Kate

I was furious. We were so close to finding Tanner and the only link we had was taken from us from a Agent of ONI. I'm not even sure what ONI stands for.

"What does ONI even mean?" I demanded as we entered Shaw's SUV.

"Office of Naval Intelligence," she answered, "It doesn't really play nice. It makes the CIA look like gracious house guests."

"No kidding," I scowled, "We were so freakin close!"

"I know," Shaw shared my scowl, "Look on the bright side: ONI isn't known for playing nice with it's prisoners. Bourne will talk."

"So what happens now?"

"I go to DC, explain this to my superiors. They won't be happy. FBI made the arrest, but ONI has the man. So they get all the intel on all the terrorists he worked for."

"PR."

"Yep. It's a PR problem."

We were silent for a couple of moments. We were both angry at Agent Patriks for taking our suspect from us. I think it hurt Shaw the most. She was supposed to be the one who took suspects away.

"So what about that friend of yours? Trevodur."

I sighed. For some reason, this case brought up the memories I had tried to keep hidden. I guess since Castle brought up his past like that, I should too, "Jon's mom was friends with my mom. My mom died a few years after his. Jon had a brother, Sam, and a younger sister, Margret. His parents and younger brother Stevie were murdered when he was fifteen. I was the same age as Jon. He changed after that. He used to be a prankster, and then became responsible. He helped support his brother so that he could go to college. He joined the Marines for the free education and hazardous duty pay."

I saw him when he graduated Boot Camp

It was hot and humid. I was uncomfortable in my light summer clothes. Jon, sorry, Private Trevodur must be sweltering in his Service Uniform. But he showed no reaction to it. He stayed still as a statue, his face betraying no emotion or discomfort.

After the ceremony, the new Marines were mingling with families. Squadmates met the mother and father and sisters and brothers. What surprised me was the amount of flirting these boys did. After twelve weeks, turns out their first need is to reacquaint with the opposite sex. At least until Jon, "Put his foot down". No one wanted to mess with him.

"Congrats, man," Sam said as he hugged his younger brother.

"Maggs, what are you doing? Wearing Air Force on a Marine Base?" Jon scolded gently his younger sister in her AFJROTC Class A Blues.

"Shut up," she said with a smile.

"Hey, Jon, this your sister?" one of the Squadmates asked, pointing at me.

"Family Friend," he answered.

"Really?" he smiled, "Private Bill Marks. Nice to meet you," he shook my hand.

"Who is like a sister for me," he said in a dangerous voice.

Marks backed up noticeably. Jon smiled evilly. I punched him in the arm, "He was cute!"

"He went to Afghanistan,"

"Hey, man, take care of yourself," Sam gave him a bro hug goodbye.

"I will," he assured.

"Don't come back with some Afghan disease," warned his sister as she hugged him.

"I won't," he promised.

"Take care Jon," Mom hugged him as well.

"And bring me back a souvenir," I asked as I hugged him too.

"I'll bring back an AK, how does that sound?" he joked.

"And when he came back, he wasn't the same."

Man, it was cold. March Air Reserve Base didn't normally transport Marines, especially ones returning from Afghanistan. Why Jon chose that instead of a civilian flight was beyond me.

I saw the C-130 land. I saw the ramp come down. I saw someone come out.

It wasn't the Jon I knew. This ones eyes were dead and cold. An emotionless clone of the upbeat boy I knew.

"Jon only came back because they had given him two Silver Stars and for that, the city of Norco, his home town, wanted to host a celebration. He stayed just long enough to get his award and then went right back into combat."

"I've seen it," Shaw said, "Soldiers who get PTSD sometimes develop an obsession to fighting. The violence, the pain, the death, it brings them a sort of perverted inner peace. They call it home. They also develop phobias and fears of harmless objects related in some way to what happened to them."

"That's probably why he is afraid of potatoes," I chuckled a bit.

"What?" she smiled.

"When he came back, he was afraid of potatoes," I laughed a bit.

"What could possibly cause him to be afraid of potatoes?"

"I don't know. We just served baked potatoes when he came back and he flew off his rocker," I couldn't help but laugh.

"A rough and tough Marine, afraid of potatoes," she chuckled with me. He phone began to ring, "Hello?... What?... When?... Search the Park. No stone is left unturned. Be careful this guy is dangerous."

"What's going on?"

"Tanner was at the park. He knocked out an entire team, and three corpses were discovered." she said.

"What the hell?" who was this guy?

"He was hiding out on the other bank of the pond. He was waiting for Bourne, and we don't know who those corpses are and what they are doing there, she growled.

"Bourne, his gun was shot out of his hand!" I realized, "Ugh how can I be so stupid!"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why shoot the gun? Why not just kill Bourne?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly," she hit the steering wheel, "We don't know! Too many things don't add up!"

Even during the Dunn case, she never raised her voice. I remembered that she had been working the Tanner case for a long time, possibly for years. She had been working a case and had gotten nothing, and the bastard was still killing, taunting her. With this case, all her patience was used up. Tanner was still out there, and her only lead was taken by a freakin ONI lackey.

"What is his game?" I asked. She looked at me curiously, "I read the file. Tanner is careful. Every time he operates, he strikes without warning or sticks to the shadow. He goes to great lengths to stay hidden. Why warn us?"

She stayed quiet. She looked deep in thought, racking her profiler brain, "Maybe he has broken. He has become nothing but a serial killer, and being paid is the way he choses his victims."

"No, it doesn't fit," I shook my head, "Serial killers always have an MO. Tanner is random."

"No arguments," she agreed, "Tanner... what's up with him? We aren't any closer to catching him, but he is changing, taking risks. The old Tanner wouldn't do that."

"Copycat?"

"Maybe," she parked the car in front of Castle's building.

We had barely made it into the lobby before Alexis enveloped me in a bear hug. I "umph"ed with the impact of the teenager.

"Detective Beckett!" she cried, "You're okay!"

"I...can't...breathe..."

"Oh! Sorry," she let go of me, "So, did you catch Bourne?"

"What? I... yes but... how did you know?"

"Tanner told me," she said.

"Wait," interrupted Shaw, "Jake Tanner told you his plan."

"Yeah, but his quote 'name' unquote is Trev," she said.

"Trev?" what kind of name is that?

"Yeah, he said that he was an old friend of yours."

I turned to Shaw, eyes wide, "I-"

"Trev. Trevodur," she said, "It's him. It has to be him."

"What? No, Jon is dead!" I exclaimed.

"The basement, now," she ordered, "Get your father, tell him-"

"He should already be down their," Alexis interrupted.

Shaw raced toward the basement door. I hurried after.

I see her burst open the door and stop dead in her tracks. She drew her gun, and it flew from her hands. I heard a loud pfft! and Castle exclaiming "woah!".

I drew mine and dove to the right. My gun flew out of my hands as if someone hit it with a sledge hammer. I froze. No one should be able to make a shot like that. I turned my head to see the shooter.

A familiar face smiled, "Hi, Kate."

You want the rest of the scene? Well:

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