I still don't own Castle. Meh.

It was a particularly bad evening for Castle, he found himself sitting with his laptop on the couch reading old Nikki Heat scenes that never made it to the books. Without Nikki to write about his evenings were spent with a bottle of liquor and his memories of times past. Ryan and Esposito had sent him home after he had been going through her file for hours. When he got home he had tried to contact Smith like he did every evening. All he ever got was disappointment. He had begged Martha and Alexis to go out of town for a week, said he needed to be alone. They wouldn't go until he nearly forced them to. There was no dignity in this, but there was also no reason for anyone to know it.

It was on that evening that he heard a careful knock on his door. He ignored it. Willed it to go away and leave him alone.
"Mister Castle?" He barely recognized the voice, yet froze when he realized who it was at his door. He knew he should have, but he hadn't talked to Jim Beckett since Kate had disappeared. He hadn't even managed to look at him at her funeral, not even when Jim handed her Johanna's necklace and told him Kate would have wanted him to have it. He hadn't replied. He never would have expected him to show up at this door.
"Rick?" Jim added and knocked at the door softly. For a split second Castle considered letting him stand on his porch, but eventually he got up and opened the door. It was his fault that Kate was dead and the blame was his burden to carry.

"Did my mother call you?" The words came out more hostile than they were intended. Jim shook his head and for a moment the two men just looked at each other. Both searching for familiar emotions, for answers, for anything to make this easier. He saw the grief in Jim's eyes, both new for his daughter and weathered, old, but still there, for his wife. His throat clogged all over again.
"Do you want to come in?" Castle finally croaked out, unable to say anything that even mildly reminded him of Kate.
Jim nodded. "Thank you Rick." Castle stepped back and led him into the loft. He vividly remembered the last time Jim was here. That time Jim had asked, almost begged him to stop Kate from losing another twelve years of her life to her mother's case. He had tried to stop her, tried to keep her safe in any way he could, but it had not been enough.

"Watch out with that stuff." Jim gestured towards the bottle. "It won't give you back anything. I'll only cost you more." Castle's eyes fell to the bottle and it hit him all over again that this man had lost not only his daughter to this, but also his wife. His eyes trailed from the bottle back to Jim and he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Almost like the hand of the father he never had.
"How are you holding up?" He asked kindly and led Castle to his own couch. The younger man shook his head and lifted his head to look into the grief-stricken eyes of Jim Beckett.
"How can you ask me that? I mean. She was your daughter, and I pushed her, and your wife, your wife… I should be asking you this question. But I ran away instead, I didn't even talk to you, I…" He trailed off as his voice broke and he had to squeeze his eyes shut in an effort to calm himself. "If I were you I wouldn't want to face me ever again." He croaked out. His eyes fixated on the ground, tears stinging in his eyes.
Jim sighed and again he felt the hand on his shoulder, felt how he was gently pulled upwards until he could look the older man in the face. "Castle, I don't blame you." He took in the pained look on the man's face. "For anything." He added until Castle turned his face away and let out a shaky breath. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love. I handled it worse the first time." He gestured again to the bottle of liquor and Castle read the guilt he felt himself reflected in the old man's eyes. "I know how much you cared about Katie, Rick. I also know how much she loved you."

All the tears that had Castle had managed to keep under restraint for days broke free at his words. Suddenly he felt Jim envelop him in a warm hug. He didn't say a word, just held him in the way a father would hold his grieving son.

"I don't understand how you do this. You lost your wife, your daughter. How…" he didn't finish his sentence as he choked on his tears. Jim released Castle but kept his hand on his shoulder. "How do you get over it?" Castle finally managed to choke out. Begging for anything to make it better, to numb the pain that still hit him when he least expected it.
Jim shook his head. "You don't. But one day you'll wake up and you'll find that you don't mind carrying it around with you." He gently reached out to the necklace that was around Castle's neck and through his grief, smiled wistfully. Then he looked back up at Castle.
"Son, don't make my mistakes. You have a daughter, do not do to her what I did to Katie." He stood up and glanced around again. His eyes resting on the screen that was Castle's own murder board. The photos of his wife and daughter in the middle. "Rick. I don't know you as well as Katie did. But I know Katie wouldn't want you to make her mistakes either. Don't get lost in the past like she did. There is still a life to be lived."

He didn't speak another word as he walked out of the loft.

She stood motionless on the graveyard, the moonlight the only thing illuminating her face. Looking at her own grave lying next to her mothers. She knew she was a fool, coming here, standing here out in the open. Anyone could recognize her and her cover would be blown, but she had to. She had to see it just once, because odds were she'd never return once she stepped on the plane back to her hiding place miles away. Odds were that in time she would really lie there next to her mother. Seeing it with her own eyes made the idea easier to accept. It made her braver, and though the guilt was threatening to swallow her whole, she knew that even if she really died, Castle would still be safe.

She knelt down and placed the flowers she had bought at her mother's grave. "Hey mom." She murmured and traced the writing on the stone. "I love you." She whispered and traced the Latin words on her grave.

Vincit omnia veritas

He still went to the cemetery on sleepless nights. When the nightmares about the moments he could have lost her, and the moment he actually did, took him by surprise and led him down the familiar road. When it was really bad he simply stood at her grave and waited for the ground to swallow him whole. At times it was better, more bearable. At those times he told her stories, because after all he was still a writer.

He always brought her flowers.

Sometimes when he arrived at day there was someone else laying flowers on her grave. Sometimes Ryan or Esposito, sometimes other NYPD detectives paying honor to one of their own. One time he even saw captain Gates laying down a bouquet of white roses. When he came at night, he was always alone with her. He liked it better that way.

That night the figure laying flowers on the grave of Kate Beckett took him by surprise. He stood at the edge of the cemetery, waiting for the figure to disappear. Giving her the time to pay homage to the extraordinary woman who had touched so many hearts in her life. It was too dark for him to recognize who the figure was, but it could be anyone: a friend, someone's life she saved, perhaps even a family member he didn't know. All he could make out were the contours of a woman when the figure disappeared into the night. Giving him the time to be with Kate, to tell her about his day.

What he saw when he got to her grave stopped him dead in his tracks.

There were flowers on the grave of Johanna Beckett.

AN: Really nervous about this chapter, but I hope you guys like it :).