"Darling, you're home! How was your date?"

His mother's sing-song, happy voice calls to him from the living room the moment he steps over the threshold into the loft, and he shuts the door behind him, pressing his forehead against the cool surface. He'd been hoping she wouldn't be here to witness his return from this morning's disaster, but no such luck.

"Richard? What are you doing? Come tell me all the juicy details. Isn't Katherine just absolutely wonderful?"

Knocking his head against the door a couple of times, he finally accepts his fate, turning to face her and the endless questions. Just take it one at a time and get out as fast as possible. It's the only way to survive this with any dignity.

"Hello, Mother," he says as he drops into a chair opposite her, forcing a smile when he meets her eyes.

"Really? That's all you have to offer? 'Hello, Mother.'"

He shrugs, wondering if he might be fortunate enough to have her accept that and move on to something else, but when she keeps staring, her eyes wide with anticipation, he runs an agitated hand through his hair, trying to decide how much to reveal.

"It was fine, but I don't think we'll be seeing each other again."

"What? Why ever not?"

She sounds absolutely devastated, and he digs his index finger into his temple to stave off the incoming headache. Because really, this is his personal life, not hers, and he shouldn't have to justify his choices.

Of course, she pushes for it anyway. She's never been one to not have her say in his affairs, and he doesn't know why he'd expected this to be any different. His mother is happily set in her ways it seems.

"Richard, she's perfect for you. What happened?"

"How can you say that? You don't even know her, Mother. She's not for me and I don't need anyone anyway. What makes you think I even want a partner? Aren't my two failed marriages enough of an example of how I don't need to be with someone?"

"Richard, Kate Beckett is not Meredith or Gina, and you'd know that already if you could look past the edge of your nose once in a while."

He tries to contain the growl that wants out, tries to keep his frustration in check because blowing up at her is not going to help anyone.

"I'm not having this conversation. It didn't work and that's the end of that."

Getting up, he heads for his office, leaving her alone in the living room filled with billowing fabric and obnoxiously shaped furniture. One day he will be the sole owner of this place again and that room will be the first he redecorates.

He's almost cleared the doorway when her voice stops him dead in his tracks.

"Alexis called while you were gone and I may have mentioned you were out with Katherine. She asked that you call her when you get back."

Turning slowly, he tilts his head. Alexis wants him to call? Like actually wants to have a conversation with him? Did the planet flip upside down recently?

"Darling, close your mouth or you'll catch a fly." She winks as she stands, and he snaps his jaws together, wincing at the crash of his teeth. "I'm going out," she calls over her shoulder as she moves toward the front door.

He watches for just a moment before stepping into the office and shutting the door behind him. Alexis wants him to call.

Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he tugs his phone out of his pocket, pulls up his contact list, and stares at her name.

Alexis wants him to call.

She'd left for California three years ago not looking back once. Every time he'd call, she would sound… put off, always too busy to talk or only half paying attention. And now suddenly something is different. She wants to talk. Specifically requested it.

He's stunned.

Before he can over think it too much he selects her name, bringing the device to his ear as it begins to ring. Once, twice, and then she's there.

"Dad?"

She's breathless, as though she'd run to answer before she missed the call, but he stomps that thought down, not daring to get his hopes up.

"Hey, Alexis. Gram said you wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Is now… Is this a good time?"

She laughs, the sweet melodic sound of her voice relaxing him in ways he didn't realize he'd needed. She's still there underneath all the strain and distance; his precious little girl, too wise for her years, still exists despite what he's done to them, how hard he's pushed her away.

Maybe there is hope to salvage what they'd once had. Maybe…

Maybe he can be better for her.

"Yes. I'm just hanging out at home. Lazy Saturday. How are you, Dad?"

"I'm good. Back in the city now."

"Good. I know Gram is happy to have you home."

A surprised sound of mirth escapes him at that statement. His mother happy to have him home? Really?

"You think so?"

"What? That Gram missed you?"

"Yeah."

"Of course, Dad. Why wouldn't she?"

Why wouldn't she? It's so simple the way Alexis asks it. So basic. You love a family member therefore you miss them when they're gone. Shifting his eyes in the direction of the loft's front door, he wonders if it's true, if that's why she'd been up in the Hamptons so often and why she's been around a lot since he'd returned to the city.

They've never been big on outward affection or declarations of love, his mother and himself, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel those things. Perhaps he's been blind recently, lost in his own bubble of pain and regret. Has he abandoned them like Kate said?

Kate.

He shakes his head. There's no room for Kate here.

"I miss you, Alexis."

Her sharp intake of breath breaks him apart. She shouldn't be surprised by that, and yet the evidence is obvious, traveling through the phone to smack him in the face. How has he been blind to this for so long?

"I miss you too," she says in a quiet, shaky voice.

"So, tell me about California. How's work been?"

The safe category seems to loosen her up a little, and she launches into a story about some big project she's been asked to participate in. She sounds shyly proud when she says her boss specifically requested her, and he can't help but feel proud too. Proud of her and disappointed in himself. His baby girl is out there, making waves and good impressions on her own, building the life she wants, with or without him.

He misses her fiercely, wishes she were sitting here with him, sharing bowls of ice cream and half-watching some cheesy movie while they talk. The way they used to. He wants that back.

But she's grown now, living 3000 miles away, and the possibility of going back to what they used to be isn't realistic.

Doesn't mean he can't try anyway. It's never too late.

"That's so great, pumpkin. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Hey… I was just wondering. Maybe when you get some free time would you like to come for a visit? I would love to see you."

Silence greets his request, and his fear of rejection crashes down hard the longer she stays quiet.

"You really mean it?" she whispers.

"Do I…? Yes, I mean it."

"Okay. I'll check my schedule at work on Monday and get back to you? Is that okay?"

"Of course. Whenever you have time and you can stay as long as you like."

He can't stop the grin that stretches across his face, and the happy beat of his heart. It's a small step, but a step nonetheless and he can't wait to have it all planned. To have her home.

"So how did your date go?"

Her teasing voice pulls him from his mental happy dance, the reality of this morning crashing back down. Here it is. His mother, and now his daughter. Will he ever escape Kate Beckett's impact on his family?

"Gram mentioned that, huh?"

"Of course. I was wondering when you were finally going to call her."

"Why do you say that? I don't even know her."

"Dad, the whole time I was there it was Kate Beckett this and Kate Beckett that. You were infatuated. That doesn't just go away."

He's heard this a million times from his mother, but for some reason it's different coming from Alexis. His daughter is practical and methodical, never one to completely entertain his more radical ideas, but here she is, accepting his crazed ramblings as though they'd been the truth.

But they weren't. They couldn't have been. He'd never even met her.

"Alexis, I don't remember what happened then. I don't remember-"

"No, I know," she interrupts. "I'm just saying I really liked her and she seemed to be especially interested in you. It was just nice to see you go after someone like her."

He feels his hackles rise, but tries to stamp it down. She's right. Kate Beckett isn't someone he would normally be interested in, but there's just something about her…

Something different, warmer, that appeals - or did appeal - to him. Now he's not so sure.

"Well, anyway," Alexis continues, "I really hope you'll see her again."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."


They talk some more before Alexis receives another phone call and has to run, leaving Rick alone with his thoughts. He turns toward the large picture window, leaning back in his desk chair while he contemplates all that Alexis has said and how well that conversation actually went.

It's been hard these last three years, even before that if he's being honest, trying to find a balance between raising a teenager and living the life he'd wanted, but when Alexis had announced she was moving to California to be near her mother he'd been devastated.

They'd been fighting a lot; she didn't approve of his lifestyle choices and thought he was drowning in the failure of his last book instead of rising above to write something else, and he'd disagreed, claiming that the book and the critics' opinions had nothing to do with the way he chose to live his life.

His life.

But that had been the problem, hadn't it? When you have a child it's not just your life anymore. Your child becomes your priority. After all, that's one reason why his marriage with Meredith had fallen apart. She never put Alexis first, and somewhere along the way, he'd fallen into the same trap. He'd forgotten that his highly independent and smart daughter was also still a child who'd needed her father.

She didn't leave to hurt you.

She loves you, Castle.

Kate's words echo, repeating over and over on an endless loop until he can't stand it anymore. Jumping up from his seat he begins to pace, trying to decide what to do. She might have been right, might have had a point, if he'd just stuck around to hear it.

But after the way he reacted would she even want to see him again? Does he want to own up to it or just cut his losses and move on?

He wrings his hands together, imagining her face, her shy smile, and an unexpected warmth spreads through his chest. She really had been wonderful. Funny, interesting, challenging in a way he hadn't experienced in years.

Up until it had all exploded in his face, that is.

Turning at just the right angle, he catches sight of his reflection in the window, and walks closer, examining the lines and dark circles that haven't always been there.

He's getting older, and all that he can see ahead is a boring, lonely future. The young women, the blondes and bimbos, are fun, but they're always temporary.

But a gorgeous woman of substance, a woman with brains and passion, may be the companion he's been missing.

Standing in the middle of his office, staring at his reflection in the window, he makes a decision. Putting his past behind him for Alexis' sake is step one, and letting go of his pride is step two. Each is a step toward the future he's been so afraid to want.

Afraid to fight for.


He makes it to her apartment in record time, his heart racing with the unknown that awaits him on the other side of her door. Will she open it only to slam it in his face? He doesn't dare hope that she will be happy to see him, and he wouldn't blame her if that were the case.

Focused on the plank of dark wood, he takes a deep breath before he lifts his fist, tapping it against the door three times. He shoves his hands in his pockets while he waits, his ears straining to hear footsteps on the other side.

But it's silent. No sound of the chain unlatching, no locks being turned, nothing to indicate she's planning to answer.

He raps against the door again only to receive the same response. The deafening lack of noise coming from her apartment - even the hall is eerily quiet - and he looks side to side. The nervous excitement is quickly draining, leaving a deflated slump to his shoulders in its wake.

What to do? What to do?

Leaning against the wall to the left of her door, he rubs his forehead. Eight million people in this city, countless places for her to be. He could call, but then that defeats the purpose of the surprise. Besides, face-to-face makes it harder for her to ignore him.

But without knowing where she is…

And then he gets an idea. Checking his watch, he decides it's the best choice he has at this point. She'd said there was a case, and that means the Twelfth.

Racing back to the elevator, he pulls out his phone and maps a route to the precinct. It's easy enough to follow so he locks the device and tucks it back into his pocket, hoping his instincts are right and that she'll be there.


Kate shifts from foot to foot in the observation room while she watches the boys through the window, ripping their suspect to shreds with evidence proving the man's guilt. They've done well with this case - not that she'd expected any different - but the fact that this is their arrest, their case, sits heavy on her conscience.

The streets call to her everyday, her fingers itching for the murder board and the mountains of evidence, and she yearns for the feeling of knowing she's got the right guy, that she's making the city she loves a better and safer place. Except these days she's stuck with a phone glued to her ear and piles of statistics, quotas, and budgets strewn across her desk.

It's a far cry from her old detective status, and some days she wonders why climbing the ranks to captain so quickly had been her ultimate goal. She's stuck here now, though, so she makes the best of it while checking in with her detectives and tossing theories around whenever she has the time.

Like now. She wants to burst into Interrogation to help the boys take this guy out but they don't need her. She's not their lead anymore, and that means she has to stay back here on the other side of the glass. She has to let them do their job while she does hers.

When their suspect is busy signing his confession, she slips away, content with the resolution of the case. She heads straight for the break room and a very welcome hit of caffeine, her head dipped low as she walks the familiar steps.

She's about to pass through the open door when a quiet but strong voice breaks through and her movement stalls.

"Kate?"

He's dressed the same as he'd been this morning, though his hair is decidedly less neat, and his eyes are clear, the blue piercing in its intensity.

And in each hand he holds a white disposable coffee cup, one of which has her name written across the side.

He extends that arm toward her, a determined expression painting itself across his features, and says, "I was hoping we could talk."