Well, I've had an interesting few days. I am safe, but really don't care to repeat some of what I went through. Then, to top off everything, I couldn't access any Wi-Fi until this evening and I have either 1G or 3G service, depending on where I stand. Definitely not in the comfort of modern civilization. So, deepest apologies for the delay in posting. Also, I think I'm behind on answering reviews and it's unclear if I'll be able to do so tomorrow. Know that I appreciate anything you send.

The clicking sound of a keyboard being industriously used filled the air. The letter was almost done, but the soft mutters and occasional curses as it was typed demonstrated its importance to the author.

…And, finally, as I say goodbye, I'd like to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart. It's been a true pleasure knowing you all. I felt at times as if we'd become a family. This is not a decision I've arrived at easily, but I feel it's absolutely necessary. It's not anyone's fault that things worked out as they did, so please don't look to assign blame. Thank you.

It seemed impersonal to type it up and email it—handwritten notes were certainly more touching and more…human. However, the convenience of being able to email it to everyone involved was worth the small cost of a more formal address.

Sitting back, muscles groaning in protest, he noticed the time. Almost 4 a.m. He'd been up nearly all night. Exhausted, he stood, stretching for a few seconds before shuffling from his office the few steps into his room.

He collapsed on the bed, intending to sleep for as long as possible. Despite the late—or very early—hour, he felt like he'd done the right thing. Now he just had to convince his heart of that fact.

The pounding in his head wouldn't stop. One moment he was dreaming that he was in a colorful meadow chasing after a beautiful woman, who from the back looked suspiciously like Beckett, and in the next instant he was pounding a nail into a wooden box.

Was that a coffin?

He sat up with a gasp, heart hammering as loud as the pounding had been in his dream. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. He felt dirty and grimy—scruffy beard and skin damp from perspiration.

Looking over at the soft glow of the alarm clock, he moaned out loud. It'd only been two and a half hours since he'd fallen into bed. Not enough sleep by half. He was about to untangle the top sheet that had wrapped around him like a determined boa constrictor when the pounding started again.

Someone was at the door.

"Coming, I'm coming," he griped as he extricated himself from the bed. "This better be good," he shouted as the pounding resumed after a brief pause. He stumbled to the door and threw it open without bothering to look and see who the culprit was.

"Finally," his mother huffed, breezing past him in a cloud of perfume and alcohol. "I was knocking forever, Richard. Really."

Rick stood, openly staring in speechless disbelief before shutting the door and watching as his mother made her way to the nearest couch and toppled onto it.

"I'm so sorry, Mother. I suppose I thought you'd, oh, I don't know, maybe use your keys," he snapped as he slowly trailed back into the main living area of the loft.

"Oh, darling, I misplaced mine again. No idea where they are. Say, be a good son and cut me a few slices of cucumber for my eyes, will you?"

He snorted, muttering to himself as he turned to enter the kitchen. Arguing just wasn't worth the breath.

"You're awfully churlish this morning. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Any side is the wrong side at this time of morning."

"It's not that early darling. What's wrong?"

He opened the refrigerator, stalling as he looked through the produce drawer. When he dragged the cucumber out and turned to cut it up on the island he saw his mother was sitting up, expectantly watching him. Grabbing a knife, he chopped down with a little more force than was necessary. His mother clucked.

"Richard, you can tell me now or after you've killed that poor cucumber, but something is obviously bothering you."

He paused, bowed his head down and took a deep breath before looking up at her. "I was up pretty late, writing."

"You're always up late writing. What was different about this?"

"I wrote a letter of resignation to the mayor and to the NYPD. I'm done with it all, the shadowing. Everything."

Martha caught her breath audibly, hands clutching her chest. "Are you sure, darling? You could go to another precinct, find another detective to follow…"

"No, I'm done. The time I spent with Slaughter was an absolute disaster. He nearly got me killed. And I can't go back to the Twelfth, so it's better that I just cut all the ties now."

"Did you ever talk to Detective Beckett?"

His lips twisted bitterly. "No. I broke down and called her, left a voicemail. That was three days ago, and nothing. I've tried to get in touch with the boys, even Lanie. All I got for my effort was a lousy text from Kevin saying they were 'too busy helping Kate' and that we'd 'talk when things were better.' Well, obviously that'll never happen. Everyone seems to be avoiding me. Just as well, it can be a clean break."

"It's just very odd, isn't it? You've not spoken to any of them? I wonder what's going on?"

"Yeah, well, they clearly want nothing more to do with me," he walked over to the couch, carrying two slices of cucumber and offering them to her. "I can take a hint. I won't stay where I'm not wanted. It's their loss, though I will miss solving cases. It's just not the same without…without…"

"Without Katherine," his mother finished. He wanted to protest, but it was the truth. Without Beckett and the team they'd formed, it just wasn't the same. There was no way to recapture that magic with someone else—the essential element was her, not the work.

He sank down across from her, needing to talk. His mother had served as his sounding board his whole life. Maybe she could help him make sense out of this mess.

"You told me not long ago that love wasn't a switch. I wanted to just stop loving her, but you were right. I think I need a clean break. Move on with my life. Maybe I'll take a vacation, go somewhere after Alexis graduates."

"That sounds good in theory, Richard, but I still think you need to talk to her." He grimaced, not pleased at the prospect. "I know, I know, your feelings have been hurt. But, darling, after spending so much time with her, don't you think she deserves an explanation?"

His nostrils flared as he suppressed the urge to respond the way he wanted to: with virtuous anger and cutting sarcasm. He knew, in his heart, that his mother had a point. He was just so tired of always doing the right thing.

"It's not like I haven't tried. No one will talk to me, or tell me what's going on."

"Did you go by her apartment?"

He shook his head.

"I know you, Richard. This will eat you alive unless you have some closure. Make this break, but do it the right way."

He sighed and closed his eyes, head thrown back against the cushion. "You're right. I'll try and call her again this…"

The sudden pounding on his door startled them both.

"Good heavens, who could that be? And at this time of the day?"

He gave her a pointed look as he stood to go answer it.

"Well, you know it's not me, this time. And Alexis would never lose her keys."

This time he checked the peephole before opening the door. As soon as he saw who it was, his heart gave a lurch and he let his head fall with a muffled thump onto the wooden door. Of all the people who might be pounding on his door this early in the morning, she was…well, she was not high on the list. She did not look happy.

"Richard, who is it?"

He groaned out loud and considered rappelling out of a window. How hard could it be? Suddenly, his head started bouncing off the door as she resumed her pounding. Just what he needed to face her: a concussion.

"Are you going to answer that?"

He turned part way and glared at his mother, rubbing his forehead to make the throbbing pain recede. Since most of the pain was due to the presence of the person on the other side of the door, it was a fruitless endeavor.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and swung it open. He stood, holding it tight so that her way in was barred by his body. He'd set his face in an impassive mask. Not a welcoming sight. Not that he wanted to be.

"Castle," she cried. He'd never heard that tone in her voice before, and his mask almost slipped. She looked disheveled. Dishabille had never been a word he would have ascribed to her, until today. It was discombobulating, and he didn't like that he was immediately put on the defensive.

"What do you want?" His words were harsh, a weapon launched at her. They hit their target as she flinched under his withering gaze.

"We need to talk."

"I've called you, texted you. You've not answered. Now you want to talk? You don't have anything I want to hear."

His mother gasped behind him, barely audible at the distance. Good manners had gone out the window weeks ago. He didn't care how he sounded now.

She'd been crying: he could see the tracks still on her face. She was a strong woman—whatever it was that she was here about had to be a grave situation, to upset her so much. His defiant words only served to make her angry, and her right index finger was suddenly thrust in his face.

"Now you listen here, Richard Castle. You're gonna let me in and we are gonna talk. The hallway is no place for this discussion, so move outta my way."

"Fine," he huffed, standing aside. She strode past, a curious mixture of fear and anger crossing her face as he watched her stalk past him.

He watched as she greeted his mother, who showed no signs of leaving them alone. He was fine with her remaining—none of this part of his life seemed to be a secret from her anyway.

After she'd settled on a chair next to the couch where Martha reclined, he sank down into his previous seat.

"What do you want, Lanie?" He asked again, when she spent far too long silently staring at her shoes. He saw she was struggling to speak—a woman who'd never been quieted in her life. A cold grip twisted his guts like a rope.

"I'm here about Kate," she finally explained. He almost stood and walked away, but a quelling glance from his mother kept him pinned in place.

"I don't want to talk about Kate. Next topic."

Lanie looked up, eyes beseeching. "You're the only one, Castle. The only one who can reach her. You're the last hope. Please. Don't make me beg you."

"She's made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me. So why should I even bother?"

"Because no one else can. If you care about her at all…"

"Care about her? Care about her? I lo—I care about her. Cared. She doesn't feel the same way, and my hanging around makes everyone uncomfortable. Well, I can take a hint. I'm done. No more."

Lanie's slackened mouth and mute glare was his only response.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that? It's not like this is news—no one's been taking my calls. I've tried Kate, tried you. Even the boys. Kevin's the only one to bother replying, but it was just some meaningless platitudes. I'm just a laughingstock to you all, I guess. Well, I'm done. I don't want anything more to do with you all."

He stood, ready to walk away. His heart was hammering in his chest and he felt his hands shaking. He hated what this situation did to him—what she did to him. He wanted to hit something, just take his frustration out in a physical explosion, but had to keep a lid on the simmering anger that overtook him whenever he started thinking about the last few days.

Lanie had stood when he had. She didn't look mad—more like confused—but it was clear that she was going to continue the conversation whether he wanted to or not.

"You've tried to call me? I know…"

"Don't try to pretend you didn't get my messages. I'm sure between the four of you that you all knew that I wanted to talk to you."

"I wasn't…Castle, do you have any idea what's been going on for the last few days?"

"No! I just said I've been trying to get in touch with you. Aren't you listening to me? This is just so typical," he muttered, running one hand through his hair. "Why is it I'm only good enough to be a part of the team when you guys need something from me? I'm so sick of it all," he huffed.

"Richard!"

"It's the truth, Mother. No one seems to want to address what's really going on, but I'm not gonna just smile and let it slide over me anymore." He was breathing hard and could feel how heated his whole body had become. Lanie was eyeing him as if he were a complete stranger. Well, good. It was time they all figured out that he was no pushover.

"So, you just think that because we didn't get back to you right away, that we're all sitting around the precinct laughing at you? You never figured there might be something else going on, hmm?" It was Lanie's turn to look flushed. She was a little scary looking when she was riled up, he'd be the first to admit. But he wasn't going to back down.

"Just what could be so important that no one could do more than text me for days?"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Her voice rose to near a shout. There was no doubt she was not happy with him. "You wanna know what I've been up to? What the boys've been up to? Well, we were sitting in Kate's hospital room, that's where we've been. Praying she'd survive after Javi and I found her near dead in her bathroom."

Rick felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. His legs couldn't support him, and he dropped in a heap. Luckily, the chair was still beneath him. Lanie stood towering over him now, an avenging angel bringing the truth to bear as her eyes flashed at him and her chest heaved with indignation.

"The hospital? My goodness, what happened?" Martha asked what he couldn't. He couldn't even speak. There was no air left in his lungs.

Lanie glared at him for a moment, and then lowered herself to a seated position again. Her voice was gentler, though she enunciated each word very clearly. "Yes, the hospital. She was pregnant, though she didn't know it. The embryo implanted in her tube and it ruptured. She nearly bled to death."

Rick's eyes slammed down at the news she'd been pregnant. If he'd felt breathless before, now he felt as if he were being sucked into a vacuum. He'd truly been a fool to think she was waiting for him. How he'd misinterpreted her words on the swings so badly was a real mystery, but it was obvious he had. He clenched his jaw as a surge of jealousy flooded his body. She chose men to let into her life, while continuing to reject him. He couldn't keep living like this.

Lanie had fallen silent. When he opened his eyes again, she was looking at him with an almost sorrowful expression, which he found puzzling. His mother was pale, tears sliding down her cheeks as she gazed at him. Everyone looked to him, and he found his ire building again.

"Is she ok?" He would never wish harm on her, no matter how strained their relationship became.

"Physically, yes. She had to have emergency surgery, but once they got the bleeding stopped she recovered relatively quickly. It's her mental state we're all worried about. I've never seen her so devastated, and you and I both know she doesn't deal well with losses, especially as personal as this one."

"So, what is it exactly that you want from me?"

His mother tsked at him again, but he was done with all the polite avoidance of the issues that mattered. Lanie, at least, wouldn't back down from a challenge.

"I told you when I came in, we need your help reaching her," she retorted, eyes narrowed.

"I've no idea where she is. I didn't even know she was in the hospital."

"Not getting in touch with her, Castle. I mean reaching out to her and getting her to talk. I've never seen her like this. Even her therapist is worried."

Rick jerked and he eyed Lanie in confusion. "She was seeing a therapist?"

Lanie sighed, but answered. "Yes. For months. Started after her shooting. He went to see her in the hospital, and was worried about her state of mind. He thinks she might be suicidal, even though she denies it, so he started her on some medication and discussed it with Jim. They think she might need to be involuntarily committed, at least for a while. She's supposed to stay on the surgical ward until later this morning, but I'm terrified of what she's got circling around in that brain of hers. I think you're the only one who has a chance of reaching her before we're forced to do something drastic."

"Well, I feel terrible for her, but why are you asking me for help? She thinks I'm little more than a troublesome partner. If you're that worried, why don't you talk to the father of the baby? She'd probably listen to him."

Lanie's foot started tapping and she drew a few deep breaths before answering. "Oh, you think that, do you? I swear to God, Richard Castle, that when all this is over you two are going to owe me so much that giving me a Ferrari won't even begin to cover it. I should write my own damn book. Or go into business. If I can get the two of you on the same page, then the rest of the world will be a cake walk. I'd be rich in no time."

Rick felt his cheeks growing hotter and hotter as he clamped down on his tongue. Let her say her piece—there was no point in arguing with her. Then, he'd escort her out and that would be it. He had little to no influence on Kate Beckett, despite what Lanie thought.

"So your advice is to go to the man who got her pregnant and make him get involved? Get him to go talk to her?"

"If she told you who it was, well then, yes. Sounds like he'd have a better chance of talking to her than anyone else would."

"Oh, I know what man she's been involved with. Same man she's been pining for…for months now. Maybe years."

Rick's gut twisted again and he felt sick. Lanie was still staring him down, as if they both had a secret that no one else knew. Problem was he had no idea what it was.

"So, they're involved? They must be if she got pregnant."

"She wanted to be with him, but for some reason he suddenly started acting uninterested. Started showing up with other women around her. Acting cold and as if he wanted nothing to do with her."

On the couch, Martha suddenly straightened up, a piercing look thrown at Lanie that the other woman nodded at. They both then turned to him and he had the distinct feeling that he was a bug about to be skewered. He was as lost as he'd been at the beginning of the conversation, unfortunately.

"Well, the guy sounds like a real jerk, if you ask me. But I still think he'd have a better shot at talking to her than anyone else. They had an intimate relationship, and it sounds like she loves him. You need to go speak to him."

Lanie nodded. "You're right. Kate does love him, even though he's acted like an asshole towards her recently. And I'm pretty sure he loves her, too."

Martha interrupted, startling Rick as she'd been quiet nearly the entire time. "Oh, he does. He still loves her deeply."

Rick turned and looked at his mother, head shaking slightly. What did she know about this man?

"Well, that's good. We were beginning to wonder with the way he's acted recently."

Rick glanced back at Lanie. She was still staring at him expectantly. "Well, aren't you going to go find him?"

"I don't need to go find him, Castle. I'm sitting right in front of him."