A/N: This is my only Season 6 finale story - an episode insert based on the bts photo that shows Stana Katic wearing Beckett's mom's wedding dress, sitting alone at the edge of the bluff above the ocean reading her lines. (I used that photo as the cover art for this story, if you don't know the image I'm referring to)

The photograph very much looked to me as if it could depict Kate Beckett sitting quietly reading a letter of some kind shortly before her wedding, and so out of that thought came this...

P.S. I started this story at the beginning of the hiatus, as soon as I saw that photo, but seemed unable to finished it until a couple of days ago on vacation when I wrote the second half. I decided to play with the tense, changing most of it to past tense and writing the end section in my usual present to increase the pace. So if there are any errors, that's why. Forgive me.

Something Old : Something New

Her heart was still racing, despite the lack of sleep over the past three days. They cut it so fine - getting back to the city from Willow Creek just in time - that Kate was forced to go on ahead to the Hampton's House alone while Castle remained in the city to deal with the dissolution of her 15 year ghost marriage to that feckless twit O'Leary in order to procure a marriage license of their own to enable the wedding to legally go ahead.

Kate was distraught inside, though she had tried to hide it at first, after discovering this marriage she never knew existed. And embarrassed. Yes, she was distraught and embarrassed in equal measure. The boys had fun with her of course, insisting on referring to Rogan as her 'husband' over the phone and calling her 'Mrs. O'Leary' every chance they got. Though never brave enough to say these things to her face, they had their fun all right. But now she's had time to dwell on it, to let the last few days sink in, she's disgusted with herself for being so out of control back in college that she could end up marrying a guy she was with for barely five minutes, thus destroying her long-held, personal stance of being a 'one and done' kind of girl.

And talk about losing the moral high ground with her intended.

Castle had joked about it, appearing to pretty much take it in good humor, but she suspected he was a little disappointed too. They had labored under the belief he was the only one with an ex-spouse in his past, and now it turned out that Kate's choice of 'starter-husband' made Meredith and Gina look like girl scouts. So, yes, she was definitely embarrassed.

Embarrassed and uneasy.

Despite Castle's assurance that all great love stories had obstacles to overcome, she was still uneasy about the doom-laden signs racking up as they got nearer and nearer to their big day – first the discovery of her good-for-nothing, conman of a husband, then the fire that took out their venue and finally the flood in her old apartment that destroyed her couture wedding dress. She was practical by nature, liked to deal in fact not fiction, despite her future husband's penchant for the absurd, the magical, the unexplained…and his actual job, which was of course utterly reliant on the world of fiction. But Kate liked to deal in hard evidence, not signs from the universe, however these three were pretty hard to ignore. So as she ran up the white wooden staircase in what would soon be their Hampton's home, she hoped Lanie had something for her that would turn this jinxed event around and allow the rest of her life to start as soon as possible.

Because she simply couldn't wait one day longer to marry Richard Castle.

Lanie was waiting for her in the blue guest room, which Martha had specially assigned to Kate for making her preparations out of sight of her fiancé; that being one more disaster they could at least attempt to avert: the eager, inquisitive groom seeing his bride before the wedding. They planned to leave for the Maldives first thing tomorrow morning, so they would spend their first night as a married couple under this roof, in the master suite where their luggage was already neatly lined up by the door, just waiting for the off.

Lanie rose from the window seat as soon as Kate entered the bedroom, still dressed in the brown leather coat and the jeans she wore up to Hicksville to chase down Rogan. The M.E. looked stunning in her emerald green satin, 1920's style, bridesmaid dress, a genuine, beaming smile plastered to her face.

Placed on the center of the bed was an enormous white box – an unmistakable dress box – and Kate glanced at it nervously before looking back at her best friend.

"You said you found me a dress. What did you do? Raid a bridal store?" asked Kate, turning to look at the box with undisguised curiosity. "Is this it?"

Lanie nodded, silently urging her friend to go ahead and open the box.

Kate glanced at her bridesmaid nervously once more and then she prized open the lid.

"I called your dad," explained Lanie, watching Kate's face as she lifted off layers of tissue and began to take in the familiar elements of the gown.

Kate held the shoulders of the dress in her hands – fine Guipure lace – and tears swam in her eyes, blurring the romantic vision in front of her.

"He saved my mom's dress? I had no idea," murmured Kate, running her fingers down the intricate bodice of the gown. "Help me?" she asked Lanie, turning to her friend for a little assistance extricating the heavy wedding gown from beneath layers and layers of whispering tissue paper.

Something fluttered out from between the folds: an envelope, its heavy ivory velum slightly spotted with age. They spread the dress out on the pretty queen bed and then Lanie stooped to pick the envelope up from the floor.

"It's addressed to you," she told Kate, quietly, now wearing a slightly nervous expression.

The handwriting on the front of the envelope left Kate in no doubt as to who the letter was from – she'd still know her mother's careful, efficient script anywhere. Handwriting was as unique as a fingerprint to Kate Beckett, and her mom's was as dear and recognizable to her as her own.

Kate took a slow breath, smoothed her fingers over the crisp paper and then carefully set the letter aside. She propped it up against the base of a bedside lamp where she could see her name, written in cursive so familiar that it was as if her mom was calling her name.

"Help me do my hair and then get dressed?" she asked her friend, shedding her jacket and jeans eagerly, donning a satin robe over her underwear to sit patiently at the dressing table while Lanie pinned her hair into an elegant chignon, low on the base of her neck, soft ringlets curling around her cheekbones, framing her face.

Her cheeks were pink without the aid of much make-up, flushed with excitement for the day to come, flushed with excitement at the thought of finally marrying her love, her partner, her best friend.

"You look fit to burst, honey," said her friend, setting her hair with a light mist of hairspray.

"I never thought I'd feel this excited again," replied Kate, a little wistfully, her eyes straying time and again in the mirror to settle on the reflection of her mother's letter.

"You never thought you'd be marrying Richard Castle," reminded Lanie, with no small about of irony for all the squirming Kate had done once her heart was clearly on that particular hook. A fact that seemed clear to everyone but Kate Beckett for the longest time.

"How'd he take the news about O'Leary?"

"He's been brilliant, Lanie. Barely missed a beat when he heard. Just got stuck in to help me figure a way out of it."

"I'm not surprised. Anyone who knows anything knows just how much that man loves you. So…shall we get you into that dress so you can finally make it official?"

Kate nodded eagerly, rising from the dressing table with a real sense of mission. She donned her bridal lingerie – a white lace basque with fine boning and sheer mesh stretched over her abdomen, pretty lace cups and attached suspenders for her lace-topped stockings. Then Lanie carefully helped her into her mother's dress, her breath held as they carefully slid it up over her slender hips, hearts racing until every tiny, satin-covered button was fastened and she could turn in the middle of the floor and see her own reaction mirrored in the face of her best friend.

"Kate, you look so good I'd marry you," Lanie told her friend, with tears in her eyes. "I must say, your mother had great taste," she added, running her hands down over the full skirt. She reached further south to separate the long-flattened silk tulle layers and fluffed them up, thus increasing the volume of the dress around Kate's lower half.

When she moved, turned in a circle, she glided across the floor, so elegant, statuesque, her whole face lit up by some newly arrived, mysterious, inner glow.

"Oh, shush," Kate scolded her friend, her cheeks flushed with pleasure at how right this now felt - wearing her mom's wedding gown, the perfect dress for this day.

The dress, in fact the whole effect, looked spectacular when she regarded herself in the full-length mirror. With its drop waist design it fit her long, slender torso so well, accentuating her height and her gently curving, feminine figure. She couldn't wait to see the look on Castle's face when she walked down the aisle on her father's arm.

Finally, Kate turned away from her own reflection, and, with tears in her eyes, she clasped her friend's hands, whispering "Thank you," through a thick cloud of emotion, starting to feel as if the day was finally falling into place.

Martha appeared to interrupt them, bearing with her a beautiful 'something blue' for Kate to wear: sapphire earrings that apparently both Meredith and Gina had not proved worthy of donning on their wedding days. Kate was honored that Martha saw her this way – as a daughter she would be gaining. Losing her own mother still burned, still left such a hole in her heart on today of all days, but gaining the respect and love of this very different, but equally loving and arguably more demonstrably affectionate woman still meant so much. They were both gaining today, Kate decided, as she accepted the gift from Castle's mother.

"They were given to me by my mother to wear on my wedding day, and worn by her mother before. Only women of substance have worn these gems. They've been waiting, Katherine, for you."

Kate looked stunned and a little overcome as she affixed the sapphire earrings, the color of Castle's eyes, she suddenly realized, to her ears. She turned her head this way and that, admiring their shimmer, the perfect size and weight, the way they crisped the white lace of her gown with the distinction of their deepest blue. Then she turned to allow her mother-in-law-to-be to admire them too. "I'm so honored, Martha. Thank you," she breathed, touching her fingers to the tip of one gently oscillating gem.

"Oh, darling, they're exquisite on you," Martha assured her, giving her a motherly hug, since this is what the older woman understood she must need, today of all days.

When her cell phone rang in the next instant, her heart leapt. She knew who was calling without even having to check the screen. Martha discreetly left them alone to speak, having happily bestowed the most generous gift on the one woman who had taken her time, at great cost to them both, until she was one hundred percent sure that she could make her son happy.

"Hello, lover," Kate grinned, her heart swelling in her chest.

Castle was on his way, he said, only twenty minutes out. He had their marriage license and he sounded so unerringly happy that her smile broadened even further at the joy and excitement she could hear in his voice. It was a shared joy, one of collusion that hinted at an exciting, adventurous road ahead and of a happy marriage to come. They were in this together, as they had been for so long without putting a name to this great mystery of theirs – yin and yang, but still perfectly in tune.

He told her he loved her and she told him right back, eagerly, knowing that he already knew in a hundred different ways by now, but still desperate for him to hear the words leave her lips for all the times they had remained stuck in her chest or lodged in her throat, unable to reach his ears.

When Castle hung up, she pressed the letter to her chest, eager to share it with her husband as soon as they were wed. But first she would read it over once by herself; a final piece of her mom left behind for her to uncover.

She left the relative madness of the house, where final preparations were in full swing, and took a quiet stroll down across the lawn towards the ocean until she was standing right above the beach. She passed the pretty floral arbor where they would be married in less than an hour, rows and rows of white chairs laid out for their guests' imminent arrival. She found a white Adirondack facing the sea, one of a pair, and sat down to read the letter, carefully arranging the soft tulle of her mother's full-skirted gown around her. A soft breeze lifted the fine hair around her face; the humidity tightening her curls, creating a halo of frizz that glowed where the sun hit each strand. Not that she cared. She was far too intent on the letter in her hands to notice.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlatched the flap on the envelope and then slid the folded sheet of notepaper out from within its resting place; a secret uncurling of this final message which had arrived in her hands with the kind of perfect, synchronic timing only delivered by fate.

She sucked in a sharp breath, akin to a gasp, as she read the first line, fingers rising to feather at her lips as she silently mouthed her mothers words to herself...

My darling Katie,

I don't know if you will ever read this letter, I'm not even sure what drove me to write it. But here it is, since something will not let me go until I commit these words to the page.

Your grandmother is moving house and so dad and I finally collected my wedding dress from her attic today. You were so cross when we left you at home with Aunt Teresa, and then you assumed the huge white box was a gift for you when we brought it back with us to the apartment to place it in the basement storage locker for safekeeping. You cried for almost an hour when I wouldn't let you look inside until you'd washed your sticky hands. You can be so stubborn, Katie, just like your mom. So I guess I wanted to say don't ever change. Wait until you find someone who appreciates you, who sees how special you are and loves you without trying to rein you in or change you in any way. Your spirit shines like a light from inside you, Katie. I saw it the day you were born, fierce little hand gripping mine, your beautiful face scrunched against the bright lights. Your dad and I may have been blessed with only one child, but we were tremendously blessed when we had you.

The day I wore this dress we narrowly avoided disaster – there's a small tear on the hem where your aunt Emma stood on the train before I even left the house, the band came down with food poisoning and your cousin Tom, who was the ring-bearer, dropped one of the wedding rings off the cushion and it rolled away under the front pew of the church. It took three groomsmen, down on their hands and knees, five minutes to find it. Little Tommy cried the whole time. We laughed about it later, but in that moment I wondered if we were cursed, if we should be going through with the service at all. But then I looked at your dad, and his face, Katie, that soft look in his eyes he gets when he looks at you now…how could I not marry that man?

My wedding day turned into one of the best days of my life and it was all thanks to your father. He took my hand, gave me a reassuring smile and said, 'We can do this, Jo'. I guess what I'm saying is that life's trials, the challenges and difficulties that unexpectedly rise up in front of all of us at some point, look much more manageable when you have the right partner by your side.

Kate had to pause at this point. She sucked in a shuddering breath, her vision swimming in tears as she fought to avoid breaking down. She held the letter in one hand, the other pressed flat against her chest, covering the healed scar that nearly robbed her of ever seeing this day. She breathed slowly for several moments, eyes trained on the Atlantic until the burn in her chest eased and she felt able to go on.

She carefully wiped a tear from her cheek, taking care not to smudge her make-up, cleared her constricted throat, and returned to the letter as soon as she could see clearly.

My hope for you, Katie, is that you will find a man as good as your father – a best friend, a champion, who will support you in your choices – good and bad - who will nurture you, who will love and cherish you and who will walk along side you through life's ups and downs holding your hand and you his.

A happy, fulfilled woman, who knew she was truly loved, wore this dress on her wedding day. Should you choose to wear it on yours, no matter when that day comes, I hope I can be there to watch you shine, and I hope you feel the same joy I did on that most special of days.

All my love,

Mom xxx

Kate released just a single sob into the salty air, and then she began to count - seagulls, clouds, sand dunes, anything she could think of to get her see-sawing emotions under control. The letter was magical, in both its timing and content. She felt as if her mother was there with her today more than ever, though the true reality was bittersweet.

Her dad appeared by her side just as she was dabbing at the last of her tears, the letter carefully placed upside down in her lap to preserve it from damage. Jim sat down heavily in the partner chair to the one she rested in – chairs she and Castle had shared when they made their first trip out here, when their relationship was new and still a little uncertain, though not for want of the depth of love shared between them.

"Lanie mentioned you were down here, so I thought I'd check how you were doing. You look so beautiful, Katie. Just like your mother," he said, turning his soulful, proud gaze upon her.

With her gaze directed out towards the water, she smoothed her fingers over the warm, crisp sheet of notepaper.

"Why did she write this, dad?"

Her father paused, clearly thinking for a long moment before he answered her, as if he was debating the why of this letter for the very first time too. That puzzled Kate, but she waited for him to answer her first question before asking any more.

"You won't remember Annie, I don't suppose. You were maybe three or four when she died."

"Annie mom's bridesmaid? The woman with the short hair in the photos?" asked Kate, turning to look at her dad while shielding her eyes from the sun.

Her father nodded, the gesture partnered with a wistful smile. "That's her. Annie Graham. She was your mom's best friend all through law school. Her daughter was just two when she was diagnosed with breast cancer."

"Oh," said Kate, tipping her head forward and gnawing on her lip.

"She struggled through our wedding day to be there for your mom. God, she was a trooper. Lasted maybe a year and a half after that, but—" he shook his head. "Her quality of life was poor for a long time, but she fought to the end for her husband Don and little Suzie. Anyway, her death hit Johanna really hard," explained Jim, shading his own eyes from the sun with both hands to look out at the ocean.

Kate waited for more, and when no more was forthcoming she asked, "What does Annie have to do with this letter?"

"Your mom was…she reevaluated everything in the wake of Annie's death, the way a lot of people do when they lose someone so close to them so young. I think it made her reconsider some of her life choices and her own mortality for a while. And then when you came along…well, all parents fear not being around for their kids…" he trailed off, as both of them thought about how prophetic those thoughts would turn out to be, even if the reality came to pass a lot later.

"When Annie was certain she was dying, she wrote letters for her daughter to open on significant mile stones – first day at school, sweet sixteen, high school prom, graduation, starting college, her wedding day…that sort of thing. Your mom helped her, sometimes just sitting with her while she wrote, sometimes writing down her thoughts for her when she was too tired or too weak. Johanna would come home drained from those visits, tearful. Which was so unlike her."

"She was losing her best friend. I can't imagine knowing Lanie was sick and there was nothing I could do," said Kate, reaching out to squeeze her dad's hand.

Jim Beckett nods sagely, acknowledging Kate's sensitive, on-the-money explanation.

"When your grandmother was moving to the nursing home and we picked up that dress," he said, giving Kate a soft smile as he looked at her once more, adorned in her mother's gown, admiring how elegant and grown-up she looked, "I caught her slipping something into the box before I took it away to put in storage. I assumed it was some keepsake or memento she had left over from the wedding…a favor maybe…"

Jim looked down at the letter laid flat in Kate's lap. She turned it over so that he could see, and his eyes lingered painfully on his dead wife's handwriting.

"So…you had no idea mom wrote this?" asked Kate, raising the letter in her hand, causing it to waft back and forth on the gentle breeze wafting in off the Atlantic.

Jim shook his head. "None at all. Lanie just mentioned a letter. I think she was worried it might upset you."

Kate carefully refolded the letter along the original creases her mom had made all those years ago, letting her fingers linger on the places her mother must have touched, and then she slid it back into the envelope, laying it flat in her lap.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, strangely connected to one another in their peaceful co-existence, just listening to the soporific soundtrack of the waves crashing onto the beach below; the sound as soothing and ageless as a lullaby.

"I miss her so much, dad," confessed Kate with so much raw feeling, a sentiment she felt so often but rarely voiced.

"I know you do, honey," replied her dad, giving her a pained look that said he wished he could change this for her but he sadly couldn't.

In that fleeting moment, she saw him as the still grieving man that he was; the sharp edges of his grief buffed to a softer, duller finish with the opacity of sea glass, but still very much there in the depths of his eyes, how they had become a shade darker, missing the spark they used to carry whenever her mother was around. Even his humor had been blunted by the evil in this world that would rob a man of half a lifetime of happiness with his love, his spirit ruined by the wrongness of it all.

And then it was gone, his new mask of recovery slipped back in place, ready to face this momentous day in his daughter's life without his wife by his side. They both cope, they are life's copers. Because that's just what Beckett's do.

"I wish she'd written more of these…" Kate murmured, running her nail along the hard edge of the envelope. "Like Annie did for her daughter," she admitted to her dad, allowing for a moment that familiar ache of loss to fill up her chest again on this particular day when she missed her mother most, when she knew the sadness would linger for a while but then ebb like a wave because she was surrounded by so many other people who loved her now.

Jim reached out to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind his daughter's ear. It was a simple gesture, but one so intimate and parental, so caring, that Kate felt her chest tighten and the close threat of tears.

"She would have written you whole encyclopedias had she know what was coming, Katie. She was devoted to you," he assured his daughter, eyes turned seaward once more. "Utterly devoted."

He shook his head, chasing away dark thoughts to deliver her a brave smile more befitting of the occasion. "She'd be so proud of you. And you know she'd love Rick. He would have made her laugh and laugh."

They both chuckled quietly at the truth in his remark, their laughter chasing away their shared demons to the far corners of their minds. They both knew he was right. Johanna Beckett would have loved Rick Castle like a son, just as Martha already loves Kate as a daughter.

"How about we go back up to the house before your groom arrives home and finds you out here sunbathing in your wedding dress?" suggested her dad, standing and offering her his hand.

They walked back to the house in silence, Kate clutching the letter in her left hand, her engagement ring pressing into the underside of her finger a reminder of what was about to take place. Her heart leapt at the thought – how eager she was to marry this man that she loved more than she ever thought possible. How lucky she was, how grateful and hopeful and whole she felt to be loved by Richard Castle: the best man she knows, her mom's favorite author, and her soon-to-be husband.

The blue guest room was quiet when she returned from the beach alone. But soon the room was awash with happy sound when Martha reappeared with Lanie and Alexis in tow. The women fussed over Kate, fixing her hair, admiring her mother's dress, telling her in so many different ways how beautiful she looked, how perfect a blushing bride, and how stunned Rick would be when he finally got to see her walk down the makeshift aisle that'd been created especially for them in their panoramic, Hampton's backyard.

The chatter softened, quieted, finally waning, as time seemed to stretch out beyond the point at which they had expected Castle to arrive back at the house. Kate's pent up excitement unexpectedly turned to something altogether more nervous, anxious; tiny flashes of terror needling through her as her imagination played up, offering her unhelpful scenarios that increasingly robbed her of her ultimate moment of happiness.

She lived for years like this after her mother died, never daring to imagine that a happy ever after existed for her, and now that she had allowed herself to believe that such a possibility was hers for the taking, she was terrified to let it go. Because she had dismantled her armor, along with that wall around her heart, when she fell in love with Richard Castle. What had been undone could not be resurrected, and more than that, she didn't want her old suffocating, jail-like protection back. She wanted to feel, everything, and that had only been made possible by him – by his optimism, his goodness, and his kind, tender heart that had healed her broken one, putting her back together again.

"Where can he be?" asked Martha, worry beginning to line the older woman's face.

"I don't know. When I spoke to him last he said he was less than twenty minutes away," replied Kate, dialing Castle's cell phone again, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

She stopped pacing when her phone rang within seconds of her hanging up, and everyone in the room seemed to collectively hold their breath in sheer anticipation.

"Hello? Yes, this is she."

The past was over in the blink of an eye, the present suddenly pressing in on top of her with an urgency that is overwhelming.

Kate's heart thuds erratically in her chest as she runs downstairs holding up her dress, heels hammering on the polished wooden treads, her mother's letter still clutched in her hand. She rouses the chauffeur who'd been dozing in the sun against the side of the white Rolls Royce. The driver's door is already open, the keys in the ignition just waiting for the bride. Well, the bride is here and her need for this vehicle has never been greater.

She yells at the man to get inside, suddenly more Beckett than blushing bride, and then she eases those precious clouds of tulle onto the soft leather of the front seat, issuing terse instructions to the driver as she does so. They take off down the drive, sending showers of gravel and a cloud of dust rising in their wake. Martha, Alexis and Lanie explode out of the front door a moment later, soon just vibrant, diminishing splashes of color filling the back windshield as the car hares away towards the main road.

She has the door open even before the vintage Roller comes to a halt, and she scrambles out with bile rising her in throat and a fear worse than any she has ever experienced clawing at her insides.

She can smell the burning - a noxious mix of gasoline, rubber and the violent charring of undergrowth – and she can see the clouds of thick black smoke rising into the air well before she reaches the edge of the shallow, tree lined ravine where the car has careened off the road and come to rest.

Tears blur her vision, but there's no doubting that this is his car – the silver Mercedes, its orange and black New York license plate still partially legible. No doubt at all. Flames lick at the bubbling paintwork, devouring the luxury sedan's innards, and Kate clutches at the skirt of her mother's wedding dress, the letter now crushed in her hand as a sob breaks free of her throat and tears course down her cheeks.

Maybe she was wrong to believe in happy endings after all.

Note: Thank you for reading. I hope everyone enjoys Season 7 when it begins to air tomorrow night. Liv x