A/N: Yes, chezchuckles got it right, the show that Castle's book was borrowing from was the 80's cartoon Jem. Also, apologies for not updating sooner. I've just been busy, went through a move and I've had a lot of summer reading. Good news is, from here on out the story should be back on track and updates will be much sooner. Thanks for reading, reviews always appreciated!

"Please feel free to blither now." – Mostly Harmless, by Douglas Adams

Kate walked home, lost in her thoughts. She'd slept with Castle. Well, not she but the she that was an actress that she had now become through some unexplainable transition. Really, she theorized as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, it just wasn't fair. She didn't even remember sleeping with Castle, and yet she had to face the repercussions. All the consequences and none of the benefits.

She shook her head like these thoughts would go flying out and never trouble her again before going into her apartment. Hey, she realized as she dropped her purse on the counter, if my old apartment never exploded, why am I living here? The answer was pretty clear, though- this place was more expensive. It made sense that Actress-Kate wouldn't be caught dead in that old apartment, but this place was nice.

And there was the issue again- she'd slept with Castle. It seemed extremely out-of-character, but then so did acting in the Knife movies. And if she'd had sex with Castle, then who else? Concerned, Kate went into her bedroom and pulled out the address book she kept in her nightstand of all her romantic endeavors. She flipped through it and her mouth popped open- it was completely full of names and numbers. With a groan, she noticed that "Volume One" was written on the side.

"Oh, my God," she said to herself, slumping back on the bed and running her hands through her hair. She was a slut. Well, not she but the she that was an actress that she had now become through some unexplainable transition. It was at times like this that she really wished she could talk to her mother.

Kate blinked and glanced up. She could talk to her mother. In fact, it was the ability that she had to talk to her mother that seemed to have put this strange universe into action. She stood up and went for her purse.

A little less than an hour later, Beckett pulled up outside her mother and father's house in the red convertible whose keys she'd found she had possession of. (After that, it was only a matter of going into the nearest parking garage and clicking the keys until something blinked.)

The house looked mostly the same as it did in the world she knew, where it only belonged to her dad, except more of her mom's pink plastic flamingos were standing in the yard. She killed the engine and stepped out of the car, shutting the car door behind her as quietly as was possible. It was like she didn't want to disturb this house that contained her living mother, like any slight change in the atmosphere would shatter everything.

That need not to disturb anything got in the way a bit when it came to the matter of knocking or ringing. She decided to knock, but as softly as she could and still be sure that someone inside heard it. There was a long moment where she worried that the house and the hope of seeing her mother again would suddenly be swept out from under her feet. Then, Johanna Beckett answered the door.

"Mom," said Kate, her voice catching in her throat. Any stress or concern about the upsetting state of her life evaporated upon seeing the woman who had raised her. She was just happy to see the mother she thought she'd never see again.

"Hi, Kate," said Johanna, sounding a bit confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I, um… I just wanted to see you," she said, finding it difficult to articulate what she wanted to say. She'd spent almost thirteen years coping with the loss of her mother, and here she was, no need to cope. It was startling, but it was a pleasant kind of startling.

Johanna's expression changed from confusion to what looked like some combination of sternness and exasperation. It didn't make sense to Kate, and she wondered what was wrong. "How much do you want?" her mother sighed, disappointment seeping from every angle of her body. Kate reacted like she'd been slapped.

"What are you talking about?" said Kate. "Mom, I just wanted to see you. Talk to you."

"Of course you did," said Johanna, voice full of sarcasm. She squinted then, looking more closely at Kate. "Are you high again?"

"Mom!" said Kate, shocked. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure you do," said Johanna, beginning to close the door. "You're not that good of an actress, Kate." With that, she shut the front door in her face.

Kate Beckett slumped onto the couch she didn't remember having before and flipped on the far-too-big TV in an attempt to drown out her thoughts. It didn't work very well, and even though she tried to pay attention to the blonde news lady on the screen, she was pulled back into thoughts about her mother's reaction to seeing her.

So this would have been the natural progression of things, she thought to herself. If Montgomery had never shot Bob Armand, if "the Dragon" had never hired Dick Coonan to kill her mother, this is where she would end up: a famous actress who slept around and had a dysfunctional relationship with her mother.

She picked up the remote, planning on channel-surfing until she found something comforting and familiar like Friends or Saved by the Bell when she realized what story was on the news- Alan Basher had just been found murdered in his home. She wouldn't have sat up and stared frozen at the screen if she didn't remember his name from her brief flip through her book of past romances.

As it was, she very clearly remembered seeing his name in there. The she that was an actress that she had now become through some unexplainable transition had had a relationship with the man whose murder was being covered on the news on that far-too-big TV, and that got under her skin more than anything else had today.