"One more of those press conferences and I might go back to patrols…"

With a heavy sigh, Beckett stretched out on the couch, one hand rubbing her eyes, the other one reaching for a well-deserved glass of wine on the nearby side table.

Close to midnight, it felt as though their day had turned into a week, every aspect of it filled with a plethora of difficult emotions, misguided finger-pointing and a distinct sense of defeat.

Half an hour ago, Kevin had called to check in, saying that no headway had been made once again despite everyone's best efforts. The autopsy results should be in first thing in the morning, and they held on to the hope that at least for once, the killer had become sloppy and left some evidence behind.

It was a depressing thought at best, but Castle kept his mixed feelings to himself for once.

Since when did the team rely on hope and guesses to solve a murder case, especially one this heinous? What happened to that brilliance, that unbridled enthusiasm he had so inadvertently stumbled upon eight years ago? What happened to the open exchange of ideas, the fierce determination that would make them work throughout the night, not leaving a single stone unturned?

Was it because they all knew the killer was after blue blood now? Somewhere in the backs of their minds, was there a smidgeon of apprehension when it came to the case, the irrevocable question of whether or not they could land on the list next if they ended up in their killer's crosshairs during the investigation?

What exactly was causing this seemingly slow progress that felt like feet being dragged through ankle-deep mud, every hesitant step forward resembling the endless waiting lines at the DMV; so close and yet so far away.

Or was that the right question to ask after all, Castle mused. Perhaps, the real question was what had happened to them?

Somewhere in that chaos that summed up the past couple of years, things had changed among them.

Beckett's promotion, the disaster on their wedding day, his missing for two months, Loksat…it all had taken a toll on them, turning gregarious lightheartedness into subdued conversation and tight-knit friendships into stoic acceptance of each other's presence.

Being a captain had changed the way the boys looked at Beckett, the most recent occurrence of Espo's suspension highlighting that fact in no uncertain terms.

A year or two ago, Beckett would have done the same thing if put into that position, and yet, ironically, she was forced to hand out punishment for the very essence, the unbreakable spirit to do the right thing that had glued the team together for so many years.

As he poured himself a glass of Merlot, Castle drifted into a peaceful state of reverie, his only escape from reality these days, allowing his keen mind to relish the better days, the laughs, the unbelieveable ups and downs that had forged friendships stronger than anything he'd ever come across.

To be part of such a unique group of highly skilled individuals was rare, and something he treasured immensely. But would it last forever?

Nothing ever did.

Moreso, would the currents of life that had befallen all of them slowly drift the team apart? Was that the underlying issue his senses had picked up on since the beginning of this case? Beckett's tumultuous lifestyle versus Ryan's new career of being a father, then add in a sprinkling of Esposito's volatile romance… that was a lot of change to a group that usually worked like a well-oiled machine.

Then there was yours truly.

He used to fit in well, completing the team when traditional approaches didn't yield any results. But their need for his talents began to diminish with Beckett's absence during active investigations, making him the odd man out when paired with the boys.

Surely, he knew in his heart that his view of the world would always help, giving them insight into a killer's way of thinking, allowing them to see the story behind each crime.

But did they really want him around any longer?

The boys hadn't gone out of their way to reel him into an investigation while Beckett was gone and perhaps, if he was brutally honest with himself, that bright candle that was his involvement with the NYPD was slowly burning out.

Alas, nothing lasted forever.

"You're being awfully quiet.", Beckett mused from the couch and turned her head, those intelligent brown eyes scanning him curiously.

Quietly meeting her glance, he swished the wine around in his glass, buying some time for a fitting answer.

"There's been so much talking this afternoon, I figured silence would be…therapeutic."

"For me yes, but you're never this quiet. Only when something is bugging you."

Unable to disguise a faint smile at her uncanny insight into his deepest thoughts; he shook his head and approached the couch, letting his eyes run over her lean body before responding.

"I just can't help but wonder if your new job title means that you get to have tops more often now…"

There, that did the job.

A cunning, sideways joke to redirect Beckett's senses to safer territory, to topics that were suitable for an evening spent winding down.

Listening to her hearty laughter almost took away the anxious thoughts that had befallen him earlier, making him cherish the moment and allow his mind to relax for the first time in what seemed like weeks.

Perhaps there was merit to his concern and he had indeed entered Act IV of the best collaboration of his life when it came to the NYPD.

But for now, he would make a point to cherish whatever time he had left.