Author's Note: I see the reviews are drying up a bit...we're not losing interest, are we? ;)

Elsewhere…

The sun had set for the night by the time Kate Beckett emerged from Richard Castle's office, and she flinched when she saw him curled up on his couch, eyes open and starting at…nothing in particular. She cleared her throat and he flinched.

Was…were his eyes red?

"Beckett." His voice still held that stiff formality that ran counter to the close bond he insisted they had. Castle straightened and sucked in a ragged breath, trying to discreetly brush a thumb under his eye and failing miserably.

"Something wrong, Mr. Castle?"

He froze, momentarily wondering if he should share Detective Ryan's Jerry Tyson theory. He decided against it, mostly because of how disturbing that thought was to him – and the fact that he was still having trouble convincing Beckett that her mother was not, in fact, recently elected Senator.

"No." He protested a little too eagerly before standing. "Other than, you know…confused about things." Right, because that was smooth. His gaze wandered to the open door to his office. "So…what do you think?"

Kate nodded once, averting her gaze. Truth he told, she was hooked. She didn't dare admit as such – at least, not to the extent in which she enjoyed Heat Wave. She was already well into Naked Heat, but her achy muscles and parched throat told her it was time to take a break.

"This…other Beckett sounds quite riveting." It sounded just as weird out loud as it had in her head. "I can see why you'd be so in love with her."

Castle frowned at that, which caused Kate to chuckle and shake her head. "Please, Mr. Castle. I see the way you look at me sometimes. If that's even half the way you look at your Beckett…" She lowered her gaze, chewing on her lower lip.

"No one's…no one's ever looked at me that way before."

Castle's heart broke at that, even as his inner skeptic – yes, such a creature exists – screamed at him to be wary. If Ryan's theory turned out to be spot-on, then this entire thing was a play, and the last thing Castle wanted was for Jerry Tyson to get the better of him again.

He felt his eyes burn, closing them to hold off the wave of emotion.

"I'm still not convinced." Kate broke Castle's train of thought. "I'm not…I don't think you're crazy. I think you genuinely believe the stories you tell me, and I won't lie – I kind of like the thought of Nikki Heat being based on me, because if I was as smart and savvy and badass as her, then…well, that would be pretty great."

She stepped toward Castle with a sigh. "But…I need proof. Something tangible. Something incontrovertible." She gave the man in front of her a sideways grin. "Burden of proof rests on the defense."

A smile flickered onto his lips, but it disappeared almost immediately. His face went dark.

"In that case…I have somewhere to take you."

"A word of friendly advice, Mrs. Beckett?" Bracken straightened his tie, leaning back in his chair and letting his gaze scan the restaurant surrounding them. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "The first year or so is less about being seen or heard and more about learning the ropes."

Johanna narrowed her gaze with a smirk. "Says then man who never met a cluster of microphones he didn't like."

"Please…" Bracken scoffed. "I saw your victory speech, Johanna."

"I was caught up in the moment." Johanna shrugged and sipped on her glass of wine. "Like that's never happened to you."

The smile on William Bracken's face was smug, as it so often was. "All I'm saying is…don't go in there expecting to make immediate waves. The Senate is like a giant cruise ship – any change of direction is slow, plodding, and requisite of the most abundant patience."

"And in the wrong hands, it can get steered right into an iceberg."

Bracken's stilted grin softened a little. "Touché, Mrs. Beckett."

Elsewhere…

As his car pulled to a stop, Richard Castle wondered why he agreed to do this. If Ryan was right, then this was colossally stupid on the novelist's part, driving in the dark, alone, with a disciple of Jerry Tyson…and to a cemetery, no less.

But Kate Beckett – well, the Kate Beckett in his passenger seat – demanded proof of everything Castle knew to be true, so in spite of every logical fiber of Castle's being, he leapt at the chance to give Kate what she wanted.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and gave a rueful smile. That was apparently the case, regardless of reality. There was probably a world full of shrimp somewhere, and in that world, there was probably a Richard Castle ready to jump over the moon for a Kate Beckett.

Shaking his head, and no longer wishing to imagine himself as a shrimp, Castle shut off the engine and gave Kate a sideways glance. She could see her jaw clench, the moonlight spilling through the windshield playing with the shadows just right. Kate was barely breathing, her shoulders tense.

"We're here." He swallowed. Castle really didn't want to do this. "Follow me."

He got out of the car, turning on his flashlight. He hadn't noticed Kate get out of the car, too, but they shut their respective doors in unison and stood there in silence. Castle told his feet to move, but for several moments, they refused.

He eventually began walking, his boots crunching against the dry ground. Kate followed him, her brow furrowed. She kept her eyes on him, partly so she wouldn't lose track of him in the dark. They weaved between gray slabs, names and dates etched into the stone.

"So…this other me." She shook her head. "Are we…?"

Castle nodded. "Couple years now." He tried to smile back at Kate, but it looked more like a cringe. "We're engaged."

Oh.

As they moved, her pace quickened. She felt her heartbeat in her temples, swallowing hard in trepidation. She noticed when Castle's steps slowed, and she matched his speed, letting his revelation stew in her mind. Katherine Beckett, engaged? That was almost as impossible for her to believe as…

The shift in light caught Kate's attention, and she followed the beam. It illuminated one of the larger stones in the cemetery. Her eyes slowly took in the etchings, from the bottom up.

January 9th 1999.

…

February 4th 1951.

…

Vincit Omnia Veritas

…

Johanna Beckett

Kate gasped, clasping her palm over her mouth and dropping to her knees. Her entire body began to shake and before Kate knew it, strained sobs wracked her body. Her fingers quivered, tears streamed down her face. She hadn't noticed Castle kneel next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Beckett…"

She let out a wail of pain, squeezing her eyes shut for no other reason than she wouldn't have to stare at that goddamn stone anymore. The one with the family name blazoned along the top, with her mother's name etched underneath.

It was impossible. So unbelievably, simply impossible, and yet…here was the proof. This wasn't some prank. This wasn't some bad dream. The man to her left had been telling the truth all along, and even as she dealt with the enormity of realizing her mother was actually dead, Kate was struck with the realization that she really was out of her realm.

Literally.

Photographs could be doctored. Noted forged. Newspaper articles and internet links falsified. But this…the actual tombstone, with dates of birth and death, with her mother's favorite Latin saying…with her name…it was entirely too real.

So real that Kate clutched at Castle's arm, burying her face in his shoulder with a sob. He dropped his flashlight and wrapped his broad arms around her shoulders, unable to tear his gaze from the stone as he gently rocked her.

Truth conquers all.

Boy, he hoped that was still true.

Author's Note, Part 2: Man, I love where this is heading, and I think you guys are gonna love it too.