5 Months Later…

He always enjoyed the unlimited potential of a blank document, or piece of paper. For those brief moments he could write anything, he could rival Peyps, Dickens, Twain. He could write the next Great American Novel. It was exhilarating, and terrifying.

It was his little ritual, however full of ideas he was, to spend a full minute staring at the blank page. He did it now, even though the words were straining, almost bursting to come out. For 5 months he'd avoided his laptop, unable to even contemplate Nikki without Beckett. But the combined efforts of Alexis, Martha, Lanie and Gina had persuaded him that a final book in the series would be a tribute to Beckett, not a betrayal, and now he couldn't keep the words inside anymore. They, the nebulous, anonymous 'they', had said that his books were love letters to his muse – well this time he wasn't denying it. He only hoped he could convey everything she had been to him, everything he had never said.

He was slow at first, his fingers unused to typing. But soon, the words were pouring forth, and Richard Castle was laying his heart bare on the page.

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"Yo Castle, 'sup man?" Esposito clapped Castle on the back as he slid in to the booth next to him. Ryan slipped in opposite, already taking a pull on a cold beer.

The boys had reached an uneasy truce a few months after Beckett died, following an intervention from Lanie and Jenny, both sick of their men moping around. They had reached a tacit agreement not to discuss the events of that day, and returned to murder solving.

Castle was writing furiously, he barely looked up to acknowledge Esposito. Since the day he'd reopened his computer he'd barely stopped writing, pausing only for a change of scenery occasionally. He carried his laptop everywhere.

Ryan and Esposito had come across him at the Old Haunt, back in his favourite booth. Even though Beckett wasn't there and Castle didn't come to the precinct any more, they still visited the Haunt often. Ryan visited especially often; he still had to rescue Castle occasionally, when his grief got the better of him. Castle had asked him once why he continued to step in. Ryan's eyes had clouded over, with sadness, yes, but also wariness. Castle had wondered about it at the time.

"Because. Because I know that this won't last forever," Ryan had said. Castle shook his head.

"I can't imagine ever feeling this less."

Ryan had gripped his arm then, looking him straight in the eyes. "I promise, Castle. This won't last forever. I-"

"Detective Ryan." They were interrupted by a shout from a uniform. Ryan let out a frustrated huff, gripped Castle tighter for a moment and then left.

With a flourish, Castle finished the sentence he was writing, and turned his attention to his friends.

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"Richard Castle, what the hell is this?"

Castle sighed. "Well hello Gina, lovely to see you too." Castle's ex-wife and still-current publisher pushed her way into the loft and slapped a pile of papers down on the nearest available surface.

"Don't you try and charm your way out of this one," Gina wagged an angry finger at Castle. "I can't believe you're doing this again! First you kill of Derrick Storm, and now Nikki Heat's getting it too? Are you determined to ruin your career?"

Castle took a deep breath, silently counting to 10. He had known the ending of his latest book would cause controversy, but he simply hadn't been able to write anything else. However much he dissembled, Nikki was Beckett, and he hadn't been able to write the happy ending for Nikki and Rook that had been denied to him and Beckett.

"Gina, now is not the time…" Castle was having a bad day, one of the worst. It was six months to the day that Beckett had died, and that fact combined with finishing the book had thrown him in a dark black mood. The urge to drown himself in scotch was strong, he just wanted to lock the doors and loose himself in memories. He had worked so hard in the last few months to be strong; for Alexis, for his mother, for Ryan and Esposito. But the book had taken everything that he had packed away and pushed down, all the feelings and memories, and abandoned hopes and dreams, and brought them out in to the light. While he was caught up in the maelstrom of writing he had been able to avoid thinking about them, taking only what he needed for the story and pushing the rest aside, but now he couldn't avoid it any more. And with Alexis at college and his mother out of town, Castle just wanted to drink until he forgot. Until he could stop the dreams. The last thing he wanted to do was dream about her; good dream or bad, either way it was more than he could bear.

Gina hadn't paid him any heed, and was subjecting him to a tirade. Castle could feel the tight ball of anger in his chest expanding rapidly, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and contain himself.

"… it's not going to bring her back you know. She's dead, Rick, get over it." Gina stopped, horrified by what she had just said. The look on Castle's face just confirmed that she had crossed the line, and even before he spoke she was gathering her things.

Castle clenched his fists. "Get. Out. Now," he hissed. Gina scurried past him and through the still- open door. Castle grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut with all his strength, the resulting bang reverberating round the loft. He kicked it too, for good measure, and then headed to his office with one aim – to get blind drunk. He ignored the manuscript, which had fallen open at the dedication page:

For Kate, always.