A/N - This is all Beckett's POV.

I don't own the characters, or claim to. They just run through my head at times.

All grammar and spelling mistakes are my own. I apologize in advance. Has been a crazy week.

Enjoy!!!


I was ready for anything. Anything that Castle was going to throw at me.

"It's about your Mother."

Except that.

My heart splintered and I felt my defenses start to cover me. My body took a few steps back, my eyes still focused on Castle. My ears disbelieving what my brain was telling them I had just heard.

Then I heard a sound I hadn't heard in years. One I would be quite happy to never ever hear again.

Click, click, click.

My head jerked towards the sound. A nurse pushing a cart looked over at me and smiled.

In my mind's eye, I saw a gurney being pushed out a front door. A blood stained sheet covering a body. The gurney with a crappy wheel that clicked with every single rotation it made.

My heart started pounding and anger started to well up inside me.

I felt like walking over and slapping that smile right off her face.

My mind was pleading with me, this isn't real, right?

I took a deep breath in.

The sounds of the hospital started to flood my senses again. Every single noise seemed to demand attention. A beeping of a monitor, the mindless chatter of people around us, Doctor's barking orders, the clatter of medical equipment, and the ding of the elevator doors taking people to and from the wing.

I shook my head to get my thoughts together and my eyes lifted to meet Castle's.

One part of me was screaming to pummel my fists into him. Another part frantic to know what he had found.

But the feeling that was outweighing the last two was the desperate need to get out of that hospital and away from him.

"Beck..." I closed my eyes and raised my hand in front of his face to shush him.

Click, click, click.

I opened my eyes and they narrowed towards the nurse.

My jaw clenched and I took another deep breath in. Stay calm Beckett, just walk away.

"Beckett, please." Castle called after me, as I headed towards the elevator.

I slammed the palm of my hand against the down button, and the doors opened with a DING to a space overcrowded with people. I sighed inside.

Of all the times an elevator could be empty, now would be a great time Universe.

My spine stiffened as I felt a presence at my back. Taking a step into the elevator I turned to face him and warned in a quiet voice that sounded a lot calmer than I felt, "If you take one step into this elevator, so help me Castle you will not see the next floor."

I saw a slight flinch at my words. Then, "Do you think I would actually come to you, unless I thought you should know?" He stated simply, with a sad hopelessness in his eyes.

The doors of the elevator closed in front of me. He and the clicking were on one side. I was on the other. It seemed to cut off our partnership in one movement.

As I reached my apartment door I realised that my teeth were still clenched so tightly, my jaw had started to ache. I could feel my chin tremble slightly and I bit my lip to try to keep my composure.

"You touch my Mom's case and we're done."

I had said that out loud, right? I can remember it clearly.

Apparently Castle can't. Or he can, but thinks he knows me better than I know myself..? Yeah that sounds about right. Arrogant, pig headed...

My hands trembled so much that I dropped my keys, as I fumbled for the right key to my door.

One searing tear dared to tumble down my cheek, and I brushed it away angrily.

Just wait dammit...Until you're in your apartment at least.

Slamming my door closed behind me, I stormed down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Come on Kate, you have to find out what he knows. You NEED to.

NO! I don't, I can't.

Click, click, click.

I stopped, remained completely still and listened. Did I just hear that again? Or is my mind being exceptionally cruel tonight?

That sound had assaulted my senses in the dead quiet of the night. Every single night I heard it, over and over, for months.

I could feel a tightening in my chest, like a vice was gripping my lungs and squeezing.

I grabbed the remote to my iPod dock and pressed play. Paramore's Misery Business started blasting out of my stereo.

I leaned on my kitchen bench, dropped my head between my arms and took a deep breath in.

Looking up, I saw a glass sitting on the counter. At that point, it seemed to be screaming for vodka to fill it.

Grabbing the bottle out of my freezer, I filled the glass.

Taking a slow sip, I felt the warm burn of the vodka leave a trail down my throat to my stomach.

I focused on the steady beat of the drum. Let the music wash over me and calm me down.

"You touch my Mom's case and we're done."

How could Castle have looked into my Mom's case? After I had told him how this had almost killed me before. After knowing how this had affected my Dad he still poked around where I specifically told him not to

Pacing my living room, I felt anger coiled in my belly and work its way to my chest. With every breath I could feel it burning within me.

Really, though? Why did this surprise me, Castle was Castle after all. He'd do anything to have a good story. Look into anything, no matter who it affects.

More story for Nikki Heat, right?

If I was honest with myself though, more than anger I felt fear. Fear of going down that path again.

"Every off duty moment, I spent looking for something someone missed."

There was no way Castle had found something that I and everyone else had missed.

I had scoured every word on those files. Every letter that was written on those files, I knew. I knew it all intimately.

Taking another sip from my glass, I thought of all the people I had spoken to. I had spoken to every person that had been on that case. There was no way I had missed anyone.

I raked my fingers through my hair and sunk onto my couch.

Unless he had spoken to someone that had never been involved with her case. Someone who had seen something that no one else had?

Taking a gulp from my glass I shook my head. There was nothing else to be found.

"Do you think I would actually come to you, unless I thought you should know?"

Had that someone found something? Or was I wasting my time getting all worked up over something I already knew?

Who would have found something? Who would he have gotten to look into this?

Stop it Kate! You don't need to know this.

Are you serious? Of course you do! It might solve Mom's case!

The logical and emotional parts of my brain were at war with each other. Could I risk opening these wounds again? I didn't just have mine to think about.

"The same reason a recovering alcoholic doesn't drink."

This had been my addiction, my drug of choice. I had drowned in it for 3 straight years of my life, without even realising it.

****

5 and a half years ago

Every waking moment all I saw were the pictures of the stab wounds, the crime scene, the pages of the case. My thoughts were always running through different scenarios, all of them ending the same way. They all lead nowhere.

My life had completely been put on hold. All my relationships put on hold.

Including the most important relationship in my life, the one I had with my Father.

I really hadn't meant for that to happen. We still spoke and saw each other, but I missed the things that were important. Like him drinking all the time. Not just a glass of scotch at night, but one before and with lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, dessert. Any occasion to celebrate deserved a toast. My promotions, the closing of another case, the fact that a day ended in Y, was a good enough reason for him.

I was there, but I wasn't. I would fill Dad in on Mom's case and deliberate over things with him and he would hmm and nod in the appropriate places. But I didn't see that this was one topic he didn't need to go over.

All he saw when I spoke of Mom's case, was us laughing in the car on the way home from dinner. Driving towards police cars parked in our driveway. A medical examiners van on the street and a Detective Raglan telling us we couldn't walk into our house.

The Detective told us The Victim had been stabbed numerous times and hadn't made it. That the paramedics had tried, but there was nothing that they could do.

My throat caught on a sob and a crazed laugh ended up coming out.

I remember thinking, she's dead? No, that's not her, that's someone else. Right?

There was I, standing there in bewildered silence not knowing how to react to the seemingly pointless questions Raglan was asking. Not knowing how to be there for Dad.

Then I heard it. Click, click, click. I turned towards the front door of my childhood home and saw her body being rolled out on a gurney, a perfect whit sheet coving it. The only thing staining it was a bloodstain right in the middle of it. Then she disappeared into the ME's van. That sound filtered through the numb that had covered my senses and I got angry. Angry at the noise for making me feel.

I got so angry at the noise and it opened the flood gates. The tears started and I couldn't stop them. I sunk to the ground and just howled, hugging my knees to my chest.

Click, click, click. Over and over, that's all I heard for months yet to come.

All my thoughts were my Mother and her case, and that is one thing I have a hard time forgiving myself about. The fact that it had almost killed my Dad, which I felt I had contributed to heavily.

Random things made me lose it very easily after that.

Like velcro holding the handles on a sports bag together. I just couldn't see the point of it. You zipped the bag up and held the handles, so why did they need to be velcroed as well? Then the sound, it just frustrated me.

A person telling someone else something about my life. Whether it be a meaningless something or not, what gave them the right to tell that story? It wasn't theirs to tell.

Someone taking that bit of extra time to do something. I wasn't very patient.

I hadn't even realised it had become a problem. Until a case, where a woman was stabbed by a teenager got thrown on my desk.

I had pushed and pushed myself to find the murderer for her family. I had gotten violent with a suspect, in the interrogation room no less.

His confession was thrown out, but they managed to get him on the weapon and blood on clothes he had tried to trash.

I was put on desk duties and sent to a therapist.

I had been so unbelievably angry, when they'd told me my "punishment".

The therapist had no problem picking that up, since I said nothing for the first 5 or so sessions.

I then realised the way to get back onto cases, was to talk about things. So I started to talk.

Mainly just about work to begin with.

I made up some lame story about why I'd always wanted to become a homicide Detective.

Dr Shreve had somehow made this space an easy place for me to talk, about anything.

So slowly, my other world started coming pouring out, like a waterfall.

At first, each word that came out had been like a knife slicing through my heart. It felt like it was a betrayal to Mom's memory to be saying anything to this person. This person, who knew nothing about her.

But then, it changed. It seemed to feel like a huge weight had lifted off, to be able to have this neutral ground to talk it out on.

The clicking seemed to invade my nights a little less.

I told him about how they had never caught her killer. How they wanted it to be easy. They didn't really look into it. It was too hard, so they said it was "gang violence".

He had questioned me on everything. He threw questions at me designed to change my way of thinking, without me realising that he was slowly changing it.

The anger slowly lessened as our sessions continued.

I started analysing how much this had actually affected me. Not just me, but also those around me. He asked about my relationships. How long it had been since I had had one.

It actually took me aback, to realise that it had been quite a while. I had casual relationships here and there, but nothing more than that. I hadn't had the time. I remembered sitting there and saying to him that it was just because I was focused on my career at the time.

Both of us knew I was lying. And he caught me on it.

I remember the arched eyebrows, then "Really Kate? Is it just your career?"

I looked away and mumbled a "Yes."

He made a hmmph sound, then "If you're not going to be honest with yourself Katherine, then we're not going to get anywhere."

I winced at the "Katherine". I felt like I was a child again, being caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Our therapy sessions went like that. Depending on my mood, I could sometimes act like a child and be antagonistic. At other times I would see his logic and see how my thoughts and perceptions to the world were slowly changing.

"It took almost a year of therapy to realise that it was going to destroy me. Unless I let it go. So I let it go."

I remember waking up one morning and for the first time in a long time my first thought wasn't automatically of Mom's case. Then sat up, looked at the case files in the corner of my room and a wave of guilt overcome me.

I walked into Dr Shreve's office and told him about it. He said it was a good thing that it wasn't my first thought. And that the guilt was expected, since it had been my life for the past three years.

We talked it over and I somehow decided that it would be a good idea to keep the case files at work from now on. I could stay back at work and look them over, but it still gave me enough distance from them at home. He seemed pleased that I had come to this conclusion.

That night, I walked into my apartment and it seemed empty. Like a part of me was missing. My best friend was missing. It was the first time in three years I had been truly alone at night. I'd always had Mom, the coroner, about a million cops, suspects and other medical examiners around me in my head.

That was the first time I'd ever had a panic attack. The pain in my chest was like someone pushing a horse needle into my lungs a million times over. I couldn't breathe properly. I stumbled into my bathroom to splash water on my face.

I sunk to the floor and lay down on the cool tiles, trying to calm myself.

What do I do now? What do normal people do? I remember thinking to myself.

I had finally realised that I had lost myself in the end. I ended up crying for what seemed like days. Crying for the loss of my Mother, for the loss of my Father, and lastly for the loss of myself for all those years.

I then vowed to myself that I'd never go back to who I had been during those three years.

I survived my detoxification by reading. Reading everything I could get my hands on. Reading anything, to take my mind off what my emotions were screaming at me to do.

Then my purpose in life shifted from my Mom's case, to getting my Dad back on track.

I took a few weeks off work and moved in with him. I got him into a good program. Sat with him throughout every painful second, and restored the relationship I had broken.

Through the detox, he hated me. He said I was killing him. Called me every name under the sun, even blamed me for Mom's death. I knew it was the addict in him screaming at me, so I took it. This wasn't about me for once.

Then slowly, Dad came back to me. He remained sober.

I went back to work and moved back into my apartment.

"So I let it go."

Two and a half years after that, Dad was still sober, and I hadn't touched Mom's case.

I let it go and was getting on with my life. I was even dating someone at that point.

Did I let it go though? How does anyone let the death of their Mother go? I learned to stop obsessing, I had learned to live with it, but if I was honest with myself, I could never let it go.

Will asked me about what happened, and I had told him the basics. But apparently I talk in my sleep. He found out more when I was asleep, than when I was awake.

I had told him about how therapy and reading Richard Castle's books got me through the "detox" phase of my life.

Will Sorenson ended up seeing more of me, than anyone else ever had.

He also decided to look into Mom's case without me knowing.

I ended up finding a file on his desk one afternoon, while I was waiting for him to tie up a few loose ends on a case.

I spied the name Beckett on a piece of paper, with a whole lot of notes. The first line "Multiple stab wounds, no sexual assault..."

My brow furrowed and my heart started racing. Will had spoken to a FBI profiler to try and get more of an insight on the killer.

Stop reading this, Kate. You've worked so hard to get everything back on track.

I threw some other paperwork on top of the case and sat down slowly in Will's chair.

Click, click, click.

My heart was still racing and my breath was coming in rapid puffs, like I had run 100 miles. I put my head in my hands and tried to calm myself.

"I didn't want to say anything until I'd found something concrete for you." I jumped at the voice.

Will was standing at the other side of the desk. He looked unsure of himself.

I stood and walked over to him. "Why? Why would you think I'd want this?" My voice sounded shaky, even to me.

He caught my waist and pulled me in for a hug. "I thought I could help, the FBI has better resources than the NYPD does."

My breath hitched and I choked out a sob, "So... did you find anything?" I asked unsure that I wanted to know.

His hands rubbed my back soothingly, "I'm sorry. I've gone over everything and I can't find anything that you haven't."

I nodded and pushed myself away from him. "I need to go. I... need to be alone tonight. I'll, uh. I'll call you later." I left him standing in his office.

I turned off my phones, and I downed a bottle of vodka that night, and sat there in numbed silence for a few hours. Then cried and passed out.

The clicking came back that night. It had sounded louder than I remembered it.

I told Will this was one thing I had to do alone, if I ever went down that path again.

That was one huge IF that I wasn't sure I could ever go back to.

I told Will to leave the case alone, and while he had argued to begin with, he ended up agreeing and we'd gone about our lives from there.

Until he had decided to move to Boston. I learned then and there that things didn't have a happy ending, well at least in this girl's life.

***

Present Day.

"I never thought I would be saying this, but I don't think I could've done it without Castle."

He did have a thing for being in the right place at the right time. Sometimes he just knew things, I couldn't explain it. It's like he just guesses and it either works out or it triggers something to make it work.

Could it be the same with my Mom's case?

The logical part of my brain started at me...What would I be saying to the person with information about one of my cases? I would be doing my all to get them to talk. To find out information for my victims family.

So why can't you do it for your own family? For your own Mother?

Cos I've already been down there!

I've found that sometimes time can be nothing but pain in disguise. You think you've healed, and so does everyone else.

But it's more like you've ripped the bandaid off, only to see the wound is still as bad as it was a week ago.

Three days later, and the silence was killing me. Castle hadn't called. He hadn't been into the office, bugging me over cases.

He had completely left me to come to him. To make my own mind up about this.

Could I handle dealing with it with Castle helping me?

"Most people come up against a wall and they give up. Not you. You don't let go, you don't back down. It's what makes you extraordinary."

I don't back down. I'm not that sort of person. I came up against my wall, and I learned to climb over it and keep going.

Castle would not have come to me, unless he had found something tangible. He knows what this would be doing to me, but he still came to me.

He doesn't just want a story; that accusation was unfair of me to make. I do know that much about him, all in all he wouldn't do anything to hurt me, unless it was for my benefit in the long run.

I should know better than to touch the fire twice... but then again, is this all we get to be absolutely sure about what we think we know?

If an opportunity knocks on my door, do I ignore it? Or take it and see where it leads me? If I turn this one down, will another one come up?

I picked up my cell and dialled. "Hey Castle. Yeah it's me, Beckett. I need you to tell me everything. Do you want to meet me at my place in an hour...?"