The December air was surprisingly mild, especially since the sun had barely been up for less than ninety minutes. Nonetheless, Sean Thurston was thankful for his parka from his wife - an early Christmas present to keep him warm when he patrolled his park. He always thought of Herman Park as his park, since he was head of security and it was his job to make sure the tranquil green enclosure stayed safe in a city rife with crime. The neighbourhood wasn't exactly the Upper West Side ritzy-ditzy estates but Tudor City was a safe area to raise a family; part of that was having a safe spot for the mothers and young women to go for a run or take their children for a play-date without the potential of being raped or seeing drug-deals go down.

Two-way clipped to his belt, Thurston made his way to the north-west foot-path, one of the most popular places where the early-morning joggers liked to start their daily run, and wasn't surprised to find a slender female form on the bench already. He knew it was female from the hair-style, even guys with long hair that he knew weren't going to style it in a French braid. Okay, maybe on a drunken dare, but not to wear out of the house with their overcoats. He would have walked past her, had it not been for the fact he noticed she was wearing no coat. It was a nice morning, but not that nice.

'Ma'am,' he called out, 'you need a warm-up?'

When he got no answer, his concern grew. Maybe she was mentally ill, or deaf and couldn't hear him. Checking his watch to make sure he wasn't going to be behind schedule, Thurston stepped off the foot-path into three inches of fresh snow that gushed under his heavy instep.

'Ma'am,' he repeated and still received no answer. His hand went for his zipper to offer her his jacket - his mama had raised a gentleman, after all - and his fingers tightened on the lapels as he let out a sharp cry.

'Oh! Jesus!'

The woman - or what had been a woman - was the pasty colour of wallpaper glue where she wasn't swollen up with bruises on her face. Around her throat was a length of white silk, tied in a grotesquely cheerful bow under her chin.

'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,' Thustron rambled, fumbling for his two-way. He keyed the channel to the police radio dispatch. 'This is Thurston at Herman Park, I have a dead body here and need homicide here immediately.'

Across town and slightly south, Beckett was scraping up the last of her strawberry infused oatmeal from the bowl and reaching for her jacket while Castle wiped a cloth over RJ's mouth.

'Man, RJ, you really know how to get your breakfast everywhere, don't you?' Castle teased his son, then gave his wife the once-over. 'Look who's back on the beat. Very sharp, Detective. You want to play Interrogation later?'

'We'll see.' But the idea of first-day-back celebration sex was a happy thought to keep her warm as she braved the early December streets of Manhattan. Spinning once for their inspection, Beckett leaned in, kissed her boys good-bye. 'Okay, my little prince, time for Mommy to go to work.'

'Dash baddies?'

'That's right, I have to go catch some baddies.'

'See soon?'

'Yes, I'll see you soon.' Beckett kissed her son goodbye, then her husband. It was going to be very weird to not have Castle there hovering and spinning theory with her, but then it was also going to be weird to come home to her baby, too. 'And I'll seee you tonight for dinner too.'

'Don't forget your frame, Detective,' Castle reminded her, handing her the digital picture frame Lanie had given her for her birthday that she'd loaded with shots of her children.

'It's already in my bag. Love you guys.'

'Love Mumum.'

'Love you too, honey,' Castle added, and when she'd gone, he looked at RJ. 'You ready to start working on our little surprise for Mommy?'

'Le's go!'

'I'll take that as a yes.'

When Beckett stepped off the elevators at the Twelfth, it was a different kind of homecoming. She'd anticipated people looking at her differently, after all she hadn't been there in over a year, but all she could see were the silly looking flowers on her desk. She put her digital photo frame beside her phone and sighed impatiently.

'Richard, I oughta slug you,' she muttered, going to her space and snatching the card off the case. She changed her tune when she saw it was from the rest of the Homicide floor - Ryan and Esposito, and Karpowski, Newman and Geoffs, even Montgomery's name were all there too.

'Thought you might get a kick out of that,' Ryan told her, bringing her a cup of coffee. 'Everyone likes flowers.'

'A friendly wave would have been enough.' But Beckett knew she'd take them home with her with a proud and foolish grin on her face. 'So, what's going on, what are you and I working on right now?'

'I've just finished up with a couple of cold cases, so we're working through the backlog of paper on that.'

Beckett nodded, then picked up her desk phone when it rang. 'Beckett. Okay. Yep, got it,' she said, writing down an address and hanging up the phone. 'Not anymore, we caught a fresh one.'

'Sweet. Well, you know what I mean,' Ryan amended hastily when she turned around and pinned him with a stare. 'Good to have you back.'

R&R&Enjoy