I don't own Castle - ABC Studios and Andrew Marlowe do. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while to play.

I am not making any money from this; it's just to freeshare with my ff friends.

[AN If a snapshot needs an M rating it will be published under the title Mature Snapshots from the 'Per Adversa' 'Verse]

"Sometimes the hardest things in life are the things most worth doing."

Richard Castle: Antidote

The Return

January 2014

...

Kevin Ryan stopped at the base of the steps leading up to the Twelfth Precinct and hesitated to continue up them. He had gone up and down those steps more times than he could count, but he didn't often just stand and look up at the precinct and hesitate to enter.

The first time he had stood here had been on his first day at the Twelfth. He remembered the nervousness he had felt, but also the excitement and anticipation. He had come here from Vice, and although he had enjoyed his time spent there, mostly, and had felt satisfaction with the job he had done, Homicide was what he really wanted. He had helped to put away many dealers and pimps, and there were many people he had helped as well, although most of them he did not meet and never would. Still his sense of purpose and need to help others which had inspired him to join the NYPD in the first place had been partly fulfilled by his experience in Vice.

But Homicide was always his dream job. He had felt he would be able to really help people get justice and closure here. He had also been looking forward to the challenge of the puzzles he would face. He had felt his natural curiosity to discover more about everything he came across in his life would be an essential asset to his future assignment and he had been really looking forward to having to dig in and investigate when the main witness of the crime was unable to speak to them, because they would never speak again.

And then there was the time he had stood here next to his partner and gazed up at the carvings above the door with a deep sense of disquietude and guilt. A young girl was dead… DEAD… because his reactions were far too slow; and he had allowed someone to take away his gun and his shield. The most stupid thing he had ever done as a police officer. Esposito and Beckett and even Castle could tell him that Jane Herzfeld's death was not his fault, but he knew it was, at least partly, and he would always have to carry her death on his conscience. And now he had his own wife's death joining her on his conscience.

He had been proud of his undercover stint on Staten Island. Proud that so many of that crew, who made lives miserable through their prostitution rings and drug trafficking, had been sent to prison because of information he had uncovered. His only regret had been the woman he had fallen for, but been forced to leave behind. But then he had met Jenny and realized that what he felt for Siobhan had been nowhere as deep as he had thought. He was attracted to her and cared about her, but the feelings had been mainly engendered by the time and place and role. The person Siobhan wanted to be with was Fenton O'Connell, and that person didn't really exist. It was a role he had been playing and the feelings were part of the role. What he felt for Jenny was on a completely different level.

Still, although not the love he had imagined, he had cared about Siobhan, and wanted her to be happy and safe. So he had returned briefly to Fenton, never realizing that by doing so he would endanger his life, his wife and his future. Because of that decision the main part of his life had been swept away, and a part of him wished, not for the first time, that he, himself, had been totally swept away with everything else. His heart ached for the life he should have lived, but although he had not completely accepted it, he knew he would never be able to have it back.

And now here he stood, ready to return to the only aspect of his old life which still existed. Returning to the Twelfth could possibly return to him a sense of purpose back into his life. Something to live for; and yet he still hesitated, rooted to the spot by a deep sense of dread and fear. He wasn't sure if he could even do this anymore, despite the support he knew he would receive from his partners and friends and colleagues.

Nearly everyone from the Twelfth, even some people he hardly knew, had dropped by the hospital at some point to express their sorrow to him for the loss of his wife, to wish him well and to hope for a speedy return to them. He had never before realized the number of people at the Twelfth on whom he had made an impression, and it wasn't just him; Jenny had made an impact as well. So many of them spoke fondly of her and remembered the home-baked cookies she had sent in to the precinct from time to time.

He was silently willing himself to move, trying to pep-talk himself up those steps which suddenly seemed monumental, when he felt a hand slap on his back and an arm go around his shoulders.

"Kevin Ryan! Welcome back, buddy. It's so great to see you." He turned and looked into the face of a detective from Homicide he had never worked with, and didn't know that well. Tom Conroy was a fairly new member to the bullpen, having only started a couple of weeks before the Ryans went away for what became their last ever vacation. Kevin suddenly remembered that on Tom's first day he had caught him struggling with the coffee machine supplied by Castle, and had shown him how to use it. That was about the extent of their interaction, and yet now he was making Ryan feel welcome in a way he had rarely experienced.

With Tom's arm around his shoulders, and his voice chatting away in his ear, Ryan finally managed to mount the steps and return to the Homicide department of the Twelfth Precinct. At this moment in his life all he really wanted was to be wherever Jenny and his child were. But returning to his job was perhaps the first step to regaining something back into his life. Knowing that others wanted him to be back did not exactly make him happy, because he wasn't sure if happiness would ever feature in his life again, but it DID make him feel a slight sense of gratification. Maybe something could be salvaged in his wreck of a life. His steps forward would be baby steps, but at least they WOULD be forwards.

...

AN: A HUGE thank you to Firestar385 for beta reading, Americanizing and generally correcting this work. Any remaining mistakes are mine!

Please let me know what you think. All constructive criticism is welcomed - I haven't written in quite a while and the only way to improve is to take on board other people's comments. I hope you will enjoy the reading journey as much as I am enjoying the writing one.