A/N: Welcome to chapter 2! Thanks to all who have favorited and followed this story. I feel like I'm testing the waters while at the same time just jumping back in. For all the time this story has sat in the background, it's one of those that has never really left the brain. I'm so grateful that you're all still here and wanting to read my stories, thank you.

Now on with the show!

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Chapter 2

"Richard Alexander Rodgers – er – Edgar Castle where have you been and what are you doing?"

Martha didn't quite storm out of the house like an avenging angel, but she was certainly annoyed.

Rick was surprised at the full name; his mother hadn't used that on him since he was 10 years old.

"Mother! Hello. Um… I want to get a telescope and look at planets on the roof?" he phrased it as a question. "I thought I'd start with a ladder?"

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "All of a sudden you're interested in astronomy? No, Richard Castle you are up to something. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it." Martha looked up at the house from the driveway where Rick was unloading the ladder from the top of his car.

"You're trying to find another way into that hallway, aren't you?" she asked suddenly.

Damn. She was too shrewd for him; she always had been. He'd never been able to pull anything over on her, no matter how precocious he had been as a kid and teenager.

"Talk to me, Richard," she pleaded with her son. He was scaring her.

"Mother, do you trust me?" Rick asked.

"I don't know, Richard," Martha answered, honestly. "Somehow you got through that locked door, and now you want in again but somehow can't get through the door, so you're trying to find another way. And I'm trying to get information from the previous owners, but you seem to know what's going on and you're ignoring me. You won't tell me anything. It's my house, Richard, I need to know if there's something odd going on."

Rick deflated. His mother was right of course, but Kate's threat reverberated through his mind, even though it was just memory this time.

"Have you called the former owners?"

"Not yet, I wanted you there when I called. But you disappeared – again – and now you're back with a ladder of all things."

"Will you hold off on calling them for a day or two? I need you to trust me..."

"You're the one who wanted me to contact them in the first place!" Martha's ire was growing by the minute. "You come inside and tell me what's going on, now!"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

That stopped his mother short.

"Then you need to come inside and explain that," she returned. "The neighbors' gossip about us enough, I don't want to add fuel to the fire."

"Mother..."

"No!" Martha glared. "Inside, now."

She turned and stalked off, fully expecting Rick to follow.

He did, a bit like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

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I am trying! You have to understand... I know, I acted like a two-year-old. I think I'm entitled. I don't think he's going to work, so we have to wait again... Am I happy about that? Of course not! I know...He said he loved me, and that pissed me off… Damn it, I know it's petty, I know I'm overreacting, I know, I know, I know. But... yeah, but... I know, but... would you let me finish? I'm dead, I'm never going to have that... Yes, that hurts. Does that really matter? He's like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush. He's never taken anything seriously before; I don't know why I thought he would now… No, it's definitely not going to work now… Why? I threatened his mother, that's why... Because – because – it's nobody's business, that's why… I know, you're right, I'm being unreasonable… But we need answers! And his mother is more flighty than he is… Yes! The last thing either of us need is the Ghostbusters or worse, an exorcist showing up – again… Of course I want to move on. Of course I want you to move on. It's been 15 years for me, but I need this… I'm willing to wait for someone to come along who can help… It's not going to be this guy… He can't get in. I've locked the door. No one can open it, no one can get close enough to open it… What do you mean there's a different way?

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Rick sat on the couch while his mother sat ramrod straight on the edge of a recliner. 30 years old and he felt like he was going to be given a lecture and put in time out for being naughty. And maybe he was – at least the lecture part.

"Help me, Richard. I went to the bank and pulled the information from the safe deposit box – as you asked me to, if I may remind you. I need to contact them, and you need to be here as I do."

He made a decision that he hoped he wouldn't regret.

"Mother, I do not want to deal with the former owners. They didn't help those in the hallway and room upstairs, why should I believe they'll help us now?"

"What people in the room? The door has been locked for 15 years! Are you saying we've had intruders in there for all this time?" Martha put her head in her hands. "Oh, God, how could I be so naïve? How could I have thought that a locked door didn't matter?"

Rick shook his head, but only answered the first question.

"No not intruders unless you wanna call us the intruders."

"What?"

"She's a ghost."

"Richard."

"Mother."

"I don't believe you, I don't believe in ghosts,"

"Mother, I'm not sure it matters whether you believe in ghosts or not. I've met her. She grabbed me when I went into the room when the door was open. I can't help it, this did happen. And then when she kicked me out, I looked her up online."

"How? How did you look her up? Does she have a name? Did she give it to you?"

"Yes, she said her name was Kate. I found her online. Katherine Beckett. She was a detective with the NYPD. She was killed in the line of duty during the sniper case years ago. Remember?"

"And why should I believe you?" Martha asked.

"Because I'm your son?" Rick answered, more as a question than a statement.

"Oh, yes, she continued, with no small amount of sarcasm. My son. An author of fiction."

"Mother..."

"Oh, no Richard. I get it. Everything out of your mouth is truth somewhere, right? Why shouldn't I believe a mystery author? I assumed earlier that your hijinks were for a book. Now you're saying it's the real thing? Oh no. You don't get to do that to me. All you're doing is scaring me with your antics, and now you want me to just gloss over the fact that you want to get on the roof and climb through a window? No! you don't get to do that to me. You'll do nothing but kill yourself."

"Mother..."

"Yes, I said kill yourself!" Martha was on a full rant now.

"You'll fall off the roof, you'll fall out of the window, or maybe... I know... the monster in the room will rip your head off and toss it out for me to find. Or it will be a plastic head that you'll throw out the window. You. Don't. Get. To. Do. That. To. Me. Why do you persist in this? You're 30 years old! You're a published author! I thought you were an adult! You spent all the proceeds from your first book, yes, but you've been responsible since. Or at least I thought you have. Am I wrong? Are you in trouble? Is it drugs? Gambling?"

"Mother!"

"I'm worried, Richard! This has gone on too long!"

"It's been less than a full day, Mother. Where is your fear coming from?"

"Richard Castle. You somehow got that door open, and now you're trying to... what's the word? Freak me out with your buffoonery! When did you open that door? Answer me! Now!"

"Mother, I did not open the door," he said calmly. "You know that. I was just as surprised to see it open as you were. You've always said I wasn't as good an actor as you, and now you think I'm Laurence Olivier? I'm shocked that that door opened. I'm shocked that it's a hallway we never knew was there. I'm shocked it was so clean. Absolutely pristine! I don't understand it as much as YOU don't understand it! I don't know why you're so against my story!"

He stood and went into the kitchen.

"That's it, Richard," she called after him. "It's a story. And you'll never get me to believe otherwise."

Rick deflated.

"Fine, Mother. Believe what you want. But I'm going to find a way back through that door. And no, it's not as easy as unlocking it."

"I don't want you on that roof, Richard."

He sighed as he sat at the kitchen table. Putting his head in his hands he said, "And I don't want to get blasted down the stairs. I nearly did earlier, you know."

"Really?" Martha's voice dripped sarcasm. "You caught yourself just in time, did you?"

"She caught me."

Martha rolled her eyes, but Rick was a little more animated again.

"She did! And that's why I need to get back in there. She doesn't want me in there, but she doesn't want to hurt me either. I know I can help her if I can get in there."

"Even if I believed you – which I don't – why should you help her? What's in it for you?"

"Why should any of it be for me?" he asked. "Why can't I help someone for the sake of helping them?"

"I know you, Richard. There's always an angle."

Rick had been in the process of standing, but that made him sit down again, hard.

"Wow, Mother…" he was stunned that she would say something like that. To her credit, she seemed a little surprised she said it too.

"I know I can be shallow at times, Mother…" he began.

"Richard, I didn't…"

"You've always taught me that the truth comes out in the heat of the moment," he interrupted. "Well, this is certainly the heat of the moment, and it seems the truth came out."

Martha sat across from him at the table.

"Richard. I'm not saying you don't help for the right reasons, but whatever trouble a person is in, it always seems to end up in one of your books," she held up her hand to stop Rick from replying. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, Richard, just maybe a little self-serving."

"That's not the reason I help, Mother. Yes, at times it can spark something in my writing. But I help to help. And that's what I'm planning here."

"By scaring me with something that doesn't exist?"

"What happened to your imagination, Mother?"

"My imagination is just fine. But I don't get carried away with it, unless I'm on stage."

Rick gave up.

"Fine, let's say this is all my imagination. Just… let me run with it? If I'm getting carried away, let me?"

"No roof, Richard."

"I'll continue to try the door. But if that doesn't work…"

"No roof, Richard. It's too dangerous."

He dropped the subject, then remembered the ultimatum Kate had given him.

"Be careful, Mother."

"Why should I be careful? I'm not stupid enough to climb to the roof."

"Kate told me not to tell you about her. She threatened to hurt you if I did."

"So why did you?"

"You forced it! I wouldn't have if you had just trusted me!"

"I'm not worried, Richard. It's all in your head. I'm going to continue as I always have. Nothing will happen to me."

"I hope not, Mother. Maybe your disbelief will help you." He sat back in his chair. "So, since this is all my imagination, are you still contacting the former owners of the house?"

"Yes. It's time to find out once and for all what is in there. It's my own stupid naïveté that I didn't question it before."

"Will you hold off for a little while? Just until I can get in there myself?"

They looked at each other, neither wanting to back down.

Finally Martha caved.

"You have a week Richard," she paused. "And stay off the roof."

XXXXXX

Can ghosts pace?

Kate didn't know, but it felt like she was doing it.

He told her. He told his mother. Son of a bitch, even after she threatened him, he still told her.

What? Am I going to follow through? I don't know, I should... Why not? I told him not to and he still did it... Yes, I know it was in the heat of the moment, but... Was it? Was it really heat of the moment for him? You think? I guess... but still...Yeah, you have a point. She doesn't believe it anyway, but it's more to teach him a lesson...Yeah, but if I don't he won't think I'm serious... I don't want him spouting off to the entire world, a haunted house? Not only will he be considered a crackpot, other whack jobs will show up to try to prove it, and that will make things more difficult for us... I need to prove what happened! The bastard has all but announced he's running for president in a couple of years, and I can't move on until the world knows he's a murderer.

What was that? Of course you didn't hear, you're partway gone, you can only hear what's in this room… Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to remind you you're further along than I am, closer to where I want to be… I'm sorry. That was uncalled for… I know I pushed you to go first. Wait. I think he's outside the door… No I don't want him in here… No!

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Rick stood outside the door a healthy distance away. He examined it as best he could from that far away – yes, it was still glowing – a steady thrumming pulse, gradually getting brighter.

Shit, somehow she knew he was there. Of course, why wouldn't she? She was a ghost, and could leave the room as she pleased.

He still felt like he'd have an element of surprise if he went through the window he'd seen. Maybe he'd take a look at the plans of the house, he remembered poring over them when they first moved in, it was the biggest place he'd ever lived, and he wanted to find every nook and cranny that wasn't behind that door. He was more interested in the basement at the time, anyway.

He could hear the light at the door humming now, crackles of electricity zapping through the air. The window it was then. He could wait until his mother was off at a rehearsal or performance…

Oh, for God's sake! He was thirty years old! He didn't have to ask his mommy's permission. He didn't necessarily even need to go up to the roof, the ladder should reach the window easily.

He ignored the niggling voice inside reminding him he was all his mother had and she just wanted him safe.

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It took a week, but he managed to get the ladder up. He'd gotten a reprieve from his mother's ultimatum when she won a role in a play traveling throughout the state and would be gone a further two weeks, then it rained for two days.

He had gone upstairs every day and stayed at the door. He was hoping Kate would ease up on the electrical fence as it were, or even let him in, but no such luck. If anything, the light shining through the cracks grew brighter and the buzzing grew louder. He hoped the otherworldly power wouldn't cause any damage in this world. On the other hand, if he was actively trying to get in the door, she probably wouldn't expect the window.

So now here he was, 11:00 at night. setting a ladder against the side of the house. He knew he probably should have someone holding it, but there was no one. He wasn't close to his neighbors, and his mother wouldn't have helped him if she'd been home anyway.

The ladder sank into the ground a few inches when he stepped on the first rung. Maybe he should have waited another day to let the ground dry out more.

But no. Kate needed him. She didn't want him, but she needed him. And that meant he needed to get into that hallway.

He stepped up another rung and paused. The ladder didn't sink in anymore, so he moved up a little faster.

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He didn't notice the car slowing on the street.

To Rick's surprise, the window shone with the bright light from inside. He didn't think it was electrified like the door, but it showed black from the ground. He figured it was the light of the room in general. He still saw spots before his eyes from the brightness of the hallway when he was in there before. He peeked in, saw the hall as before, bright white and perfectly clean. Pristine he had called it. Like nothing of this world had ever stepped into it. That wasn't right, of course, he'd been in there himself. He was a little nerve-wracked when he saw one of the doors in the hall open and Kate's ghost standing (floating?) in the hall talking to someone in that room. At least it looked to him she was communicating with someone or something. She turned toward the window, and he nearly fell off the ladder. He was able to duck down out of sight and when he peeked again she had disappeared, and the door was closed. It unnerved him to know she wasn't the only ghost in the place. And this haunting had to have been the one in the beginning since Kate had been murdered in 2009, after he and his mother moved in. He pushed lightly on the window. It would be just his luck that the window would either be locked or not have an opening mechanism at all. The door opened again, and he ducked back down. Peeking through the window, Rick couldn't see anything. Kate hadn't reappeared, and no other ghost came out of the room. He pushed on the window again. At first, it didn't budge, but then it moved. He had to tamp down his excitement and not let out a little yell of victory. He wasn't inside yet. He pushed further and stuck his head into the hallway. He heard an unearthly screech and nearly fell back out. Where had that come from? It didn't seem to come from the room, and it wasn't in his head. That left outside. Shit. A neighbor had seen him. Probably calling the police right now. Son of a bitch.

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A/N2: I'm sorry if this seems like word vomit, but it kinda is. When I started this all those years ago, I decided to just let loose and edit later. Amazingly enough, I've liked what I've done enough that there hasn't been much editing I've wanted to do. I hope you've liked it too. I'd love to hear your thoughts!