AN: Thanks to each of you for reading my story, for your reviews and comments.

Also, thanks to Andrew Marlowe, the writers of Castle and the great crew of actors. This idea comes from their great stories. It all belongs to them. I have tried to guess where they could go with the Time Will Tell subplots and what Simon Doyle meant. This is my shot at one possibility.

Chapter 2

As Richard Castle gazed out the window he could see the landmarks of DC off in the distance. Things that represented the history and power of a nation. He also imagined his wife now at the center of it all, he was so proud. Still he felt powerless on this journey, to his mystery meeting. He was not in control and he didn't like that at all.

They had started their descent into the Reagan National just twelve miles from downtown, just twelve miles from Kate. He pushed back his anxiety and hoped this would better than he feared.

Still he loathed DC, even though he had encouraged Beckett to take the job. This city held nothing for him. Their first encounter was with the FBI, which was horrible for both of them. The separation was too much and the job didn't fit his very independent partner. But here they were, back again.

His internal alarms were still buzzing, he hadn't slept well after the call. To make the trip required some quick shuffling of his schedule and making sure the kids got to school. It was a juggling act on a good day, this was stretch. He'd complied with the admonition of the reporter and told no one, but the pilot where they were going.

On the ground, Bryan Lewis watched as the Citation M2, with its elegant and distinctive wings, make its final approach. It was a beautiful plane, on a beautiful day. He knew he was about to turn Richard Castles' life up side down, his stomach churned at the thought.

Years ago, when he decided on journalism, he had had such high ideals. Uncovering secrets, chasing down great stories, digging for the truth. Today he didn't even know what "great" would be. What he did know, was that nothing about this meeting was going to be good.

The irony for him was that the bigger than life people, who splashed across newspaper pages and televisions, with beautiful lives, were often just like the rest of the world, living in desperate circumstances, trying to hold it all together. Love was no easier for them. Their kids didn't mind any better. They like everyone else, faced the same exact pressures of daily living. As far as he was concerned, the celebrities really differed only by one degree, they had the additional baggage of fame. He took a moment to relish his obscure life as a beat reporter. Richard and Katherine Castle were about to have their lives consumed on the front pages of newspapers around the world. He did not envy them at all.

The Citations wheels chirped as it touched down at National and taxied to the general aviation parking area. Bryan had waited in the GA offices and once the the plane pulled to a stop he prepared to walk out. But first he waited for the engines to whine down. Once the roar stopped, he made his way toward the plane. As he approached, the passenger door projected out and its stairs unfolded to allow him entry. He felt like he was going to an execution, not boarding a five-million dollar jet. He was so glad he'd be driving home in his ten years old Prius.

Extending his hand he said, "Mr. Castle, Bryan Lewis, thank you for meeting me."

He immediately continued, "Again I apologize for the timing of my call last night and the rather clandestine appearances, I had no choice."

"Rick Castle, please call me Rick," grasping the reporters hand, " Come in and sit. Can I get you something?"

"No thank you, sir."

"OK. I'm not Sir or Mr. Castle, it's just Rick. So, Bryan you have my undivided attention." then adding, "In fact you've had it since you called last night."

"Let me start with a little explanation about newspaper workings, you probably know this, but just in case. Then I'll get to the point."

"We have a number of sources who come to us with information. Some in the form of documents, or just personal knowledge of things we'd never have access to. Others provide video, film or pictures."

Castle felt he was about to vomit. There was nothing on that list he wanted to see or touch. He didn't want secrets or documents or film. Where was this going? Why was he telling him this? Was this about Beckett? He wondered if he had made a mistake, he should have called her first, she was always his first contact.

"Mike Brown is a photographer, he does free lance work and comes to us from time to time with ideas or stories he's captured on film or video. The Gazette has a first shot agreement with him. If we're interested, we work out the terms of compensation. If either side doesn't like the work or the terms...you get the point."

"About a month ago he called and said he'd been contacted by a mid-level aide to a Senator. The aide wanted Mike to tail him and take pictures. He agreed to do so and would provide whatever film he got. As the project expanded, with more and more pictures accumulating, the terms of compensation became an issue. They didn't resolve the problem so Mike contacted us, saying he thought the deal was going south and the story was too big to let go. Which meant the value of the pictures was much more than just his hourly rate. This, in Mike's opinion was a much bigger story. Needless to say, these are not ideal circumstances for obtaining news. The photographer is not going to win a prize for photography or the moral high ground. He's known for getting dirt."

"We knew if we rejected the offer, he'd just go to the next bidder." There were more details but Bryan felt he had said enough.

He noticed Richard Castle's head turns slightly to the right and he looked out onto the tarmac. His eyes appeared to lose focus. Bryan decided to be quiet for a minute and wait for the author's attention to return.

The water had been icy cold, the car sunk like a rock. His belt came off easily but Kate's did not. He had no idea a car could fill so quickly with water. Oh Kate, my love what have you done?. He moved to the back of the car and dove into the frigid water groping under the seat for her gun. He couldn't find it, but he would not let her drown. She would not die alone, he would not let this happen. Kate, Kate, Kate. He found the gun, and was able to shoot the seat belt apart without hurting her. She was unconscious as he pulled her from the watery grave. Later, as they sat on the side of the pier and tried to get warm, his heart wouldn't stop racing. It had been so close, he had almost lost her, again. He was so thankful she was alive, he wanted to wrap the shivering Beckett in his arms and never let go. But he didn't. And now, he was about to drown, or they both were, again.

"Rick, Mr. Castle are you OK?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'm sorry I was drifting, continue," again facing the reporter and resuming eye contact.

"This Mike guy has photographs, taken over the last few months of"'...he stopped, cursed to himself, why did he have to do this?

"Bryan. Just tell me." The look was one of dread.

"Rich has pictures of your wife and an aide." the reporters tone could not have been any flatter. "They appear to be having an affair. These are two groups of photos from a late night visit to a local hotel, there are more."

"My editors have agreed to buy the pictures," and he quickly added, " if not us, then he'll just go to another paper."

"Next Tuesday, the photos and story will likely be our lead story, above the crease."

With nothing more to say, Bryan handed Richard Castle the portfolio of pictures. The author slowly opened the package, Bryan heard him suck in air, like he had been struck. He saw his hand clinch tight and turn white but Castle said nothing.

Bryan Lewis, had covered many stories and been in the worst of disasters. He had seen people dying, and has watched then slip away. He had seen others transformed into the walking dead, in an instant. The light in Rick Castle eyes was gone in a flash, tears slipped from their corners and ran free. His face sagged and he suddenly looked much older than 55.

"Sir, let me give you a few minutes." He said rising, careful not to hit his head on the jets low ceiling.

The author said nothing just starred down at the folder.

There is no sound like it. It is unique to the human species. A sound one never wants to hear. For in that moment, there are no words of comfort, no touch to sooth. It is the moment when the heart is wrenched from the chest and agony floods the soul. He heard the author sob and repeat his wife's name over and over. He wished he could just run, but he could not.

After a few minutes Castle came to the door of the plane and waived Bryan back inside.

"I'm sorry Bryan, ...this is very...' but he did not complete the sentence.

"Mr. Castle, I'm the one that's sorry. I've always liked your books and the way you interact with your fans at your signings. Even as a newspaper writer I appreciated a reader saying they got someone from one of my stories. I would not wish this on anyone. I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"When the news of this story...involving your wife came to my attention, I knew they'd go with it. So I asked my editors if I could meet with you, before it ran. I contacted Paula and said only enough to convince her to give me your cell number."

"Mr. Castle, I just didn't want you to be unprepared. I know this meeting is like being blind sided. There was no easy way to tell you this, it's a very difficult...I...I want you know I'm sorry about all this. The pictures suggest...or insinuate…but maybe it's not what it..." He didn't finish.

Richard Castles head remained down, starring at his hands, tears still leaked from his eyes, but he seemed unaware as he listened. Then he looked up, "Bryan, thank you for warning me. I'll contact my wife, we'll get ready for the storm."

There were only a few words further in the exchange. As Bryan left the plane, Castle watched him leave and called out, "Hey Bryan, thank you, I'm in your debt."

XXX

Senator Beckett was sitting at her office desk, pondering last night and the whole mess she had created. She determined, it was over and she had to stop this insane conduct. Further, the thing had to be buried. She would talk with Chris and suggest he find a new place of employment, their working together was done. She could not do this to her husband, to her kids, her friends or her constituents. Her personal cell phone vibrated, Rick's face lite up the screen and she shuttered, fearing he would read her thoughts.

"Hey Castle, what's up? Everything OK?

He lied, "Yeah, fine."

"You don't usually call me this early."

For him, the sound of Kate's voice was like a balm. He just needed to just hear it and when he did, he found himself struggling for air and was unable to hold back the tears.

He fained a coughing spell, "Becket, sorry, seem to be choking on thin air here. I just wanted to make sure you'll be home tomorrow as planned."

"I will, are you sending the plane?"

"Yeah, we're still set for 6 PM at Reagan?

"That still looks good. I have a meeting at 3:30 and it should be done by 4:15. That'll give me enough time to get to the airport."

"He'll be there by 5:30, and won't leave without you."

"Kate, one other thing, save me some energy, something has come up and we need to talk."

"What is it Rick, are the kids OK?" She immediately felt a surge of anxiety and thought it stupid on her part. She needed to get a grip.

"No, no, they're fine, but it'll wait til you get here."

"OK, hey, they just called for me, I gotta run," and she ended the call.

XXX

The flight from Washington DC to New York was slightly over an hour. She had always been willing to fly commercial. Rick refused. He wanted her to have the luxury of leaving on her own schedule, not the airlines. He didn't want her waiting a minute or having to spending any extra time away from them. They had the money, he always preferred spending it on her.

The whole Senate experience had been hard on the family. The PD was always hard, but at times the Senate felt impossible. The kids needed her and she needed them. She needed Rick and he was juggling the writing and full time child care responsibilities. He had insisted that she feel free to focus on her new position as a Senator and always told her not to worry about things at home. He told her, it wasn't the title that impressed him or made him willing to work so hard, but his great belief in her. Not just her abilities, but who she was and how extraordinary her future would be if she would just accept it. She wondered how had she been so slow to see him in their early years at the PD. How much he has always cared for her?

She looked out the window and considered their many talks, his total faith in her and in her abilities. As she did tears slipped down her cheeks as she compared his faith in her with the mess she was in now. What it could do to them. Little did she know that her husband had sat in the same seat the day before, wondering the same things and weeping uncontrollably over her.

The lights of New York came into view. She would be home soon. She'd see her kids and feel the embrace of her husband. Hopefully she could find her way back to them.

As the limo pulled up to their curb she felt a new wave of exhaustion. She hoped what ever was on Ricks mind, that it could wait until the morning. More than anything, she just wanted to hug the kids, slide into her tub and their bed. She wanted to be safe, she needed to feel secure. She was so thankful to just be home.

At 7:45 the front door swung open and she was greeted by the gleaming faces of her three kids. She was struck by a mass of arms and legs. All three squealing and talking at the same time, "Mommy, mommy, we missed you."

As the kids bantered, screamed and danced around her, she allowed herself the pleasure of their attention and wonderful affection. It was like a medicine to her weary heart. She looked across the room and saw her husband, smiling broadly at their reunion, but she also saw a hint of pain and maybe even sorrow, and then it was gone. She felt a pang of concern for him. Something was amiss.

It was 10:00 before the roar ended and the kids were finally tucked in bed. Kate sat with her feet on the coffee table, next to them, a glass of wine. Her head was laid back against the sofa. The room was quiet.

She opened her eyes and saw her husband starring at her from his chair. "Castle, you're starring again." He just smiled, but only slightly.

Early she had seen the sadness, it had disappeared during the family time, but now it was back. That same sorrow and pain was there again. She wanted just to hold him and to chase it away. They were together and that always made things better.

"Rick, I know you'd like to talk, but can we do it in the morning? I just need a bath and our bed. I'm beyond pooped."

He looked at her and softly replied, "I'd love to Kate, but this can't wait." Then he got up an walked into the office.

Following him, slowly she added, "Rick, I'm serious, I just don't have it in me tonight."

"Kate, we have no choice." She was startled by the ominous tone of his response.

She moved into the office and fell into the leather sofa. She closed her eyes and decided to just listen and then try to put off whatever it was until morning.

"I was in DC yesterday."

Her eyes popped open, and set up straight,, "Why didn't you call or come by the office?"

"Actually I only flew into National for a quick meeting and then returned home."

"A meeting with whom?"

He paused, not wanting to speak the words. "On Wednesday evening I had a call from a reporter at the Washington Gazette. He insisted I meet with him, but said he couldn't tell me why."

"Do you know this reporter?" Sounding surprised and a little suspicious.

"Not really, but I remembered he'd written a couple of reviews of my books in the past, so I knew of him."

"And why did you agree to meet with him?" She now glared at him, somewhat indignant, because of what he was telling her.

"He told me, I'd have to trust him. He said it was of utmost importance, that we meet." He paused, "I was very reluctant, but he nearly begged, saying it was for my benefit and not his. He assured me he was not looking for something from me."

"Rick, I don't get this at all. You know there are a lots of people and organizations taking pot shots at me, for a ton of reasons." She paused.

"Why didn't you call me and at least let me have the guy vetted before you met." Her face had changed from concern and she switched to the Senator Beckett mode, a side of her that had scared him over the past few months.

"Beckett... listen to me, please." He said cutting her off.

But she continued, "I'm...I'm just concerned this may have greater implications than just you and your work."

He said nothing for nearly a half minute. He could not begin the story. He, the storyteller, was stuck. His month was dry and the words would not come. The implications of them made it feel like he was being crushing, squeezed by and unseen hand.

"Rick, what's wrong, tell me about this meeting." She had now moved to the chair in front of his desk, her on the desk she was looking straight at him.

"There's a photographer in DC who does work for the Gazette. He comes to them with stories or photos. If they think he has something, then they buy it. It...depends on what he has, he's just one of their independent sources."

Beckett's stomach began to clench, she thought, tell me no, tell this isn't what I think.

Rick continued, "They looked at what he had and said they were interested. Then they called in the reporter I met with, to get some back ground information."

"What kind of information?" Her voice pitched slightly higher.

Rick pulled the file from the drawer, he stood and she stood, both facing each other from opposite sides of the desk. The manila folder was still closed. She looked up into his eyes, and saw the agony. Her heart sank, what was this?

He slowly opened the file. The first picture was time stamped in the lower left hand corner, it was taken at the back exit of the Tabard Inn. Chris Lopez had his arm around Kate, and had pulled her in to kiss the side of her head. Beckett remembered it clearly from less than 48 hours early. She was panicking but was startled by a the hitch in her husbands breathing. Before she had the courage to look up a drop splattered onto the photo and then another. She looked into his eyes, the tears already flooding down his face and his shoulders trembling. She just wanted to die.

Rick gasped and attempted to cleared his throat, and choked out, "He called me...to give me these photos." A sob broke the sentence apart, "...and to warn me... the story would run...on Tuesday morning in the Gazette."

He wanted her to say something, to tell him it wasn't what it looked like, but the look on her face told him otherwise, and he knew, the photos did not lie.

He spoke again but almost in a whisper. "Kate, Kate... you know...I have loved you since day one. For me the sun rises and sets in you...I cannot help it. I would die for you, do anything for you." His words again were interpreted by soft mournful sobs.

She could say nothing as her own tears erupted and flowed down her face.

When his voice returned she could barely hear him, he starred down at the now wet photo and said, "How could you do this to us? Why would you do this, Kate?"

The only words she could muster was, " Rick, I'm so sorry, so sorry. I..." And then the tears won and her words failed.

She loved this man, she needed him desperately and she had all but held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. He was dying from a broken heart, right in in front of her, yet she could say nothing to comfort his great pain.

Castle moved around the desk toward the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, but did not turn around. He tried again to find his voice, and then said softly, "You need to call Adriana, you'll need to get ready for Tuesday."