steps if he was walking back to the loft. I'm pretty sure I know the route he would take."

"That's pretty brilliant, Alexis," Beckett attempted a smile. "Guys?"

"Working on it boss," they answered in unison. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been cute, Castle would have ribbed them severely for it. Ryan had the footage up and was hastily scrawling to the appropriate time, once he reached it, he played it for them. Beckett's heart jumped to her throat as she watched Castle chuck a friendly goodbye over his shoulder to the officer stationed at the door. His pace was relaxed, a casual smile gracing his features. She missed that smile, it had been less than a day and she already missed his damn smile. It wasn't even the one he reserved for her; it was just the friendly one he threw to near-strangers. Not that she could identify his individual smiles or anything. She was a detective, it was just good observation skills, the training kicking into overdrive – it didn't mean anything. Except it did, it meant everything. She wasn't acquainted so intimately with anyone else's individual smiles almost as well as her own, just his.

"He hasn't hailed a cab, and he's walking off in the general direction of the loft. I think we can assume he walked, or at least started out walking, right?" Alexis stated, tacking a question on the end, just to make sure the detectives surrounding her agreed with her assumption.

"Looks that way," Beckett paused, mentally mapping their next move. "Alexis and I will head out, walk round a little, see if there's anything we can pick up on. Uh…" She glanced over at Alexis, not sure she wanted her to hear the next part. "…Ryan, Espo, can you look into Castle's financials? See if there's anything suspicious over the past few weeks that may have gotten him into strife." She turned back to Alexis. "Not that I suspect him of anything, just he's not exactly broke, people could try take advantage of that. Just see if you can find anything," she added to the boys. They nodded in agreement and acceptance of the reason Beckett had offered Alexis.

"I get it, you're just trying to do your jobs. I don't care. Do whatever. Do anything that helps figure out where the heck my Dad is. I'm glad he has you guys to fight for him," Alexis provided with a weak smile.

"We're glad we have him too," Beckett echoed softly, without fully realising what she'd said. Esposito cleared his throat and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"We'll get him back, Becks. We will," he added, his tone low, loaded with the emotion behind the words. Beckett gave a gentle nod of reluctant acceptance and squeezed the hand that Esposito had laid on her. With that, he gently withdrew his hand and nudged her towards Alexis. "Go. Detect."