He tried calling her again when he got to his car, but again it went right to voicemail. He didn't bother leaving another message, but tossed his phone onto the empty passenger seat and started driving.

Almost before he realized where he was even going, he was at her apartment. It wasn't until he parked that it occurred to him that he might be overstepping a little here. Showing up at her apartment unannounced. If she was even here, he would surely be greeted, at the very least, with his fourth "What are you doing here?" of the day.

He found her car in the parking lot, so it was more than likely that she was here. But then he had another thought. What if she wasn't alone? She was dating someone now, he reminded himself. What if that goddamned motorcycling surgeon was here with her?

But he couldn't get Montgomery's voice out of his head, the line that was meant to be reassuring but was continually tormenting him: "Beckett will be fine." Will be.

He called one more time, deciding that he'd feel a little better about appearing there if he at least tried to announce himself. He wasn't surprised when he got her voicemail again, but this time he left a message, number two for the day. "Beckett," he began, realizing he felt a little like he was supplying the greeting that was missing. "You never called me back, so I'm just going to stop over there for a minute to make sure everything's okay." He left out the part that he was already in the parking lot. If she'd actually turned off her phone she wasn't going to get the message anyway, at least not before he got there.

He wanted to sprint up the stairs to her apartment, but he purposely slowed himself down, not knowing what he'd find, and not wanting to seem too panicked if he was, in fact, overreacting. After all, he had no proof that anything was really wrong, besides the gnawing feeling in his gut.

When he got to her door he found it closed, which wouldn't have surprised him, but no light leaked out around the frame as if no one was home. He first knocked politely, but when after a few long minutes she still didn't answer, he knocked again, louder, with more urgency. Still no answer.

"Beckett?" he called, still knocking. "Kate? I know you're in there," he lied. He'd seen her car, but she could've taken the subway or walked somewhere, especially since it was so nice outside. But his instinct, combined with all of the facts he was able to put together, told him she'd be inside. "Beckett! Kate, come on, answer the door. Answer the door and I promise I'll leave." If there was a gunman in there, he was very quiet. When Castle stopped knocking and calling briefly, he heard no sound from inside. "I'm not leaving until I know you're okay," he threatened. "I'll stand out here being annoying until tomorrow morning if I have to. Your neighbors are going to hate you." He paused again. Still no sound. He was beginning to think that maybe she wasn't home. But his stubbornness joined forces with his concern and he kept trying. "Don't think I won't do it, Beckett. You know better than to underestimate my childishness." His heart skipped a beat, because he thought he heard something coming from inside. It was very faint, but could it have been… a sigh?

Yes, that was almost certainly what it was, because immediately following it he heard another sound, also faint, but unmistakable: footsteps. And then a voice: Beckett's, and yet somehow not Beckett's at all. "Castle, I'm fine. Please go away."

But she wasn't fine. Her voice was wrong. Raw. Strained. Too high-pitched. Too nasal. He'd seen her cry, and then he had seen her cry, when she'd shot her mother's killer, but this was different. There was a weakness in her voice, a vulnerability unlike anything he had ever heard from her before. And frankly, it terrified him. "Just open the door," he said softly, begging. "Please."

"No."

"I won't leave," he warned again.

"You said I had to answer the door," she said, sounding very tired. "I did."

"I also said I had to know you're okay. I'm not convinced."

He would never have expected that comment to be the one that swayed her. It wasn't very well thought-out, or even particularly persuasive. But he figured he must have worn her down, because he heard the door unlock, and then slowly it opened. When he saw her, he almost wished it hadn't.

Her face was red, blotchy and swollen, especially around her eyes. She'd been crying, and for awhile. Even now her bloodshot eyes weren't completely dry. She wore no makeup at all, something he had never seen before, and her hair hung down, un-brushed. But what struck him most of all was how small she looked, and it wasn't just because her customary heels were missing. She normally had a kind of strength, a power and assertiveness that made her presence felt without her consciously doing anything. This was gone, and Castle stared at the floor, feeling like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

He was two parts upset and one part angry. Who had done this to her? His first thought was the damn motorcycle-riding surgeon, but he realized that this was Beckett, not his mother or even Alexis. He wouldn't have pegged her for the kind of woman that would get this upset over a guy, certainly not enough so to miss work. It had to be something else. But what?

"What happened?" He hoped he sounded more confused than worried, but he wasn't aware enough of himself at this moment to know exactly what his tone was doing.

"Nothing."

"You really think I'm gonna believe that?"

"It's true."

"Well then, what…?" He tried to reach out to her, but she backed away. He sighed. "What's wrong?"

She conceded, opening the door a little further and nodding for him to follow her into the dark apartment. He did, finally settling on the couch beside her, but far enough away to give her some space, which she clearly wanted. A moment passed in silence. He resolved not to say anything, to let her tell him whatever it was that she was going to tell him when she was ready. Just the fact that he was here, he could see her, he knew that she was okay, at least physically, and she wasn't alone, made him feel a little better. But every time he looked at her face he realized that a little better wasn't enough.

She finally swallowed and attempted to steel herself. He saw that she was trying to make eye contact with him and allowed it, although looking deeply into her watery, bloodshot eyes was causing him almost physical pain.

"Today is the anniversary of my mother's death."

She'd tried to say it matter-of-factly, but her voice broke before she got to the end of the sentence.

Castle found that he could no longer hold the eye contact that had been difficult for him to begin with. The puzzle pieces slid together perfectly in his mind, and he emotionally kicked himself for not having been able to figure it out.

"Kate, I'm so—" he began.

She held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't."

He caught a fresh tear rolling down her cheek. He wanted desperately to comfort her, but she wouldn't let him, either with words or actual contact, the only two mechanisms he had available.

"Not a day goes by that I don't think about her," she began.

"I know," Castle said gently.

"But one day a year I give in and fully allow myself to grieve. I don't talk to anyone, and I have as little contact as possible with the outside world. I spend the whole day thinking, remembering, and honoring her memory. Which inevitably leads to…" she gestured to her face, allowing him to fill in the blank.

"I'm sorry," he said, and this time it was he who held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. "I'm apologizing, not comforting. I'm sorry I messed up your ritual. I really am. I wouldn't have if I'd have known…" he remembered his conversations with Beckett's friends and colleagues and realized that there were details that still hadn't fallen into place. He began again with renewed vigor. "If you do this every year, why does no one know? Lanie, Espisito, Ryan… hell, how did I not notice last year?"

She shrugged. "I'm usually more careful about it. I don't need people to know because, well, things like this happen."

"Excuse us for caring," Castle said, smiling a little sadly.

"I know your hearts are in the right place, it's just… not what I'm looking for. I don't need people to cheer me up. I just want to be sad." She sighed, continuing. "So usually I come up with a good reason why I can't be at work weeks in advance, something that no one will question. I think last year I was visiting my cousin in New Jersey."

"Oh, I remember that."

"Yeah, well, for the record, I don't have a cousin in New Jersey. After all these years as a cop, turns out I'm pretty good at creating my own alibis. But this year it kind of snuck up on me. We've been so busy with work lately, all those crazy cases we've been working… suddenly I got up this morning and saw the date, and, well… I guess you know the rest."

"Montgomery knows," Castle said, not really a question, just a statement to be confirmed. He knew the answer.

"Yeah, he knows. At least… sort of. He knows what today is. And he knows I take this day off every year. I think even if I hadn't called, he wouldn't have expected me. But at least this way I gave him something to tell everyone."

"Yeah, the world's lamest excuse. A personal day? Why do you think I came here? Did you really expect me to believe that?"

"Yeah, well I'm sorry I couldn't come up with a better story for you this morning, I really didn't have the energy. But the thing is, it's the truth. If this isn't a personal day, then what is?"

Castle considered that. "I guess you're right." He looked up at her face and was tortured all over again. All he wanted to do was put his hand on her shoulder. Why wouldn't she let him?

He felt like he should go. Part of him wanted to go. He was unnerved and uncomfortable, and she wouldn't let him do anything anyway. But at the same time, he hated to leave her alone like this, and resolved not to until she kicked him out. Surely it wouldn't be long.

Yeah, the suspense was fun, but it was never really supposed to be the focus of this story, so it was time to move on. Besides, Castle was getting impatient.

Random point. Any Gilmore Girls diehards out there reading this? Probably not. And if not, please feel free to skip this little paragraph, because you don't care. I promise. But on the off-chance that there's someone out there that does care, random bit of trivia. I got the idea for this from the Luke's dark day concept (Season 5, I believe? Luke basically goes into hibernation and doesn't talk to anyone every year on the anniversary of his dad's death.). I thought something similar would work well for Beckett. I love when my obsessions help each other out. :)

Back to the (slightly more) important stuff. Some of your reviews made me a little nervous about this chapter. Partly because I think you might be right. Maybe Lanie and the boys would know the date of Johanna's murder. But my thinking when I wrote this was that Beckett probably knew Montgomery when she first became a cop and she was trying to investigate it, while Lanie, Ryan, and Esposito might realistically not have come along until later. Maybe they'd have some idea of when it happened, but how would they know the exact date unless Beckett told them? So really, I don't think it's totally unrealistic that they wouldn't know. If I did, I would've changed it. Hopefully this doesn't kill the story for anyone.

Thanks so much for all of your reviews (even the ones that made me nervous... ;) It's good to make me think a little bit once in awhile). I'm positive I've said this before, but I loooove them, and obviously I take them all into account when I'm writing/editing. So keep them coming, please and thanks! And I really, really hope you like this chapter, because it is a bit important. (I can be a slightly sarcastic person, so my "a bit" can often be translated to "very." As can my "slightly.") Thanks so much for reading, and extra points for putting up with my ramblings. :)