Castle returned to his loft. He went to his office and sat behind the desk, his head in his hands. Maybe fate had intervened when he was unable to figure out what to do. He had always believed that things work out for the best. He certainly couldn't see that now, but you never know what life has in store for you.

He was definitely at a crossroads in his life. Pretty much everything that was important in his life a month ago was now gone – or soon would be. He had lost the woman that he loved, lost the police work that he loved, wouldn't be able to write any more Nikki Heat novels, that would just be too painful, and his daughter would soon be going off to college.

He felt incredibly alone and insecure. Richard Castle was insecure. That wasn't the image he projected – normally. It made him think of his youth. His mother was so busy with the theater, she had little time for him. He never knew who his father was, and that wounded him deeper than he would ever admit. He always felt so alone. Kids picked on him at school. He wasn't into sports. He felt like he never fit in. He developed defense mechanisms. He would deflect bullies with humor and sometimes outwit them. He learned how to fit in with all kinds of people. After all he was Martha Rogers' son so there was some acting blood in him and that was useful to transform his personality to fit in. He got a growth spurt in high school which further helped since bullies don't tend to pick on big kids. Then he discovered writing and having something that he was good at gave him confidence. Somehow he had to regain some of that confidence and rebuild his life.

Castle heard a text come in and looked at his phone. It was Beckett. She wanted to go out for drinks later and talk about what had happened with Gates. Castle was instantly angry. He finally felt like he was going to make a clean break and get the space he needed to get over her, and now in less than 2 hours time she was already pulling on the leash. Yeah, it felt like a choking leash.

"Can't," he texted back.

"Call me sometime?" she replied.

"Maybe in 3 months or so." He fired that off without thinking. Wow, this so wasn't him. He didn't try to hurt the people he cared about. He took a deep breath. He had to let the anger go. He had to try to work though the hurt. He couldn't be lashing out at people. He went and made himself a drink.

Beckett kept worrying about Castle after he left. She couldn't forget the sad look on his face. She had sent the boys out to track down a lead and now she was thinking about Castle again. She decided to text him. She wanted to help him, support him. Maybe if they talked about it he might feel better, and maybe they could come up with a plan to get him back in the precinct. She looked over at his chair. He had sat there for most of 4 years give or take a few months. She couldn't imagine him being gone permanently.

She texted him about drinks, but when she got his reply about calling her in 3 months she felt like he had punched her in the stomach. Tears started to well up in her eyes, and she hastily retreated to the restroom. Maybe he just wanted her to feel the way he did when she was hurt and she pushed him away. She felt miserable. He was hurting and she wanted to help him, but he wouldn't let her. She knew exactly how he felt now. When she was trying to recover from the gunshot wound, she thought it would be better if he didn't have to see her broken physically and mentally. If he had been around, maybe it would have confused their relationship. Back then all the excuses made sense to her. Now it was so plain how hurtful and confusing it must have been to him. Now those excuses seem so lame. Now maybe she had lost him forever.

Castle stood at the window looking out at the traffic below. Raindrops angrily pelted against the window, droplets running down the glass like tears. The weather seemed to match his mood. He swirled his drink a little before knocking it back. He was going to have to quit drinking so much. He needed to come up with a plan to get his life back on track.

Castle opened his computer, got into his word processer and clicked on the list button. He would list the things that were wrong in his life and list some possibilities for things he could pursue. It was actually somewhat comforting to sit at the computer ready to type something. He started on his list:

My problems:

1. Lost the love of my life

2. Lost the police work

3. Can't continue the Nikki Heat series

4. Alexis soon going off to college

What should I do?

1. Figure out another character for a book series

2. If Alexis goes to Stanford, I could move to California

3. Join a gym (maybe learn martial arts?)

4. Travel (alone – really?)

5. Shadow another law enforcement officer (how about a Texas ranger?)

6. Join the police academy (don't they have an officers school like West Point? lol)

7. Become a private eye

8. Go on Celebrity Apprentice

9. Try acting (he had had an offer a couple of years before)

He was randomly writing whatever popped into his head no matter how improbable. Then one more thing popped into his head.

10. Die

Castle had never thought about killing himself before. Life was too precious and if you weren't miserable once in a while how could you appreciate when you were really happy? If life had a fast forward button he would probably push it to get past this painful part though.

He sometimes wondered about his fascination with death. That's one of the reasons he wrote mystery novels. That's one of the reasons that he enjoyed the police work so much and didn't mind the crime scenes or the morgue. He was really intrigued with death showing up on his list. What if he really explored that option? Actually, he was getting a little excited about planning the ultimate murder – the murder of Richard Castle.