Alexis hugged her father. Trev had explained his actions as being instinct and the need to save the mission. Castle wasn't necessarily okay with it, but was just happy to have his little girl back. They were having a loving reunion.

Until Alexis stomach emitted a growl that would scare a Grizzly senseless, "Hungry?" Castle asked.

Alexis nodded, "I haven't had anything to eat since this morning. Did you go shopping for food?"

"Um, I was too worried?" he smiled uneasily.

Alexis rolled her eyes, "And the reason you didn't do it before I was kidnapped?"

"Um... casework?"

"Nice try. Go, I'm starving here," she commanded.

"Yes daughter," he complied, "Don't leave the lobby!"

Alexis watched as her father hailed a cab and got in. As soon as the cab drove off, Alexis became filled with a restless energy. The kind where you just can't sit still. She paced the lobby, drawing an annoyed glance from the doorman. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and walked out into the street.

The cool November air hit her like a brick wall. She wrapped herself as tightly as she could, desperately trying to get warm. She walked down the block, always keeping her building in sight. She turned around and started walking back again.

Something hard and smelling like cheap booze knocked her into a side ally. Four guys dressed in baggy clothes and smelling of alcohol surrounded her. But these men had flashing white teeth, evidence of enough money to live comfortably. These guys were posers.

"Hey, pretty lady" one of them leered, "Why don't we show you a good time?"

"No thanks," Alexis squeaked.

"Aw, don't be like that," one of them drawled, his voice slurred from booze.

"I have to go," she ran toward the entrance of the alleyway, only to be pushed back by two of the posers. One of them grabbed her from behind, fondling her breast. She screamed and slapped him. He cursed at her and threw her into the arms of the other two. He backhanded her across the face. He smiled evilly. Alexis closed her eyes and prayed. She heard a thunk and the posers releasing her.

She cracked one open and saw one of the posers face down on the ground. The others had their backs turned, still between her and freedom.

Trev stood at the entrance to the alley, tossing a rock up and down in his hand. He said one word dangerously, "Leave."

Those guys must be very brave or very stupid. One of them shouted, "Who do-"

He was silenced when Trev tossed the heavy object and nailed him in the head. The poser dropped like a... well, rock. Trev flicked open a pocket knife, "I'm outta rocks," he warned.

They got the message. The scrambled away, deeper into the alley. As far away from the psycho as they could. Trev turned to Alexis, "I thought New Yorkers were supposed to know how to take care of themselves."

"They surprised me and had me out numbered," she explained.

"Don't you even have a knife?" he asked. She shook her head. Trev stared down at the pocket knife in his hand, lost in thought. He clicked it closed, "Take mine."

She tentatively accepted the weapon. It was black plastic, with a three-and-a-half inch long blade. Part of the blade was serrated. It was one of those flip and click ones, with a locking mechanism in place when you flipped it open. A belt clip was mounted on the side.

And it was worn. The plastic was slightly smooth and the screws on the clip were slightly rusted, but the blade was sharp and serviceable. Alexis didn't want to think about how many lives were ended by this knife.

"Um, thank you?" it sounded more like a question than she intended.

"Don't lose it," he warned, "My parents gave me that when I was younger than you," he motioned for her to follow, "Kate was actually the one who convinced my dad to buy it for me."

"She did?"

"Yep," I chuckled a bit, "Kate's changed a lot since we were kids. She used to be the laziest slob I ever knew. God help you if interrupted her nap."

Alexis chuckled, "Naps?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, "She used to sleep all the time. I think she could have given a hibernating bear a run for his money."

"That doesn't sound like Detective Beckett," Alexis said, "I don't think she even needs sleep."

"Death of a parent changes us all," Trev remarked.

"Your parents died?"

"Worse than Beckett's," he said, his face now a mask of neutralness, "Mine were found in our home, their throats slashed. Never caught the bastards that did it. We were fifteen."

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized.

Trev shrugged, "Don't be. People shouldn't apologize for deaths they didn't cause."

Alexis stammered, "Ugh, how... how many people did you kill with-"

"None," he replied, "That was my service knife. I cut things like wires and rope for that. Not throats."

"Oh," Alexis examined the knife. Though it looked old and worn, it was also in very good condition. The blade was polished and rust-free, the mechanism oiled and smooth. He obviously took good care of this knife, "Why do you fight?" she asked, knowing it was a deeply personal question.

"I fight because it's what I am good at," he said evenly, "I fight because I'm the only one that can."

"Not a good reason," she observed.

"Fighting and killing are easy," he countered, "Living and loving is hard," he motioned toward the door to her apartment building, signaling that the conversation was at an end, "Take care, Alexis," he walked away. Alexis never saw him again.