Kate grabbed a fist-full of Castle's jacket, pulling back like the reins on a horse.
"Take it easy Rick!" The whole team and Alexis had been startled by Castle's behavior, everyone except for McHale who remained cool and calm. He stared back in to Castle's eyes for a moment, letting him know he was not afraid; and was not an enemy. Then he tilted his head to the right, peering past Rick, to Kate's attention.
"Would you mind scooting down? Let's get Castle a seat." Alexis and Kate took the seats to their left, leaving one open for Castle. He sat, but did not avert his gaze from McHale; he was not asking again, very loudly. McHale stared back at him again, and then let out a short snorting breath as his brow dipped for a moment, and a pursed lip smile broke the tension. He reached down to his right and in his backpack. He set two items on the table; a polished wooden box with an ornate clasp and hinges, and a well- thumbed blue leather book of sorts. "You're right … I did want something out of this. I heard a country song once, and in that song they say that love is like sunlight, and I think that's a pretty apt analogy. I mean, when we have it, it surrounds us, warms us, helps us grow, and shapes the world around us. I believe this to be true, because when I look around this room I see the sun, I see a family that would lay their lives down for one another in a heartbeat." McHale opened the golden clasp and slowly opened the wooden box. Inside resided a bottle of bronze liquid and two glasses, pressed in a velvet covered mold that was meant only for them. Picking up the bottle, he stroked the label and then twisted and popped the bottle open. Pouring the two glasses, he slid on to Castle and continued. "Eight years ago, my sun set. My old man passed away, but that's not what brought about the twilight hours; so to speak. You see, when he died, he willed me these two things." McHale gestured to the box and book.; then brought his hand to rest on top of the book's cover. "This is what sent me to the bottom of many a bottle. Sorry Alexis, I lied at Columbia. This is the real reason I got into law." McHale brought his glass to his lips, and tossed the booze down his throat. Only Castle followed suit, the rest of the team had set their drinks on the table, and their eyes on McHale; they hung on his every word, like children waiting to hear the end of their favorite bed-time story. They were seeing a glimpse of the real McHale, no bravado, no plan. He was speaking from the heart. As the warm bronze liquid splashed down Castle's throat, he peered down his nose, through the bottom of his glass, at the bottle the booze had been dispensed from. It was a more splendid scotch than he had ever tasted. A Libation reserved for the kings of men. When his glass touched the table, it was promptly refilled. "I spent a lot of days and nights, drunken and in a state of self-pity, but the first night I considered drinking this," McHale raised his glass, peering through the liquid, "I made myself a promise. I told myself I wouldn't drink it until my sun rose again. And today, it went to high noon. " McHale once again slammed the liquor down his through, emboldening himself to do something he thought may have never been possible. After McHale had slapped his glass back onto the table he stood, pointing at the blue leather book, "What that told me, was that I am a McHale in name, but by blood," McHale turned his back to the room, gripping his shirt by the collar he pulled upward, "I was born Matthew," He pulled his shirt higher. "Jordan," pulling it higher yet, "Barber." His shirt was now completely bunched around the collar, revealing his biggest secret; His back was covered from top to bottom with the thick ropes of flesh known as scars, seventy-six of them. Beckett covered her mouth with both hands, to conceal her disbelief. Rick drank his entire glass of scotch, and shook his head violently to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Matt let his shirt fall back down, taking his seat again, " So to answer your questions Rick. It's fifteen, not sixteen because I survived. And as for why, take your pick, justice for my mother, vengeance against the man that killed her, or meeting the man most likely to be my father. All of which are a cause for celebration, and I can think of no better occasion to drink a fifty-four thousand dollar bottle of scotch."