History is always written wrong, and so always needs to be rewritten. – George Santayana

Intro: Takes place during 7x06, The Time of our Lives, immediately after Beckett and Castle captured their Australian Football loving suspect at the sports bar and brought him back to the 12th precinct.

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the result of the fertile mind of Andrew H Marlowe, owned by AHM & ABC Studios, and brought to life brilliantly by Nathan Fillion, Stana Katic, et al. I don't own them, I only abuse them.

Police Captain Kate Beckett and author Richard Castle watch as their suspect is led away by a uniformed officer, on his way to booking. Castle turns to the Captain and asks "Well? What'd he say?"

Beckett shakes her head. "Nothing, on the advice of his high-powered counsel."

"Okay. So what's our next move?"

"There is no next move. You asked to stick around until this case was resolved. It's resolved."

"How is it resolved?"

She explains, as if speaking to a child. "Detectives Ryan and Esposito found the G-wagon and the murder weapons at our suspect's place. This is open and shut."

"What about the artifact? We need to find it."

"Whoever had them steal it, it and they are long gone by now."

"Someone has to know where it is. There's the other shooter."

"Okay, but we have no way to find him. Look, the DA's going to ask for a plea deal, but trust me. This suspect's ex-military, he's not going to roll."

Castle is stunned, but never speechless. "So that's it?"

"This isn't one of your books, Mr. Castle. You don't always get the answers. We cleared the case. It's a win."

As she turns to walk away, Castle's speech increases in volume. "NO! You know, that can't be it!" As she turns back to look at him, his voice takes on a sense of urgency. "The Kate Beckett in my world would never call this a win. The Kate Beckett where I come from? She would be unrelenting in the face of anything that is thrown in her path. She would find the truth and she would never compromise."

Beckett's face reflects the fury in her voice. "I don't know what twilight zone world you think you come from, but you don't know me, and don't pretend you do. So, Mr. Castle, we're done …. " Beckett pauses, her facial expression more controlled, more contemplative, but the anger still very evident. "You know what, Mr. Castle? We're NOT done. I spoke too soon. Please, follow me."

Although phrased politely, it's obviously not a request. She leads the way into her office, and closes the door after Castle enters. She indicates one of the chairs at the front of her desk while she pulls out her swivel chair and sits. She then pushes the power button on her desktop computer. As she's waiting for the machine to come to life, she grabs the novel Storm Season off her desk. Opening her top right hand drawer, she places the book in there, taking several seconds to situate it, and then closes the drawer. She continues to logon to her computer. From Castle's perspective, it looks like she's pulling up a case file. She looks at Castle and asks "So, Mr. Castle, in YOUR world, the first case we worked on was the Tisdale case, right? Tell me about it."

"I thought you didn't believe in time travel, alternative universes, or anything else that wasn't provable in a court of law."

"Well, you're a novelist, right? A producer of fiction, a story teller. So, wow me, Mr. Castle."

Castle contemplated her with half closed eyes. Her hint of challenge, her intimation of a sultry smile, was so familiar, and so endearing, it tugged at his heart strings. God, he wanted HIS Beckett back, with all his heart and soul. So, what did he have to lose? He took a large breath and began.

"Six years ago, in March of 2009, I was at the launch party for Storm Fall, bored to tears. I was explaining to my daughter just how bored I'd become: with Storm, with writing, with life – when this drop-dead gorgeous woman accosted me. Surprisingly, she didn't want her book signed, or her chest signed either. No, she flashed a badge, stated she was a homicide detective, and wanted to ask me about a couple of murders. She gave me a ride here to her precinct, and left me to stew in an interrogation room for half an hour. She finally returned; then proceeded to make fun of my previous … indiscretions. Sound familiar, Captain? Then she showed me photographs of the crime scenes. It was obvious that someone was copying murder scenes from my earlier novels. I agreed to deliver my fan mail to her, and was released. The next day, I approached Captain Montgomery and offered my assistance with the case."

At this point, Castle stopped, and began to look very uncomfortable. His glance slid to the elephant figurines on the captain's desk, then back to her beautiful green eyes. He swallowed and asked, "How is Captain Montgomery, Beckett?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"This is your party, Beckett. You want the story, I need the background." His voice became almost menacing as he asked "How's Roy?"

She paused for a few seconds, then responded "He's fine. Enjoying retirement."

"And Evelyn and the girls?"

Beckett's eyebrows shot up. "Great. Last time I heard, little Whitney was accepted into Stuyvesant."

"Good. That's good." He took a breath and continued, his head down, concentrating on the figurines on her desk. "Okay." He mentally shook himself. "So, anyway, Captain Montgomery agreed I might be some help, much to the chagrin of the lead detective on the case." He flashed a smile. "We reviewed the fan mail, and came up with a viable suspect. Fingerprints led us to Kyle Cabot, a patient of Allison Tisdale's suffering from Pervasive Development Disorder. Unfortunately, not before another victim was found, a young lady stabbed and floating in a pool." Castle looked up at her, his eyes wide, and added "I can't remember her name. How terrible is that?" He started to panic. "Oh, SHIT! A young lady, senselessly murdered because of a book I wrote, and I can't even remember her damn name! … "

"MISTER CASTLE!"

The third cry of his name stopped him. He shook himself and responded "What?"

"Mr Castle, it was over six years ago." Surprised at how distraught the rich prima donna was getting, she took pity on him, and after glancing at the computer screen, supplied the victim's name. "Kendra Pitney."

Castle looked … relieved. "Ahh! Thank you, Captain. Yes. Kendra Pitney. A waitress in the diner. Well, anyway, after arresting poor Kyle and bringing him back here - where he didn't say "Boo" - you charged him and were apparently closing the case. The circumstantial evidence against him was overwhelming."

"But you, being the brilliant and intrepid investigator, didn't buy that?" Her tone dripped sarcasm.

It occurred to Castle that, if he wanted to be believed, if he wanted to sway this Beckett into pursuing the current case further and help to retrieve the magical pendant, he'd need to minimize his role in this story. He needed to stress the teamwork, the shared triumphs, to capture the captain's interest. He continued. "Actually, Captain, you and I independently determined that the crimes couldn't have been committed by Cabot."

"So, how'd we do that, Mr. Castle?"

"Look, would you PLEASE drop the Mister crap?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

"Well, captain, you later told me you found it very unlikely that a serial killer would kill a casual acquaintance, then escalate to his therapist, then kill another casual acquaintance. Perfect profiling. I, on the other hand, thought it improbable that an obsessive like Kyle would get so many of the crime scene details wrong – Allison's roses, Marvin's necktie, and Kendra's dress were all wrong."

"All first names of the dead? You seem to identify with the victims, Castle."

"Well, Beckett, YOU taught me that."

She blinked. "So, in this world of yours, we solved it?"

"Yep. Caught Harrison Tisdale trying to shred his fake passports."

"It says here that Detective McNulty had to save you from Tisdale, who had a gun on you just outside his apartment."

"In my version too, but it was you in that alley, detec … er … captain. Wasn't a big deal – the safety was on the entire time."

Beckett typed something into her computer, and the screen changed. "So, how did you go from a one time advisor on a case related to your writing, to this super homicide investigator you pretend to be?"

Castle chose not to take offense at Beckett's obviously provocative question. "Simple, Beckett. I used my friendship with Mayor Weldon to influence the police commissioner, who in turn influenced Captain Montgomery. Needless to say, you were NOT happy about it."

"No, six years ago, I don't imagine I would have been overjoyed. Were you always this outspoken and disrespectful?"

"Oh, no way, Captain …" Castle smiled and continued " … I was much worse."

A quick roll of her eyes, then she checked her screen. "Okay. So you weasel your way onto my team. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was it so important for you to join my team?"

Castle stared at her, then took his phone out of his pocket. He slid it to open, appeared to search for something, then worked his thumbs furiously for several seconds. He looked up as he returned the phone to his jacket pocket, and simply said "Inspiration."

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Inspiration for what?"

"Check your In Box, Captain."

Beckett opened another window on her desktop, waited a few seconds as some items downloaded, then asked, "Alright, Castle. What is Heat Wave, and why is it sixteen megabytes?"

"My novel about working here."

"You wrote a novel about us?"

"A series of novels. You are the detective I used as a template for my protagonist, Nikki Heat."

Now Beckett looked mad. "You called me Nikki Heat?"

"No! Why would I call YOU Nikki Heat? My fictional character was named Nikki Heat. Of course, since everyone knew she was based on you, a lot of other people called you Nikki Heat." At her glare he added, much more subdued "Maybe not A LOT of people. It was mostly people with a death wish."

Beckett's eyes were shooting daggers. "You are really something, aren't you, Castle?"

"That seems to be the general consensus."

"Okay, moving on. What was our next case?"

"Really? We're going to do this now?"

"You have something better to do, Castle? You offered to take me out on a date. It's only 8:20 pm. THIS is what I choose to do. Oh, by the way, Mister Super-cop, what was our close rate during your tenure with us?"

Castle looked right in her eyes, unblinking. "94% close rate, 89% conviction rate."

Beckett snorted. "Now I KNOW you're full of shit, Castle."

Castle set his jaw, his blue eyes piercing. "Fine, let's go on. After signing seemingly endless forms to protect the city from my lawyers, our first real case was Nanny McDead in the spin dry."

Beckett sneered, "So much for identifying with the victims, huh, Castle?"

Castle sat forward, eyes blazing. "So, what are YOUR defense mechanisms, captain? Oh, wait, let me guess. Long motorcycle rides. Long baths with a good novel. And maybe, building a wall around your heart, so nobody can get in, and that fun-loving girl that went to Stanford so many years ago can't get out?" He threw up his palms in apology before Beckett could erupt. "I'm sorry, Captain. That was uncalled for. Just, please don't jump to the conclusion that I don't care just because I'm a little flippant." He took a calming breath. "Victim's name was Sarah Manning, a lovely young woman from Atlanta. Worked for the Petersen's, who were a piece of work, and was having an affair with a married man on the 15th floor, one Ian Harris, who was REALLY a piece of work. The Harris nanny, Chloe Richardson, was also in love with Harris, and hit her friend Sarah with a bottle of bleach. It was all very sad." He looked up into her eyes and said "You talked Chloe out of hurting herself, her unborn baby, or anyone else when she was holding a butcher knife down in their laundry room. At that time, it was one of the bravest things I'd ever seen."

Beckett was still angry, and refused to be mollified. "Why, 'at that time'?"

"Because since then, I have seen some truly extraordinary acts of bravery here with the NYPD, mostly by you and members of your team."

"Huh. Okay, super-cop, how'd you solve the case?"

"The elevator camera showed that Sarah's second and last trip to the basement was five seconds longer than her first trip. Ergo, she was coming from the 15th floor."

"Oh, very Agatha Christie, Castle."

He smiled. "Thanks. No, wait. How'd you solve it?"

"Sarah's sister, Eileen, came in with her family to identify and make arrangements for the remains. Sarah had confided the affair to her sister, and her guilt about Chloe. Just old fashioned police work, Castle." Beckett switched screens again. "Next case?"

Castle took a moment to think. "Okay. I think of it as the Viking Valhalla Tragedy because of some of the things we said to each other after the victim was found in a boat in central park. A high school student named Donny Kendall, the victim of … ".

"That wasn't our next case, Castle! Are you sure you didn't mean the Perry brothers' carjacking?"

"No, Captain, I've never heard of that case. It was definitely Donny Kendall, recently impoverished Redding Prep student and gunshot victim." He waited while she entered the information and pulled up the case." When she started reading, he asked, "This one wasn't your case, was it? Why not?"

Her eyes went to the top of the screen, then returned to reading as she explained. "Hadn't wrapped up Sarah's case yet. It was assigned to Carmine's team at the 5th. Gimme a minute … " she continued to quickly scan the case file, before looking up " … okay. How'd you solve this one, Sherlock?"

This Beckett's attitude was definitely wearing on his nerves. "Well, despite everybody loving the violent drug dealer for it, we figured out it was all a set-up. The group of sociopaths in his high school clique lied about what happened, then lied again, then a third time after Max Heller supposedly killed himself with the same weapon. He tried to make it look like a murder-suicide by killing his friend, but you were brilliant after you got him in the box, and we ran a game on him that tricked him into what you called an 'Admission Against Interest'. He was so discombobulated, he wrote out a full confession."

"He, WHO, Castle?"

"Oh, uh, Brandon, Brandon Funk. The king weasel of the trust funders? What? Who'd they arrest?"

"Nobody. It looks like you are deviating from reality, Castle. The case was closed as a delayed murder-suicide. So, your fantasy world just ran into the actual world, and lost."

"No, wait, Captain. Check the autopsy report. Doctor Parrish found a blood alcohol level of almost point-three, and what she called a 'slight abrasion' on Heller's trigger finger, as if his finger was forced and held in the trigger guard. She confirmed it would be very difficult for someone that young to have that amount of alcohol in their system and be conscious. "

She stared at Castle, her disbelief obvious, before looking once more at the screen. She paged down and started reading quickly, her eyebrows climbing her forehead the more she read. She turned and asked, "So, what are you suggesting we do?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Beckett." He returned her attitude, in spades. "I'm just making up stories here, remember?"

She gave him a contemptuous glance, then spent a full minute rapidly typing an email. She attached the case file, hit 'Send', the returned to the case folder. "Okay, Castle. Next case?"

Castle sighed and glanced at his wristwatch, which irritated Beckett. "You got somewhere you need to be, Castle?"

"Captain, you know we're talking about hundreds of cases over the course of half a decade, don't you?"

"Well, let's take them one at a time. The next one was …?"

"I'd rather discuss us. Our relationship, our hopes, our dreams …"

"I am not the LEAST bit interested in your dreams, Castle. Nor your undoubtedly disturbing fantasies about me. Try to remember I am armed. Next case … ?"

He sighed again, loud and long. "Councilman Jeffrey Horn, wrapped in a carpet after being shot to death. His campaign manager and Mrs Horn, tired of his continued dalliance with a high end call girl, not to mention the blackmail which he'd made himself susceptible, voted him off the island, so to speak. The trial took a thousand times longer than the case."

"Okay! We're back to reality. You got it in one! Castle, I don't know what's going on with you, or what your angle is, but your memory for names and details is very impressive." Another case file brought up. "Next?"

"Melanie Cavanaugh, mother of two, wife of Sam, found frozen solid at a construction site, after being missing for five years. Turns out, husband Sam killed her, stuffed her in a freezer, and put her in 'cold' storage until he couldn't pay the bill anymore. You got his friend, Charles Wyler, on 'Accessory after the fact'."

He met Beckett's eyes and smiled, the smile fading as her gaze became increasingly intent. She finally commented, "There's something you're not telling me, and I want to know what it is."

"It's nothing, really. It was a very intense case. That was when you told me about your watch, and your necklace."

An eyebrow arched high, but her gaze never wavered. "I find that part of your story surprising, and somewhat out of character for me. I can see why you'd mention that now, though; you're deflecting. What are you trying to hide?"

That surprised a small chuckle from Castle. "You were always the best, Beckett. During the course of the investigation, you asked the elderly Cavanaugh neighbor, the one that didn't order the freezer, to describe the police officer that first interviewed her."

"Why would I ask Mrs. … um …" She broke eye contact to look at the case file.

"Marsh" Castle supplied.

"Thank you. Why would I need Mrs Marsh to describe Sherriff Sloan to me?"

"Because Mrs Marsh wasn't questioned at the time of Melanie's disappearance, but years later, just prior to Sam Cavanaugh's shooting."

Beckett's eyes were still directed towards Castle, but he knew she wasn't seeing him. That incredible mind was whirling a million miles an hour. Her eyes suddenly focused back on him. "Melanie's Dad?".

He nodded. "Ben Davidson." As she returned to her computer and started furiously typing another email, he objected. "Beckett, don't bother. He'll never be convicted. You brought him in that night, and he gave a hypothetical and very credible account of his confrontation with his son-in-law. However, the confession was thrown out, and there wasn't a shred of physical evidence to tie him to the murder. The DA kicked it."

Beckett shook her head, while still typing. "Castle, either you haven't been hanging around cases like you claim, or you've missed some very important lessons along the way. One – If you don't assign the guilty party to his or her activities, some other poor slob might be charged with his crimes. And Two – Time changes things. New evidence, new procedures, new information. Also, never discount the remorse of good people. If Mr. Davidson has been walking around with this murder on his conscience, he may want to unburden himself." She finished typing, hit send, and threw Castle a smirk. "Assuming, of course, you're not completely full of shit, which I don't. I'll send someone around tomorrow to interview Mrs Marsh just in case. I will admit, you have a fresh way of looking at old cases. This is more fun than pizza and beers. Okay, next?"

"A double homicide. An illegal immigrant, Jamal Buonsi, and a young lawyer, Darcy Cho, both killed and laid out in a Vodun religious … tableau, for lack of a better term. An ex-child soldier, Muhktar Baylor, was chasing around the city looking for a fake passport he'd lost. You ended up shooting him before he could add a third victim. He'll be in Sing Sing the rest of his life."

"That's close, Castle. Actually, Detective Esposito shot and killed Baylor, after being lightly wounded in the shoulder, pushing me to safety." Reminded of her teammates, she looked out in the bullpen, then leaned over and rapped on the glass. She made a series of hand gestures: first pointing with her index and middle fingers extended, then flipping her hand and curled both fingers twice in, then pointed to the left and then made a brief typing motion, and finally pointing to the right and making two upright fists. She turned back to Castle with a smirk, who hadn't taken his eyes off her. "We're perfecting our non-verbal communication skills here at the precinct."

Castle sounded bored. "You want Ryan and Esposito to join us, with Ryan bringing his laptop and Esposito an extra chair. I speak 12th Precinct, Captain."

Beckett rolled her eyes as the door behind Castle opened. He felt and smelled Ryan before he saw him, pulling up the chair to Castle's right and plopping down. As he spun and opened his laptop, Castle inquired politely "Detective Ryan, can I give you a little advise, one single man to another?"

Ryan turned and looked suspiciously at Castle, before booting up his computer. "Sure, Mr Castle. Of course, I can always ignore anything you say, and if I find it deeply offensive, it'll cost you. Front row center theater tickets, if not worse."

"Fair enough. It's a long way from the 1970's …. you need to lose the Old Spice. There are several less expensive men's cologne that women prefer. Try one of the Michaels; as in Jordan or Kors, or even Polo."

Ryan looked at Castle, then his Captain. Beckett shrugged, her expression agreeing with the author's recommendations. Ryan nodded. "Okay, thanks Mr Castle."

As the Irishman was concentrating on his screen logging on, Beckett grabbed Castle's attention by widening her eyes, then pretended to straighten her imaginary tie, and jerked her head once to her left, Ryan's side. Castle smiled widely, his first true grin in a long while, and shook his head. It would take more than a casual suggestion to get the young detective to stop wearing those hideous ties he was so fond of, but he was heartened that the captain still seemed to retain a little of the fun and humorous Kate within that commanding shell.

Esposito came in and, at his boss's signal, closed the door. He slid the chair he was carrying to Castle's left and sat, effectively sandwiching the writer between he and his partner. Castle stared at the chair, until Esposito asked "Why are you staring at my ass, Writer Boy?"

"It's Writer MAN, Esposito, and I was staring at my chair."

"Your chair? Does it have your name on it?"

"That's not what I put on a chair, detective."

"Whatever." The Latino looked up at Beckett with a long suffering look and asked "What's up, boss?"

"You boys want to have some fun?" They knew Beckett's voice too well, and knew she was setting them up for something bad, something possibly long and painful. The partners exchanged a glance.

"I guess this means we're going to miss dinner?"

Castle swore. "Oh, my god, I'm sorry, guys. I wasn't even thinking. And Beckett, you didn't get any pizza on our date! Here, allow me." He pulled out his cell and dialed.

Castle was totally unaware of the infuriated expression on Beckett's face, or the sly grins at their boss's expense worn by her detectives. Esposito dared to mouth 'date', which produced a glower that would have made a repeat felon weep, but only bounced off her senior detective. Castle started speaking rapidly into his phone in a foreign language, obviously some Chinese dialect. He then looked at the other three in the room, one at a time, either describing them or ordering for them. He then gave the 12th's address in English, then finished shortly with more foreign sounds before hanging up. At their stares, he asked "What?"

"What was that?" "What did you do?" "I don't like Chinese." This last from Esposito.

"Trust me guys, you'll love it."

Beckett straightened in her chair. "Gentlemen. Castle here has been spinning very enjoyable stories about some of our past cases. In his world, we have over a 90% solve rate, and are the best homicide team in the world. So far, we've reviewed a few of his earlier cases, and it's been … interesting. I thought you'd like to hear how we should have done it." She smiled sharply at the writer.

"Hey, before I showed up, you guys were one of the three best teams in the NYPD. I didn't create your success as much as chronicle it."

Ryan looked adorably confused. "Previous cases? How does an author know about our cases?"

"I don't know, Ryan. Let's just go with the flow." She beamed a very pointed look at the writer. "Next case, Castle?"

"This was an ugly one." Castle closed his eyes, the particulars of the case floating in his mind. "Home invasion crew. You'd had the case a few days before I joined you, right after Susan Delgado had been stuffed into her own safe. She was their fourth victim, following the Kesslers, Pastori's, and the poor Brunners. They had beaten Mr Brunner to death." The outrage, and revulsion, in his voice was unmistakable. His eyes popped open and looked into hers, and he added "I think, after interviewing the Delgado daughter JoAnne, this case bothered you, too. I mean, more so than most. We eventually found them, through the charity they were targeting, and you guys took them down."

Ryan was intent on perusing the electronic copy of the case, freeing Beckett to stay focused on Castle. "What charity are you talking about, Castle?"

"Shit! Seriously? Tell me you didn't take Karl Nadir down!"

Esposito spoke up. "Yea, writer boy, we got 'em. We sent warnings out to all the older, wealthy citizens that subscribed to the New Yorker Magazine. The Perry's on West 73rd street activated their silent alarm when Nadir and his crew entered. We got 'em as they were leaving the building."

"Were any of the Perry's hurt?" Castle appeared to be holding his breath.

Beckett shook her head. "Fortunately, they managed to lock themselves in their bedroom, and Mr Perry convinced them he was armed and willing to shoot if they approached the bedroom door. So, Castle, I ask again … what charity?"

"An earlier suspect named Mitchell confided to me that this crew had tried to recruit him, and they had bragged about their inside information for marks with high end jewelry. We cross referenced the charities the earlier victims supported, and found the only common one was the Metropolitan American Dance Theater. They had a gala benefit the next night, and these two jokers worked the door, while we went undercover and attended. We found the head of donations' boyfriend, Paul Reynolds, was their inside man."

"Ryan?" The Irishman started looking up something, while Beckett turned a skeptical gaze on the writer. "We attended a high end charity benefit? As a couple?"

A soft smile graced Castle's face. "Yes we did. That's when I first discovered how good a dancer you were, not to mention how absolutely stunning you could appear when you dressed up."

Esposito gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Watch it, Writer Boy!"

Ryan complained "Captain, this guy is full of crap, there's no Paul Reynolds in our records."

Castle first looked at Ryan. "He changed it. Try the name Chad Ellis." He then looked left into the angry Latino's eyes. "Esposito, don't even think of touching me ever again."

Esposito snorted, "Or you'll what? Write me a nasty note?"

Castle's blue eyes were ice cold. "No, but the next story I tell won't be about an old case, it'll be about what you and your cousin Angel did on his 16th birthday down in Brighton Beach." As Esposito's mouth fell open, and his face paled, Castle continued menacingly "Were they pretty, Javier? Don't you want your friends to hear the whole story, Detective?"

"CASTLE! That's enough!" Beckett then shifted her eyes. "Detective Esposito, back off. I predict we're going to hear a lot of bizarre things tonight. Let's hear everything he has to say before we react."

"Uh, Captain, Chad Ellis just came off of a five year parole, after serving four years for lots of stuff including kiting checks. He changed his name to Paul Raynolds, spelled with an 'a' not an 'e, and recently married Rachel Maddux, a director at M.A.D.T." Ryan sounded a little spooked.

Beckett beamed. "Thank-you, Castle! If you keep entertaining me with these stories, I predict we'll get along just fine!" She typed out another email, then hit enter. "Next case?"

"Captain?" Esposito was incredulous. As her glance skewered him, he slouched down in his chair and muttered "Never mind."

"Castle?"

"Ok, Captain, let me think. I believe the next case wasn't actually a homicide, but a kidnapping. Angela Candela. "

Beckett frowned, her brows creasing, as she checked her computer screen. "So, Castle, I guess you only worked on cases we closed? No wonder your percentages were so high."

"Excuse me?"

"The reason we are reviewing these fictional cases of yours chronologically is to make sure we don't skip one. Actually, I don't have your memory, so doing it this way also helps me keep the case details straight, as one case slides into another in our minds. So, if memory serves, our next case was a very … slick one. Mrs. Allison Goldman? Wife of Dr. Michael Goldman?"

Castle was nodding his head. "You're right, Captain. Sorry, I skipped ahead. Allison Goldman, AKA Cynthia Dern, wanted by the FBI for domestic terrorism for planting a bomb on a ship twenty years ago. Found in a seedy SRO, drowned in a tubful of motor oil."

"Very good, Castle. In your fantasy world, did you solve the case?".

"Yes. Did you solve it in yours?"

"No."

Castle paused for a few seconds, then shifted in his seat. "Okay, let's solve it now. Did you interview that sorry excuse of a writer, Lee Wax?"

"Jealous, Castle? Of course we interviewed her. She had been ghost writing Goldman - Dern's autobiography, and, because of her death, was able to rip it up and write a true crime book. Made the New York Times best seller list."

"Proving there is no justice in this world. Did you read her first book about Dern, before she changed it?"

"Sorry, we were kind of busy working a homicide case. Leisure reading wasn't high on our list."

"Okay. Well, suffice it to say, it was horrible. It was Cynthia Dern's version of events, and was largely fictional. She was just trying to get her sanitized version of the bombing out there before turning herself in. Lee Wax may not have killed her, but certainly orchestrated her death by practically advertising Cynthia Dern's presence and alter ego."

"Okay, so she was sleazy. She had an air tight alibi."

"Did you also interview Captain Pike and his family?"

"Of course we did. Again, they had motive, but alibied out. You're running out of suspects, Castle."

"Bear with me, Captain. Did the Pike family tell you about the money?"

Beckett frowned, remembering. "Yes they did. They had serious money problems with all the medical bills that Captain Pike accrued. The wife, Eleanor, and the son, Andrew, did what they could, but it wasn't enough. Thankfully, they also received anonymous money on a monthly basis, which they eventually figured came from Allison Goldman –slash –Cynthia Dern. It saved them."

"Right. Well, in Dern's illusory autobiography, she never mentioned sending money to the Pikes." Castle sat back in his chair and waited.

Beckett adopted her thousand yard stare. "Wait a minute! If it was her intention to whitewash her past, the first thing she would have stressed was supporting the Pike family." After a few more moments, she wondered "So, who did?"

"Consider, Beckett, that Dern's version of events back then was total horseshit."

"Okay …" Her eyes lit up, her lips turning up. "The third bomber, what's her name, her body was never found!"

Ryan spoke up for the first time, reading off his laptop. "Susan Mailer. But she was vaporized in the explosion."

Castle shrugged. "Says who, Ryan?"

The captain answered for her colleague. "Says the former Cynthia Dern, who we know was lying through her teeth. So, where do we find this Susan Mailer?"

"A couple of the earlier payments were postmarked from somewhere called Lititz, Pennsylvania. There you will find a meek little librarian, still with the scars from a horrific 'traffic accident' when she was younger. Her name is now Mary Wright, which isn't very original. Very low profile. No drivers license, no property owned, nothing."

Esposito wasn't convinced. "So why the elaborate set up with the oil? That makes no sense, writer boy."

"Esposito, the murderer didn't buy the oil."

The captain jumped in, fully engaged in the story. "Cynthia Dern bought it, and was planning on killing Susan Mailer in it. Not only was Mailer the only one who could contradict Dern's version of events, but Dern could take credit for the money sent to the Pike's." She turned towards Castle. "In your world, how was the case resolved?"

"Beckett, you broke her in about thirty seconds. She claimed self defense, but it didn't really matter. The feds got her for the bombing, and New York juries are not kindly disposed towards domestic terrorists. She pled out to both in federal court."

"Okay." Beckett started on another email, while asking "Ryan?"

"Captain, I found an older picture of Mary Wright on the Lancaster County Library site. It could be Susan Mailer." He turned the laptop around, showing a blow up of a group shot side by side with an old FBI wanted poster. "I don't know how he did it, but I think Mr. Castle figured it out."

"Let's not look the gift horse in the mouth, Detective. At least, not yet."

Esposito asked, "Captain, even if this clown is right, how would any of this be admissible?"

"Detective Esposito, please give Mister Castle a dollar."

Esposito first looked confused, but almost immediately grinned. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a billfold, extracted a single, and handed it to the writer. "Congratulations, Writer Monkey, you are now officially an NYPD Confidential Informant. Don't forget to report that on your taxes."

Castle snorted. "Writer Monkey? That's what Sorenson used to call me, Esposito."

Beckett glanced up from her typing. "Nice segue, Mr Mystery Writer. You mentioned the Candela case, Castle?"

"Yeah, Captain. Fortunately, the little girl wasn't really in any danger. It was all a pre-divorce ploy by her Mom and aunt." He paused, then daringly added "Of course, hers wasn't the only unsuccessful ploy, speaking of your ex-boyfriend."

As Beckett glared at him, Esposito muttered "The idiots."

"What idiots, Esposito?" Castle thought he was referring to Beckett and Sorenson.

Esposito looked at Castle like he was an idiot. "The mom and the aunt. How could they not consider the possibility that a Spanish speaking cop or fed wouldn't sit down with Angela and ask her where she'd been? The girl was almost three years old, for Christ's sake. Not only that, but the aunt took the girl to the park! She must have ended up on half a dozen street cams."

"Oh. Huh!"

Beckett looked at the writer. "How'd you figure it out, Sherlock?"

The three cops' attitude was really getting wearing. It was hard to remember that these three were actually strangers, not a fiancé and two comrades in arms. "Well, the kidnapper actually remembered to grab Angela's favorite stuffed animal, and the cell phone that had been secreted with the ransom money was turned off only after Sorenson explained to the family how we were hoping to trace the backpack. So, one plus one equals family."

"Alright, Castle. Next case?"

"The next case would have been Dr. Joshua Leeds, found assassinated in his car."

"Okay. We're on the same page. And, the next case?"

"Don't you want to talk about the Leeds case, Captain?"

"Why? When we couldn't determine which federal witness had the surgery, we hit a wall. Captain Montgomery palmed the case off to the AG office."

Castle shrugged. "Okay."

The Captain's standard glare morphed into a suspicious squint. "Why? What do you know, or think you know?"

"Doctor Leeds adjusted the appearance of one Jimmy 'The Rat' Moran to help him disappear. He worked as an enforcer for the Spolano family, prior to Spolano junior taking over for his old man. The younger Spolano thought Jimmy knew way more family secrets than was good for him, and tried to ace him. Jimmy Moran took exception, and was entering WitSec."

Ryan grinned. "With a nickname like 'The Rat', what did they expect?"

Esposito asked, "How do you know?"

"I asked a friend of mine, Sal 'The Rose' Possi, a mid level thug with the Cambrini family."

"How would he know, and why would he tell you?"

"All those guys seem to know what's going on with each other. I swear, they're worse than teenagers on instagram. As far as why would he tell me, why wouldn't he? Anything bad that happens to the Spolano's is good for the Cambrini's."

Beckett cut in. "Did we find the hit man."

Castle hesitated. "Yeah. It was kind of a mess. You called in your marker with your friend Sorenson, he retrieved Jimmy from the Marshalls, and you and I interviewed him in a parking garage. We managed to scare him out of testifying."

"Yep. I can imagine that would be kind of a mess."

"Oh, Beckett, it gets much worse. We were followed to the meet, and Sorenson and Moran were hit on their way back to the safe house. They were both wounded, Moran pretty badly."

Ryan's voice shot up a full octave. "Wait, you managed to get Captain Beckett's boyfriend shot?"

Castle turned towards the Captain. "What? You dated Will again?"

The phone on the desk rang. Beckett, not at all interested in getting drawn into a conversation about her private life with Castle, answered it promptly. "Captain Beckett … okay, Sergeant, could you show him up …. Right … Sure, if we have any left, I'll call you. Thank you sergeant." She hung up and announced "Foods here. Johnson on the night desk says it smells great." She looked up at Castle. "So, Castle, you were saying you got the hit man?"

"Actually, you did, Beckett. You set up a trap in Moran's original hospital room. Turns out, it was an up and coming female assassin, Carla 'Coldblood' Dante. The feds turned her. Actually, you all probably met her before. She was also known as Maggie Dowd."

"Wait! Leeds' nurse? I interviewed her. A nurse was trying to be a hitman?" Esposito wasn't buying it.

"No, she wasn't really a nurse. Ryan, see if you can find a picture of Margaret Dowd as a registered nurse. She was from the great northwest, either Washington or Oregon."

There was a quick double tap on the door. "Come in." The door swung open, admitting a very small, older Asian gentleman carrying a large white bag, from which mouth watering smells were emanating.

Castle greeted him in Chinese, and pulled out his wallet. "Oh shit." He turned apologetically towards Beckett. "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm still out of money."

Beckett gave a long suffering sigh, reached in a bottom drawer, and pulled out her purse. As she grabbed her billfold she asked the old man "How much?"

"One hundred fifty three, please."

"WHAT!"

Castle chuckled. "That's in yuan, not dollars, Captain. It's about twenty four bucks, plus tip."

Looking relieved, she handed the small man a twenty and a ten. He bowed deeply and shuffled out, to be escorted back by the big desk sergeant.

"Got it!" Ryan spun his laptop around displaying a large, grey haired woman in hospital scrubs. "This is Maggie Dowd."

Esposito muttered, "That's not the Maggie Dowd I interviewed."

Beckett started on yet another email. Meanwhile, Castle had taken the bag, and started passing out food. "Okay, mu shu for Esposito, Beckett gets the specialty dumplings and the hot and sweaty soup, Ryan, here's your zha jiang mian, and I got my usual. Here's an egg roll for everybody, and egg fried rice in the middle. Oh, Espo, here's your sauce." He removed the lid from a bowl, and a bright purple and vivid yellow liquid dazzled their eyes. "You definitely want to stir that before using it. Chop sticks for everybody!" He passed those out then opened his own container. "Dig in!"

A/N: This is as good a place to stop as any, I guess. I'm aware that this story starts a little slow, and is 100% dialogue. It'll pick up, especially after Sucker Punch. As always, reviews are always appreciated!