A/N: Before getting on with the story, I want to address a comment that Martha seems to be too harsh to Rick. I do kind of agree that she's a little over the top with her concern, but she's scared. And she's angry at herself for not insisting on more information when she bought the house. She'll calm down eventually – but not quite yet. :) Another longer chapter, I hope you enjoy!

XXXXXX

Chapter 4

Martha was worried about her son.

Was it boredom? He had been dealing with writer's block. Was he ill? Mentally or physically? Worse, was it drugs? No, she had to believe it was boredom. At least until she had more to go on. Boredom had always brought out the prankster in him anyway.

But why the sudden interest in the locked door upstairs? And how did he unlock it in the first place? Did he break it? And then put a new lock on so she wouldn't know? Did he know how to do that? He was always online, he could learn, but that seemed like a bit much for a practical joke. Maybe she should try to get through the door herself.

She began to climb the stairs with some trepidation, almost expecting some dark phantom to block her – if not harm her in some way. She stopped halfway up and shook herself in frustration.

"Don't let Richard's overactive imagination – or yours – get the better of you!" she thought, marching up the steps with renewed speed.

The trepidation came back as soon as she reached the door. Should she knock again? Try the knob?

"Martha, you're doing it again," she thought. "This is your house; you can go anywhere in it."

She did look furtively back down the stairs. She didn't want Richard to know what she was doing. He was nowhere in sight... Good.

Steeling herself she looked at the door. She could swear she heard a low-level hum coming from it, as well as seeing a faint light through the thin gaps at the sides.

That hum disturbed her. Just how big of a shock would there be? Just how malevolent were these "ghosts"?

Knowing how likely it was that this was a haunting, (not very) Martha looked at the door thoughtfully. If there were criminals operating out of her house without her knowledge, how pathetic was that? Richard was right. She'd simply taken the previous owners at their word. Yes, the house was really too big for the two of them – there was no need to use the upstairs rooms, but she still should have insisted on a full inspection.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Martha had been so desperate to get into a house for Richard. True, he was too old by that time for a big backyard to play in, but they both needed more space than a two bedroom apartment could give them, and more privacy for each of them. And an apartment seemed so temporary. She'd lived in apartments all her life, as had Richard until she bought the house when he was 13, but for whatever reason, the illusion of permanence was important to her.

And now that illusion was breaking down, and it was all her fault.

Enough. Martha knew she should call someone – or go get Richard – but he didn't want her help for some reason, (probably a misguided attempt to protect her) and anyone else would ask too many questions she didn't want to answer.

She steeled herself and stepped to the door. Surely simply knocking wouldn't shock her. Surely the electrical hum she heard would only 'activate' if she tried to turn the knob. She knocked firmly.

XXXXXX

Castle come upstairs!

Rick shot out of his chair, knocking over his mug of coffee onto the floor, fortunately missing his laptop, and the cup of pens and pencils went flying, his heart beating a million miles a minute. He'd been lost in in the world of his characters, finally able to put aside the real mystery of Kate and Johanna Beckett for a moment.

It was back now with a vengeance, and the voice of Kate echoing around his brain.

"What's wrong?" Rick said aloud, assuming she could hear him, but not positive. "Kate, can you tell me what's wrong?"

You need to come upstairs, Castle, it's your mother!

Mind going blank, he said no more and raced out of the room.

As Rick bounded up the stairs, he could see the door was open. How had his mother managed to unlock it? He reached the landing.

No! No, no no no no! Martha was prone on the floor, just outside the threshold of the opened door.

The ghostly image of Kate stood just inside. She had recovered enough to manifest clearly, though Rick only had eyes for his mother. He ran to her and checked her pulse. She looked to be breathing normally, thank God. His heart calmed slightly.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, thinking he'd get an answer inside his head, he still hadn't seen Kate floating there. His head shot up when she spoke outside his mind.

I'm sorry, Castle, it's my fault.

XXXXXX

?

She was standing (floating?) in the doorway. He could see through her, though she was clearer than she had been earlier. He could tell she still wasn't fully rested.

"Your fault?" he asked. "Why...? Wh-wh-what did you do?"

He turned back to Martha, still unconscious. He checked her pulse once more, making sure it was strong, and watched as her chest rose repeatedly with her breathing. He thanked every deity he could think of.

"What happened?" he asked her again. "And why is it your fault?"

She'd warned him, he thought. She'd threatened his mother and now... But they'd gotten past that, hadn't they? Why would she make good on that threat now?

The door. She knocked on the door... she got shocked.

Rick's mouth tightened. "You took the charge off when I left the room, and it wasn't on when she knocked the first time," he spat. "Why the hell did you put it back on?"

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and dialed 911.

"Yes, my mother has received what I believe to be some kind of electrical shock and she's unconscious... Yes, her pulse is strong and steady and she's breathing... No, I only touched her to check the pulse. The breathing was visual. No, I wasn't with her when it happened..." he looked at Kate accusingly. "I'm assuming it was a shock... I haven't tried to wake her; I didn't want to possibly cause more damage... She's 59 years old... Do I know where the shock may have come from?"

He looked back at Kate, eyes wide. She was shaking her head and looking at him imploringly.

Please, Rick.

He should tell them, he really should. But then they'd never believe him anyway.

"No, I don't," he told the dispatcher. "I don't even know why I assumed that... Yes, it's 3574 Lily Street, Kensington, NY, 11218... Of course, I won't move her... If she wakes up, I'll make sure she stays still... Shit – sorry for the language, I don't know if – I think the front door is locked," He looked up and glared at Kate's ghost again. "I don't want to leave her in case she wakes and she's alone."

I'll watch her, Rick, go unlock the door.

He wasn't sure if she could hear a message sent by his mind like he could hear hers, but he had to try.

I think you've done enough.

Kate visibly blanched, fading a little. He couldn't care.

"Yes, she's breathing evenly..." he spoke into the phone again. "She's on a landing at the top of a set of stairs we rarely use...The door is in sight from here, but I don't want her to wake up and be disoriented and fall... I'm sure I'm being paranoid," he said with a strained laugh. "She's my mother... How long would it take to get down and back?... 10 seconds, tops. Like I said the door's in sight... Yes I'm on a cell phone... You're right... Okay, I'll run downstairs."

He stood and turned to the steps.

I won't be long; you stay away from her. You were right – 'worse will happen to her' – happy now?

Rick turned to go downstairs and didn't see the look on Kate's face. Contrite but determined. When she'd first put the charge on the door – simply by thinking it – she had 'put it on auto' – so she wouldn't think about it so actively, which would drain her energy faster. It still sapped her, but not as much. She'd been planning on taking the charge off the door and just leave it locked, but the weariness that came from manifesting so long had made her forget. She hadn't meant to hurt his mother, and she knew she'd just lost any trust he'd granted her, but she was going to win it back. She recognized the irony in this, he was doing the same thing she had – with more justification, she admitted to herself – but he came back until she accepted it. She wouldn't touch Martha, but she would keep watch until he came back upstairs, manifesting as long as she could.

Then she would keep coming back until her story was told and she and her mother could rest.

XXXXXX

Rick paced around the waiting room until he was sure he'd worn a groove into the floor. The doctors had whisked his mother away when the ambulance arrived at the hospital, and had only informed Rick that she was still unconscious, but there didn't seem to be evidence of an electrical shock – no burns, no erratic heartbeat. In fact the only symptom was Martha's unconsciousness, and while she still hadn't woken, the doctors said there was no real reason she wouldn't.

Well, thank God for that.

Exhaustion finally dropped him into a relatively comfortable armchair, and he pulled out the tablet he'd grabbed before following the ambulance. He felt a little guilty about bringing something for 'entertainment', but he had to do something. He'd worn himself out pacing, and staring at the walls would drive him completely crazy, but even as late as it was, there was no way he'd ever be able to sleep.

He needed to lose himself in something – writing, research – whatever. Anything to pass the time.

Rick began by opening the Beckett file, browsing through before stopping himself.

Did he really want to help her (them) now? He was sitting in a waiting room in the hospital after Kate made good on her threat to harm his mother.

Why though? She hadn't seemed to still be angry – in fact she'd told him he could tell his mother about her. So why the mixed signals?

He moved to close the file, still pissed, but then his eyes fell on the note he'd made about the Washington Heights campaign.

Curiosity piqued, he minimized the file and opened the browser. Quickly Googling the neighborhood he learned the area had had a serious crack cocaine problem in the 80s and 90s. It was doing much better now – due in no small part to the 'take back the neighborhood' campaigns such as the one Johanna Beckett had been involved with.

Rick reopened the file and copied the information he'd found to it. He still wasn't sure he wanted to continue to help the ghosts, but he never let his annoyance with things get in the way of a good story.

And whether he liked it or not – this was a good story.

"Mr. Castle?"

Rick looked up to see a middle-aged woman stepping into the waiting room.

"Yes?" He stood and held out his hand, dropping his tablet onto the chair next to the one he'd been sitting in.

"I'm Dr. Hadley Kinsman," she said with a soft British accent as she took his hand to shake. "I've been looking after your mother."

"Dr. Kinsman," he replied, the hope in his voice unmistakable. "Has my mother awakened?"

"She has," the doctor said somewhat hesitantly. "She's awake and talking – talking about some rather peculiar things, in fact."

"Such as?"

"Well, she seems to be worried about you, strange occurrences, ghosts, drugs…?" She paused and eyed him closely.

"Of course, all of these ramblings could be caused by what happened to her, the mind is…" Dr. Kinsman broke off again, clearly fishing – which, while a little annoying, did assure Rick that she was looking out for her patient.

"There have been some odd things going on," Rick admitted. And I have been telling her some stories so as not to scare her too much. I'm afraid I haven't succeeded with that."

It concerned him – a little – at just how easily the lie came. Of course, the doctor would never believe him if he told the truth, that would just confirm that maybe he was the problem, that maybe he did this to his mother.

"Do you know what happened?" Dr. Kinsman asked. "You mentioned a possible electrical shock, but we found none of the usual injuries caused by that, what made you think it was?"

Rick eyed the doctor, weighing what to say. Finally he decided on some truth, but not the whole truth.

"We've never used the upstairs portion of our house – it's just the two of us – but recently there have been signs of activity there. We haven't actually seen anything, but I think someone could be staying there. How they got in, I don't know, but I've been trying to figure it out as safely as I can. In checking things out, I got a shock myself. It was most likely static electricity – I wasn't really injured, but it was strong enough that it hurt for a second, and my fingers went numb."

Dr. Kinsman was listening, but Rick couldn't tell if she believed him or not.

Curling his fingers as if he still felt the numbness, he continued.

"I'd prefer if Mother didn't go upstairs, until I can find out what's going on – and call the police if need be – and so I – stupidly, I guess – started making up stories to try to keep her from doing so. Ghost stories and the like."

He sighed.

"She doesn't believe me, of course, and asked me point blank if I was doing something illicit in those rooms. I'm not, but I am afraid of intruders. And that's a possibility I'd rather her not know about."

"And you had nothing to do with what happened?"

"Of course not!" he snapped. "I would never…!"

The doctor held up a hand.

"I believe you...ish. I've seen enough abuse cases that I can read an abuser like a book. Speaking of, I know who you and your mother are, and while you spin a good story, you're not as good an actor as your mother. I think you know exactly what's going on upstairs, and you don't want her to know. I won't ask for specifics, as I do believe you didn't hurt her – although you know it was a shock of some kind. You got a similar shock, and though it didn't render you unconscious, that's how you knew it happened to her."

Rick stared with his mouth open. He had lost consciousness, but had left that part out. She was pretty spot on otherwise.

"At this point I don't want you to give her the details of what's going on, she's still weak. She'll be all right, but I'll be admitting her for a day or two just to be sure. I suggest during that time you deal with your 'ghost'. Now, follow me, I'll take you to her."

She glanced at the watch on her wrist.

"Visiting hours don't actually open until 9am, and continue until 7pm. Immediate family members may stay overnight, but I would prefer you didn't, and maybe not stay much longer than 9:00. You came in at what…2am?"

Rick nodded.

"It's 5:30 now," she continued. "So I suggest you visit for an hour or two and go home to get some sleep yourself. Your mother needs to rest and so do you."

She turned and walked away, leaving Rick to follow.

XXXXXX

Martha had fallen back to sleep when her son entered the room.

Rick was pleased to see it was a private room; if she'd had a roommate he would have requested that she be moved. It wasn't that having strangers in the room would necessarily be a problem – as long as they kept to themselves – but if the doctor knew their professions, there was a better than even chance others would too, and the last thing either of them needed right now were fans horning their way in – possibly affecting Martha's recovery.

He gently pushed his mother's hair away from her face and she opened her eyes.

"Hey, Mother. How are you feeling?"

"Richard…" she replied weakly. "…Glad you're here."

"There's no other place I want to be. They will kick me out in a bit, though. Something about my needing sleep too."

He scoffed and she smiled, cheering him with the expression.

"I'm…sorry," she said. "I know you didn't want me opening that door."

Rick and his mother teased each other unmercifully at times, and in any other conversation, he would have made some sort of 'I told you so' statement.

But not now.

"It's all right, Mother. I understand why you wanted to confront the ghost."

"It really is a ghost?" Martha's voice was getting weaker, she was going to fall back to sleep soon.

"Yes, Mother, it is." He'd prevaricate a bit with the doctor, but he wasn't going to lie to his mother, no matter that the doctor told him not to tell her what was going on.

"What does it want?"

"Mother, I don't want you to worry…"

There was the look she gave him when she was really perturbed with him.

"What. Does. It. Want?"

Rick sighed.

"She wants my help in solving her murder."

"Why you?"

"Well, I live in the house where they are, so…"

"They?"

"Mother, you need to rest…"

"They?"

Martha was barely hanging on, but resolute.

Rick sighed and relented.

"Kate and her mother. Johanna was killed in '99 and moved into the house before we did. She's the reason that door was locked and the 'key was lost' as the former owners told you. Kate was killed in 2009 and moved in shortly after that."

Martha let out a weak snort.

"You're a better writer than that, Richard."

"That's how you can know it's the truth, Mother," he retorted softly.

"That hasn't answered my question, why you?"

"Well, again, I live there. As to why it took so long to 'contact' me, they were probably waiting for me to grow up a bit – only a bit." Rick grinned at his mother's shake of her head at that.

"Becoming a writer, learning how to do research," he continued. "Although Kate did say she read my first book before…" he broke off.

"Why do they think you can help?" she asked. "I'm not suggesting that you're not capable, but you're not the police."

"They can't leave the house – or the hallway upstairs. Kate can leave the hallway for short periods, she saved me from going over the banister at the top of the stairs, and I think she may have watched me while I was writing, but she can't stay out for long. I don't know if there's an energy upstairs that she feeds on – that's not the right word, but whatever, it's close enough. She was an NYPD detective when she was killed during that sniper rampage, and I'm sure she'd rather haunt her old precinct and get her old partners working on it, but she can't."

"I remember that sniper," Martha observed, ignoring the supernatural for the moment. "I was so glad I got you out of Manhattan before that happened."

He touched her cheek.

"I know. I remember too." He went back to the story. "They want me for 'legwork', that's what Kate told me. I'd take my laptop up there, but everything I know about 'hauntings' is ectoplasm and electromagnetic stuff. It's the second that concerns me. I can't do a lot if my computer is fried. I also don't know if Kate could interact with it. She can get physical with some things…"

"I know, it's why I'm here," Martha deadpanned.

Rick nodded dejectedly.

"Right. She warned me not to tell you anything, but after our big argument, she said I could. I don't understand why she still went through with her threat."

"You still haven't said why they want your help. 'To solve their murders'. Fair enough, but after so long, why now? I want you to ask her that when you get home – after you've slept," Martha admonished.

"Mother, I'm not sure I want to help her now. After what she did to you…"

"I understand that, thank you. Now answer the question."

Rick sighed.

"They can't move on – well, apparently Kate can, but her mother can't, and Kate won't leave until she can."

"Then see what you can do to help."

"Why? Mother, after what she did to you, why do you want me to help them?"

"So they can move on – so they can leave."

XXXXXX

I'm afraid we've lost him.

Katie…

No Mom, he's right, I took the charge off when he left, and then I put it back on.

Why in the world did you put it back on? You told him he could tell his mother the whole story.

I know I did. And I meant it. I don't really have an answer as to why I charged the door again, except…you know how exhausting manifesting is, I don't think I've ever done it that long. I've never needed to. I think I was just on autopilot. He'd left the room, I didn't – I don't want to freak his mother out…

A little late for that now, Katie.

Yeah, thanks for the obvious, Mom. But that's it. It's become habit to have it on, it doesn't take that much energy. It's an excuse, Mom, I know that, but that's all I have. And it's not going to be enough.

She sounded so dejected to her own ears, that Kate could almost see the smile on her mother's face, though she was invisible.

Katie, he's angry – and he's justified in that anger. But you can't give up. You want to know who taught me that?

Who?

You. I was resigned to haunting this hallway forever. I never dreamed – or wanted you to show up. You were supposed to move on from my death and have a life. But you're too much like me. You never stepped down from a fight – even when you should have.

Both spirits were silent for a moment, then Johanna went on.

You may have a new fight now, Katie. You can't step down from this one. We'll never get out of here if you do.

XXXXXX

By the time Rick got home he could barely keep his eyes open. He probably should have napped for an hour in a chair in his mother's room, but she'd kicked him out before the doctor came back to check on her.

He had the foresight to grab a cup of coffee before leaving the hospital – a really, really bad cup of coffee, but it had done the trick and woke him up long enough to get home alive. It wouldn't have helped if he'd joined Kate and Johanna in the hallway as a spirit.

He shook his head. He still wanted to help them – and not just because Martha had admonished him to do so. They were stuck, and Rick wanted to help unstick them.

But he couldn't. Not right now. He undressed, took the time to use the facilities and brush his teeth, and then fell into bed. The last thing he felt was a not quite sound in his head.

I'm so sorry, Castle.

XXXXXX

Later that afternoon, Rick stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the shut door, debating on whether to go up or go to the hospital. He wanted to see how his mother was, but knew that the first thing she asked him would be if he had talked to the ghosts. He wasn't 100 percent sure she believed him about Kate and Johanna, or if she was humoring him, but that didn't really matter at this point. She wanted him to help them move on – leave as she put it. Martha didn't want them in her house, and Rick understood that.

The difficulty was still that Kate had hurt his mother. That was unforgivable. She seemed remorseful, but was she really? Was she really that malevolent?

Rick shook his head. He had always been pretty good at reading people – it was one thing that he felt made him a reasonably good author. Granted, Kate was no longer a living person, she was a ghost, but neither she nor Johanna had seemed much different than someone alive. She hadn't come across as someone who would play him like that – threaten, say she'd changed her mind, and then carry out the threat anyway.

Well, it was time to judge for himself. He'd had the morning and early afternoon to calm himself – both from the panic of what happened, and his anger.

He marched up the stairs and knocked.

XXXXXX

The door swung open at the first tap.

Almost as if he'd been… Well, of course he knew he was expected. Even if he 'quit' the task they'd asked of him, Rick wouldn't have ignored them, how could he? Knowing they were there, there was no way he could avoid the door and hallway anymore.

He stepped across the threshold and saw Kate floating a few feet away, a remorseful look on her face.

"Kate," he greeted her, not quite warmly, not quite coldly.

"Castle, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt your mom. I know it's not good enough, all I have is an excuse, and I know it's not a good one, but it's the truth."

"Kate, while I'm not sure my mother believes this whole 'ghost story' thing, she's not – well – she is angry, but she said she wanted me to help you – and Johanna – move on."

Kate was so surprised; she faded a little.

"Really?" she asked incredulously. I don't deserve it.

"No, you don't – not from her," he agreed, still lukewarm. "She… well, I'll be honest with you, she wants you gone. This is her house, and she doesn't like interlopers – even though your mother was here first.

Wait… was she crying? Ghosts can cry?

Thank you, Castle – Rick. It doesn't matter if she wants to kick us out or actually help us. Either way, it does help.

Rick nodded.

"Would you be willing to meet her when she comes home? If only so she doesn't believe I've completely gone off the deep end?"

He smiled at her tentatively, suddenly wanting to get back to whatever they were before.

Only if she wants to, Castle. And I can't promise my mom will be able to manifest. She's still resting, though if needed I can translate for her.

"So where do we start today?"

Kate thought a moment.

A whiteboard. Something where you can write our thoughts.

"I have a computer," Rick suggested tentatively.

Kate eyed him thoughtfully.

That could work, why so hesitant?

He pointed at the door. "I don't want to fry it.

Kate's ghostly face fell.

Rick it's gone. The power is gone. I can only say I put it back on there out of habit. I was so exhausted from manifesting so long. Like I said – it's a not very good excuse.

"Hmmm…" was all the response she got. He wasn't sure he believed her. Sure he knew she was tired, but why couldn't she have just forgotten to repower the door?

But, you may still have a point, she went on, getting back to the matter at hand. When I was alive…

"Don't say it like that," Rick interrupted.

Castle, it's the truth. Nothing is going to change the fact that I died. You don't like it? I guarantee you I like it even less.

Rick pouted.

Anyway, I never believed in ghosts and paranormal stuff. I thought it was all tricks and nonsense… Until it happened to me. So, this is my only experience. I don't know if what powered the door is the stereotypical electric mayhem that 'ghosts' supposedly cause…

She looked off into the distance.

What was that, Mom?

A lengthy pause while Johanna – Rick assumed – was talking.

Kate nodded, apparently in response to her mother.

Do you have a cell phone?

"Do I have a…" Rick snorted and pulled out his phone.

Kate's eyes widened.

That looks like something out of science fiction!

"It's the iPhone X, came out last year," Rick said excitedly. "I'd like to get the XS Max – that's one of the new models, out this year, it has a bigger screen."

Wow. I remember the 3G, but this…

Kate broke off, clearly listening.

Mom wants us to stop fangirling about it and see if we're affecting it in any way.

Rick's eyes grew wide, he hadn't thought about his that. He checked the phone closely, checking the internet and texting his mother's phone.

"Everything seems to be working okay," he said in relief as soon as the text showed sent.

I'd like to have a whiteboard anyway – it's what I always used in the precinct – but you should try to get your laptop. That way all of us have all the information, and you can research from here too. You can bring up a table to set it up on, and I'll stay on the other side of the hallway just to be safe.

It was clear she was still feeling guilty about the door, and Rick thought she should. But he decided not to say anything. They were starting to get back on track and he didn't want to mess anything up.

But as he looked at her, a sudden longing came over him. He suddenly didn't want to help her move on. Forget what she had done to his mother – well, maybe not forget – but she was remorseful about it.

He wanted to keep her here for him.

XXXXXX

A/N2: Is Rick too forgiving? Perhaps, but he always was in canon. That's just who he is. He's also never been able to resist Kate for long – living or dead. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!