...when we hear [music] we realize that we are still bound by a common emotion to those who came before us. Like family, we are irrevocably tied to each other because that same emotion still exists today. This is what all good musicians understand.
-Billy Joel

"Are you eating, darling?" Martha asked Kate, handing her a menu. Kate took it, looking uncertain.

"Well..." she said, "I didn't have much of a lunch." She paused. "But I don't know - there are so many things they say not to eat before you sing."

"Oh, hogwash, most of it," Martha declared, waving that away. "No coffee before a performance, that's my only rule, and no dairy either, of course."

"My mom had a whole list of things she wouldn't eat or drink before singing," Kate said a little hesitantly, looking at her father. He gave a tight smile.

"That's true. But even she admitted that most of them were probably, uh, 'hogwash,'" he said, nodding toward Martha.

"You should have something," Castle encouraged, leaning forward to peer around Alexis at Kate. "Need your strength for the second concert. I'm having cheesecake with my tea," he added, grinning.

"Dad, no," Alexis scolded. "That's too much fat and sugar. You'll be sluggish by the time the concert starts."

"Oh, fine," he sighed, "how about apple pie? It's fruit! It's practically health food." Alexis rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Soup," Kate decided, studying the menu. "Chicken noodle soup. And water, please," she added to the waiter.

Alexis and Jim just ordered tea, and Martha tea and a half-sandwich; as the waiter departed, Castle turned to his daughter.

"Okay, Alexis, tell us what your favorite part of the concert was. And don't say your ruggedly handsome dad."

"As if," she giggled, tossing her head. "It was Kate, of course."

"Oh," Kate began, protesting, but Alexis wasn't done.

"And I really liked the bass solo with the trumpet. That was so dramatic, didn't you think?" she asked, looking around the table for confirmation. Everyone nodded.

"The Trumpet Shall Sound. Yeah, that one's really good," Kate agreed. "Our trumpet player is amazing. I think half the orchestra and chorus have crushes on him."

"I couldn't see him very well from my seat," Martha mused. "Is he hot?"

"Mother," Castle sighed, shuddering.

"Very hot," Kate nodded, amused, "but married."

"Ah, well," Martha shrugged, "such is life."

"Which part did you like best, Mr. Beckett?" Alexis asked politely. Jim looked up from stirring sugar into his tea.

"Ah, well," he said with a small smile, "it's a cliché, but I really enjoyed the Hallelujah. It's such a beautiful piece."

"It really is," Castle agreed, nodding.

"But of course," Jim went on, "the best part for me was hearing my Katie sing. I hadn't thought I'd ever get to hear that again. It was wonderful." He gazed fondly at her, and she dropped her eyes to the table.

"Dad..." she said softly, choked.

"You sounded glorious, truly, Katherine," Martha put in, as Alexis nodded emphatically. Kate smiled gratefully across the table at them.

"Thanks, Martha."

"So I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude for that," Jim added, looking over at Castle, who sat up straighter, unnerved by the hint of steel in Jim's eyes.

"Me?" he squeaked, and paused to clear his throat. "I didn't, uh, it was all her decision."

"Oh, I'm sure," Jim nodded. "Katie doesn't do anything she doesn't want to. But it was your idea to begin with, wasn't it? You put the thought in her head. She told me."

"I didn't tell you that," Kate exclaimed, lifting her head in surprise.

"You did," her father said gently. "You said 'the conductor suggested.' You just neglected to mention who the conductor was."

"Oh. I ... I guess I did." She bit her lip, exchanging a look with Jim.

The waiter arrived with the food, and as Castle reached for his fork, he found Jim Beckett giving him another appraising look.

"So," Jim said, and Castle noticed that Kate seemed to tense up at her dad's tone, "I hear you two also spent the week investigating a murder."

Oh. Uh-oh. "You heard about that?" Castle said weakly. Kate was glaring daggers at him. Martha was snickering on his other side.

"Sorry," said Alexis, more to Kate than to Castle, "was I not supposed to say anything?"

"Don't worry about it," Kate said, her expression softening when she looked at the girl. Turning to her father, she added, "We uncovered some evidence and passed it along to the police, that's all."

"That's not all," Castle couldn't help exclaiming. "We solved the case, Beckett - I mean, Kate. We solved it, you and me, not the cops. It was awesome."

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Awesome?" he repeated, and his stern face seemed to become even sterner, yet somehow Castle got the impression that his eyes were twinkling. Damn, but this guy was hard to read.

Castle opened his mouth, but Beckett gave him another look. "Castle," she said warningly, and he subsided with a grumble.

"No, let's hear about it, Katie," Jim said, his expression still unsmiling, though his tone was light. "How did you come to be 'uncovering evidence,' anyway?"

Reluctantly, Kate explained the whole story. Martha and Alexis listened avidly, along with Jim; some of the details were new to them also.

Castle couldn't resist adding a few embellishments to Kate's recitation, though she was still glaring, so he mostly let her tell it. When she got to the dramatic confrontation with Darla, she glossed over most of the details, saying only that she and Castle had presented their evidence and Darla had confessed within Detective Gates's hearing. Castle busied himself with his apple pie, fearing that if he so much as looked Jim's way, the older man would see the reflection of Darla's gun in Castle's eyes.

"Sounds like you had quite the busy week," Jim commented, and Castle risked a peek over at Kate, who had resumed eating her soup.

"Yep," she said between mouthfuls, and Jim narrowed his eyes at her, and Castle suddenly found himself wondering just exactly what kind of teenager Kate Beckett had been.

"Mother," he said to deflect attention, turning toward Martha, "how much longer do you have?"

"Oh..." Martha blinked, checking her watch. "A few more minutes, not to worry, darling. More tea, everyone?"

"You have a performance tonight also?" Jim asked Martha, after the second round of tea had been ordered. "I've heard great things about your play."

"You're too kind, darling," Martha exclaimed, beaming at him. "Would you like to come along? There's an extra comp ticket, since Richard is otherwise occupied. You could keep Alexis company."

Castle barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping at the suggestion. Across the table, he saw Kate raising her eyebrows in surprise as well.

"That would be nice," Alexis offered, giving Jim a shy smile. "I like going to Gram's performances, but I never know anyone there."

"Well..." Jim hesitated. "I wouldn't mind seeing it."

"Then it's settled!" Martha declared, clapping her hands decisively. "Don't worry, Katherine, dear. We'll be sure to have your father home before curfew." She winked. Jim coughed and buried his face in his teacup. Kate gaped for a moment, then gave a shrug, glancing over at Castle.

"Have fun, Dad," was all she said, pursing her lips in amusement. She put her napkin on the table and stood up. "Excuse me."

"Me too," Alexis said, and followed Kate toward the restroom.

Martha launched into another story about her costars, and Castle watched in some amazement as Jim appeared to give her his entire attention.

In the restroom, Kate had finished washing her hands and was checking her hair in the mirror when Alexis emerged from a stall and came to her side. "Can I ask you something?" the girl asked diffidently.

"Sure."

"Do you, um..." Alexis trailed off, looking down at her hands as she soaped them. "Do you like my dad?"

Kate bit her lip and turned away from the mirror, leaning her hip against the sink, looking at Alexis. "I don't think you mean the friendly kind of liking," she said slowly, stalling. Alexis lifted her head and met Kate's eyes.

"You know what I mean." She waited a moment, then added, "Because he really likes you, you know."

"Really?" Kate repeated faintly, feeling her cheeks flush warm again.

"Yeah." Alexis reached for a paper towel and dried her hands, still studying Kate.

"Alexis, I ... your dad ... well, he knows a lot of women," Kate stammered, not knowing what to say. How did you tell a fifteen-year-old that her father had a reputation?

But Alexis just nodded. "I know, he gets around," she said. "But he's usually pretty careful about keeping those women away from me and Gram. He never invites them to meals with us." She paused, and chose her words carefully. "He never talks about them the way he talks about you. And the way he looks at you? I've never seen him look at anyone like that."

Kate struggled to keep her breathing steady. "Never? Not even your mom?" she asked, her voice shaky. Alexis shook her head.

"They split up when I was a baby, so I've only ever seen them fight."

Kate took a long breath. "I don't ... I don't know what to say."

"That's okay," Alexis said, touching her arm tentatively. "I can see it on your face. Anyway," she added more lightly, "you spent all week working with him, and he told you about the opera, and you haven't killed him yet. So I think you must like him, at least some."

Kate smiled a little. "At least some," she echoed, "I guess that's true," and that seemed to be enough to satisfy Alexis.

Castle felt very awkward sitting there with his mother and Beckett's father, so it was a relief when Beckett and Alexis returned and it was time to leave. Out on the sidewalk, he embraced his mother, saying "Break a leg," and his daughter, saying "Try to keep Gram out of trouble," and handed them back into the town car.

Kate was hugging her father, who pulled back after a long moment and cupped her cheeks with both hands, gazing at her with such tenderness that Castle was compelled to turn away, feeling like a voyeur.

"Think about it," Jim said, and Kate ducked her head, nodding. Jim clasped Castle's hand briefly and said "Break a leg" before climbing into the car with the redheads.

"Maybe I should have warned him about them," Castle mused aloud as the town car pulled away. He put up his arm to hail a taxi.

"He can handle himself," Beckett murmured in reply, still looking at the sidewalk. Castle was itching to ask her what Jim had wanted her to think about, but, perhaps fortunately, a taxi screeched over to them and the moment was gone.

In the cab, Beckett sat against the far door, gazing out the window. Castle studied her body language and thought she seemed nervous.

"Not worried about the second concert, are you?" he asked. "I think I handled myself okay."

"No," she said, and then blinked, pulling her eyes away from the window to look at him. "I mean, no, I'm not worried," she amended apologetically. "It should be fine. You were fine. The evening performance..." She trailed off, deep in thought. "The evening performance usually goes more smoothly than the matinee," she said after a moment, distractedly.

"You're allowed to be nervous, you know," Castle murmured. She startled, frowning slightly at him.

"I know that," she said uneasily, and turned her face to the window again.

In fact, Kate was beginning to feel a little nervous about the second concert, but that wasn't what she was thinking about at the moment. Her thoughts were occupied with her conversation with Alexis, and everything that had happened between her and Castle this week.

Castle had not at all behaved the way she had expected, based on his reputation. Off the top of her head Kate could name at least a half-dozen women in the orchestra and chorus who would happily have fallen into bed with him at the slightest suggestion; and all of them were young, pretty, and uncomplicated. None of them had dead mothers and related baggage to carry around. Surely they were much more his type.

But instead he had spent the week showing an interest in her, Kate Beckett, despite all her flaws, despite all the times she had rebuffed him and insulted him. He had introduced her to his mother and daughter. He had asked about her thoughts and opinions. He had started writing an opera based on her - a whole opera! - and had told her about it, even though he knew it might upset her. He had invited her to tea with his family; not just that, but he had invited her father along also. What did it all mean?

After tomorrow's final concert Castle would go back to his flashy rock-star life, and Kate would go back to her quiet, predictable role at the head of the orchestra. So why was he still behaving as if he wanted to get to know her better, spend more time with her? Was it all just an elaborate seduction? Was it just for the opera, for inspiration?

She remembered how he had kissed her on her doorstep last night, how his touch had made her blood sizzle. She thought that if he had pushed just a little - if he had asked to come upstairs - she would probably have said yes. She would have taken him up to her apartment, and most likely they would have ended up in bed. Despite her reservations, her uncertainty, she wouldn't have been able to resist her desire for him. He was her favorite composer, after all, and he was attractive, and good with his hands.

But he hadn't given them that push. He had just kissed her, and then said goodnight and left.

She didn't know what to make of it all.

When he spoke again, in the quiet of the taxicab, in the quiet of her thoughts, it startled her so much that she jumped, pressing a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding under the bones.

"Beckett, can we go and get tea or something again after this concert?" he asked. "No families. Just the two of us."

The fluttering in her belly started up again. It was almost as if he had heard her thinking, read her mind. He couldn't know, could he? - that she was wondering what he wanted from her, where this was going?

"I don't know," she hedged, not even realizing that she had begun to bite her lip until she saw Castle's eyes dart down to it. She released it quickly, but his gaze didn't waver from her mouth.

"Kate," he said softly, sliding a little closer to her.

"Symphony Hall," announced the taxi driver, and Kate gave a quick huff that might have been relief, and escaped the cab as quickly as she could.

In the time it took for Castle to pay the driver and get out of the cab, she was halfway up the stairs, surrounded by other musicians returning from wherever they had gone in between concerts; there was no more opportunity for private conversation.

Castle decided not to pursue Kate through the corridors; he didn't want to make a scene, or risk upsetting her any further. So he took a different route from the one she had taken, detouring past the stage to make sure his score and baton were still in place, pausing to chat with the stage manager and the other assorted people he encountered.

At length he made his way back to his dressing room, and checked himself out in the mirror just in case. But he was already in his tuxedo and his hair was impeccable, so there was nothing more for him to do until showtime.

He sank into a chair and let himself drift pleasantly for a while in thoughts of Kate. He felt pretty sure that once she got over her initial surprise, she would agree to come out with him after this second concert. After all, she had accepted the invitation to tea with his family, despite having turned him down several times before. He knew that she still had her doubts about him - probably because of his reputation, his fame - but he was determined to show her that there was more to him than what lay on the surface.

Now he found himself thinking about Jim Beckett, and the way Kate interacted with him. Their dynamic was an interesting mix of soft and sharp. Sharp! he thought, sitting up straighter. B major with its five sharps would be a good key for a father-daughter duet. He'd had the glimmer of an idea, the other day, for a duet between the protagonist of his new opera and her father; it hadn't gotten anywhere, but now that he'd seen the real thing - the Becketts - the glimmer was growing to a bright flare at the back of his head.

Fortunately, he never went anywhere without staff paper and pencils. He reached urgently for his briefcase.

Kate made her way quickly back to the locker room and put her dress back on, then sought out Lanie. She found her at the sinks, fixing her makeup.

"Where'd you disappear to, girl?" her friend asked when Kate appeared in her mirror. "We thought we'd see you at Starbucks."

"Nope," Kate said. "Can you help me fix my hair?"

"Sure," Lanie agreed, but her narrowed eyes told Kate that the evasion hadn't gone unnoticed. "Come on over here."

They moved to a bench, where Kate sat and allowed her eyes to drift shut while Lanie undid her bun, brushed her hair out, and constructed a new bun.

"Went out with him, just now, didn't you?" Lanie said quietly in her ear as she worked. Kate didn't open her eyes, but she felt the blush creeping across her skin yet again.

"And his mother and daughter," she said firmly. "And my dad."

"Whoa. Meeting the parents already? That's big, Kate," Lanie exclaimed. Kate sighed and opened her eyes.

"I don't know. Is it? It was just convenient."

"Girl, with you there's no such thing." Lanie put the hairbrush down. "There, you're good to go. And remember what I said before, okay? About not screwing things up?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kate grumbled, but then added grudgingly, "Thanks."

A knock on the door of the dressing room startled Castle out of his composing haze. "Maestro, are you in there?" called a voice. "It's almost showtime."

"Yes! I'm here," he said blearily, rubbing a hand across his face, blinking his way up out of the new song. He opened the door to find the assistant stage manager looking quizzically at him. "I'm ready," he said. "What's wrong? Is my hair okay?" he added, patting it carefully.

"Hair's fine," the young woman said laconically. "Need anything? Coffee, breath mint, Tylenol?"

"No, thanks," he replied, confused.

She leaned forward slightly, sniffing the air, then shrugged. "Fifteen minutes," she said, and walked off.

Castle glanced in the mirror and saw his red-rimmed eyes, his slightly glazed expression. Oh. The woman probably thought he had been drinking or something. What on earth had Perlmutter gotten up to in this room before concerts? He probably didn't want to know.

Anyway, it was time to put aside his own music and get his head back into Messiah.

He carefully closed up his notebook, stowed it back in his briefcase, and headed for the stairs.

Author's Note: Once again, thank you for all the nice comments. I appreciate them all.

Notwithstanding anything that might have been said on Twitter, rest assured that I will not be writing a Jim/Martha sex scene in this story, or ever. ;)