Daddy Day Care

Season 9, Episode 7

Written by ky03elk

This is a work of fiction by writers with no professional connection to ABC network's Castle. Recognizable characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

There was a sharp rap of knuckles against Sue's front door. Quick and impatient. The sound competed with Dr. Phil's bad advice on the widescreen TV, an argument between three boisterous four-year-olds in the adjoining sitting room determined to have their turn on the iPad, and the scream of a baby - scared and trapped in a pack and play shoved in the bedroom, her uncomfortable diaper sagging with the weight of hours - and Sue had very little chance of hearing it from the kitchen.

Again and again the knock went on, harder, faster, until finally desperate measures were taken.

"Sue?! Sue, answer the door!"

The clatter of a knife as it was dropped onto the countertop joined the ruckus.

Sue turned, her senses searching for what had caught her attention, her heartbeat picking up pace as her gaze flickered to the Walmart clock hanging at an angle. It was the middle of the day and the parents weren't due to pick up their kids for hours yet.

"Sue!"

Damn.

"Coming…."

With a speed that created a thin line of sweat at her hairline, twin patches at her armpits, Sue shoved the trashy magazine she'd been reading into the pantry cupboard, sidestepping into the bedroom to plug the noise from the smallest brat with its pacifier. A glare and a pointed finger at the boys on the floor wrestling with the iPad shut them up before she closed the internal door on them, and with a quick flick of the remote, she silenced the good doctor's advice on how to fix her hemorrhoids.

Sue huffed a breath as she flung the door wide, a false smile planted firmly on her face. "Hi. Come in."

Not one to stand on manners or even common courtesy - by the time she'd turned fifty, Sue had thrown all those aspects of her personality to one side - she pivoted on the spot, her stomach grumbling in protest at the intrusion.

Her lunch awaited.

Once upon a long time ago, she had cared. Parents, friends, other carers in the area would have been greeted with a genuine smile, a welcoming, "would you like something to drink?" and then ushered arm in arm to the nearest chair.

But not these days.

A haggard cough wrestled its way from her throat and she used the back of her sleeve to wipe the buildup of spit on her lips.

These days she was tired, prone to not giving a hoot to what others thought unless it was going to impact on her life or her business as a home daycare provider.

And this wasn't a spot check from the Department, so….

With her back to the visitor, she reached for the stainless steel kettle, remnants of her time in England when the only way to make tea was the proper way. Her fingers wrapped around the handle, her arm lifting the kettle enough to see how much water was inside.

But in the distorted reflective image, a knife rose. Sue tilted her head to the left, her eyes squinting at the absurdity of what she was seeing.

A floating knife?

The screams made by the baby matched those from Sue as she crumpled to the dirty floor, the smack of the kettle drowned out as the boys started yelling at each other from behind the closed door of the sitting room.

The hurried footsteps and the snick of the front door closing were barely audible when compared to the racket from inside apartment 4D.

A hum of happiness was building slowly in Castle's chest, a rumble escaping from his closed lips as he shuffled from the counter to the fridge. Nothing could dampen the brilliant sunlight bathing their apartment in golden tones, the dance of particles as they stirred around his body. Today was a good day. Hell, every day was a good one, but ones that involved sneaking home for lunch... Well, they were exceptionally great.

He ignored the pull of muscle as he heaved the door open, the cold from within curling through the thin layer of his shirt as he reached for the fruit awaiting slaughter.

Awaiting slaughter?

Really? A little melodramatic, even for him.

With a sigh, his shoulder gently bumped the door closed, his snub at his subconscious a little too conscious, and with a roll of his eyes that was more Kate than anything, Rick dumped the cantaloupe, apples, and strawberries onto the counter without regard.

Fruit rolled - of course it did - and with a yelp, he stretched to catch their actual lunch before it became a smoothie.

Kate's briefcase - her 'Captain's case' as he called it, although not to her face - joined the avalanche sliding toward the edge of the counter, moved by the melon's attempt to escape its fate. Papers and pamphlets from within spreading in all directions across the granite surface as the leather bag relocated.

Pamphlets?

Castle's fingers seized the strap before it could descend to the polished floorboards, going through the motions of righting the bag as his eyes scanned the glossy sheets of advertising.

Day Care.

Kate had gone to these places? Searching for someone to look after their baby? And okay, they had months ahead of them for the conversations about what came next once the shiny newness had slowly receded to swollen ankles and the deep-seated knowledge that this was real.

Their baby wasn't a dream from which he woke to find them both on the kitchen floor bleeding…

He shook his head, eyes opening with a snap - when had he closed them? - his stare again on the secret documents that were pulling at his indignation.

Surely he would be the daycare? Didn't his wife, the mother of his gestating baby, think he would be at home, raising their child if or when she went back to work?

"Well, hello there," Kate husked, arms raised, calves stretched as she emerged shimmering from their bedroom. A slip of delicious midriff was hypnotic as it called to him.

He could convince her to turn around. His lips at the arc of her hipbone, his teeth caught at the slightest swell of her stomach and she would make that noise deep in her throat, granting permission to go back to bed and attempt round two. Or would it be classed as three?

"Do you want an APB out on the cantaloupe?"

The tease in her words slipped through his fantasy, and he lifted his chin with a jerk, his eyes seeking hers.

"Huh?"

"Lunch is on the run, Castle." Her raised eyebrow indicated the fruit now steady at her feet, and with an ease that betrayed nothing of the last year of trauma, she bent toward a lone apple.

He rammed the papers and pamphlets back where they had originated from, picking up the case by its handle as he jostled the contents around some more.

"I'll catch them. But your paperwork was a casualty. Sorry."

Kate waved a hand, biting into the red skin of the apple, apparently unconcerned.

Or was she trying too hard? Worried about what he'd seen and covering her treachery with nonchalance?

Treachery? Geez, he really needed to start writing again, the thesaurus in his head was getting out of control.

"Castle? Hey, Rick?"

"Huh?"

Lithe fingers dusted across his knuckles, snagging the handle from him, her lips ghosting the slightest of scruff he'd neglected this morning, as she rose up onto the tips of her toes. "Everything okay, babe?"

He nodded, a drop of his mouth as he sought hers.

"I'm fi-"

The buzz of her phone cut across his half-truth, the interruption actually saving him rather than destroying him the way it normally did.

Kate held herself against his side though, her gaze examining his features. But he wasn't one of her suspects, and he smiled wide, pushing the unease of his discovery down into his gut.

"Beckett," she answered.

He left her to the phone conversation, scooping up the rest of their lunch and heading to the counter, the "yeahs," and "mmhmms," a comforting blanket woven from years of this routine of theirs.

"Rick, can you make it to go?"

He agreed even as he paused, knife raised above the unblemished cantaloupe. "You're heading to the Twelfth?"

"No. Someone's making noise. They want me at the scene." Her shoulder lifted, eyes clear of worry, but her thumb drifted low on her abdomen, seemingly unaware of her own movements.

"I'll come too?" His hesitancy was slightly bitter, and he swallowed the bad taste, his stare purposely avoiding her stomach, ignoring the family daycare brochures that had flaunted his inadequacies.

He squared his shoulders, pushing it all down and fighting for equilibrium and the bravado of false confidence. He was her consultant, after all. "I'm coming."

With that he broke open the fruit, the blade wedging tight into the cutting board.

The noise was grating. Kids screamed. Parents argued. Her officers were strident as they attempted to deal with the mess of a scene.

For a second, just one, Kate almost turned, headed back down the narrow hallway and toward the quiet calm of her office waiting for her at the Precinct.

"What do we have, Ryan?"

Kevin's spine straightened, his right hand raising the small notepad trapped by his thumb in greeting, eyes apologetic.

"Kitchen."

She trailed after, processing the information around her as she passed.

A baby was held tight in a woman's grasp, tears streaming down both their cheeks. A low, piercing wail - from the mother? - hurried around the room, pinching at nerve endings, as Officer Aragon stood helpless by their side, a delicate hand high on the lady's shoulder going unnoticed in her display of grief.

A couple huddled on the low sunken couch, curled around a little boy, his eyes riveted on the TV flickering but muted high on the wall. The woman's head listed from side to side, its rhythm unbroken as a slow tear trailed down her cheek, her blank gaze unfocused on the scuffed carpet underfoot. The man's body was turned toward his family, but his glare aimed at Espo, words cold as they rose above the clamor.

"I don't give a rat's ass if it will help the case, I need to take my son home. Get him out of here."

Interesting.

But Beckett's attention flickered to the next couple, grief carving lines in their features, an argument cutting each other short as they attempted to speak louder with every word. They both clearly wanted to go home, both fighting against themselves for the same thing without realizing.

"Girl, what are you doing here?"

Avoiding Lanie's questioning stare for the moment, Kate stepped over a disturbed basket, the toys splaying in a half-circle across her path into the kitchen area, as her hand closed the door to shield their work, her trained eyes cataloging the murder scene.

An older woman was face down, knife poised crookedly under the ribs, deep and not the first attempt by the indicative rips to the victim's blouse. Blood pooled underneath. Stabbed in the back. Literally.

She hadn't seen it coming, judging by the lack of defensive wounds.

"I got called in by 1PP. Ryan?"

"Victim's Sue Longreach. Fifty-nine. Stabbed four times. Runs a home day care, hence the kids. Poor little guys were yelling so bad the neighbor called us. Although according to him the screaming is normal, it's just today he'd 'had enough.'" Ryan's fingers made air quotes around his notes, his eyes a little too 'kicked puppy' for her liking. "They'd been that way for at least an hour before uniforms arrived on the scene."

"Damn."

Her husband's expression matched Kevin's as he lumbered into the room, a quiet touch of his fingers to her hip as he stood at her side.

"Yeah, Castle," Ryan agreed. "The parents are resisting leaving the apartment. Some are wanting answers, others wanting to go home instead of to the Precinct."

Well, that explained why they were still here. Distraught and grieving for what their children had suffered and most likely witnessed.

"Tell them they can go, settle their kids, and then come to the Twelfth later today."

Ryan and Lanie each raised an eyebrow, matching looks of surprise at the break in protocol. It wasn't that she was going soft, it was just those children had been through enough, seen enough, without more stress added to one hell of a shit day. If their child was witness to such a horrific…

Okay, maybe she was a little more lenient…

"Make it clear, though, we need interviews today."

Ryan nodded. It was a balancing act and she could do this, remain steady between mother-to-be and Captain. Speaking of-

"Why 1PP, Ryan?"

He paused, hand around the door, his gaze dragging from the parents in the outer room.

"Her brother is Leonard Longreach. Senior."

Crap. Nothing like family in high places.

"They're not close," Ryan continued. "He hasn't talked to her in at least a year. But…"

Yeah. Family was family, and when you were prancing around the Capitol for work, you could demand a Captain investigate a case.

"Parents have all gone home, they're under the strict agreement that they return once their kids have settled, had something to eat, and cleaned up." Ryan's head shook even as Espo smothered a snort of impatience from the victim's kitchen. "Those little guys were really in a bad way."

Rick nodded in silent agreement. This was just another reason why no child of his was going into daycare.

"Well, with any luck their parents are getting their stories straight and hiding evidence in their backyards," Espo countered sarcastically.

"Enough." Beckett stepped into the living room, eyes narrowing. "Did you learn anything else?"

"Ohhhhh. No. No, no, no."

They turned as one at the shriek, a well-oiled machine, the Detectives - and one Captain - in the room all reaching for the weapons at their hips.

"Sue? What happened to Sue?" An athletic woman in her mid-forties with dyed blonde hair pulled back in the perfect high ponytail, her cheeks flushed and eyes searching, gripped the open front door. The officer outside hesitated before he awkwardly reached for the distraught intruder. Grief burned brighter than the hot 'Love Pink' workout gear she wore.

"I'm Captain Beckett. I'm sorry to have to tell you…"

Kate's words slipped low as she reached forward, fingers clasping the woman's elbow as she began to sink low on her heels, dipping alongside the collapsing woman as she continued her gentle murmurings.

Castle edged closer to the wall, to the side table that encroached into the hallway. Cubicles that had earlier held vibrant cartoon-splashed totes were now empty, a thin layer of dust already seeming to have appeared.

Sighing, he thumbed through the papers that had been heaped crookedly, his gaze split between his wife and the advertising now spread on the table.

Family daycare pamphlets.

His fingers stilled, eyes searching. Had she had one of these in her briefcase?

Could it have been his child left abandoned for hours, panic-stricken and hysterical?

His eyes narrowed, glaring into Kate's back. Not on his watch.