A/N: Okay, so this is a somewhat AU version of the season finale. Basically, it picks up right before *the* scene, so everything happened the way it did in the episode, aside from the last...three minutes and forty seconds (I checked).
Because I couldn't help but wonder… what if.

For the wonderful AC, have a great birthday. :)

Lost Time

He stands outside, watching as – a little down the road – Alexis gets in a cab with some of her friends. When the door slams shut and the car drives off, passing him, he raises his hand to wave, but the girl's attention seems to lay elsewhere.

And then she's gone, and he lowers his hand slowly, the corners of his mouth slightly turning down, too.

The whole thing gives him all kinds of mixed feelings, the realization that he has a grown-daughter who doesn't really need him anymore weighing the most, making his heart clench with nostalgia. He lets out a long sigh.

Then he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks to his side, sees his mother give him an understanding look.

"You're going to be okay, kiddo." She says, and he covers her hand with his, gives her a tight smile in response.

"I know, it's…" He pauses, tries to think the best way to express his thoughts, "It's just – "

She stops him with a squeeze of her hand on his arm, offers him a small smile of her own, her voice soft. "I know the feeling."

Their eyes lock. Hers are knowing, comprehending, and his chest feels tight with something he can't quite place. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, and turns his gaze to where his daughter was just standing.

It's a rare moment, to share something like this with his mother, but he finds that he's actually grateful to have it – her.

It's brief, though, because soon, after another, soft, squeeze of his arm, she lowers her hand to straighten the skirt of her dress, then pushes up her hair with her other hand, and he can tell their moment is over.

"Well, I have my own party to attend." She announces with her usual flair, but if he didn't know any better he'd think that she was offering him an apologetic smile.

He quirks his eyebrow at that, half a genuine smile on his face now. "Don't have too much fun, mother." He says, his voice slightly teasing.

Her smile reaches her eyes, then, and she mumbles something under her breath that he can't quite catch, before she's off too, and he is left alone, standing on the sidewalk.

He thinks, contemplating his options for the evening.

The idea of a John Woo marathon doesn't appeal that much anymore, not now that it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth from – he stops himself, refrains from finishing his actual thought. No, he should do something. Something that doesn't involve him sitting at his loft, feeling sorry for himself.

Go to the Old Haunt, maybe?

Though, then again, the only difference from sitting at home would be that he would be drinking and feeling sorry for himself publicly. So, no, that is off the table, too.

He slides his hand into his pocket, feels the keys of his Ferrari burning at his fingertips.

Well, taking a drive could definitely help clear his mind. Once the idea enters his mind, he feels an overwhelming urge to take his car and go for a trip out of the city, just a little getaway , away from –

Gritting his teeth, he tries to steer his mind away from her, again. He really needs to get a hold of some of his thoughts.

He clutches the car keys in his hand, weighs them in his pocket.

Maybe – maybe he can take a long drive, find a hotel along the road to stay the night. If he drives back early tomorrow morning, he can be home again before Alexis comes home. He mulls it over, then reminds himself of his daughter's tendency to get back early.

He could leave a note, just in case.

The Ferrari is still in the parking garage anyway, so he'll just head to the loft, maybe go and pack an overnight bag, too, while he's there. Roadside hotels aren't exactly known for their high quality or great facilities.

Yes, he decides when he finally manages to hail a cab – when it started raining a bunch of them seemed to magically appear at the crowded sidewalk – this drive sounds really good right now.

She is soaked, the cold seeping through the layers of her clothes, but she hardly even notices. Her body is buzzing with adrenalin, determination and maybe – maybe a little fear, too, at what she is doing.

Because she is in his building, standing in front of his door, and she's ready. Ready for him. Ready to take the leap and dive in.

The idea that she might really be too late this time is what scares her, because she honestly doesn't know what she'll do if he'll turn her down. She can't drown herself in her job, can't use that coping mechanism anymore.

Though she really shouldn't get ahead of herself, shouldn't worry before she has a reason to. So she knocks, finally, and takes a breath as she lowers her shaky hand. She tries to hear any sound coming from behind the door over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Her heart sinks when it stays silent.

Maybe – maybe he didn't hear her? Yes, that could be it, she decides. He has a big loft, after all.

Her hand comes up and she knocks again, adding a bit more force to it this time. She waits. Hears nothing.

No. She clenches her jaw. This is nothappening. He hasto be there.

Her knuckles rap onto the door harder then, hard and fast and she can feel the desperation building inside her with every knock. She doesn't stop until she can barely even feel her fingers anymore, her knuckles red.

The determination she felt before is slowly slipping away, the remaining adrenalin in her veins only fueling her frustration, her anger. Frustration at herself, for thinking, expecting, this would work out, that he would be there and she could convince him to take her back. Of all the scenarios that ran through her mind on her way here, this was not one of them.

She runs a hand through her hair, lets out a breath as she lets her body sag back against the solid material of the door, flinches a little when it touches her bruised skin.

Fuck.

Closing her eyes, she breathes, tries to focus on her next step instead of the disappointment of him not being here. Because it's just a minor setback, she tells herself. It doesn't mean she won't be able to get another chance.

Once she's a bit more calm, her thoughts more organized, she pulls out her phone and hits speed-dial. It's a long shot, especially since he didn't pick up the phone when she called him before either, but she has to try. When it goes straight to voicemail, she hangs up with a sigh.

Okay, next plan?

Suddenly something pops into her mind.

The doorman. He tried to say something before, but she'd stormed past him, went up the stairs without paying much attention to anything other than what she was about to do. But, in hindsight, it might've been better if she hadn't been so preoccupied and had stopped to listen. Maybe he was trying to tell her Castle was out.

Maybe he also knows where Castle is.

Despite trying not to get her hopes up, she feels a little more at ease, more comfortable now that she has –

A lead?

She shakes her head. Apparently, she still thinks like a detective, but she guesses that just comes with the years of work.

She hits the elevator button, pleased with – no matter how you put it – the fact that, yes, she does have a lead. And maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to see him after all.

Just as he puts his bag on the floor near the passenger seat, a familiar ringtone plays, and he gets his phone out of his pocket. He glances at Beckett's picture, hesitates, but then reminds himself of the day before and his jaw sets before he hits 'ignore call'. He meant it when he said he was done. And talking to her would only make this harder, for him, anyway.

Still holding his phone in hand, he switches it off, and then puts it in his bag. He doesn't need the distraction, or her calling him. His voicemail can handle it for now.

He buckles his seatbelt, turns the key in the ignition and slowly drives backwards, turns so he can drive straight ahead, into a side street of the busy New York traffic. Before he exits the parking garage, though, he sees the rain still pouring down, and he presses another button to bring the top back up.

Though he wouldn't mind some rain, there's no need to get the interior of his car soaked, too.

The city is thrumming, alive with people at this time of the evening even despite the weather. It takes a long while to finally get through traffic, but eventually he's driving on a highway heading west, leaving the city behind him, the lights of the skyline still reflecting in his rearview mirror.

The number of cars on the road slowly lessen the further he drives, and he picks up some speed once it does, loving the way the engine growls, the car speeding smoothly, effortlessly.

Oh, yes – this is why he got this car.

Well, that, and – at the time – he was convinced it would be a chick magnet. Which, admittedly, worked out for him quite some times. Though he also might've gotten it because of the sudden spike in the sales of his books after a positive review in the New York Times. All those millions could be… overwhelming. Despite his mother's best efforts of telling him not to let it get to his head, he did, a little. Okay, maybe more than a little, but still.

He had always wanted to own a Ferrari…

Suddenly he's pulled from his thoughts by a flash of light in his rearview mirror, and, as he looks, he realizes it's the flashing lights from a police cruiser that pulled up behind him.

His gaze quickly lowers to his speedometer and – crap, he hadn't realized he had been going this fast. One disadvantage of Ferraris; they speed up so effortlessly you hardly notice it when you're driving way too fast, like he is now.

The car is signaling for him to pull over, and he notices a traffic sign indicating there's a gas station up ahead, so he assumes they'll want him to stop there.

The whole cop car doesn't faze him that much at first, but then, when he looks in his rearview mirror again, notices the large NYPD logo, he can't help but think of –

His throat feels a little dry, and he swallows, then shakes his head at himself.

Stupid, Rick.

Though he guesses the way his heart is suddenly beating a little faster in his chest, the way it skipped a beat at the thought of her, is even more pathetic. God, he wishes he could just be out of love with her already. Then again, that thought also sends a little pang of discomfort to his stomach, because apparently he doesn't like the idea of losing that – whatever it is they are – already.

He mentally growls at himself. Love. A terrible thing.

He nearly lets out a bitter laugh. Well, all of this would surely inspire some fantastic Nikki and Rook story lines. Right. His readers probably wouldn't quite appreciate what he's currently thinking about for his thinking nearly makes him miss the exit to the gas station, and he pulls over at the last moment, forgets to indicate where he's going. Oh, they really must be thinking he's a terrible drive by now, right?

Not much later he comes to a stop, and he waits for the cops to approach him. He hears doors slam shut behind him, and then a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, comes up to his window, notepad in hand, an a slightly older cop stands a little behind him, watching Castle like a hawk, his gaze definitely not amused.

"License and registration please." The man says curtly, and the look on his face suggests he isn't up for any easy conversation either.

"Of course." He replies, tries to give him a gentle smile. Honestly, he just wishes he could be driving on already. Castle reaches for the papers, grabs his bag to get his wallet out and –

He frowns, opens the zipper further so he can see the contents a little better. He could've sworn he took his wallet and put it on top in his bag. He took it out of his pocket, put it down on – oh.

The kitchen counter. Of course. Next to the note he left Alexis.

So that means he has no money for an hotel later, either. Oh, this night is just getting better and better, isn't it?

When he turns back to the police officer to hand him his registration papers, he feels himself getting a little more frustrated, more edgy. In turn, the cop seems more annoyed, too, when he finds out Castle doesn't have a driver's license with him and frowns, turns around to ask his colleague to run his name and license plate.

Then he turns his attention back to Castle and holds up a breath analyzer. "Can you breathe into this for me, sir?"

The whole 'sir' thing makes him feel both old and reminds him of Gates, and at the thought of Gates he is thinking of a certain detective and – damn, he really needs to stop this.

He sighs when the cop gives him a look and taps his foot impatiently.

This is going to be a long night.

Apparently, she'd just missed him.

He had left a couple of minutes before she arrived, overnight bag in hand, but that was all the doorman could tell her. She suspected he knew more, but then again, that might just be her being paranoid.

Still, she couldn't quite put a finger on the fact that he left, or more importantly, where he'd planned on staying the night.

Not –

She shakes her head. He wouldn't. He wouldn't just go right back to that blonde bimbo he'd been dating, or doing, or whatever the hell they were. She doesn't need to know.

Though she actually isn't all that sure that he wouldn't, and that thought makes her feel more nauseated then when she found out he wasn't at his loft like she hoped he'd be.

Still, no reason to jump to conclusions, she chides herself, though she knows it's pointless, since she obviously already did.

The only place she could think of running into him, is the Old Haunt.

She believes there's even a couch in his modest office, so he could have planned on crashing there after the bar closed.

Yes, actually, that sounds like a very logical explanation. No blonde bimbos necessary.

She relaxes a little, and is walking to the door when she hears footsteps behind her. Turning around, she notices his doorman – Antonio, if she's correct – walking towards her.

"Miss." He calls, "Do you want me to call a cab for you?"

She wants to refuse, but another glance to the storm raging outside makes her think twice. Though her walk over here might have felt like refreshing at the time, she doesn't feel quite so energized right now, and standing out in the rain to hail a cab doesn't sound appealing at all. So she offers him a smile. "That would be great, thanks." She answers.

As he goes off to make the call, she takes a seat in the lobby, stares out the front windows as she thinks through her new course of action. She wants him to be at the Old Haunt, but she also needs him to be sober when she tells him this – when she tells him how she feels, when she offers him an apology, lots of apologies, if necessary.

Then again, he might not even be there. She sighs.

Otherwise, she thinks, she could use a drink herself, too.

She'll just have to see when she gets there.

Castle grits his teeth, pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits on the bench.

Not that it's any use to get more upset. It's all his own damn fault, anyway. Though, honestly, those cops could use some lightening up. He had been joking for god sakes. Sure, the mutual frustration turned into him muttering some things under his breath that maybe he shouldn't have, and then maybe repeating them a little louder wasn't the best idea, but arresting him, really?

He really wished the state police would have taken a night off or that they had taken a different road - that they hadn't noticed him.

Because then he wouldn't currently be in a holding cell, his Ferrari in an impound lot, with no way to pay bail without his wallet.

The cop who's working the night shift seems to be rather grumpy, too. Great.

At least he gets one phone call, though he hasn't quite figured out who to call yet. There's no way he's going to take Alexis away from her celebration, and his mother hardly ever picks up her phone when she's out. Two options down. Calling his mother or daughter wasn't even his first thought, though.

He sighs, doesn't quite like where this is going.

Then the cop is at his door, gruffly telling him he can make his call now.

As he walks to the phone, his mind races, trying to work out who he is going to call. Because if that person wouldn't pick up, he'll be spending the night here, and, honestly, the bench here is very uncomfortable.

He thinks, shuts his eyes for a brief moment before he picks up the phone and dials the number.

After a few seconds, he hears a beep. He breathes. Another beep, and, a moment later another one. Still, no one is picking up the phone. Come on, he mentally urges, pick up. When after a few more rings there's still no answer, he sighs, almost giving up hope. Then, suddenly, he hears a click, and a familiar voice answers the phone.

A/N: Eh, so should I be hiding yet for keeping Castle away from Beckett? Or can I safely emerge and get you another chapter sometime soon?
I personally really liked how a certain scene on the show turned out, but I thought this could be an interesting journey for them too, hence this story. Don't worry, though, I am a big fan of them together, so they'll see each other soon enough…

Let me know what you think?

P.S. Huge thanks to Andy for being incredibly helpful with this and answering all my questions. :)