Last night's episode was so focused on Beckett's feelings that people seemed to be pretty angry at Castle. I imagined this little conversation taking place later that night after his "date". Hopefully it gives some insight into what his feelings might be, since they seem to be alternating POV in each episode. Don't forget, it was just a week ago that everyone was feeling sorry for him. Personally I feel bad for both of them right now.

Disclaimer: Not mine, or much loving would be happening

Rick Castle slipped quietly into his loft and softly closed the door behind him. His head was still thumping to the beat of the club music Jacinda had been 'simply dying to dance' to for four straight hours. Moving into the kitchen, he dug a bottle of Advil out of a cabinet, shook three caplets into his palm, and gulped them down dry. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, taking a long pull, and savoring the chill of the water as it soothed his dry throat. Flopping onto a stool, he toed his shoes off, shrugged out of his sport coat and scrubbed his face with his hands. He honestly couldn't remember the party boy lifestyle he used to lead being this exhausting, and wondered if it was age, or just lack of practice that was catching up to him now.

"I can't remember the last time you came home at 3am from anything other than a murder investigation, Richard. What have you been up to? Or should I say, who have you been up to?" drawled a voice from the darkness.

"What the…?" Rick sat up in surprise, turning to see his mother tucked in a chair, gazing at him with a knowing look on her face. "I'm a little old to have my mother waiting up for me after a date, especially in my own home."

"Don't change the subject, kiddo. You haven't been home for more than a few hours at a stretch for the last week. Now, spill it. What gives?"

"Mother I am not having this conversation with you. First of all, where I go and who I see are none of your business. Second, you know damn well what gives. I am moving on with my life and finally having a little fun again. And I don't owe you or anybody else an explanation."

"Richard you might think that behaving like a 25-year-old with a hormone imbalance is the way to get over a broken heart, but I'm here to tell you, you're doing a bang-up job of looking like a fool all by yourself with no help from Detective Beckett." Martha rose from her chair and walked to the kitchen. "And if you don't think I deserve an explanation, you had better start figuring out what you're going to tell Alexis, because that girl is worried sick about you."

Rick brandished his phone "I talked to Alexis earlier tonight, and she was fine. Don't you get her all stirred up about this."

Martha shot him a disgusted look "Alexis is not an idiot darling, she remembers all too well the way things were when you were running around with women, taking impromptu trips and staying out all hours. And she is hearing things at work. Like you showing up at a crime scene with a blonde in your Ferrari, hmm?"

"You see, I knew that this internship with Lanie was a mistake." huffed Rick "She shouldn't be hearing things about me at work that get her upset."

"Well if you weren't acting like this, she wouldn't have anything to hear, would she?" Martha's voice softened as she took in his bleak expression and weary demeanor. "Richard, stop pretending that nothing happened, that you're happy to be back dating twinkies half your age. Don't kid a kidder bub, I know misery when I see it."

"Mother, I have reached the inescapable conclusion that I am just not cut out for love or lasting relationships." Rick stood and began to walk agitatedly around the kitchen. "I've spent the last three years trying to be a better man, a man that could love and be loved. I gave it everything that I had, gave her everything that she seemed to need and want, and it wasn't enough, it wasn't even remotely enough. So you'll excuse me if I don't want to look for that kind of love again. I'll stick to shallow and superficial, thank you very much." He leaned forward against the counter, dropping his face into his hands.

Martha watched him for a moment, a calculating expression on her face. "Well it must not have been that strong a love if you can have another woman in your bed barely a week after you lost her."

Rick flinched as if she had struck him, and after a moment, lifted his face to gaze at his mother.

Martha was appalled by the raw, burning look in his eyes. His face was etched with lines of pain, like a man undergoing torture. "You think I slept with her? You think I could do that? I am holding on to my sanity by a very thin thread right now, but I'll be damned if I'll give up my pride as well. I may be a fool Mother, but I will choose the kind of fool I'll be. And I won't be a fool for her, not anymore, not ever, ever again."

Martha reached across the counter and pushed a lock of unruly hair off his forehead. "My dear boy, if you could go back to being the man you were before you met her, you wouldn't care about doing something that matters. Like it or not, you have changed. She has changed you, and even if it isn't enough for her to love you, it's far too much to go back to who you used to be. And I suspect that when the pain eases, you are going to be glad to be the man you are now."

Rick dropped his head back into his hands, once again scrubbing them over his skin as if to wipe away the emotions written on his face. "So what am I supposed to do then Mother?"

"Well, I guess I'm saying that you should go ahead and be the man who cares about making a difference. Don't let your wounded pride keep you from being the person you are. And stop making the people who do love you worry about what you are off doing until all hours of the night. After all, I need my beauty rest more now than ever." Martha gave a whimsical smile as she patted his downcast head. "And keep your chin up kiddo; sometimes things are darkest just before the dawn."

Rick groaned into his hands, lifting his head to glare at her. "Clichés are beneath you Mother; I thought you were trying to cheer me up, not make me feel worse."

Martha turned away, airily waving a hand. "Clichés become clichés because they are so often true darling. Now you go get some rest before you fall over. Goodnight"

"Goodnight Mother," Rick said as he turned toward his room, "and thank you for being an interfering busybody."

"Anytime, dear"