For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
...or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts.
-T.S. Eliot

On Thursday morning Castle was up early, despite having worked on the new opera until far too late the previous night. He stood beside the piano with a cup of coffee in his hand, flipping through the pages of music that he had written. Seeing the small galaxies of musical notes dancing across the paper filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

He had more to write, but it would have to wait. Two rehearsals, a murder mystery, and a remarkably frustrating woman were on his agenda for the day.

After seeing Alexis off to school, he made his way to Symphony Hall, with just one quick stop along the way. He was relieved to see that the media crews had abandoned the area - apparently the still-unsolved murder of a soprano was old news now - and the front door was no longer guarded. He let himself in and strode quickly along the corridors to the library.

Beckett was already there, searching down the long stretches of shelving, when he arrived. "Good morning," he chirped, juggling two paper cups and his briefcase as he came through the door.

"Morning," she responded coolly. She watched him with a somewhat cautious, guarded expression as he set the briefcase and one cup down on the table and brought the other cup over to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's coffee, Beckett," he said patiently, pressing the cup into her hand. "See, you can tell from the Starbucks logo on the side, and the delicious coffee smell."

She narrowed her eyes. "I told you, you don't have to buy me coffee."

"Yes, you did, but as you've noticed by now, I don't listen," he replied cheerfully as she took a suspicious sip. Her eyebrows went up; she said nothing, but took another, larger sip. Castle suppressed a smile of pride. Remembering how she liked her coffee had been a good move.

"Thanks," she said grudgingly, and gestured toward the shelves. "I think I found everything we need right here."

"The instrumental parts for the alto versions?" He looked, and took down the volumes that she indicated. Together they carried the scores over to the table and spread them out.

"This should do it," she said, surveying the pile. "Let's just double-check and make sure we have all the parts."

Working side by side, they sorted out the sheaves of paper, making piles for the different sections of the orchestra.

"I was thinking," Castle said as he separated the viola parts, "what if Annabel swallowed it? The thing she was going to give to her sister."

"Swallowed it?" Beckett repeated, disbelieving.

"Yeah, you know, to keep it out of the wrong hands. When she saw the murderer coming, she swallowed whatever it was, so that the enemy wouldn't get hold of it."

"So we're back to secret nuclear launch codes, are we?" Beckett asked, rolling her eyes. "Castle, there's no vast international conspiracy at work here. Annabel wasn't a spy. She was just a singer."

"She could have been both. It would be the perfect cover," he exclaimed, letting the idea carry him away. "Think about it - being a musician gets you access to places that might be hard for a spy to get into otherwise. Fancy parties, embassies, that kind of thing. She could have gone there to perform, or, or to tutor the ambassador's kids, and collected intel while she was there." He blinked a few times. "Whoa, that's good. I'm so going to use that."

"Castle," Beckett said in exasperation, but then there came a tentative rap on the door, a young woman sticking her head in. Another young woman was right behind her. Behind them, in the hallway, orchestra members were beginning to arrive for the rehearsal.

"Kate? Can we talk to you?" asked the young woman in the doorway, anxiously.

"Oh - sure," Beckett replied, looking surprised. "Come on in. Castle, this is Amy, and this is Laura, our flautists."

"Good to see you again, ladies," Castle said smoothly, shaking their hands. The two young women blushed and stammered, and couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yes, um, you too, sir," one of them muttered, and the other just nodded and blushed. Castle was used to people getting star-struck and tongue-tied around him, and from the way the two young women were looking from Beckett to him and back, he sensed that his presence was unnerving them. Time to back off.

"Excuse me," he said with a friendly smile, and shot a look at Beckett that he hoped was meaningful in some way, and exited the library.

Pacing casually up and down the hall, studying the portraits on the walls of famous conductors and symphony presidents of the past, he ruminated on the fact that Beckett was clearly the person everyone came to with their problems, questions, and dilemmas. Not surprising; she had a way of setting people at ease, making them feel comfortable with whatever they had to say. It was too bad Annabel hadn't known that, he thought vaguely; maybe if she had confided in Beckett, none of this would be happening.

A few minutes could seem like hours to Castle, who was not the most patient man at the best of times, so he had no idea how long it had been when the library door opened again and the two flute players came out, looking relieved.

"Thanks, Kate," they both said, and smiled nervously at Castle, and hurried off to the stage.

"What was that all about? he asked as he came back into the library and returned to the piles of music on the table. He noticed that Beckett was grimacing, shaking her head. He grinned suddenly. "I'm going to love it, aren't I?"

"Yeah," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, come on, Beckett, out with it."

She sighed and huffed some more, and gave in. "It seems that during the joint rehearsal on Monday, Amy heard a chorus soprano in the bathroom complaining that she had auditioned for a role that ended up going to Annabel. And Amy heard her say, 'if Annabel takes one more part that should have been mine, I'll kill her.'"

Castle's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really. That's ... interesting."

"Yeah," Beckett said reluctantly. "And Laura was here on Tuesday, using the practice rooms in the basement during the chorus rehearsal, and when she was coming up the stairs to leave, she saw Annabel in the stairwell arguing with a woman. Presumably the same soprano. She heard Annabel say something like 'you can't have it, it's mine.'"

"Whoa," Castle said. "Did Amy and Laura tell you who it was?"

"No, Amy never saw her face in the bathroom, and Laura doesn't know the chorus members so she didn't recognize her."

"Hmm," he mused. "And let me guess, the stairs coming up from the basement are the same stairs that go to the upper balcony where Annabel was shot."

"That's right."

"Well, what do you know," he grinned. He had been right: he did love it. "All of a sudden we have another suspect."

"Yeah," Beckett said skeptically, "but it's not exactly damning, Castle. I mean, people say that kind of thing all the time - 'I'm gonna kill her' - it's just a figure of speech. They don't really mean they're going to literally murder someone."

"No, but I bet Detective Gates would still consider it a lead worth tracking down," he insisted, "and we could help her by figuring out which soprano it was."

Beckett paused, biting her lip indecisively. "Well..."

"It shouldn't be too hard," he urged. "Everyone gossips in a choir, right? We just have to ask the right person."

"There you are, you two," said a voice from the doorway. They both startled and looked over to see Howard Grainger leaning in. "Ready to get started?"

"Yes, of course," Castle said instantly, flashing his most confident smile. "We were just getting the music together for the alto versions of those arias."

"Good. Good," Howard said. "I've asked Chloe to come by today and run through those bits with you. But we're still looking for a soprano for the necessary bits in Part One."

"Yeah," Castle said, casting a glance over at Beckett, whose expression was completely neutral now as she gathered up the stacks of sheet music. "Um, listen, Howard, don't worry about that, okay? We, um, we're working on a solution."

"Oh?" Howard looked surprised. "Okay. Well, dress rehearsal's tomorrow, so I hope your solution gets itself wrapped up by then."

"It will," Beckett said unexpectedly, and Castle gaped at her as Howard nodded and withdrew.

"Beckett-"

"Time to get started," she cut him off, plopping the pile of sheet music into his arms and picking up her violin case. "You coming, Castle?"

"Yeah. Yeah," he said, and snapped his mouth shut, and followed her.

"Good morning," Castle said as he ascended the podium, and the musicians began to quiet, listening. Kate set her violin case on her seat and began to move between the chairs, passing out new sheet music to the players.

"I'm sure you've all heard what happened the other day," Castle went on, "and, well, I won't sugarcoat it. It was pretty awful." He paused, and the concert hall was silent for a long moment. "But the best way to honor Annabel is by moving on with this beautiful music," Castle continued then, "so without further ado, let's get into it." He nodded to Beckett, who paused and turned to address the orchestra as well.

"There've been a few changes to the program," she told her fellow players. "We'll be doing the all-alto version of number twenty, and the alto variation of number 38. I'm handing out updated music now."

"What about the other soprano solos?" called a voice from the cello section. Kate opened her mouth to reply, but Castle beat her to it.

"We'll be rehearsing those at the end today if we have time," he said, "and the situation is still unresolved, so that's the best we can tell you for right now."

Some of the players looked less than fully satisfied with the response, but no one said anything further. Kate finished handing out the new scores and returned to her seat, quickly getting out her violin and bow while the rest of the instruments were tuning up.

In short order, Castle ran them through the two instrumental movements and the first few arias and choruses. Kate played almost on autopilot, as her mind kept wandering back to the ongoing mystery of Annabel's death.

Now they had three suspects, and no more answers than they had had yesterday. Kate wished she could share Castle's confidence in the power of narrative, but right now it seemed impossible that one story could explain all the bits and pieces of information that they had gathered. She wondered how it would feel if the police did identify and capture the killer, but left some of those loose ends dangling. Somehow, she suspected that would not sit well with Castle.

Shaking herself slightly, she forced the murder from her mind and focused on the music, and on Castle. She noticed that he seemed more confident than he had in the first few rehearsals earlier in the week. She still wasn't sure exactly what it was in his body language that had given her the impression that he was nervous, but he seemed much more relaxed now.

It also hadn't escaped Kate's notice that he hadn't asked her to meet before the rehearsal again to make a plan. Apparently, after the first three rehearsals, he had gotten a pretty good sense of what needed to be worked on. He had a sheet of paper on his music stand, covered with scribbles that seemed to be his list of trouble spots to work on. As the rehearsal proceeded, he consulted the list frequently, and kept things moving without sign of hesitation.

Just as Castle called a break in the middle of rehearsal, the alto soloist, Chloe Palmer, arrived in the hall. Kate got up from her seat and went to greet her.

"Hi, Chloe. Thanks for coming."

"It's no problem," Chloe replied, smiling, but casting a nervous glance upward. "Poor Annabel," she murmured. "Oh, I know it's silly, but it just feels strange to be here where she, you know."

"It's not silly," Kate assured her as Castle came over to join them. "But you don't have anything to worry about. You're in no danger."

"Yeah," Castle agreed, "it's not like we have a serial killer roaming around looking for soloists to knock off." His eyes glazed slightly and Kate could tell that he was thinking how 'cool' that would be, so she quickly headed him off.

"Chloe, have you met Maestro Castle? We're all ready to go through the solos if you're ready."

Chloe went off to a quiet corner to warm up, and Kate found herself standing with Castle in almost the same spot where they had been the other night, when Annabel fell. She shuddered a little and moved away.

Castle, of course, followed. "Hey, Beckett, we should have a strategy for this afternoon. We have a lot to get through."

She looked askance at him. "Why do I get the feeling that you aren't talking about rehearsing with the chorus?"

"I don't know what you mean," he grinned, batting his eyes innocently. "But we should discuss it. Did you bring a sandwich again, or are you going out for lunch?"

Beckett folded her arms across her chest and studied Castle through narrowed eyes, debating. It almost kind of sounded like he was asking her out … again. Just like he had done at lunchtime the other day. But was she imagining things?

Against her will, her mind drifted back to their conversation in the balcony yesterday, when they were imagining Annabel and Brett having a fight, or a liaison. She remembered Castle's hands on her arms, the way he looked at her, the rough rasp of his voice.

Maybe she wasn't imagining things after all. But that didn't mean a lunch date was a good idea.

Before she could decide how to respond, they were interrupted by a clarinetist with a question, and then there was a cellist with another question, and then it was time to resume the rehearsal. Kate chewed on her lower lip as she went back onstage and retrieved her violin. She knew it was too much to hope for that Castle would let the whole thing drop.

"Let's start with How Beautiful Are The Feet, since it's shorter," Castle said as they reconvened. Chloe nodded agreement, the orchestra members rustled pages as they found the right spot, and they began.

The alto version of this aria was not nearly as commonly performed as the soprano version, and Kate didn't know it well, despite having performed Messiah so many times. She was impressed by how well the lower register seemed to suit the music, bringing it more down to earth as compared with the ethereal soprano version. It seemed somehow more somber and contemplative. She couldn't decide whether she liked it better, but she did like it.

Chloe smiled throughout the piece, letting her mellow tones soar out into the open space of the concert hall. If she was nervous about having her role in the concert greatly increased as a result of Annabel's death, she didn't show it.

When the movement was finished, Castle turned to Chloe with a smile. "That was great," he told her. "I've never heard this version before."

"No, it isn't very well-known," Chloe nodded. "It's fun though. Shall we do the other one?"

They moved on to He Shall Feed His Flock, which was normally performed as an alto-soprano duet. In the revised version, Chloe would sing both verses. This version too was less well-known, and the orchestra members' faces were drawn tight in concentration. They stumbled their way through it, somewhat uncertainly.

As soon as the last notes died away, almost everyone - the players, Castle, and Chloe - reached for pencils to mark up their scores. "Good work, everyone," Castle said as he scribbled. "I think we could use another pass through that one, what do you think?" he added, looking over toward Kate, and including Chloe in the lift of his eyebrows as well.

"I think that's a good idea," Kate responded, and Chloe nodded to show willing. So they played through the movement again, and it went much more smoothly this time; a subtle tension was released throughout the orchestra by the time they reached the end. Chloe was nodding and smiling, turning back to cast a grateful look at the whole group.

"Thanks, everyone," she said, and Castle echoed, "Yes, thank you. That was much better, wasn't it?"

Nods all around. Kate gave Castle an approving nod of her own, and was interested to note how relieved he looked.

Then Castle was shaking Chloe's hand and thanking her for coming; they would rehearse the rest of her solos tomorrow.

After Chloe left, Castle took the orchestra through a few more movements, and then said, "Before we call it a day, I'd like to run through the soprano solo movements. I know everyone has places to be," he added apologetically, "but I hope you'll all bear with me a little bit longer to just quickly go over these parts."

The players shifted in their seats, murmuring assent; Kate didn't hear any grumbles of complaint, and as she looked across the orchestra, it struck her again that Castle had somehow managed to charm this entire group onto his side. In previous years they had been united in mordant dislike for Perlmutter, and now, it seemed, they were united in tolerant affection for Castle. It was an interesting change in the group dynamic.

They played quickly through the accompaniment for the three recitatives that told the story of the Annunciation, and then they played Rejoice Greatly, ending only a few minutes later than scheduled. "Thanks so much, everyone," Castle called as the players began quickly packing up their instruments. "I'll see you here again tomorrow for the dress rehearsal. It's gonna be great."

Kate sat in her chair and covertly watched Castle while she put away her violin. She observed how he flashed a smile at each person who came up to talk to him, and the smiles looked genuine; he focused on the faces of the people he was speaking to, and responded with interest and care, never showing any hint of boredom or reluctance, even with those who rambled on interminably. If he was faking it, he was an excellent actor.

Of course, he was Martha Rodgers' son. But still, Kate's instincts told her that he wasn't faking it, not here, not with these people.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and forced herself to look away.

Castle hadn't missed Beckett's reaction to his question about lunch. He hadn't really intended it as anything more than an invitation of convenience - they both needed to eat, and he had things he wanted to talk to her about - but of course, he realized belatedly, she would have seen it in a different light. He hadn't forgotten her reaction to being seen with him at Starbucks the other day, and although part of him might feel a little hurt, he did get it. Beckett had to be careful of her reputation and image. As appealing as the idea of a lunch date was to him, he could see that she wasn't in the same mindset. Yet.

So when the orchestra rehearsal was finished, and he had dealt with all of the various questions that inevitably came his way, he strolled over to Beckett and simply said, "I'm going to go grab a sandwich. Can I bring something back for you?"

She straightened up from closing her violin case and looked at him, surprised. "Um, sure, chicken salad would be perfect. Thanks."

"You got it." He put on his coat and left, whistling.

Thanks again to all readers and reviewers. I really appreciate all of your comments.