Author's Note: In my mind this would take place sometime shortly after episode 6x04

One

Three weeks. Three weeks since she'd seen him. Three weeks since she saw his smile, heard his laugh or felt his lips against hers. Richard Castle had been missing for three weeks.

Most mornings when she woke for one fleeting moment she believed it was all in her imagination; a horrible nightmare. Though he wasn't beside her in bed, he was in the shower or in the kitchen making her one of his ridiculous pancake smile breakfasts. Then, as she pushed herself up to a sitting position she would realize the shower water wasn't running and there was no aroma of vanilla and cinnamon filling the apartment. He wasn't there and that fact hit her like an eighteen wheeler to the chest every single time.

Her chest would begin to heave, her breath coming in short spurts. She would throw off the blankets as the sweat formed across her brow at her hairline, at the base of her neck and down the top of her spine. Scurrying to the bathroom, she would pull off her pajama pants and t-shirt as she went, the clothing suffocating her. She was unable to wait for the shower water to warm to the desired temperature before she would stumble inside, hands running against the smooth tile, stand beneath the spray and allow herself one moment—just one moment—to be completely overwhelmed with loss.

That morning had started like any other: sun shining, birds chirping, rainbows forming in the skies overhead. At least, that's how it felt for the newly engaged and blissful couple. Kate awoke to him dusting kisses across her jaw and down her neck, his stubble scratching her in the way that made her groan and swat at him. Per usual, this did nothing to halt his advances and before she even fully opened her eyes he was already pulling off her pajama pants and panties.

When she stepped out of the shower after their morning encounter, the loft was filled with the delicious aroma of coffee and cinnamon: two of her favorite things. She practically skipped—yes, blissfully engaged Kate Beckett did know how to skip—into the kitchen where he was waiting with his sexy bed-head of floppy hair. At her chosen seat at the counter he placed a steaming mug of java and his infamous cinnamon swirl pancakes, which she doused in syrup before digging in.

"You keep feeding me like this, Castle, and I'll never fit in to a wedding dress," she'd teased him, knowing full well that the pre-Rick-and-Kate breakfast for her had been a banana and possibly some instant oatmeal if she was in the mood to "cook" that morning.

"Impossible," he'd retorted. "You haven't even bought a dress yet. I'm sure they go up to size twenty or so…"

She'd glared at his smirk before shoving another fork-full of pancake into her mouth.

As they ate, they chatted about their plans for that day. She was busy preparing for a trial so there would be no case for them, but he agreed that was fine; he had writing to get done anyway. When she offered to meet him for lunch, he'd refused at first, saying that he might be too busy writing. When she arched an eyebrow at him, he'd laughed and confessed, "Just kidding. I'm never too busy writing to hang out with you." He'd kissed her and added, "But seriously, better text me first just on the off chance I'm actually in the middle of a good scene."

"Whatever you say, Castle," she'd smiled. Then, with another kiss they parted.

That was the last time she saw him.

She relived that scene in her mind dozens if not a hundred times over the prior twenty-one days. Her brain searched for clues, searched for any sign, any indicator that something was amiss, but there was nothing. It was just Castle; regular, ridiculous Castle. She had no way of knowing that day would be the one that changed her life forever.

"Detective?" Gates' voice roused her from her thoughts. Kate sat, elbow on her desk, chin propped up in her open palm and she stared distantly at her computer screen. She always forced herself to stare straight ahead because if she turned her head to the side and caught a glimpse of his vacant chair it was like losing him all over again. The ache, the trembling, the twisting knife in her gut.

Kate's eyes shifted in the direction of her commanding officer and she saw Gates gesture for her to come to her office. With a deep breath, she pushed her palms flat against the desk to assist in the standing process. She took the twenty steps to Gates' office looking straight ahead, refusing meet any of her colleagues eyes.

The pitiful looks she received from her coworkers infuriated her. Didn't they know she felt bad enough without them cocking their heads to the side and telling her not to worry? As if that would make her feel better! The only thing that would make her feel better would be Richard Castle stepping off the elevator and walking towards her with two cups of coffee and that wasn't going to happen.

"Please have a seat, Detective," Gates said, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. When Kate sat, she did as well. She folded her fingers together and rested her joined fists on the desk before gazing over at the younger woman. "I'm sorry, Detective, but we're going to have to suspend the investigation."

Kate lunged forward in her seat, uncrossing her legs. "Sir-"

"Detective."

"But sir!"

"Kate." Gates spoke forcefully, silencing Kate and making her lean back in her chair. Softening her expression, Gates continued. "I'm sorry, but there just isn't anything here. No leads. No clues. We don't even know where he was last seen. We've done everything we can, Detective, but there's just nothing there."

Gates took a deep breath, sighed and gave Kate an expression of genuine sympathy. "Please understand that if there was anything to go on I'd be more than willing to devote resources to it. I want to see Mr. Castle return just as much as the next person, but with other cases coming in, my hands are tied."

Kate dropped her chin to her chest. "I understand." Gates was right; she knew Gates was right.

If this had been any other missing person, the investigation wouldn't have even gone on this long. Gates had already been more than generous, pushing the boundaries of their normal protocol to search for someone who was as close to a cop as anyone could get without actually going through the academy. Gates had allowed Ryan, Esposito, and herself to run the case almost without interruption, but she had to draw the line somewhere. It was, after all, her precinct.

After clearing her throat, Kate looked up. "Thank you, Sir; I appreciate everything you've done."

Gates nodded. "I am truly sorry, Detective. I promise you that the moment anything new comes in we'll reopen this case." Kate nodded, but otherwise didn't move. Gates stood, walked around to the other side of her desk and sat down just inches from the younger woman. Keeping her tone soft, she said, "Why don't you go home, take some time off—some time for yourself. When you're ready to come back, we'll be here."

Kate nodded, knowing this move well. It was the I-don't-think-you're-fit-for-duty-but-I-don't-want -to-come-out-and-say-it-or-make-a-perminant-record -so-why-don't-you-try-to-handle-it-on-your-own move. She would have been lying if she hadn't seen it coming. "Thank you, Captain."

By the time she returned to the squad room, Ryan and Esposito were dismantling the missing-Richard-Castle whiteboard. When they spotted her, they froze as though they were twin four-year-olds whose mother caught them finger painting on the wall. Again.

For several moments Kate stared at his picture—a headshot of his she had chosen because she knew it was one of his favorites—and the date above it. She was getting that feeling again: the one that made it feel like her heart and lungs had been put in a vice. The longer she stared, the tighter it squeezed. Finally, unable to tolerate another second, she tore her gaze away and walked back to her desk.

"We're gonna get him back, Beckett," Esposito said encouragingly.

She forced a smile and looked at him and then to Ryan. For their faith alone, she loved them more than she could ever say. Right from the beginning—right from those first hours when she couldn't get a hold of him—they were there. They never for one second believed what the others said: Richard Castle had disappeared by his own choosing. He'd followed a story. Followed an intoxicating woman. Followed a crazy dream and became a Cosmonaut.

Ryan and Esposito never believed any of that. They had known Castle for five years as well and over that time they'd come to know the same thing she knew in her gut to be true: there was absolutely no way that Castle would leave her, his daughter, or his mother without saying something. It just wasn't possible. That wasn't the kind of person he was. Wherever he went on the fateful morning of September 17th, he had every intention of returning within a few hours.

"Thanks guys," she said, before clearing her throat of hoarseness. "I'm gonna, uh, go. Call me if…"

"Of course," Ryan told her, smiling. "Don't worry, Beckett; we're on the case."

She nodded at them before grabbing her jacket and leaving the precinct. The only way she could go was knowing they would stay behind and continue searching—behind Gates' back if that's what it took. They would never give up and neither would she.