Music is like a mirror in front of you. You're exposing everything, but surely that's better than suppressing.
-Enya

Kate was up early the next morning and went for a run in the dim light of the December morning. It was cold and overcast, and as she jogged along the streets of Manhattan she saw several people doing obvious walks of shame. She couldn't help thinking that, if things had gone differently, that could have been her as well: sneaking out of Castle's loft in yesterday's clothes in the early Sunday-morning chill.

She was certainly better off not having to do that, she reflected as she retraced her steps toward home.

It was ironic, perhaps, that after she had spent so much time debating whether to let things move forward with him, it was Castle who had put a stop to their make-out session last night. In the moment she'd been angry and, yes, a little hurt. But she had to admit - to herself, never to Castle - that his reasoning was valid, and kind of sweet. She was no stranger to morning-after hoarseness, and she knew, somehow, that with Castle she wouldn't be quiet in bed. So that could certainly have spelled disaster for today's final concert.

In the taxi on the way home from his loft last night, another thought had suddenly struck her. She'd remembered her father sleeping on the couch many times when she was young, and it had never occurred to her until now that all of those occasions happened the night before Johanna had a performance. In particular, Kate remembered one morning when Jim came yawning into the kitchen from the living room, rumpled with sleep, and young Katie couldn't understand the looks that her parents kept shooting at each other over her head.

But now, many years later, she remembered and squirmed with distaste at the thought. Ugh, she really did not need this knowledge in her head.

She wondered whether Castle had been speaking from past experience as well. Surely he had dated other singers in his time. Then her smooth, sure jogging stride faltered as she realized how she had mentally phrased that: other singers? Was she thinking of herself as a singer now?

That thought followed her all the way up to her apartment and into the shower.

After she had dried off and dressed, she made herself a plate of eggs with toast, fruit, and green tea. She had just finished eating when the phone rang, and she saw her father's name on the caller ID.

"Hi, Dad."

"Good morning, Katie. How was your second concert last night?"

"It was good. Great," she corrected herself. "And how was Martha's play? Was it weird sitting with Alexis? You hardly know her."

"No, it wasn't weird," he replied. "She's a very personable young woman. I enjoyed the play, and her company." He chuckled softly, adding, "I skipped the wild after-parties, though. That's not my style, you know."

"I do know," Kate laughed, trying and failing to picture her dad carousing with Martha Rodgers and an entire acting troupe into the wee hours. "I'm glad you had a good time, though."

"Yes. Listen, I have a brunch with some clients, so I can't talk long. I just thought I'd better call early, to wish you well for today. Break a leg. I'm sure you'll be wonderful."

"Thanks, Dad," she smiled. "Talk again soon."

After she and Jim hung up, Kate cleared away her dishes, tidied the kitchen, and went to the living room to put in some violin practice.

Finished with that, she put her violin and bow into their case, and set the case next to the door. Then she found herself at her stereo again. The Messiah disc was still in the CD player, and she pressed Play and skipped forward to the Hallelujah.

The familiar, beautiful strains filled the air, and as she moved around the living room with a cleaning cloth, she indulged herself in singing along full-throatedly with the chorus.

As the final notes drifted away, she heard a knock on the door. Hastily, she stopped the CD and went to look through the peephole.

"Castle?" she exclaimed, surprised.

"Are you decent?" his voice came through the door. She rolled her eyes and opened the door so he could see her jeans and t-shirt.

"Don't look so disappointed," she scolded.

"Gotta admit I was hoping to find you more ... indecent," he replied, waggling his eyebrows. A soft chuckle escaped her and she waved him in. "Enjoying the Hallelujah?" he added as he entered her apartment. Her cheeks heated up.

"I was just..." she mumbled, but he cut her off, smiling.

"You don't have to make excuses. It's a great piece, so much fun. And I saw you trying to sing along yesterday during the concert."

"Oh." Embarrassed, she wondered whether anyone else had noticed. "What are you doing here, anyway, Castle?" she demanded defensively.

"Right!" He turned from his perusal of her living space to smile at her again, as earnest as a little boy. "Well, I was up early, so I thought I'd come by and bring you coffee and a donut."

Kate looked pointedly at his empty hands, and raised her eyebrows.

"...But then I remembered that you aren't supposed to have coffee before you sing," he added sheepishly, "and a donut is probably too much fat and carbs. So instead I bring you promises of coffee and donuts for later ... and this." He pulled a newspaper from his coat pocket.

"The morning paper?" she said, confused.

"Yeah. Did you read it? There's a review."

Oh. She had her copy on the kitchen table, but she hadn't looked at the arts pages yet. "A review? Really? Is it any good?"

"It's awesome. Get this." He unfolded the paper, scanned across the lines, and read aloud in a booming news-anchor voice. "'The New York Symphony sought to bring fresh life to the familiar oratorio, with reasonable success. Maestro Castle, despite limited experience with classical conducting, did a more than adequate job of coaxing expression and depth of feeling from the ensemble.'" He paused to grin over at her. "More than adequate! That's the nicest thing anyone has said about me in ages."

Kate couldn't restrain a laugh at that. "It's not exactly a rave review, Castle."

"Oh, but I'm not finished. Listen - 'But the highlight of the show by far was soprano Kate Beckett, formerly known as concertmaster Kate Beckett, whose unexpected appearance in the solo role dazzled and enthralled the entire audience. Her light coloratura was perfectly suited to the vocal gymnastics of Rejoice Greatly, and one is forced to wonder whether the symphony may soon be in the market for a new first violinist.'"

"Does it really say that?" she gasped, her face flushing anew. She grabbed for the paper and Castle let her take it from his hand.

"It really does," he confirmed.

"This is crazy," she muttered, scanning the words. Castle nodded agreement.

"Yeah, I know. 'One is forced to wonder'? I mean, who talks like that?"

She gave him a sour look and handed the paper back.

"Anyway," he added, "all the other papers are saying the same kind of things, and the blogs, the websites, everyone. You've made quite a splash." He looked carefully at her. "Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," she muttered, turning away, closing her eyes briefly to let it all sink in. The phone hadn't rung incessantly this morning like it had yesterday, so she'd thought….

"Maybe just a little?" Castle asked, but his tone was gentle, not teasing. "Beckett, let me give you a ride in. I've got my car."

She glanced at the clock. It was indeed almost time to get going to Symphony Hall for the final concert.

"Unless you're still mad at me," he added uncertainly.

Kate looked at him, pursing her lips. She wasn't angry with him any more, in fact, but she hesitated, debating the merits of stringing him along for a little while longer - making him sweat.

Her silence brought him to the wrong conclusion and he took a step closer to her, saying softly, "Tell me what I can do to fix this."

She looked up into his eyes, and, without fully thinking it through, blurted out "Tell me about Alexis's mother."

"Meredith?" Castle grimaced, looking away, running a hand through his hair. "Not much to tell. We were young and stupid. She got pregnant, and I thought getting married would solve everything." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I didn't realize that we ... wanted different things."

"She didn't want a baby?" Kate asked quietly. He shook his head.

"No. And she resented having to put her career on hold. She couldn't wait to push the baby out and get back to Hollywood." His eyebrows drew down. "Then she found someone else to sleep with, and that was the end of it."

Kate felt her mouth fall open. "She what? Oh, Castle. I'm sorry." The look on his face made her regret having brought up the topic.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, visibly shaking it off. "We both got what we wanted in the end. Meredith got her freedom, and I got Alexis."

Kate took a slow breath, shaking her head. "How could anyone cheat on you?" she wondered aloud, and then blushed fiercely as she suddenly realized how that sounded. Well. No use trying to pretend she was still mad at him, she supposed.

The import of her words didn't escape Castle; he smirked, and she braced herself for some kind of innuendo-laden taunt, but all he said was, "Well, I can be a bit of a jackass sometimes."

"You don't say," she quipped dryly. Her cheeks were still flaming, but the banter took the edge off her embarrassment.

"Kate," he said softly, stepping even closer to her. His eyes were the deep blue of the ocean, swimming with feeling. Her pulse sped up as she looked into them.

"It's time to go," she said quietly, and stepped away.

In the car, it was mostly silent. Castle tried not to watch Beckett as he drove; she sat with her Messiah score on her lap, reviewing the music for what must be the millionth time.

He was relieved that she seemed to have forgiven him for last night's shenanigans, and, although it surprised him to realize it, he was glad to have told her about his ex-wife. He didn't think the story painted him in a very flattering light, but after all, he wasn't the one who had cheated. And Beckett's response had been ... gratifying. It was good to know that last night hadn't changed how she reacted to him.

He thought that she had been more rattled by the newspaper review, and the added attention that it represented, than she was letting on; but she seemed more relaxed now, closing her score as they approached the Symphony Hall parking garage.

"So this is it, the last concert," he commented as he steered the car into the garage. "Any last words of advice for your rookie conductor?"

"What do you need advice for? You're already 'more than adequate,'" she teased, her eyes twinkling as she gathered up her bag and violin. He chuckled as he took the keys out of the ignition and reached to snag his briefcase from the back seat.

"Thought I might try for 'surprisingly acceptable' today," he joked, following Beckett to the elevator.

As soon as they emerged into the corridors of Symphony Hall, at least three instrumentalists needed immediate attention from Beckett, and so it began. Castle left her to it and wandered off to his dressing room, musing about the whole week: how much he had enjoyed it - despite the trauma of witnessing Annabel's murder - and how quickly it had gone by. He almost wished there could be some way to slow down and savor the final concert, but of course, once the lights went up, it would be the beginning of the end.

Thinking about this, he put on his tuxedo and then went back out into the basement hallway, where he could hear the chorus warming up. He followed the sound to a large practice room and found almost the entire chorus gathered there, vocalizing their warmup exercises under Lanie's direction. She paused when she saw Castle come in, but he gestured her to continue.

"Please, don't let me interrupt," he said. "But I would like to say a few words, once you're finished."

"Go ahead, Maestro," Lanie encouraged. The chorus members looked at him expectantly, most of them smiling, as he turned to face them.

"I won't keep you long," he promised. "I just wanted to thank all of you, for being so welcoming and making this week so enjoyable. I've had an amazing time and we've made some beautiful music together. It's really been a great experience. So, thank you."

"No, thank you!" called a voice from the back, and the entire chorus burst into applause. Castle smiled and waved in appreciation.

The group broke up then, the singers moving off to do their final prep, and Castle hung around for a few minutes to chat with those who approached him. Eventually he made his way back out into the hallway and found Beckett there, leaning against the wall with a small smile on her lips. She was wearing the black dress again, her hair up; she looked stunning, as always. He paused in the doorway to take her in, his mouth going dry.

"Nice little speech," she commented, the words entirely sincere, not sarcastic.

"Well, I meant it," he replied seriously, stepping toward her. "I'd love to say the same to the orchestra, but it's hard to get them all in one place."

"Most of them are on stage now," she said, and he could take a hint; he paused to take her hand and press it briefly between both of his - the slight contact made his spine tingle, and Beckett's cheeks pinked up enticingly - and then he moved off, heading upstairs.

Most of the orchestra members were indeed on the stage, and they looked up attentively when he began to speak. He gave them a variation of the same thanks he had given the chorus, and the instrumentalists all smiled and nodded their appreciation.

Then the stage manager urged Castle offstage, as the audience was beginning to come in. He retreated, and spent a final few minutes paging through his Messiah score, reviewing his few trouble spots one last time.

Before he knew it, the time had come. Beckett had tuned the orchestra and everyone was in place. Castle met up with Brett, Vincent, and Chloe backstage, and they all nodded and smiled at each other, inhaled deeply, and walked out into the spotlight.

There was, as he had expected, no time to pause, take a breath, savor the moment. He was onstage, the audience was expectantly watching and listening, the singers were seated, the orchestra was ready. Beckett was a steadfast, reliable presence at his left, somehow both reassuring and pleasantly unbalancing him at the same time. He lifted his arms and felt the attention of everyone in the room weighing down on him, but not in a bad way; he felt energized by it, excited.

He started the music, and off they went.

Without realizing it, Kate was thinking along the same lines as Castle. She was feeling bittersweet about the final Messiah concert, in a way that she usually didn't. She loved the piece, but after having performed it so many times, she sometimes found it hard to get excited for another round. But this year, of course, everything was different. This year she was singing; this year there had been a death in the midst of it; this year there was Castle.

So she was looking forward to performing it once more, and feeling both sad and relieved that it was the last time for now. And she had decidedly mixed feelings about what would happen next - with Castle, with her career, all of it. Could she go back to being regular Kate Beckett, first violinist, after having gotten a taste of what it was like to sing onstage?

All of these thoughts and feelings were swirling through her mind as she settled into her seat on the stage and saw Castle sneaking a glance over at her. There was a private sparkle in his eyes that was meant only for her, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to hold back the answering smile that threatened to burst forth. She forced herself to stay professional, to sit up straight and tall, to hold her violin steady under her chin and her bow poised, waiting for Castle's signal.

They launched into the overture and she felt a swell of deep satisfaction filling her chest. Whatever was to come, she knew that music would always be a part of her life.

The concert slipped by in a rush; the orchestra was perfectly in sync, the chorus crackling with energy, the soloists dazzling. The Pifa was upon them and Kate felt no anxiety at all, no nervousness creeping into her fingers or tightening her throat today. She floated serenely on the beautiful music, and then it was time to stand up and sing.

Castle flashed her a tiny, quick smile as she moved into position. She kept her expression blank, but she gave him the briefest of glances and knew that he could see the response in her eyes.

Then she was singing and everything melted away; everything except the music.

The applause was deafening when the concert ended, and the audience demanded another curtain call, which Castle and the soloists were happy to provide. At last they retreated to the backstage area for the final time, all smiling and congratulating each other, thumping each other on the back as the clapping died away and the noise of the audience's chattering voices rose.

Castle stayed in place as before, greeting the chorus members as they came offstage. All were lively and bubbling with the success of the final concert. He complimented them and thanked them, wished them happy holidays, and smiled until his cheeks almost ached.

When Beckett finally appeared, she wore another secretive smile that he was sure was just for him, and it made his breath catch in his throat. She had sung beautifully again, of course; she was incredible - magical - he had no words. He could only wrap his hand around hers and accept the kiss that she brushed across his cheek, murmuring "Wow" into her ear, making her laugh.

"Eloquent as always, Maestro," she teased in a low voice for him alone, and then, with a look full of promise, she moved off to the hallway where the hordes were gathering, all eager to get a piece of them.

Ten minutes later - or fifteen, twenty, who knows - he had shaken innumerable hands, smiled and nodded and thank-you'd in uncountable numbers, and somehow managed to make his way to Beckett's side just as another familiar face presented itself.

"Ms. Beckett, Mister Castle."

"Detective Gates," he exclaimed in surprise, and saw that Kate's eyebrows had gone up as well.

"Thought I'd see what all the fuss was about," the cop explained with a shrug. "I must say, you put on a very enjoyable performance."

"Well, thank you," Beckett said sincerely, shaking Gates's hand. "It was so nice of you to come."

"Yes," Castle agreed a little belatedly, "thanks for coming."

The detective shook his hand as well and then moved off into the crowd, leaving Castle and Beckett to give each other matching looks of surprise.

But before they could say anything, Howard Grainger approached, smiling widely, holding out his hands.

"There they are! The stars of the show," he exclaimed, shaking Castle's hand heartily, pulling Beckett in for an enthusiastic embrace and air-kisses on both cheeks. "Fantastic concert, really, both of you, it was wonderful," he gushed. "The Board and I are so grateful for all of your efforts. We can't thank you enough."

"It was my pleasure," Beckett murmured, looking rather nonplussed by Howard's effusive display.

"Listen, Kate," Howard went on, leaning in a little closer, "something for you to think about - I'm sure you know that Annabel had signed on for several of our spring concerts. Starting with Bach's Magnificat in March. We'll be needing a new soprano for that, and a few others as well." He saw Beckett's startled expression and added, "There's plenty of time for us to find someone else, but if you were interested, there's no question, the job is yours."

"Howard, I - I don't know what-" Beckett stuttered, but her boss just held up a hand and smiled.

"No need to make a decision now. Give it some thought, and we'll talk again after the holidays." And with another big smile and a firm pat on Castle's shoulder, he ambled away.

Castle saw the conflicted expression on Beckett's face and ached to ask her what she was thinking, but it wasn't the time or place. Another pair of audience members approached, and Beckett plastered her performer's smile back onto her face to greet them.

A/N: Thank you as always for your patience and kind words! We are nearing the end - just one or two chapters left.