A/N: Hi, I don't have a lot to say this time except I just want to thank everyone again for reading and following this story. It's nice to know that I haven't lost my touch completely. This one's a long chapter, I hope you enjoy!

XXXXXX

Chapter 3

Damn, damn, damn. He carefully turned a bit on the ladder and looked to the ground.

"Mother!" he stage-whispered, "don't do that!"

"Richard Castle, you come down from there now!"

"I can't do that, Mother."

"Be reasonable, Richard!"

Rick merely turned back to the window and heaved himself further in, a little surprised Kate or the other ghost hadn't heard the commotion.

Martha threw up her hands in frustration and went in the house. She hauled a straight-backed chair up the stairs and parked herself on the landing in front of the door, waiting for her son to come out. At least, she hoped he'd come out through the door and not climb out the window. She was beginning to wonder about his sanity. He'd had writer's block in the past, but that wouldn't make him go this crazy would it? It never had before. It must be some serious blockage this time.

XXXXXX

What the hell was she doing home?

(Don't think like that, Rick, you sound like a 15-year-old trying to sneak some booze when your parents walk in. Quit panicking.)

Quit panicking. Okay. In the back of his mind he still wondered why she was home, what happened to her play? But he didn't have time to think about that now, he slid into the hall.

The volume in his head nearly doubled him over.

What are you doing here? How did you get in?

The volume lessened.

Oh. The window. Shit. I didn't think of that.

A buzz began to emanate from the window.

"You'll have to let me out eventually," Rick said.

You sure about that?

"You don't want me here."

True. Well I suppose I could throw you out the window, or the door.

"Turn the power off?"

Then I'll throw you out the window

"You'd kill me? I thought you were a cop. Don't you – I don't know – frown on murder? Not to mention what happened to you. You'd commit murder just because you're a ghost? Besides, you do know I'd be a ghost then too. I'd just join you up here, and then you'd never get rid of me."

Silence. Then Kate appeared and spoke so he could hear, rather than her voice booming through his brain.

Don't ruin my story with your logic.

Rick laughed. "I'm going to have to remember that one when I'm talking to my mother." He paused. "Not that she's particularly logical..."

Kate chuckled, a sound that he could not only hear, but reverberated through his head. It was a beautiful sound and feeling.

(Shit. Stop thinking that way. She threw you out because you said you loved her because of her knowledge of Dickens. Don'treallyfall in love with her.)

It might already be too late.

XXXXXX

Kate for her part was surprised she hadn't heard him come in. She knew she disappeared at times – where she went, she had no idea. Her co-ghost did the same and also had no memory of it. When she returned, she didn't always manifest, there wasn't much point to it after all, she could still communicate if she needed to, and somehow manifestation somehow sapped her.

But it was a shock to 'come back' and find Rick standing in the hall. The window. The God damned window. He'd never been on a ladder. Not once in the nine years she'd been stuck here. She still should have thought of it, though.

No, I don't… I do not want him here… Keep talking, it doesn't change the truth… No it doesn't! I don't want him!... I don't need him eith – .

She stopped short. The entire conversation with her co-ghost had gone on while she had been talking about tossing Rick out the window to him. She had just laughed at something he said.

"Are you all right?"

The question came tentatively from the living man standing by her.

No, she wasn't all right.

A low chuckle that only she could hear came from the open door.

Damn it, she did need him.

I told you so, Katie.

XXXXXX

Damn. I do need your help. I don't want it, though.

"But why not? Ok, I made some kind of faux pas earlier, but was it really enough to threaten me with death? Harming my mother?"

I lost my temper.

"You think?" Rick was fast losing his as well, though this confrontation wasn't what he had in mind when he climbed the ladder.

A cold breeze not connected to Kate passed between the man and the spirit.

"What was that?" asked Rick.

You're able to come out? Since when? How?

"So there is another ghost..." Rick began, but Kate held up a shimmering arm.

You told me...No, you can't!... You were on your way, even if you... Fine... Can you manifest at all?... I get that, I do too... It might help, though...

Rick felt that Kate was being polite in speaking so he could hear her.

"If... they don't want to, they don't have to. In fact, if it's easier for you to be invisible go ahead and be invisible."

Kate sighed.

It might seem strange that a ghost can get tired, but it happens. But if I disappear now, I really disappear. You not only won't see me; you won't hear me either.

"Where do you go?"

I don't know. But for now, I'll stay visible.

"Okay, thanks. But, um... your companion? If they're more comfortable staying invisible, by all means..."

What?... Are you sure?… Yes, I know I said it might help…

She looked at Rick.

Can you hear? She asked him.

"Uh, no. I can hear you, no one else."

Shit. Well I guess that answers it. If you want to be a part of the conversation you've got to come out…

Kate rolled her ghostly eyes.

Yes, I suppose I could translate for you, but that's going to be a pain in the ass and you know it… Yes, for me, and for you too, as well as Rick here… Thank you!

There was a shimmering off of Rick's left. He tensed, not quite sure what he was in for. The sheen in the air semi-solidified into a woman who looked very much like Kate.

Rick, this is my mother, Johanna Beckett. We want you to help us solve our murders.

XXXXXX

Rick was nonplussed.

"Murders?" he squeaked. "I- I mean… I know you were killed in the line of duty – which of course is murder – but you're making it sound like it was connected?"

We believe they were connected – and the sniper terrorizing the city at the time was a "happy" accident.

Johanna's voice (?) was a low contralto, not unlike Kate's but of a richer timbre.

"Okay, so you both were murdered," Rick began, directing his comment to Johanna. "But I'm going to assume you were here when Mother and I moved in 15 years ago."

He turned to Kate.

"You were killed in 2009, nine years ago."

He smiled at her expression. She hadn't told him when she died.

"Internet, Kate."

The confusion left her eyes.

You looked me up?

"You weren't talking to me, so I had to figure out who you were."

Kate had the grace to look contrite.

My temper's gotten worse over the years of no action.

No kidding.

Mom.

Anyway, that's true,replied Johanna.I was killed in 1999. I appeared in this house four years before you moved in.

And I showed up soon after I was shot.

"Why here? What is it about this house?" asked Rick. "Is it a home when you were younger Mrs. Beckett?"

The spirit gave him a sad smile and faded a little.

"No, don't go away!" Rick exclaimed. "Did I say something wrong – again?"

I may have to soon; manifesting is difficult for me. You said Mrs. Beckett. I haven't heard that for a long time. You didn't say anything wrong, Mr. Castle.

Kate moved to her mother's side.

No, this was never my home, childhood or otherwise. I don't know why I showed up here, or was sent here, or what.

Rick turned to Kate.

I don't know, Castle. All I've seen is this hallway and the rooms here. Have you been out of the hall, Mom?

She nodded.

When I first arrived, I was able to move throughout the house, though I couldn't go outside.

"What changed?"

The owners didn't like being haunted.

"What?! This is the coolest thing!"

Both spirits smiled at Rick's enthusiasm.

These people didn't think so. All I wanted to do was ask them why I was there, and they brought in a Catholic exorcist. I asked the priest why I hadn't moved on he went ballistic. You would have thought I was spewing pea soup the way he was carrying on.

Rick grinned at that, but said nothing

When that didn't work they moved on to Protestant deliverances. I asked them over and over for help, but they said it was trickery, and that I was the spawn of Satan. I was weakened, but I still couldn't leave. The owners were told to move and burn the place down because it was obviously connected to hell or something. In fact, the entire neighborhood should be destroyed, but they understood that wasn't feasible.

The grin had faded from Rick's face.

"What did they say to that?" he asked, noticing the spirit was fading. Literally. "Are you all right? Don't leave… er … disappear."

I'll have to soon, Mr. Castle. I don't have much energy to begin with, and as I said, manifestation is difficult. I'll tell as much as I can, and Katie can fill in the rest. They did decide to move but decided against destruction – obviously. I wonder what would have happened if they did? Would I have been able to move on then? Or would I have been destroyed somehow along with the house? Or would I have just haunted someone else on the street?

Mom…

Johanna waved her hand in dismissal.

I think about it from time to time. I don't usually mention it, because one: it's pointless, and two: even if there was a point, it's moot. The house is here and I'm here. That's it.

She paused.

The people who bought the house are the ones who later sold it to your mother. They called someone who wasn't attached to a specific religious organization, but...

"Ghostbusters?" Rick asked excitedly.

Kate snorted, and Johanna laughed. A bright sound that unfortunately made her fade further.

Well, they didn't have the car, and there's never been ectoplasm involved so...

She paused.

Rick tensed a little, not saying anything. He knew that Kate probably knew the story, and could fill him in, but he wanted to hear this from Johanna. Something about getting it straight from the source which he always liked to get during his research.

Perhaps it's still the best analogy. Anyway, I'm not sure what they did, but they managed to trap me in this hallway. I tried to leave through the main door, but there's some sort of energy that won't let me pass. I don't know what it is, but it works. I can – or used to be able to move through the rooms off the hall, but I can't get through that door. And that made me angry.

And apparently still did, Rick thought. Where just a second ago, she had almost faded away, now she looked solid. As corporeal as he was.

Mom. Kate said softly, as surprised as he was.

The anger either dissipated or Johanna wasn't able to hold on to the manifestation. She faded again, further than before. Her voice also faded so he could hardly hear her.

They were speaking. They thought they were quiet, but I disappeared and suddenly I was closer to them and I could hear. They said that somehow I was too strong and they couldn't drive me completely out. You think Katie lost her temper? She only threatened you. I threw them out the door and down the stairs. I think one of them broke his arm.

Rick moved a little closer to Johanna. He could hardly hear her, to say nothing of seeing her.

I locked the door and no one has been able to get in since. It doesn't take much energy to keep it locked, Katie can open it, and leave the hall for just a few minutes, but she's stronger than I am...

Johanna completely faded away.

Mom?... Of course I'll finish the story... can you get to the room?... Maybe you can...?... All right Mom. Yes.

Kate turned back to Rick.

Now, this is what she told me; I haven't shown up yet at this point of the story.

"Fair enough," he replied. "If I need to clarify something, will your mother be able to come back enough to speak to her?"

I think so. She doesn't manifest often – there's no real point, we can see each other even when you can't – but she's always bounced back when she has. She appeared more often when I came, but then something weird happened.

"Something more weird than haunting what sounds to be some random house?"

Kate snorted.

Touché. That room there, she pointed to one of the doors that led off the hall. It seems to be some sort of portal. It opened when I first came. Neither of us really noticed it at first, we were so amazed to see each other. I thought she had come to lead me on. When she told me how long she'd been here, I couldn't believe it. We think the portal was meant for me.

"So you could move on, but she couldn't?"

Something like that.

"Wait, I thought you said you hadn't shown up yet?"

I'll get back to that. Anyway, I thought we'd go together, but somehow the portal blocked her. I had no problem putting my arm in, but when I saw she couldn't go, I pulled back out. I insisted she go first, but it wouldn't take her. I finally took her hand and pulled her in... It was like pushing her hand through corn syrup mixed with oil, mixed with honey. Without holding her hand the portal was no thicker than water for me, but I could feel it thickening when I held her.

"What happened next?" Rick was enthralled.

Mom told me to go. I said no. She needed to go first. If you'd seen her face, Castle...She wanted to go so badly. So she gave in and began pushing her way in. It took years, but she had an arm and a leg in when you came through the window. Then she came back out. I didn't realize she was doing it at first, because it was still slow, but she pulled herself back.

"Why?" asked Rick.

Either to stop you, or stop me. I haven't asked.She smiled.Anyway, back to the original story. The owners stayed away from the door after she literally threw them out. The first of the for-sale signs went up not too long after that.

"Your mother said that these people were the owners before us," Rick began.

Yes. Mom told me that they tried to sell it about 3 or 4 times before your mother finally bought it. The first time, none of the potential buyers liked the hall locked, and wanted it open before they thought about buying. Of course the door wouldn't open, so those sales fell through. The next time they tried to put the house up, the realtor insisted on opening the door. According to Mom, she didn't believe it wouldn't open so she tried the door herself.

"What happened to her?" asked Rick - who was wishing he'd remembered a notebook so he could write all this down.

She got a shock. Not as strong as the one I gave you,she smirked at Rick's grimace,but enough that she walked out of the house without another word, and they never heard from her again. The next one...she paused a moment.I can't quite remember, so do clarify with my mom, I'm not sure if there was another try in between these. I think the next one was you and your mom.

"So that would be 2001, when I was 13," Rick mentioned.

Right, I'm fuzzy on all the dates before I got here, but at least you know that one. Anyhow. They put it up again, and put in no uncertain terms that the door at the top of the stairs was locked and couldn't be opened and there would be no explanation. The realtor who took the job told them that they'd have to sell at a loss, especially if they wouldn't say why the door was locked. They apparently replied they didn't know themselves.

"From what your mom said earlier, that's a bald-faced lie."

Yep. But at that point, they were desperate to get rid of it, so they accepted what the realtor said. Then I guess it was party time with the price so low. Mom said there were a lot of people traipsing through, but upstairs was a sticking point. No one wanted to buy it without seeing what was behind door number one.

"Well, you can't really blame people for that," Rick jumped in. "There could have been something going on that the owners didn't know about that had nothing to do with 'ghosts,'" he air quoted the word.

You sure that's not your writer brain talking there?

Rick nodded, conceding the point but not quite backing away from it.

"You should hear some stories I've heard while doing research."

How do you know I haven't read it? You published your first book at 20, right?

"Yeah..."

You looked me up. How old were you when I...she trailed off.

Rick didn't know what to say. Was this a trick? Something to give her an excuse to throw him out the window?

I died, Castle. You were 21 when I died. It's okay, it's why you're here.

Rick still didn't say anything.

I guess I deserve that. I'm sorry I lost my temper earlier.

That broke the spell.

"Lost your temper? You nearly killed me!"

Kate started pacing… well, floating – but floating back and forth

Ok, the shock was a little strong, but I saved you, I didn't let you fall down the stairs. You were in more danger climbing up that stupid ladder.

"Would I have gotten inside any other way?"

Kate halted.

Probably not.

"So it needed to happen."

I suppose you're right,she chuckled.

"So, um..." Rick hesitated.

What?

He took a deep breath. "I don't want to piss you off again."

Spit it out, Rick.

"Why did you get so angry?" He winced, as if preparing to go sailing out the window, but Kate only sighed.

You said something that hurt.

Rick gaped. "Wha-what did I say? You don't like Dickens?"

That brought back a small smile.

I'm the one who brought up 'A Christmas Carol', she reminded him.No, it's stupid, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had the tantrum I did.

"No, Kate, if I said something that bothered you, I need to know what it was, so I don't do it again. Tantrum or not, I don't want to hurt you."

You said I love you.

"What?"

I love you. You said that.

Rick thought that if a ghost could blush, Kate would be doing it.

And I... And I know it was just because of the whole Marley/Scrooge thing, but it just kind of... hit me the wrong way.

"Well, that's just piqued my curiosity, but I won't ask. And that sounds like I'm fishing –and honestly, maybe I am, my curiosity is insatiable – but you don't have to tell me."

Thanks for that. And thanks for the honesty about wanting to know. Maybe I'll tell you sometime – after I get my head around it myself. I feel like such an idiot about it, I'm sorry.

The two stood silently for a moment, just staring at each other. Rick blinked first, it was disconcerting to see the far wall through Kate's body.

"So... Um... Why do you need me?"

Legwork, mostly.

"I don't follow."

Well, as my mom told you earlier, she can't leave this hallway. She hasn't been able to leave that room for ages either.

"Yes, you've explained that," he said.

I can go in and out of all the rooms, and I can leave the hall for short bursts – like coming to grab you before you fell down the stairs.

Her face became a little clearer to him – more 'solid' – and he figured that counted as her blush. It would have made him smile if she wasn't so serious.

I can go out for longer periods, as long as I'm invisible and have the energy. I've watched you, you know.

It was Rick's turn to blush.

"You've watched me?"

Not like that, Castle. I've watched you working. Writing, research… That kind of stuff.

"Katherine Beckett. A fine upstanding officer…" he teased. Then he realized something. "You called me that earlier."

What?

"Castle."

That's your name, isn't it? she asked with a sardonic grin.

"My last name," he shot back. "Is this some sort of badass cop thing?"

Kate snorted as his enthusiasm.

Well, I don't know how 'badass' it is, she replied, imitating his air quotes from earlier. But yeah, I did that as a cop… It's habit more than anything.

She faded a bit.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

She thought a minute.

Tired isn't exactly the right word. It's not like I need to sleep, it's a draining of energy. It's never come on so strong. She paused. Of course, I haven't had a conniption like that before.

"How long will it take to recover?"

Good question. I've also never manifested this long.

"Okay," Rick began. "Why don't I go for now – preferably out the door – and let you…" he broke off, not knowing how to continue.

Rest? Dissipate? I don't know, Rick. Mom and I need to do this so we can move on.

"And I get that… I do. But I need rest too. And if you deplete enough energy that you can't even talk inside my head, nothing will get done anyway."

Kate nodded.

"So, I'll go," he continued. "I'll do some research tonight, look your mother up online. You rest, hopefully get some energy back, and I'll come back tomorrow, and we can discuss it more. Whether you're inside my head or I can see you. You're fading, Kate."

I think that's best. She grinned. Though I think your research will have to wait awhile.

"What do you mean?"

Your mom has been sitting on the landing outside the door since you came through the window. She brought a chair up and everything.

Rick's eyes grew wide.

"Um… is there a bed in one of those rooms?" he asked. "Maybe I could just stay here?"

Kate faded on a laugh and a click of the door unlocking.

Don't be a chicken, Castle.

He moved to the door, smiling.

After that laugh, he could face Hurricane Martha.

XXXXXX

Martha dropped the script she was reading when she heard the click of the door. It still took what she felt was too long for it to open, so she stood, thinking she would open it and see just what the hell was going on.

Before she could, Rick opened the door and came out, the door clicking softly behind him.

"Richard!" Martha exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mother. Nothing horrible happened in there."

Martha's eyes hardened on her son.

"I want an explanation, Richard."

Rick sighed. He still hadn't gotten permission from Kate to tell his mother the story. He'd told her some, but Kate had treated that as a betrayal. She'd said not to tell her, and he'd blown it again. In his defense, his mother could be persuasive, but he'd still violated Kate's privacy.

Could ghosts really have privacy?

Her voice reverberated through his mind.

You can tell her, Castle. You already have anyway, she needs the full story now.

'Forget ghosts,' he thought. 'AmIgoing to have privacy?'

Funny

'Tell me I'm wrong.'

Far be it for me to come between a writer and his story

"Richard Castle you wipe that smirk off your face, none of this is funny!"

Rick jumped.

"No, you're right, Mother. I'm sorry."

"Talk, Richard. And I want no ghost stories. We may both live in worlds of imagination, but this is real life, and your fancies aren't welcome. Not this time."

"Mother, do…"

"Don't ask me if I trust you. That's a cop out and I'm not sure I do now."

Rick rocked back as if she had hit him.

"Mother!"

"You're acting strangely," she barreled over him. "Not like yourself."

She stood straighter, steeling herself for the answer.

"Is it drugs?"

"Mother, you know me better than that."

Rick wasn't angry, he was hurt, and it showed.

Martha noticed but didn't back down. She couldn't. She was terrified for her son. If he had gotten mixed up in something illicit…

He was standing stock still, a faraway look on his face.

Dear God, what had her son gotten into?

XXXXXX

Castle, I know what you want. But I can't

Kate's voice was weaker than before. Not as weak as Johanna's had been just before she disappeared, but Rick knew she was past making an appearance, especially outside the hall.

'Tomorrow?'

I don't know

A sharp pain to his cheek broke Rick from his reverie.

"Mother! You slapped me!"

"Yes, I did. You were off in your own little world. I'll ask again, because with the way you're acting I don't know that I do know you better than that. Is. It. Drugs?"

"I'm sorry you think so little of me, Mother."

"Do not try to guilt trip me, Richard. I'm worried about you."

"Then trust me. You know me. Give me a day to do some research, and I'll tell you everything."

"I thought I did, Richard. But I'm not sure I do."

She tried to move past him to the door.

"I'm going to see what's in there for myself."

"Mother…"

Martha turned the knob. The door was locked.

"Unlock this door."

"I can't. I didn't lock it."

She pounded her fist on the wood.

"Unlock this door immediately!" she said to whomever she thought was behind it. "Unlock it or I'll call the police!"

"Mother, stop!" Rick wrapped his arms around Martha's shoulders, pulling her away, turning her, and sitting her back on the chair she had brought up the stairs to wait for him.

"The police can't help. Now, the story I heard…"

"From the 'ghost'?" Martha asked sarcastically.

"Yes, Mother, the ghost."

There was no way she could have missed his exasperation with her. He really believed what he was telling her.

"The story I heard didn't mention the police ever being called about this. But they wouldn't have been able to get in." Rick paused and grimaced – like he hated himself for what he was going to say. "We've lived here for 17 years, Mother. You took the former owners at their word that the key was lost. You never even tried to get in. Neither did I, and that's something a 13-year-old boy should have been all over. Please, just let me do some research on our ghost, and I'll tell you everything tomorrow evening."

He had her there and she knew it.

"All right, Richard, you win this round. Convince me… If you can."

She stood and marched down the stairs, never looking back.

XXXXXX

Okay, research.

As soon as Rick got back to his rooms, he went straight to the laptop sitting on his desk. This time he wanted to look for Johanna Beckett... And maybe Kate's father. Neither spirit had mentioned him, and he wasn't – or didn't seem to be in any of the rooms off the hallway. But if he was there, why didn't Kate mention her father? Why didn't Johanna mention her husband?

Putting two and two together, Rick deduced Mr. Beckett was still alive.

"How's that for detective skills?" he thought.

He swore he could hear a decidedly unfeminine snort in his mind.

Rick grinned and got to work.

His grin faded as he began. He may have met Kate and Johanna, but they were ghosts, which meant they were dead. He found Johanna's obituary.

Johanna K. Beckett

February 4, 1951 - January 9, 1999

Johanna Beckett, 47, died January 9, 1999

Johanna Rozika Kovac Beckett was born to Roman and Alda Kovac on February 4, 1951, in New York City, NY.

Johanna excelled in school and attended Columbia University as a pre-law student beginning in 1970. She went to Brooklyn Law School in 1975 specializing in criminal defense. She met her husband James Beckett in 1976, they married early in 1978 and had a daughter, Katherine, in late 1979.

After graduation Johanna entered the public defender's office, determined to give a voice to those who had none. She was well known in law circles as one who would give anyone a chance to redeem themselves.

Johanna was active in several 'Take back the neighborhood' campaigns in Manhattan, including the Washington Heights neighborhood the first week of January this year. She returned to the area on the 9th to continue her work and was found later stabbed to death. At this time it is unknown if her death is connected to the campaign or a random event. The investigation is still ongoing.

Johanna's motto was Vincit Omnia Veritas – Truth Conquers All. It was not just a platitude for her, she truly believed in that. More words she lived by were "Life never delivers anything that we can't handle." Johanna Beckett handled almost everything life handed to her with grace and aplomb.

Johanna is survived by her husband James Beckett and her daughter Katherine Beckett, friends and colleagues in the New York public defender's office, and many personal friends.

Funeral services will be held at Grace Church, 802 Broadway, interment will be at Woodlawn Cemetery 517 E 233rd St, Bronx, NY.

Rick copied and pasted the obituary to his Katherine Beckett file – making a note of Washington Heights and the 'take back the neighborhood' campaign – and closed it and the web page down, deciding to forego looking for James Beckett for now. It was too depressing. It had been easier to read Kate's obit, she was angry with him, so he hadn't talked to her yet. Now that he had, and seen her too, he felt like he knew her a little. And he mourned not having met her when she was alive. Her mother too. Johanna was a remarkable woman. Both of them were.

Oh, who was he kidding? When would they ever have met? Kate said she'd read his first book, so maybe they could have at a signing, but that was so impersonal. He always tried to learn his fans names, but still. There was never enough time to get to know anyone.

And then there was the age difference. 8 and a half years. He would never have had a chance with her at 21. He wasn't much more than a snot nosed kid back then, and he was sorry to say, he wasn't a whole lot better at 30. He was better at saving money – much less likely to buy land on Jupiter than he was back then, but he was still signing chests and dating the most bubble headed bimbos he could find, and he didn't know why.

Rick considered himself reasonably intelligent, able to carry on an interesting conversation, but he chose women who wouldn't recognize an "interesting conversation" if it bit them on the ass. Kardashian this, Real Housewives that, why did he keep doing this to himself?

He could tell himself he was waiting for the right one, but the point was... he wasn't really looking. If he was, he was looking in the wrong places.

He threw up his hands in frustration and turned off the computer. This wasn't getting him closer to the story. It might have helped, if he hadn't met either of them.

And that was odd. Even if he wanted to interview someone as a part of his research, online was always his go-to. Especially after said interview if he needed clarification and/or fact checking. Maybe it was because Kate and Johanna were ghosts. They were already dead. Even if he did want to help them find justice, (and he did) it still wouldn't bring them back to life. It would most likely help them 'move on', whatever that meant. And then he wouldn't see either again.

And that hurt more than he wanted to admit – or accept.

But why? They. Were. Dead. Kate… Kate was dead. Why was he so broken up about someone he hadn't even met in… 'real life'?

Good God. Had he actually fallen in love with a ghost?

XXXXXX

A/N2: What did you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts!