The halls creaked in silence. Wind clashed against the windows, causing the most daring of sounds, like an abandoned station whipped out by disease. The elevator's ding was something of a forgotten sound.

The 12 precinct had been a depressing place to be for the last week.

"No word yet?" the man walked in to the break room to join her.

"No," the word fell out of her mouth like ash, and for a moment, he saw her vulnerable again. "Javi, what if he's not coming back? What if this is it?" The words made their way out, she didn't know how, but they did.

"Don't think like that," his eyes saddened.

"What am I supposed to think? It's been a week since we've heard from Tyson! I just… I just keep picturing – "

"Stop it. Castle wouldn't want you to.."

"Castle wouldn't want? If Castle wouldn't want me to be like this he would be here! He would be here to tell me things were okay and come up with some ridiculous story to make all of this make sense!" Her arms flew up grabbing hold of the coffee machine, sending it across the room.

A loud crash shook the entire precinct awake. Detectives swarmed in the room like a herd of zombies. Kevin Ryan was one of the faces within the crowd as they peered in to see what had happened. The floor, carpeted with crushed coffee beans and steaming water, left a bitter smell in the air as it ranged in emotion.

A handful of detectives stayed where they were, looking from a distance at the scene that built up in the break room.

"Karpowski?" the hushed voice called as the detective made his way to her desk.

Roselyn Karpowski jumped up in her seat and hurried to look innocent, "yes?"

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. I was just wondering if you could give this to Detective Beckett for me?" He asked as he brought his arm up, almost forcing the file into her face.

"Me?" She rose to her feet shuffling a stack of papers together, "Why me? I can't, I have to go… get …" she searched around eagerly for an excuse, picking up the papers, "these done. I have to. The papers." She swung her arm back and forth indicating the stack of papers she held. "I've got paperwork, sorry." Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she turned the corner and shook off the awkward feelings that lingered.

Each detective had a particular job. That job involved avoiding a certain detective by sitting at their desk all day long. And when the time came that she'd step out into sight, they'd pick up a piece of paper and make themselves look busy on the case. The uncomforting feeling of it all made the precinct a hard working environment.

The detectives were all off in their corners, preparing speeches, writing up reports, looking through boxes of evidence, even surfing the internet to read up on the latest tabloids. No one knew how to talk to Kate. No one had seen her lose control of her emotions the way she had in his loft.

Two gentle knocks against the wooden doorframe were the only warning given to her as she sat neatly on a chair in the break room. Trying to get herself together, Kate turned around and stood up. "Hey," she breathed.

The woman walked into the break room, certain that her friend would think it was a comforting visit but pressed on anyway.

"Kate," she half whispered, attempting but failing to bring her voice to a normal tone, "how are you feeling?" She placed her hand on Kate's shoulder

"I'm okay, I've been better, you know? She attempted to joke but wounded up sending a shooting pain to her gut as she heard her own response echo in her ear.

"Yeah," she affirmed in a hushed voice as she led her back to the spot she had reserved at the table with an empty box of tissues. "Come here. Sit down, Kate." The two of them sat down. The ME placed her hand in Kate's as a sign of comfort.

"I don't know what to do, Lanie. Every time I try to think, I try to help bring him back, I have to look at the evidence and it pulls me back down again." A tear unwillingly streamed down her cheek. "I'm scared."

"Doctor Parish, what are you doing here?" The captain's head peered into the room with question.

Lanie Parish turned her head, sending her black hair flying over her shoulder, "Um, I was just…"

"Coming to bring some news?" The captain finished.

"Um, yes," she nodded, pressing her lips together.

"And…?" The captain awaited the news. "What did you find?"

"I, uh," she trailed off as her eyes studied Kate's posture.

"Spit it out Dr. Parish."

Her dark eyes traveled back to the captain, "I've got the lab results for the blood work on the blood at Castle's apartment." There it was. The unspeakable truth to the situation was in arms reach tonight, and Kate felt that darkness pulling her in once more. Her hand reached into the briefcase she carried with her, pulling out a file, the very file that could shatter Kate's world all over again, like it had on January 9th, 1999.

"The results show…" she paused a moment, waiting on Kate's okay to carry on with her findings, and when she nodded her head once, Lanie knew there was no going back. "The results came back a match," Dr. Parish made one last attempt to spare her friend the pain that would inevitably overcome her when she breathes those last words, "the blood work was a match to Jerry Tyson," hands shaking, Lanie handed the paperwork over to the captain, "and Richard Castle." Kate somehow sensed this was not the final blow hidden within this sick game. "The results also show two other potential victim's , or suspect's blood found at the… the crime scene."

"An additional two victims?" Questioned the Captain.

"Or suspects," she offered, "yes, I found two extra blood samples that aren't in the system."

"Are you telling me there is the blood of four different people in that apartment?"

"Yes, sir. Jerry Tyson, Castle and two unknown people, the only thing I can tell you is that one of the samples was from someone under the age of 20." The room stung in silence. A lingering bitterness dripped on Kate's bared skin, causing numbness like no other.

"So we're looking for a young adult, or teenager, who has no priors and was in Castle's loft?" the Captain pressed on, "this is good." She took a moment to look at Kate whose head now rested in her palms, "Well, not good but, you know; now we have something to go on. Good work, Dr. Parish." Victoria Gates was never known to be caring and considerate towards Kate Beckett, however, both Kate and Dr. Parish knew that no matter her reasons before, she understood the emotions running through her lead detective in this particular situation and was respectful enough to consider them.

"How old is his daughter?" There they were. The unspoken words that had been lingering around. Gates was greatly affected by the intention of her words, the words they all couldn't bring themselves to say.

A single pair of heavy footsteps echoed across the precinct walls, drawing the attention of every single person in the building as he continued. Step by step. There were only few sounds in the precinct at that moment. The sound of a pencil drop, the thumping of feet, gasps which had escaped the mouths of shocked detectives, and the loud, echoing drip of red liquid as it splashed against the hard floor, as molecules broke apart creating a bigger mess than expected.