This chapter may seem irrelevant, but be patient. It holds a very important plot twist.

Trev

Sometimes, my job sucks. Like now.

WHAT DID SHE MEAN "DAUGHTER I NEVER KNEW I HAD"?!

Okay, calm down. Kate said that she is being raised by Maggs. That means Albuquerque. A single phone call could solve this. I thought about who to call. Being dead, calling my sister wasn't really a option. And all those who did know, I really didn't want them anywhere near my daughter. I think I truly understand why Booth doesn't want me near Parker.

I finally picked an number of a women I could trust for something like this.

"Hello?" a groggy female voice answered.

"Jules, it's Trev."

"What do you want, psychopath?" she said in a harsh tone. The Linguistics and Technology expert on the extreme counter-terror GHOST team, Petty Officer 3rd Julia "Jules" Whitmore didn't like me. Nor did anyone on the team.

"I'm calling in that favor you owe me," I answered

"I'll get Stikes," she said.

"No!" I did not want the leader of Ghost Team 2 and my former squad leader, then-Gunny now-Captain Steven Stikes, "I just need you for this."

"I am not helping you kill someone!"

"Don't worry, no one will die," I assured her, "I just need you to covertly check up on someone, that's all."

"Who?"

"My sister, Margret Trevodur."

"You have a sister?"

"I wasn't hatched," i commented.

"I know, we just thought you were a foster kid."

"Stikes knows me better than that," I said.

"And you know how he is with other's past," she replied, "Why do you need me check up on your sister?"

"I learned from a very reliable source that she is raising my child," I answered.

Their was silence for a few minutes on the phone. Finally, she said "Give me six hours."

"Thanks, Jules."

Longest six hours of my life,

My PDA beeped. I quickly pulled up the email. The photos I saw where taken at a distance, but I didn't care. The smiling faces of a women and a little girl appeared.

The women had a kind of earthy beauty. She was tanned and her short brown hair was sun drenched, giving it a slight shine. Her bright green eyes shone in a still-shot of happiness. Her perfect white teeth were revealed in her smile.

But it was the little girl, not my sister, who drew my attention. She to had sun drenched brown hair. Her green eyes shone like Maggs'. But she was different. She had a small button nose, and a smile that seemed to outshine the sun. she hugged her aunt fiercely. Her heart shaped face shone with happiness found only in early childhood.

The two looked just like mother and daughter. But I knew her real mother. Alyssa Stenson. She and I didn't really know each-other. We had a few classes together and that was it. We didn't talk or know each-other at all. The only way she could have been conceived was Deck's grad party. Let this be a lesson to all those kids out there: Underage drinking is a bitch.

I couldn't really blame Alyssa for keeping my daughter away from me. I was shipped out a week later and when I came back I was a mess. I guess news of my PTSD had traveled to her and she decided to keep her away. I couldn't really blame her.

I found myself musing about the things I missed. First steps. First words. First day of school. Reading to her at night. Instilling in her a love for football. Taking her to the Norco Fair.

The things I will miss. First boyfriend(He's very lucky). Driving lessons. Graduation. College visits. Grandkids.

Her smiling face brought memories of another. She was Stevie's age when he died. She had his smile. But she wouldn't be like Stevie. She would grow up and live. I would make sure of that. So long as there was breath in my body, I would protect her. No one would harm her. If I had to drown the entire city in blood to protect her, I would.

I searched the rest of the email. Jules was thorough. She included medical and transcripts. Jennifer Jon Trevodur. She was named after me. She was perfectly healthy. She even skipped a grade. I was so proud, though I had no right to be.

I would never meet her. If she ever knew the things I done, the things I do, she would see me as a monster. It was better she see her father as the decorated Marine. She wouldn't learn the ugly truths. She wouldn't learn the things I've done. The innocents I killed. She would never be a target for my legion of enemies. And if she did, I would come on them so hard and fast that they would never know what hit them.

Focus. Focus on the mission. Research would come later.

I couldn't wait to capture Bourne.

Kate

Bzzt, Bzzt Bzzt.

I groggily answered my phone, "Beckett."

"Hey boss, we got a hit from our picture released to the media," answered Esposito

"A landlord in the Bronx called in saying that our vic was one of his tenants. Uniforms were sent out to check on it. Found the apartment covered in blood," finished Ryan.

"Tell Agent Shaw. Me and Castle will meet her there. You two get some sleep," I ordered.

"Thanks boss."

I hung up the phone and looked at my surroundings. I didn't remember going to bed. I was still in my clothes. I remember eating Castle's lasagna and looking through Jon's stuff for a few more hours. I guess I fell asleep and he carried me to bed. Even in my mind that sounded dirty.

I don't know why I looked through Jon's stuff. This case just rubbed me the wrong way. I guess I needed some of Jon's strength.

Castle. What happened to him? Did he go home afterward? Why did he carry me to bed?

Why did it smell like pancakes?

I opened the door and looked out into my apartment. Castle was in the kitchen making pancakes. Again. He hummed quietly to himself. He looked up and smiled, "Good morning, Detective."

I smiled just a little bit, "I just got off the phone with Esposito and Ryan. We found our crime scene."

"Well, I guess we have to eat these great pancakes on the road," he said sadly, "Ah well, I guess it was a good idea for me to bring a change of clothes."

"You brought a change of clothes?" I asked.

"Yep. After you went to sleep I swung by my place and grabbed something and came back," he grinned mischievously, "What would they think if I came in the same clothes as yesterday?"

"Good point," I agreed. Lanie was giving me enough crap as it is.

"Well, I have some packed in a Tupperware container," he announced, "Lets go!" he grabbed his jacket and ambled toward the door.

I was about to follow when something caught my eye. In Jon's still open footlocker was his Summer Leadership School (SLS) coin.

I grabbed it as an after thought.

Again, there is a point to this chapter.