"It's not your fault, dad."

This was the second night in a row she had silently crept downstairs to tell him this. Her voice wavered with emotion, but she held firm. That was what he needed. Even at her young age, she knew what her father had always subconsciously craved was a rock. A foundation. A steady place where he could plant both of his feet, spread his arms out, and shout to the world, "Here I am! I dare you to try and knock me down!"

He was normally unflappable; an unstoppable force armed with a knack for rapier wit, boyish charm, and finding trouble. Or making it. Richard Castle was capable of all this and more. But the man before her, this empty man who bore the face of her father, was not. Who was he? Alexis desperately wanted to shake him, to shout at him, to cry and sob and stomp her feet until this stranger finally broke and came clean. Where was her father?

But the teenager was level-headed. She was smart. She knew that none of those childish antics would give her answers. So, rather than breaking down, she had decided to bulk up. She would sit here before this stranger for as long as it took for him to realize that she was gone, that she wasn't coming back, and that it wasn't his fault.

"I couldn't..." he trailed off; his voice hoarse from shouting, crying, screaming. He closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry."

Tears burned Alexis' eyes, but she shook her head.

She needed to be strong.

But the grief hung above him like a thick black, oppressive cloud. It wrapped him in its darkness, choking him slowly with each strangled breath he managed to wheeze out. There was no figurative light in his eyes, only the slivers of slanted moonlight that filtered through the blinds. Alexis tentatively reached out, but pulled back in fear.

This man isn't my father. I don't know how he'd react, Alexis rationalized in her head. Although she wanted nothing more than to have her father snap out of this stricken state, wrap his strong arms around her, and comfort her like he used to do when she was younger.

Keeping her wavering emotions in check, Alexis cast one last mournful look towards her father and sighed heavily. Not tonight. There would be no change tonight.

Pulling herself off the chair, Alexis gathered what little strength she had, and managed to walk away. This time she didn't bother to try to stop the flow of tears from streaking down her cheeks.

The following day, Castle found himself in the elevator of the 12th Precinct. He hadn't shaved, he hadn't showered, he hadn't eaten, he hadn't slept. He was a complete wreck. Dark stubble covered his jaw, outlining the purple smudges underneath his bloodshot eyes. But he needed to do this. He needed to let them know. It was only fair to tell them without just walking away without a word.

He had to leave.

They would understand.

Taking a shuddering deep breath to gather himself, Castle strode off the elevator and made a beeline for Captain Montgomery's office. He didn't want to look at her desk. He didn't want to see their sympathetic faces or hear their murmured condolences for his loss.

When he finally made it inside, Montgomery didn't hesitate to cross the room, close the door, and shut the blinds. He steered Castle into a chair and watched as the broken man struggled to regain some sort of composure.

Finally, with ragged breaths, Castle told him, "I can't do this anymore, Roy. I can't come in here-" A sob racked his body.

Montgomery placed a hand on Castle's shoulder, only a little surprised when the younger man leaned into his touch and grasped at the bottom of blazer to pull him closer. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Castle in a tight embrace, offering the fatherly love that the younger man never had in his life.

"It's okay, son. It'll be okay," he whispered. Although he had trouble believing it himself. He felt her loss just as much as everyone else.

"I miss her so much," Castle ground out, burrowing his head into Montgomery's stomach. "I just want to see her again." His voice was muffled by the fabric of the Captain's shirt.

"I know. We would all love to see her again. But she's..." Montgomery trailed off, his emotions beginning to get the better of him. He continued softly, "She's gone."

After a few minutes, when Castle had finally exhausted himself of tears, he pulled away and crouched down at eye level.

"If you don't think you can handle coming in, son, then don't worry about it. They'll understand."

Castle could only nod solemnly. Without another word, he grasped Montgomery's hand in a firm handshake, then stood and swiftly left the room. The Captain could practically hear the parting of the crowd as Castle barreled past them towards the elevator.

The writer didn't even look at her desk.

He knew it would be empty.

"It wasn't your fault, dad."

It was the third day, but this time they were outside. The sun was a white ball of light in the impossibly blue sky. The grass was nearly neon green in its richness, contrasting nicely with the chocolate-brown of the dirt. The sweet smell of summer permeated the air. It was a beautiful day.

It was her funeral.

"It is my fault," he whispered, not able to find the strength to speak any louder. "I'm supposed to be there...Always."

"Rick?"

He glanced over his shoulder, toward his concerned partner. She had come back. She must've found the driver in the hit and run, but he knew she would. She had been working non-stop to find the murderer, hitting the streets every time she could, looking for answers. Esposito and Ryan stood behind her, wearing identical grave expressions of mourning.

"I'm supposed to protect you," he said softly, turning back to where his daughter no longer stood. Where she had never stood.

"Rick? It's time."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Castle squared his shoulders and nodded firmly.

"I know."

The End.

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