Kate, her apartment. 14 hours after start of case.

I turned the coin in my hand. The Air Force symbol on it gleamed in the light of my lamp. I turned it over to the other side. The Lone Star Summer Leadership School symbol, Texas colored like it's flag with AFJROTC written on the white part.

I don't know why I had been looking through Jon's stuff. My metal footlocker labeled Jon Trevoodur had survived the blast from my apartment. The book he gave me, a copy of Storm Rising, after Mom died was in there. If not for Jon's advice, I never would have discovered Castle's books. I never would have gotten over Mom's death as well as I have. If only Jon had read Castle's books. Then maybe he would have dealt as well as I have.

I gently placed the brass coin back into the footlocker. I drew out a medal. The Medal. Sam and Maggs had insisted that I have it. Maggs had kept his uniforms, BDU's to PT, in pristine shape. She kept all his gear. Little Jenny was learning all about her father's sacrifice. Sam got his gun and his knife, things he had kept with him at all times. The doctor said it was a symptom of his PTSD, that he never felt safe unless he was armed. To this day, Sam refused the standard Glock of the Baltimore PD for his brother's M92F.

For some reason, they felt me family enough to give me his medals. He sure had a lot of them. Six Silver Stars, Legion of Merit, four Bronze Stars, and more Purple Hearts than I wanted to count. And the big one. Or two. Two Medals of Honor, both awarded Posthumously. He had died the decorated Marine he was. But I chose not remember him as the Marine he was when he died. I liked to remember him as the carefree boy before his own parents died. The responsible man that grew out of that boy was nice as well. The broken and shell-shocked warrior he was after Afghanistan was not someone I would recognize him as.

I heard a knock on the door, "It's open," I shouted. The door opened a familiar voice asked, "Kate?"

"What do you want, Castle?" I asked. I wasn't in the mood for a 12 year old. And then I smelled something. Tomatoes?

"I brought you some lasagna," he said. I looked at him and saw he was holding a tupperware container. It was a little sweet.

"Thanks," I said, "But I already ate," big lie.

"Big lie," he stated, "I know you aren't used to leaving at a sensible hour, and we got no leads on the case, so I know you would need some comfort. You like your status quo even if it kills you."

"Thanks Castle," I didn't mean to sound so sarcastic, "You didn't need to bring food though. I could have ordered take-out."

"Oh-no," he warned, "You aren't going to ruin that sexy body of yours just to get a quick meal. That's what you have me for."

"Why do you care?" I asked.

"Maybe I like looking at a fine piece of art everyday," he replied. Then he shrugged, "Your my friend. And I know you have very unhealthy habits. I know you won't break those habits anytime soon, so I try to help when I can." he went over to the kitchen in my small studio apartment and started preheating the oven.

His eyes caught sight of Jon's medals, "Either you are a Numisma, some one who collects medals, or you know a few brave guys."

"One Marine," I corrected, "And he's dead."

"Same guy who was buried June 5, 2005? Sergeant Major Jon Trevodur, First Marine Force Recon Battalion, 4th Regiment, 2nd Company, A Platoon, 2nd Squad? Awarded the Medal of Honor twice for two separate actions that occurred within thirty six hours of each other?"

"Wow Castle, I'm impressed," I admitted, "When you research something, you don't forget it." I sat down on my couch, "But Castle,"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor."

"What is it?"

I stared at him deep in the eye, "Jon's dead. Let him stay that way."

He nodded, "One question though. It is kind of private though."

I sighed, "Of course it is. Shoot."

He stared at me a long time before answering, "How close were you?"

I gulped. I didn't really know how to answer this one. I thought about it.

"Let me tell you a story:

"It was two weeks after my mother died. I was a wreck. I didn't have any direction. Jon was on mandatory leave after a classified assignment. Mandatory was the only leave he ever took. He didn't spend time with his brother or sister. He found a hole somewhere and hid there. I heard he was in New York and tracked him to the old boxing gym. I found him hitting a punching bag.

"He hit the bag hard and fast. I saw why he was known as the CQB Master by his fellow Marines. He noticed me the second I walked in. I... cried in his arms. He wasn't the slightest bit prepared for that. He wouldn't have responded well even before he went to Afghanistan. He was broken, Castle. Whatever happened over there, on his first deployment, it broke him. But he still made an effort to comfort me. He gave me a book. Storm Rising.

"He had been planning on reading it before he shipped out the first time. After he got out, however, he never even opened a fiction novel. He immersed himself in science and history. By the time he died, he had a Medical Degree and a PhD in Chemistry. It was the last time I saw him.

"Before he left however, he told me something. He told me 'No matter what, there is always some one to be strong for.' and I try to be strong. For the victims families. For Dad. But he also told me that I shouldn't let her death ruin my life. It should motivate it. He joined the Corps because his parents died when he was fifteen. He didn't even have his permit. His brother took care of him. He supported his brother and sister. He worked all through the year so Sam could go to college and get a degree and make something of himself. When he joined, every dime went to his brother and sister. It worked to. Both Sam and Maggs both have Masters in Crimonology. Sam works at Baltimore Pd as a homicide detective. Maggs at the Marshals on the Fugitive Task Force. Maggs also raises the daughter Jon never knew he had."

That was way more than I planned on telling him. But he listened. No smart alack remarks. No jibes, comments or inquiries. I looked at him funny, "What no comments?"

"No," he replied, "I can understand coming home broken. I would never insult the memory of a man who had given his life in the service of others."