Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. Pity, really :p. Just thought I'd put this here 'cause everyone does, though it should be obvious that I don't own a bit of it.

A/N: This is my first story for Castle (and the first story I've ever published), so I'm quite nervous. Although I've been assured that it's quite good so far… Anyway. I've seen people with a habit for really long author's notes, especially in the beginning, and while I find those quite adorable to read, I'll try to refrain from adopting that habit :p.

I also am not used to everything that comes along with publishing a story (as I'm noticing just now), for example providing the setting xD. Here goes:

Starts (obviously, after you read it) on January 2nd, 2012, after Cuffed and before Till Death do Us Part. Everything up to that point is as we know it, onwards it will (again, obviously) not match the show's progress.

Just to say it: since this is my first story, reviews are highly appreciated. Constructive criticism preferred though :). Thanks.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road

"Yo Beckett!"

"Esposito. Where's the body?"

"Inside."

"Anything you wanna tell me?"

A shrug. "We don't know much yet." Raised eyebrows. "Go ask Lanie."

"I will."

Detective Beckett lowered her eyebrows back to normal as she stepped past her colleague Javier Esposito who had, as usual, arrived at the crime scene before her. Privilege of being on call, she thought.

"Hey Beckett," he called after her, "where's Castle?"

She stopped, and turned halfway back to him. "I called, but he didn't pick up. My guess is he's still hung over from the party."

"Really? Man, that was two days ago!"

"Yeah, well, your guess is as good as mine." With that, she turned back and ducked under the yellow police tape running across the door of the old bowling alley.

Lighting inside was murky at best; with the building having not been used for at least ten years – more like twenty, the way it smells here, she thought – nobody had bothered to replace any of the faulty neon tubes that had used to bathe the interior in a bright light.

The owner had run out of money and eventually had been forced to sell the business to a bank, which had subsequently shut everything down and let the place go to waste. That was the gist of Detective Ryan's already concise report on the crime scene.

"Please tell me you know more about the victim than Esposito," Beckett called across the lane to where Dr Parish was kneeling between toppled bowling pins, a closed body bag beside her.

"Good morning to you too, Beckett," the ME responded, a hint of irritation in her voice, "and as to the victim, what did he tell you?"

"Come on…" the detective replied, refraining from rolling her eyes only because of her friend's don't-mess-with-me-look. "He said we don't know much. Do we?"

The ME made a face. "Essentially," she said, putting a lot more emphasis on the word than necessary, "that's true. White, male, probably average height, maybe gray hair." She sighed. "Someone went out of his way to mask both the victim's identity and the cause of death."

Beckett's eyebrows went up at that. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Dr Parish said, "that his whole body looks like someone used him as a bowling pin. I'd be surprised if there was any part of his body that isn't bloody, or any bone that wasn't broken. And on top of that, he's completely," she paused for effect, "naked."

"As in 'someone took his clothes'?"

"Precisely. At first glance I couldn't find any fibers or other remains of clothes in his wounds, which would have to be there if he had any on while he was turned into…"

"Yeah, thanks, Lanie," Beckett interrupted, "I really don't need the image."

"Suit yourself. I should be able to give you more once I have him on my table."

"So no time of death yet?"

"Beckett, that guy has been reduced to…" Lanie interrupted herself at the detective's warning look, "…anyway, no, with the state he is in, I won't say anything before I've had him on. My. Table."

"Right. Thanks. Bye Lanie."

A sigh was the doctor's only response, while Kate Beckett made her way back across the lane, where fellow detectives Ryan and Esposito were waiting for her.

"This is creepy, right?" Esposito said when Beckett had reached them. Answering to her quizzical look he added, "I mean, we've had a naked victim because his clothes would have led us straight to the killer. Which they did anyway, because they were removed after he was shot.

"And then we've had burned fingertips because the killer wanted to prevent us from finding out the vic's identity. But this… this is a whole new level. A man, beaten to within an inch of his life, maybe with a bowling ball, and stripped before…"

To his right, his partner Detective Ryan made a gagging sound. "Thanks man, I've just had breakfast, and I'd like to keep it down."

Esposito shook his head at Ryan's squeamishness but kept his comment to himself.

"What do we have on this place?" Beckett asked, trying to focus on what they could do until Lanie could provide them with more information on the victim. "Witnesses, tire tracks in the parking lot, surveillance cameras…?"

"Nada," Esposito said.

"The next neighbors live over a block away, plus this place has been closed for ten years so nobody ever comes even near it any more. The few parking spaces in front are clear, and the lot in back has turned into a giant pile of waste over the years. You don't wanna go in there," Ryan reported, without even checking his notes.

"Wouldn't that be an ideal place to dump the murder weapon?"

"Maybe, but we don't even know what it is, or if there even is a murder weapon. The way this guy looks, he's probably been beaten to death," Esposito interjected, "And we checked, there are only two ways to access the parking lot, the gate for the cars and a big steel door in here. Both were locked and barred and had so much dust on them that they couldn't have been opened recently."

"Back to surveillance," Ryan grumbled, "this whole area doesn't have any. The closest cameras I could find are the traffic cameras two blocks down from here, and those in the subway station one block up."

"If this place is so out of the way for everyone, how did anyone even find the body?"

"Coincidence," Ryan said, "the bank that bought and shut down this place years ago wanted to get it sized up to see how much they could make by selling it. The guy they sent here, a Mr Ted Willsburgh, discovered the body when he went in and turned on the lights."

"The lights. In an abandoned bowling alley."

"Yes, the bank had the building reconnected to the power line just for the occasion."

"So to sum this up," Detective Beckett said, raising her eyebrows once more, "right now we have nothing. Not even an approximate time of death."

"Yeah, pretty much," Esposito said, Ryan nodding along.

"Great," Beckett muttered. She paused for a moment, thinking her options through, before issuing her orders. "Let's talk to those neighbors you mentioned, find out if anyone was up and walking around here last night… Or make that last couple of nights. The body's not started decaying yet, so unless someone put him on ice, he can't have been dead for more than a week."

"On it," Esposito replied, gesturing to two uniformed officers on his way out.

"Ryan, get the surveillance footage from those traffic cameras and the subway station for the last week, just so that we have them when we know what we're looking for."

"Okay." He turned to leave, then turned back and asked, "And what are you gonna do?"

"I'll go get Castle," Beckett said, slightly grimacing, "we need something to go on, and I'll kill you if you tell him this, but even his crazy theories are better than the nothing we have right now."

Ryan just smiled, then turned to leave while fishing for his cell phone.

Richard Castle sat on the couch in his loft, eyes closed and head lying on the back of the couch. The empty glass sitting on the coffee table showed remnants of dissolved Aspirin, a tribute to the monstrous headache that was only just beginning to dissipate.

'Maybe movie night on New Year's Day wasn't such a great idea,' he thought. Nonetheless, Alexis was going to go to college in spring, and he was determined to use every chance he got to spend time with his little girl, to fill the pool of memories in which he could drown himself once she'd be gone.

Thankfully–really? Thankfully?–the doorbell's chime stopped this very miserable train of thought before it could win any more ground, setting up to grow to truly epic proportions… He really needed to get some control over his over imaginative mind, or at least he should channel it toward writing.

The second chime snapped him out of his reverie, making him realize that he was utterly alone. Martha had taken Alexis to do some New Years Shopping, and while Rick wondered where his daughter was getting the energy for a whole day of shopping from, he was glad to be able to relax undisturbed. Until now.

Retying his robe, he made his way to the door. "Beckett!" he called out in surprise when he opened the door and found the detective standing on the other side. "What are you doing here?" When he saw her smirk, he wanted to smacked himself. "Not that I don't enjoy your company," he amended, "but you could've called." He was dimly aware that his headache had now completely receded. At last.

"You know," she began, "I did call you. Over two hours ago. But by the looks of it, you were still asleep then."

A half-smirk accompanied the last remark, which was hanging somewhere between a statement and a question.

"Uh, yeah, I probably was," he said, stepping aside, "Movie night with Alexis last night. Got a little late… Do you want to come in?"

"Thank you," Beckett replied, moving past him, then turning to face him after he closed the door behind them.

"Can I get you anything?" Castle asked, gesturing to the couch and chairs.

"No, thanks," she responded, then said, "there's a body."

He looked at her for a long moment, focusing his eyes on hers. "And?" he asked when he felt that she was about to start fidgeting.

"And," she took a deep breath, "we have nothing. So far", she amended.

"Nothing," he echoed, irritation creeping into his features. "But you said there's a body, so you can't have nothing."

"Okay, so we don't have nothing, but all we have is the body. No ID, no witnesses, not even a definitive cause or time of death," she rattled off the few facts she had. Admitting the current state–what state exactly?–the investigation was stuck in made her feel frustrated.

"Well, then you have next to nothing," he acceded, then, raising an eyebrow, asked, "Then what do you want me to do?"

She bit her lip. "I have Ryan and Esposito running down the usual stuff, although that probably won't get us anywhere right now." She paused, and he waited patiently for her to continue. She looked around once before settling her gaze on him again. "I'd like to hear one of your theories, Castle. We really haven't anything to go on, and I thought maybe you had an idea…"

He felt his face split into a grin at the hopeful expression in her eyes, that he wasn't altogether sure she herself knew was there. "Tell you what," he said, "I'll just go shower and get dressed, and then you tell me all you know in the car and I'll see what pops up in my head."

Beckett nodded her agreement, and Castle went for his bedroom. "Make yourself at home," he called over his shoulder, "you know where the coffee maker is."

When Richard Castle emerged from his bedroom twenty minutes later, he was freshly showered, shaved and dressed. Also, he found his partner lounging in one of his armchairs, boots neatly placed on the floor next to the chair, an almost empty mug of coffee in her hands.

"Took you long enough," Beckett said without looking up, her smirk practically audible. She reached over to the table and picked up a traveling mug, handing it over her shoulder to him. "Here you go."

Castle hummed in appreciation, taking in the scent of caffeine wafting from the small sipping hole. "Thanks," he murmured, taking a sip of the hot liquid. Immediately the drink's invigorating effects took action, kicking this morning's headache further back into the recesses of his memory.

"Can we get going?" Beckett asked, busying herself with pulling her boots on after having set down her now empty mug on the table. She turned her head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Or does the gentleman require another few minutes to compose himself?"

In lieu of an answer, he walked over to the hall closet, putting on his shoes and donning his coat. When he gathered his keys and opened the door, she slipped around him and went ahead to call the lift.

They spent the whole ride down in silence. Castle's irritation was momentarily replaced by violent shivers as they stepped out of his building's front door and where immediately hit by the freezing January wind.

Once they were settled inside her car, Castle's teeth were still chattering slightly, though Beckett assumed that was just for effect. She buckled her seat belt, then began to back the car out of the parking spot while opening her mouth to start briefing Castle on the other facts about the new case.

"So, when are you gonna tell me the rest?" he asked, beating her to it.

She closed her mouth, then opened it again. "Right now, actually. Why? You said 'tell me all you know in the car'."

"You know I didn't mean that literally. And since when do you actually listen to me?"

He sounded playful, so she went along. Hell, she could (and would) use any distraction from this case's frustration that presented itself. "I listen to you all the time. Don't have much choice, you know, with you following me around and talking all the time."

"That's not what I meant." This time, he didn't sound so playful any more.

"No, it's not," she conceded.

"So?" he prompted after a minute of silence.

"So…," she echoed, drawing the word out, hoping to escape his prodding. Of course, part of her mind was well aware that it was Castle she was talking to, and she would never escape his questions with anything short of going ballistic on him, and the situation certainly didn't warrant extreme measures.

"Are you gonna tell me or not?" he asked, clearly not giving her any chance to squirm her way out. But, thinking a moment, she recognized that he had actually offered her a way out, although maybe inadvertently.

"Alright. The body was found this morning in an abandoned bowling alley. All we know is that it's a white male of average height. He was completely naked, and beaten to a pulp," she said, grimacing at the last part. "Literally," she added.

Castle's eyebrows went up, but he kept silent, so she went on, "His face was so badly beaten that it's going to be hard to identify him. We're hoping for prints or DNA… or that Lanie can work a miracle.

"There are no witnesses, with nobody having come near the place in the last five years at least and the nearest neighbors living a good block away. Esposito is talking to them, but I doubt anything will turn up. There are no surveillance cameras around, the closest being traffic cameras two blocks away and some in a subway station, one block in opposite direction. Ryan's pulling them in, but there's the problem…"

"…That you don't have a time of death," he interjected.

She nodded. "Right. When a bank bought the building ten years ago, they shut the whole thing down and kept it that way. Now they need money, and figured they'd check out their property. One of their people came around to the place this morning, and found the body.

"Right now we have a time frame of about a week, given that the body hasn't started decomposing yet. But with the cold weather, it might be longer. Or shorter. Again, we have to hope for Lanie to find anything."

They spent the rest of the ride to the precinct in silence. Though Beckett was eager to hear Castle's theories on the case–although, face it, she'd never put it in quite those words–she recognized that pushing him wouldn't help. He would eventually come up with something. There was no guarantee that it would actually help, she knew, but she told herself that it couldn't be any worse than having nothing.

The only time she prompted him was when they got out of the car in the precinct's basement garage. "Any ideas yet?" she asked, while they were making their way over to the lift.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head and appearing deep in thought. So deep in fact that he didn't seem to notice that he was the first to enter the elevator, and also the first to leave it on their floor.

They hadn't quite reached her desk when a sharp voice called her to attention.

"Detective Beckett. My office, now."

She sighed, then altered her course toward the captain's office. When Castle started to follow her, she turned and stopped him.

"Stay here, okay? I'm just gonna tell her what I told you already, and I don't think your half-baked theories would do anything to improve her mood after I'm finished. Her words, not mine," she added upon seeing his face fall a little. "I wouldn't have gone out of my way to encourage you to develop some if I thought they were nonsense, would I?" She turned back toward Gates' office, stopped and turned halfway back around, a smirk playing across her lips. "Although they mostly are nonsense," she said, but her amusement was clearly audible.

Kate Beckett was not quite so amused when she left Captain Gates' office only about five minutes later. She had made her report, deflected a couple of incredulous questions and stoically listened to the captain's rant. Her 'new orders' were exactly the same as she would have done on her own, and while it was a little frustrating that Gates was as clueless as she, Beckett reminded herself to be thankful for not having to discuss investigative priorities with her boss.

When she found herself suddenly sitting at her desk, she realized that she must have walked the whole way over pretty much absentmindedly, and it was probably only thanks to the fact that most of the skeleton crew that manned the precinct on the second day of the new year were out somewhere instead of hurrying across the bullpen that she hadn't run into anyone, who probably would've been armed with a cup of coffee…

Coffee. The thought made her cringe inwardly, since the cup she'd had at Castle's place couldn't have been much more than half an hour ago, and yet she was feeling like she hadn't had any at all.

Looking up and around the room, she found the desks of her two fellow detectives still unoccupied, and her cell phone showed no missed calls or new texts, so she decided to give in to her addiction and get herself a fresh fix of caffeine.

It hit her when she got up from her chair. Where was Castle? His chair, next to her desk, was empty. 'Probably making coffee and building theory with the espresso machine,' she thought to herself.

Making her way over to the break room, she noticed a familiar, large frame blocking half a window of the floor's main conference room. The one with the large plasma screen. Abandoning her earlier objective, Beckett walked over and entered the room without knocking, closing the door quietly behind her.

Detective Ryan was sitting at the central table, his pad open and a pen in his hand, poised to take notes. In his other hand he held the remote control, thumb resting on the play/pause button. She followed his gaze to the screen, where she could see surveillance footage from the traffic cameras rolling past at quadruple speed.

To her right, Castle cleared his throat. When she turned toward him, she found a mug of steaming coffee hovering inches away from her face. Muttering a "Thanks", she extracted the cup from his hand and took a swig, marveling once again at the energizing properties of the dark liquid.

"I see you got those tapes," she addressed Ryan.

"Yeah, the guys were fast. This is only the beginning though, from last night. We'll get the rest later, and I figured that since we don't have any leads, I could just as well check the tape for anything suspicious."

Beckett stifled the question of how exactly he would define 'suspicious' under the circumstances. "Any word from Esposito?" she asked instead.

"Nope, nothing yet," came the reply, "either he's been invited for tea by an old lady, or he hasn't found anything and will tell us just that when he gets here."

Hiding her frustration behind another mouthful of coffee, she turned her eyes to Castle, who cocked his head and peered at her curiously.

"How'd it go with Gates?" he asked.

"Eh," she responded, keeping herself from formulating an overly emotional reply, "at the end it was almost a shouting match. Her against the wall." Beckett chuckled, in spite of the situation. "I guess it's even more frustrating when you can't go out on the street and just do something, instead of waiting for news to come to you."

Castle nodded thoughtfully. "Remind me how that's different from our situation right now?"

She snorted. "Thanks for rubbing it in."

"Always a pleasure," he retorted, a silly grin on his face.

Shaking her head, she cut back to the chase. "So, any good theories popped up?"

"Any? Any? There are, like, a thousand, and the problem is that with what little information we have, they're all quite likely. Or un-likely."

"I don't remember that ever having stopped you in the past," she shot back.

"Yeah, well, in those cases you didn't ask me to come up with a theory to build your case on."

Now she was gaping. "For the record," she said firmly, reeling her expression back in, "I never intended to build my investigation on your theory. I was just thinking that you might have an idea that'd help make a bit more sense of this."

"But you did before," he said softly, almost pouting, "I remember cases that my theories cracked wide open. So technically–"

"Technically," she interrupted him, "whenever your theories 'cracked'"–you could practically hear the air quotes–"a case, they were founded on real evidence, interpreting them in a way we hadn't before. If I'm not mistaken, there's not much hard evidence to base anything on, is there?"

"Then I'm sorry," he resigned, "just tell me why you dragged me here? Since you don't seem to want to hear my theories…"

Beckett sighed deeply. The confusion on his face, the hurt in his voice, together they were rapidly becoming close to unbearable for her already frustrated self. She looked away, only to find Ryan's look darting from her to Castle and back, his face mirroring Castle's confusion, but transmitting concern with his eyes. She dropped her gaze to the floor, studying it.

The quiet stretched out, until she broke it. "Ryan, could you…," she asked without looking up.

His answer came in the sound of a chair being pushed back across the floor, and footsteps coming around the table, then passing her, the door closing quietly in his wake.

Beckett drew the ensuing silence out for a few minutes. Then, as if collecting herself, drawing all of the rampaging frustration back into its cage, she took a deep breath, straightening up and looking at him again. Castle, still standing where he had been when she had snapped at him, was alternating his gaze between the opposite wall and the image frozen on the big screen.

"Castle," she prompted, her voice softer than before, but betraying the strain she was feeling.

His head snapped around, so quickly that it almost seemed involuntary to her. She spoke in a slow, measured voice.

"I'm sorry. I took my frustration out on you, and that was neither fair nor right."

She saw his face light up a little, just for a moment, before concern took over his expression. He inched closer to her, then spoke in a soft voice, "Are you alright?"

Kate Beckett had a hard time keeping herself from showing him an unguarded, un-Beckett-y, adoring smile. The kind that she'd felt crawling on her face when she was looking at him while he didn't see. Like the one she'd let him see, because she couldn't have–wouldn't have–smothered that happiness at finding him alive and well in the bank vault… 'No. Wrong track of mind,' she reprimanded herself. Instead, she quirked the corners of her mouth up in a weird little half-smile and slightly shook her head.

"No, I guess I'm not," she admitted.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked after another pause.

"No," she replied, "but thank you, Castle. You're here, and I haven't scared you off. Just…just be you, and once we get some more information, I'll be back to my usual."

You're here, and I haven't scared you off. Kate, watch your mouth, she thought.

If Castle had picked up on her wording, he didn't let on. "I'll remind you of that the next time you complain about me," he said, smiling, "In the meantime, we should let Ryan back in here so he can look over the footage some more."

She was about to respond when her phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she took the call. "Esposito, tell me you have something."

"Speaker," Castle mouthed.

She tapped the button and held her phone out between them.

"–talked to the neighbors. None of them have heard anything. The building doesn't allow pets, so no dog walkers either. Most walk past the street that leads to the crime scene every day, or pass it in their cars. They all say they've never seen anyone go there, but they don't exactly pay attention either."

"That can't be right," Castle interjected, "from what you've told me, it's a perfectly intact building, just a little run-down." He heard Esposito mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "A little?", but chose to ignore it.

Beckett picked up his line of thought. "Have you checked the scene for any signs that homeless people might've been there?"

"CSU found no indicators, as I recall. No signs of forced entry, if you overlook the broken windows. But none of them were completely clear of broken glass, and all those someone could've gotten in through were clear of traces."

"Damn," Castle muttered.

"So we're still at square one," Beckett said, ignoring him.

"Looks that way," came Esposito's response.

"Okay, then get back here. We'll wait for the Lanie and the full CSU report, and then we'll see," she told him.

"Okay. See you," he said, ending the call.

While pocketing her phone, Beckett ran her free hand through her hair, stifling yet another frustrated sigh. Why was this case getting to her so much? She had no explanation, no reason for it. There had been hard cases in the past, specifically one where she didn't even have a body to begin with. But in that case, she'd had a lead. And witnesses.

Reluctantly, she pushed herself off the wall and opened the door. She walked over to Ryan's desk, Castle following in her wake.

"Esposito says the neighbors know nothing,…" she began.

"…,see nothing, hear nothing," her colleague finished for her, eyes fixed on his screen.

"Pretty much," she quipped. "You can have the room back."

He looked up, gauging the general mood, and finding them standing close together, peering down at him, seemed good enough to him. He stood wordlessly, a small nod his only sign of acknowledgment, and went back into the conference room, resuming his screening task.

Esposito had come in about half an hour after his call, checking his inbox before joining Ryan in the conference room, the pair of them spending the following hours screening surveillance footage.

Beckett had tried clearing away some of her backlogged paperwork, but found that she could hardly concentrate. So she had actually welcomed Castle working to distract her, using every means at his disposal. He started with some crazy apps on his phone, snatching her attention away from the dull forms, then continued to an almost artistic performance of eating M&M's, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle–and a worried glance to Gates' office, whose occupant thankfully was occupied with paperwork.

Castle slipped out around noon, returning a few minutes later with two extremely full bags from the bakery around the corner. He left one of the bags with the boys before ambling over to her desk and, after rooting around the bag, carefully maneuvering a bear claw before her face.

After "lunch", he picked up his thread of distracting work, pestering her with little, meaningless questions, before he set off telling an impromptu short story, which stole her attention so entirely that calling her distracted would have been a gross understatement. They had to stop once, Beckett scrambling for pen and paper and Castle suddenly very interested in his phone, when Gates popped her head out into the bullpen, asking for an update. The answer she received made her notably unhappy, but she miraculously refrained from launching into a tirade.

As soon as the captain's head had vanished, Castle was back on track building his story, leading Beckett off to much less frustrating places.

She vaguely realized that she must've had a silly grin plastered across her face, one that was completely inappropriate given their current investigation, but all this consideration took place in a small section in the far back of her mind, never able to make itself known to her. So she continued listening to him with rapt attention.

The story had just reached a crucial point when her phone rang. They were both so focused on the story that neither registered the first ring, and surprisingly it was Castle who pointed out that her phone was ringing. Beckett inwardly cursed herself for her own lack of focus on her work, and the caller for their impossible timing, as she reached over to pick up the receiver.

"Beckett," she responded, hoping that the call was both related to the case and giving her some sort of lead.

"Hey girl, I may have something for you," came Lanie's voice from the other end of the line.

"We'll be there in a minute," Beckett called, slamming down the receiver. She almost catapulted herself out of her chair, slamming into Castle in the process, as he apparently had risen from his chair a moment before her.

Instead of recoiling or falling down though, they ended up holding on to each other's arms, balancing themselves out. Looking up, Beckett found her own face dangerously close to Castle's, and they shared a look of…something, she wasn't quite sure what it was. She thought she detected some amusement in his eyes…and something else. Something…more serious. If she had to label it, she'd–No. She forced herself to abandon that thought, then stepped away, effectively ending the moment–their moment?

"Let's go, Castle," she said, moving in the direction of the elevator, "Lanie says she's got something for us."

"Coming," he replied, still feeling a little bemused from the unexpected collision.

Beckett pushed through the doors to the main examination room, using a bit more force than strictly necessary.

"What've you got for us, Lanie?" she called.

"Whoa, girl," the ME replied, "I said I might have something for you."

"That him?" Castle threw in, indicating the body lying on one of the steel tables, covered by a white sheet.

"Yeah," Lanie answered, "that's him." At Beckett's inquiring stare, she went on. "This guy," she said, "was a hell of a lot of work."

"Yeah?" Castle chirped in.

Lanie gave him a look that actually made him want to shrink and hide in a corner.

"Yeah. I've been straightening his broken bones, which took about six hours," Lanie grumbled, "give me a little credit for that, will you?" She missed the almost horrified looks passing between the detective and the writer. "Anyway," she paused, walking over to her desk and picking up the clipboard with her notes. "There was literally not a single unbroken bone in his body. Whoever beat him up did a pretty thorough job. They used a blunt object, probably a metal rod, since I found a few traces of metal in some of the wounds, especially the ones inflicted on his face. As suspected, there were no fibers anywhere in the wounds, which suggests that he was naked when he was beaten up."

"Okay," Beckett cut in, "that's all good, but it won't help us as long as we don't know who he is. Any progress on that?"

By now Lanie had finally registered that Beckett wasn't her usual self and decided to let the interruption slip. "Actually," she said, "I've made some progress toward identifying our John Doe. His prints weren't in the system, and the DNA profile will take a while." She held up her hand to stop the pair from intervening. "I managed to put his face back together. To an extent," she added.

"And?" Beckett prompted.

"And," the ME echoed, removing a photograph from her clipboard, "this is as good as it gets."

Beckett peered closely at the face in the picture. It appeared as that of a middle aged man with a receding line of graying hair and a prominent nose, though it was hard to make out specific features underneath the mass of bruises and fractures.

"Do you have anything on the cause of death?" she asked her friend.

"Probably blunt force trauma," Lanie reported, "but don't pin me down on that. It's just that I found nothing else so far, and most, if not all, of these bruises look like they've been dealt before his death, so I've no idea which one killed him. But I will find it."

Neither of them noticed Castle looking at the picture over Beckett's shoulder, blanching and then suddenly fumbling for his phone, turning away and heading for the door.

"Sorry, I have to go," he called over his shoulder. "Call me when you have news?"

"Sure," Beckett replied, frowning. It wasn't like Castle to just vanish without an explanation… But if something had happened, he would have told her, right? What was there that could knock him off the track like that? Maybe something concerning his family… but surely he would have told her if that were the case. Wouldn't he?

Rick Castle closed the door to his apartment, leaning back against it. He drew a deep breath, shuddering. He was alone, had called Alexis on his way home to make sure she and her grandmother were still busy shopping. Actually, Alexis had sounded a bit exhausted, but overall fine.

Now, he needed time alone. To think.

He didn't even bother to take of his shoes, or his coat. He dragged himself over to the couch, plopping down on it. Letting out a sigh, he let his head fall backwards to rest on a cushion.

In his mind, there was no doubt. And now he had to tell her.

A/N: so, how'd you like it? Hope it wasn't too bad… Just a little hint, there's this blue button, right down here… :)