A/N: This fic came about from comments made during one of the marathon brainstorming sessions between ladygris and myself. The original plot was different from what appears in this story.

Don't forget to review.

Enjoy,

~Sandy

A Stair of Swords

Chapter One

Morning dawned clean, clear and crisp in Black Diamond, Alberta, Canada as Kate Beckett rolled over to cuddle closer to the man sharing her bed. As soon as she touched Castle, his arms pulled her tight. Looking into his face, she saw the smile he only gave to her, and she returned it even though he was asleep. Resting a hand on his chest, she enjoyed the feel of the steady thumping of his heart.

The weather had been forecast as sunny and mild with temperatures in the mid- to low thirties for highs with a wind chill factor that was low enough to need heavy coats, hats, gloves and scarves when they ventured outside. It was especially true for when they went outside to view the Aurora Borealis at the party. Kate smiled against the side of Castle's neck. Her phone beeped and she reached across him to stop it before it woke him, startled when he snatched it from her. "Hey! Give that back!"

"We came here to relax and watch the Northern Lights. Gates will just have to get someone else to help out."

"It's my dad." He handed it over and she answered as she climbed out of bed. "Hey, Dad…What time's your plane?" Even with socks her feet were cold on the hard wood floor. Shoving her feet into her comfortable slippers, she went into the bathroom. "We'll pick you up…The party starts at seven local time and goes until Castle throws everyone out…" she chuckled, "…you're probably right. I'll start dropping hints around midnight and everyone should be cleared out by two…Love you too, Dad."

Kate attended to her morning routine then headed downstairs to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and the sound of dishes clanking together. Standing in the doorway, she watched Castle move from here to there and back, fixing breakfast. He bounced in time to the music coming from the radio as he whisked the pancake batter until it was lump free then poured the batter onto the hot griddle with a flourish, only then noticing she was there. "Morning."

Using a wide spatula, he flipped the first two pancakes into the air one at a time, catching them on a plate. He did the same with the other two, setting the plates on the counter in front of two barstools where syrup and butter were already waiting. He poured them each a cup of coffee and came around to her side, dropping a lingering kiss on her mouth before taking his seat. "Looks great."

"When Meredith moved to LA to pursue her acting career, I made Alexis chocolate chip pancakes every Sunday morning then we'd go for a walk in the park. Every time, she'd ask for a puppy and then get distracted by the other kids. She'd forget all about the puppy until the next week."

Pouring a small amount of syrup on her pancakes, Kate cut a bite. "She's in medical school, Castle. You can stop making smiley faces with the chocolate chips now."

"Have you learned nothing in all the years we've known each other? I don't make the smiley faces for her. I make them for me." He wiggled his eyebrows and took a drink from his cup, his grin turning into a sad yet wistful smile.

"You miss those days, don't you?"

Nodding, he cut a bite of pancake and speared it with his fork. "Yes, but I'm enjoying these days as well. Though it is taking some getting used to as our relationship changes from father and young child to father and adult child." He reached for the coffee pot to refill their cups. "I'm just sorry she's going to miss the party."

Kate carried their plates to the sink. "Her education and job are more important than pretty lights she can see any time." She leaned against Castle when his arms wrapped around her from behind.

"Can't help remembering when pretty lights were the priority." Castle kissed her on the neck. "The chef and her team will be here at eleven to go over the menu one last time."

Turning to face him again, her right hand came to rest on his waist, sliding around to his spine to pull him close. "That means we have at least two hours all to ourselves, and I have plans to fill that time."

Intrigued, he said, "Oh? Tell me more."

Beckett grinned. "Why don't I show you?"

~~O~~

His name was Enigma. At one time, he may have had another name, but he didn't remember it. Just the aliases he'd gone by while on missions for his employers. Each time he went out, he had a new name and never the same one twice, but he wasn't any of those people. Their names and life histories were figments that arose from the minds of the analysts according to the nature of his mission. His superiors had kept him busy since they'd discovered that, left to his own devices, boredom set in and he, as Enigma, would wreak havoc on the world around him.

After the mission to Paris, he'd gone off the grid and ended up in New York. He needed to rest, to find a calm place inside his mind where he could just…be. And when he'd let himself be still and tranquil, the dreams started. He couldn't think about that now, not as he exited the parking structure leaving behind the bodies of the three enforcers who'd ambushed him. He hadn't wanted to kill them, but they hadn't given him a choice.

Now he was working out the logistics of his next move. He couldn't go to any of the safe houses because they were all known to his employers. Brief visions of black walls and an immense flying ship would flit though his mind and be gone when he tried to grab hold of it, like mist in the morning sun. In its place flashed the addresses of the safe houses he'd set up without the knowledge of his handler, Grant Kearney or his superiors.

When that quietude had begun to drape itself over his mind, he realized that the only name he'd ever been called by the people he worked for was Enigma. The doctors who'd administered the chems never addressed him by name. Just as Alpha. Did that mean there were others like him? Others who depended on the chems to keep them mentally and physically alert, to keep them alive?

Just because he was called "Alpha" didn't mean there were others, though it was implied. That designation didn't automatically mean Beta, Gamma, Delta, etc. followed, but it was one of the things he had to find out. Were there others like him? If so, why had he never met any of them? Was there a reason they were kept apart? Or were their jobs so different that they had no need to interact?

He'd been wandering the streets of New York for two days, sleeping in No Tell Motels. Something about this city drew him, but he couldn't figure out what. Images of a terrible battle mixed with happier times. Faces swimming in and out of his memory. Clear then blurred, never staying still long enough for him to put names to them, if he even knew them. They seemed far away, as if from long ago. The memories he'd accumulated since he'd awakened in the hospital's isolation ward were well-defined while the others were not, like old photographs taken with a camera out of focus.

Turning his wrist over, he glanced at his watch. He'd have to stop somewhere soon if only to take the meds that were keeping him alive. A grumbling in his stomach reminded him that it had been more than twelve hours since he'd eaten.

Stretching his senses to the fullest, Enigma kept a steady pace, turning left and right randomly, even cutting through stores and the occasional medical or office building until the smell of coffee and freshly baked goods drew him. Easing off the other senses, he concentrated on those smells because they seemed familiar in a way that was different than just being in Manhattan felt.

He turned one last corner and just down the street hung a sign with the words "Java Loft" in a welcoming font edged by glowing green and white neon. The place was about a third full with several of the outside tables occupied as well. Everyone ignored him as he avoided the main door and entered through the one closest to the bathrooms. During his trek, he'd stopped in one of the clothing stores and purchased clean clothing including socks, underclothes, jacket and a cap to replace those torn and bloodied by his earlier encounter with the assets. The clerk had barely looked at him as she took his cash and rang up his purchases then moved on to the next person without giving him another thought.

In the men's room, he stripped out of his soiled clothing. Using paper towels, soap and hot water, he cleaned himself up as much as possible. He also stuck his head under the faucet to rinse the blood and dirt from his hair, using more paper towels to dry with then finger combed it into the messy, wind-blown style popular these days. Examining himself in the mirror, turning side to side, his image was overlaid with another where his hairline had receded over the strands that now touched his forehead. Along with that image he saw himself wearing a boring dark blue suit and uninteresting striped tie, nothing like what he'd worn the last two years. Shaking his head drove out the vision and he was himself again.

Satisfied with his look, he shoved the old clothes into the bag from the clothing store and left. A store down the block had an incinerator in the alley though he didn't know how he knew this. He made his way there, opened it, and shoved the bag inside. Brushing the dirt from his hands, he returned to the coffee shop, but as he neared, he again got the feeling that he was being watched. Pretending he was checking email on his phone, he scanned the area, but didn't see anyone who looked out of place.

Again, his stomach grumbled and he'd settled on the diner when a police car cruised down the street. The window on the passenger side was open allowing Enigma's superior hearing to pick up the radio squawk.

"All units. Be on the lookout for a Caucasian male, approximately forty-five years of age, five nine to six feet, brown hair, one hundred sixty to one hundred seventy-five pounds, eye color unknown. Last seen wearing khakis, dark blue jacket and brown striped shirt. He is a person of interest in a trio of suspicious deaths and may be armed and dangerous. Do not approach."

A brief flash of humor turned up the corners of Enigma's mouth. He could see at least eleven men within two hundred yards who fit that general description, not counting himself.

The police car slowed down and his amusement faded as he ducked into the Java Loft, ordered a large dark roast and a turkey sandwich. He carried them around to the part of the store facing the side street, taking a seat in a dimly lit corner next to a set of bookshelves. Breathing a sigh of relief, Enigma saw the police leave without stopping or coming.

Choosing at random, he took a book from the shelf closest to him, opening it to the first page. Pretending to read while he ate, he turned the pages precisely every three minutes. When he reached the end of the book, he chose another and did the same thing.

Several hours later he became drowsy. A side effect from the turkey, no doubt. But couldn't leave himself vulnerable so he requested a refill on the coffee and returned to his page turning. Soft footsteps came toward him. He ignored them, keeping his eyes on the book, his elbow planted on the arm of the chair with his hand shielding his face to discourage conversation. It didn't work.

"Phil?"

The voice was female, young and most assuredly New York. There was also the tremor of disbelief mixed with genuine fear. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, so he put on a smile and glanced up. She was very pretty, with long light red hair and wide, intelligent blue eyes. Looking at her, he had a flash of something indistinct and elusive. He pictured her laughing and watching him with a curious expression as he talked about…what? The feeling he got from the image in his mind was of a close friendship with the young girl. It didn't make sense. How could they have met and when? In the before time? The years he couldn't remember?

~~O~~

Hunched over her textbooks, a hot cup of decaf near her right hand, Alexis Castle looked up in annoyance when someone bumped her chair, and stopped with mouth open and her pen in mid-air. The man who'd bumped into her couldn't be who he appeared to be. He just couldn't.

Her hand touched the phone in her back pocket as she thought about calling Esposito and Ryan…or even Captain Gates. But what could they do? No crime had been committed. Yet. She gave the room a quick once-over before shoving her books and papers into the backpack. Getting to her feet, she walked over to the man who'd been sitting in the far corner, glancing left and right to make sure no one was listening. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said only one word, "Phil?"

Settling back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other. "Sorry. You have me confused with someone else."

She blinked. The way he'd moved just then, sitting back in his chair, looking relaxed yet his eyes constantly scanning the room. "It's me." When he continued to stare blankly at her, she added, "Alexis?" That still didn't help, her expression changing to anger tinged with fear. She clutched her backpack to her chest in a defensive gesture. "What the hell's going on, Phil? How can you be here? After the invasion…"

With genuine confusion, the man pushed the hat back so he could see her better. The late afternoon sun was blocked by the surrounding buildings. "I'm new to Manhattan. Just came in for coffee and a muffin."

"All you have is an empty coffee cup and there're no muffin crumbs anywhere so you've been here at least three hours. Are you in trouble? Please, Phil. I'm your friend. Let me help."

Now he looked annoyed. "Very sorry, Alexis. I don't know who Phil is, and I don't need help."

Alexis set her backpack on the floor at her feet, scoffing. "And I'm telling you, I'd recognize that voice anywhere. You're my friend, Phil Coulson, but you can't be."

"That's paradoxical thinking, young lady." That rueful grin came back with the dimples that were just a little lopsided adding more weight to Alexis' theory. Somehow, the friend she'd been told died in the invasion was alive. "Gives me a headache."

"That's exactly something Phil-you would say." Alexis looked down at her lap, fingers twisted together. "Would've said."

More than a little curious, he asked, "Past tense?"

The girl shifted in the chair, her eyes still wide. "You died."

~~O~~

Enigma pushed the cap back on his head and spread his hands out to the sides. "Do I look dead to you?"

The girl's blue eyes flashed with irritation. "No. But that's my point. Once our building was repaired and we moved back in, an attorney paid me a visit. He gave me an envelope."

"There must've been something pretty spectacular inside. Money? Real estate? Diamonds? The keys to an expensive sports car?"

The girl glanced around, but the other patrons were paying no attention. "It was a letter from you." She reached out and touched his hand. A brief flash of pain caused her to drop her eyes for a moment. "In it, you said how much our friendship meant to you."

Enigma's stomach growled again reminding him he hadn't eaten since the sandwich hours ago. His faster metabolism required a greater number of calories per day than the average human. He thought it ironic since he'd been remade into something more than human. "That's all very interesting, Alexis."

She peered at him, curiosity replacing the apprehension and fear. "You really don't remember?"

He shook his head. Until now, he'd avoided looking her directly in the eye almost fearing what he might see there. "Were we…" Not sure how to say what he was thinking, he just trailed off with a pointed look.

"Dating? No. Just friends." Alexis took out her phone, glanced at the time then shoved it back into her pocket. "Let's go. We'll get something to eat and you'll tell me what's going on."

Shrugging, Enigma figured it couldn't hurt to share a meal with Alexis. At her age, she probably lived with her parents though, and he wondered what they would think of their daughter bringing home a man old enough to be her father. "I am hungry."

"Dad's out of town for the weekend and Grams is on tour so we'll have the place to ourselves."

In the back of his mind, Enigma got the feeling that he should know her father's name. Their home would provide him with that information. While she was cooking, he would do a little snooping and question her about their friendship. "Your father won't mind me being there when he's not?"

Alexis snorted as she led the way to the door. "I'm twenty-one and have been choosing my own friends since I could talk."

Out on the street, Enigma walked beside the girl, trying to look at ease with the situation, but the moment he'd stepped out of the coffee shop he felt eyes on him. He trusted his instincts in these situations, and they screamed at him to be on guard. "Wouldn't want him or your grandmother to get the wrong idea."

"They won't." With a half grin, Alexis snorted and hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder. "Forgot my backpack. Wait here."

Before Enigma could stop her, the girl turned and ran back to the coffee shop. Now that he was alone, the feeling of being watched increased. Instinct put his feet into motion. If something was going down, he didn't want Alexis in the middle of it.

The first sign that they'd gotten close was the prickling on the back of his neck. The next came in the scuff of a shoe on the sidewalk followed by the rasping of someone breathing. They weren't close, but his senses had sharpened to the point that he could feel the heat of another's body across the space of more than three feet. His senses all across the board had been improved. Taste was the worst, or the best depending on how you looked at it. As little as a few drops of alcohol in a twenty ounce cup of coffee or tea and he could taste it. Right now, he smelled the sweat and cheap aftershave of the man as well as the woman's lavender shampoo.

Pulling the cap low, he turned away from the coffee shop and started walking. He'd known the assets were hiding in the doorway of the men's clothing store the moment he'd stepped outside, and he'd hoped they would leave him alone as long as he was with Alexis. Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

Thankfully, Alexis herself had solved the problem. From their short conversation, he could tell that she wasn't the type of person to stand idly by while anyone, family, friend or stranger, was attacked. Now he had to lead them away not only from Alexis, but from all the other innocent people going about their daily lives without an inkling that trained assassins lurked in their midst.

Leading the assets away from the busy streets, Enigma again took refuge in an alley behind a dumpster. His enhanced sense of smell picked up the myriad scents from the burger, Italian and Chinese restaurants as well as the hair salon. But through it, he could still pick out the odors coming from the assets, the man out in front of the woman.

Suddenly, he was assaulted by the sight and sound of a flashbang grenade, stunning him long enough for the assets to locate his hiding place and drag him out into the open. The man got him in a strangle hold. However, due to his enhancements, he needed less oxygen than the average human. His vision cleared just in time to see the woman approaching him with an auto injector. Naturally they would know about his enhanced metabolism and increased the dosage to be certain he was taken down quickly.

His only choice now was to employ an old trick. Letting his body go limp, he felt the man's grip on him falter slip enough for him to take in a lungful of air. He pushed the man away from him, ignoring him for the moment, Enigma dealt with the woman, his hands and feet a flurry of activity until she lay stunned on the ground. As he fought with the man, he slipped on a wet piece of cardboard giving his opponent an advantage.

The man spun him around and slammed him into the side of the dumpster stunning him again. While he tried to sort everything out, the man picked up the injector and came toward him, a grin of malicious satisfaction on his face. A face that seemed familiar. Enigma put up his hand hoping to forestall the inevitable, blinking his eyes to rid them of the lingering afterimages of the flashbang.

The prick of the injector in the side of his neck hurt. As his vision started to blur, he heard a whack, followed by a thud then gentle hands helped him to his feet, urging him to get up and move. The voice was known to him now, and because he knew this person meant him no harm, he allowed himself to be led away from the scene.

Alexis pushed out of the coffee shop, thrilled that she'd found her friend Phil and he was alive. She was also confused and angry. The attorney had said Phil was dead, but he wasn't. Like her dad, she had an insatiable curiosity and wouldn't stop until she found the truth no matter how long it took.

Her smile faded when she saw that Phil wasn't where she'd left him. He was nearly a block away, a man and woman giving chase. She ran after them, stopping at the corner of the alley where they'd disappeared. The sound of voices and fighting came to her as she sneaked a peek. The man had Phil in a headlock while the woman attempted to inject him with something, most likely a sedative or tranquilizer though it could be poison too.

Phil got away from the man and fought with the woman, knocking her to the ground. The man got the better of him, hitting him with a right cross and left hook. Phil lay on the ground stunned, blinking in the weak light coming from above. The man grabbed up the injector, standing over Phil, his face expressionless as he pulled the collar of his jacket aside. His thumb pressed the end of the injector, a small needle popping out the end. As he made to jab it into Phil's neck, Alexis picked up a rusted metal bar, lifted it high over her head and brought it down on the man's head. She was just a split second too late and Phil cried out at the pain. Hitting the man again, he dropped to the ground and Alexis was tempted to hit him once more just for spite.

The woman stirred, pressing her hands into the ground to push herself upright. But she wasn't allowed to enjoy being conscious for long because Alexis brought the bar down on the back of her head. She grunted and collapsed into a puddle, blood running down the side of her neck. Tossing the bar aside, Alexis checked that the woman's face was out of the water and she was breathing before moving over to her friend. "Phil?"

"Go." He got to his feet, stumbled against the side of the dumpster using it to get himself upright. His right hand fell onto her shoulder as he turned her away from him. "Hurry! Before their back-up arrives."

TBC