A/N: You all are amazing. Seriously, the support for this little AU of mine has been humbling; never would I have expected to recieve as many reviews, follows, and favorites as I have (200+ was and is unfathomable). Thank you. Sincerely.

Oh and for those of you who celebrate it, Happy Halloween! I'm dressing up as Captain Mal Reynolds; what/who will you be? ;)

Chapter 16

Saturday morning, the news was all over the stands. Front page, featured article online—everywhere, Alex's face was paired with the bold name of Richard Castle. The home phone was ringing non-stop until someone, either Alex's mother or daughter, decided to go and unplug the damn thing.

As for the man himself, well, Alex spent the majority of his morning in bed, refusing to get up and face the reality of the day. His mother and Alexis probably figured as much because they didn't bother walking in to his bedroom to wake him; for the most part, they left him to his own devices and his own thoughts and feelings. And lamentably for him, with it being a Saturday, Alex had nowhere to be, no class to teach. So instead, he stayed moping around in bed, forced to reflect on the events of the previous day.

It had started off so well. His morning lecture went off without a hitch and soon he was off to pick up Kate at the precinct for their lunch date. He helped with their case, unintentionally but sincerely, and from that assumed a rapport had been built. Everything was so invigorating that for once he actually felt inspired and motivated to write again after the morning's events. But then Kate came to his graduate seminar, and basically arrested him—yes, she only asked him in for some questioning, but it felt as bad as if she had arrested him on the spot. And that interrogation! Boy, was it brutal. All the hurt and anger just got thrown at each other and exhibited on full display. When they finally released him and he got to go home, that feeling of relief did not last long with his daughter's questioning gaze and his publisher's assurance for retribution.

But he didn't want retribution—he didn't care for retribution. His lawyers definitely thought otherwise though. Gina called once again after her first check in and before he retired for the night, updating him on how their attorneys believed him to have a pretty solid case. Whether or not the leak came directly from the NYPD, their actions led to it and as such, it was an invasion of the very privacy laws they were supposed to uphold. Information was revealed that was not of public concern, was never meant to be made public, and the release of which had put Alex under great duress from the harassment.

He, however, only half listened as Gina detailed his situation. He didn't really care too much to pursue it all-frankly, there were other things of more importance to him now that his secret was out. If his publisher wanted to push this, to protect his character, then he didn't mind leaving it all up to her. But for himself, this was about more than just his personal character. He was starting to reevaluate the whole Richard Castle persona.

If he had to be honest with himself, he started writing under a pseudonym because it was convenient. As an academic professor, he knew how it might look if he also had pulp fiction published along with his scholarly articles. Not only would his academic papers be ridiculed and not taken seriously, what if his debut work had been a flop? Then how would he look? He may be heralded now as the "master of the macabre" or a "writer of wrongs," but in hindsight, he couldn't have afforded to think of himself under such flattering terms. Even presently, he still couldn't see himself as this great novelist that some critics made him out to be. His books may have gained a level of notoriety within the murder mystery world, but being a professor at a research institute and all, he knew there were such things as confounding or third variables. Was his fame only ever from the puzzle of his mysterious nom de plume and fictitious persona?

Somewhere deep down, he knew what his works were at their very core. They were by no means serious literature, unlike the ones he analyzed weekly as part of his real job description. And as such, he feared the criticism and scrutiny from his colleagues. Having a pen name allowed him to have his cake and eat it too.

Speaking of which … he was getting kind of hungry. All that thinking was wearing him out and he'd barely moved an inch all morning. If it wasn't for his stomach reminding him he needed some sustenance to fuel these depressing thoughts of his, he'd probably let his mind circle around itself all day.

He's barely made it out of his room and through the adjoining office to his living area when he spied his sentinel of a mother, sitting silently on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand. He wasn't in the mood for conversation, but was too polite to simply walk past her into the kitchen. So instead, he awkwardly halted his steps and attempted to say something casual to fill the still air.

"Normally, Mother, I'd say it's a little early for a glass of wine, but I think today out of all days, that extra kick is appropriate, if not required. I think I'll follow suit." Good job Alex, that was neutral while still bordering on your normally teasing tone, and made clear you can't stay to talk because you have an end goal: the kitchen.

"Alexander, come here for a moment first."

Damn. This was what he had been hoping to avoid. He wasn't ready to talk about all that had happened only yesterday.

"Mother, can I please get some food first?" he deflected. "Or at least drown myself in a glass of scotch?"

"Alexander, I've waited all morning for you. Just sit down; we need to talk."

"Oh god, you're disowning me."

"Can't you be serious for one moment?"

"I'm surprised you are." Ouch.

That may have been a little snippy of him. But he really didn't want to be here in this conversation with his mother. Curse that stomach of his. If it wasn't for his hunger, he could've stayed in bed all day and never have left his room.

At his mother's sigh however, he gave in to her request for his company and thoughts. He hadn't exactly given her (or his daughter) any straight answers last night after he shut himself in his office and room; she must be anxious for and with him.

"What happened with Katherine?"

"She knows."

It was a redundant statement, but Alex felt the need to formally acknowledge that. Of course, his mother knew that Kate knew—he had no need to clarify that with all the paparazzi and phone calls—but his vocalizing helped to solidify in reality all that happened yesterday. Then, it was as if the floodgates opened.

"I really thought we could have a future together. You know, I was willing to really give this relationship a shot … only to find out it was all just a big joke. I'm such a fool."

"You are not a f—"

"No, Mother, it's okay. I've thought about it. In fact, I've done nothing but think about this all morning. Whatever we had, that's over."

"Alexander, love is not a switch. You can't just turn it off."

"Love? Who ever said anything about love?"

"I—"

At that, his mother gave pause, which in turn made him reevaluate his immediate response. Love? Did he love her? Could he have fallen in love with her in only a week? It certainly was possible—people have been known to get married in less time—but after the fiasco of his marriage and Meredith, he had made a promise with himself to not get so readily attached. There was no way he was going to put his daughter through another break up, another divorce.

"It's been a whirlwind romance, indubitably, but I'm pretty sure whatever it was, it won't be pursued by either party. How could you even be focusing on that? Whose side are you on?"

"Your side of course, I'm on your side. But kiddo, and I hate to say it, I saw the way you two looked at each other, and that was only after your first date. She may be hurt now and yes, what she did was bad, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you in return, or feel as affectionately for you as you do her. You are no fool."

"Well excuse me for not marching right back into that precinct of hers to beg for her forgiveness," he replied sarcastically. He didn't know where his mother was going with this—why was she not seeing things from his point of view? How could she still be rooting for this dead end relationship?

"I'm not telling you to go and forgive her for everything that's happened. I've said it once and I will say it again: what Katherine did, it was not her right to. But kiddo, you want her to put you first, instead of her job, when neither one of you knows where or what this relationship of yours is. Do you know how absurd that is? You two are falling head over heels for each other but you have these expectations built as high as that wall of yours, erected after Meredith left. Katherine isn't Meredith."

"What are you—wall? Are you telling me to trust her? How am I supposed to be in this one-way relationship? How can you assume I would even want to be back in her life, or have her in mine, after what she did to my career?!"

"Your career? Alexander, you hide behind that 'wall' around your heart like you hide behind your Richard Castle name. Instead of facing the literature world head on, you took on that silly fake name to keep your professional career safe and separate yourself from your characters in case they tanked. But kiddo, you're the most talented writer I know, and time and time again, that has been proven with each best-seller you publish. People are buying those books not because of the mysterious writer who writes them, but for the words and messages inscribed inside. So why are you still hiding behind your pen name? You've already established yourself as a credible academic and your students and colleagues all respect you there; and in the world of fiction, you're an applauded author." Martha barely took a breath before continuing again, refusing to let him interrupt her.

"Son, when Meredith left you, she forced this wall up around your heart and Kate is the first person I've seen who can chip away at it. You started writing to fill the void left by Meredith's betrayal, and found solace in the justice you can give to your characters, but not for yourself. You used to be able to take risks—I know you Alexander; you do not hold back. But you started to when Meredith left, and now you're doing that with Katherine. You don't need Richard Castle anymore. You can be just Alexander Rodgers, professor and writer. It's a good thing this whole charade is finally out and in the open."

Alex didn't know what to say. He had forgotten how insightful and wise his mother could be when she tried, and this was one of those moments. Everything she said, as much as he didn't want to acknowledge them, hit the nail on its head. He never realized how, slowly, as his mother so bluntly pointed out, he stopped taking risks. He knew what he was getting into when he first decided to submit his manuscript in to be published, but instead of facing it head on, he chose to create Richard Castle instead.

It wasn't about Kate, it never was about her. All Kate did was make him realize the reality he was already living in. But the question was, now that he knows where he stands with Richard Castle, what was he going to do about it? Was he up for the challenge to be, as his mother suggested, both professor and writer?

Weekends do not exist for cops. Nor detectives. Especially not one who had an active murder case to solve and a possible suspension on the line.

Kate Beckett breathed out a sigh as she glanced once again to the analog clock on her desktop, wishing today was over since her public sector profession denied her the luxury of a typical weekend break. When she managed to convince herself the second hand of the clock was actually ticking slower because of her staring, she switched to glancing at her boss's formidably closed door.

Since she'd been in that morning—and she came in before the sun was fully up—her captain has been in his office, with the door shut and blinds drawn. She would've questioned if he was even truly in there, but given the phone calls that kept coming and the occasional gruff of frustration filling the morning silence, she knew he was in there. Sure, she could knock on his door and ask if everything was okay, but she already knew the situation and why he was in so abnormally early. It was all for her sake. And probably the fact that she may have just subjected her precinct and the entire NYPD force to undue scrutiny.

After Captain Montgomery gave her the news flash, Kate had done nothing all night but try to reflect on her actions. She kept replaying every scene with Alex over in her head, from her showing up at his place of work to after his interrogation, and ultimately, she could not see how those moments could have gone any differently. She'd acted on her knowledge as she always had, and candidly approached suspects to ask them in for questioning, regardless of an audience being present or not. Heck, even if Alex had been at a book launch party—which she highly doubt he'd ever host given the anonymity of his name—but even if it was something as public as that, she still would not have done anything differently when going to bring him in.

It wasn't like she called him out as Richard Castle either—all she did was ask him if she could speak with him about Richard Castle. If others drew conclusions from that, she couldn't be held liable, could she? Okay, sure, she was vague, but did that make her accountable? Why was all the heat on her and only her, when gosh dammit, she was hurting here too.

Alex knew she was working on his case and instead of coming clean with her, decided to play her. She honestly trusted him, lord knows why, but she really did in that one week she knew him. She didn't trust men easily, or well, anyone in general, so the fact that Alex managed to get so deep under her skin, it couldn't have been anything short of a miracle. Well, Richard Castle really got to her after her mother's death and considering that they're one and the same, it probably wasn't a miracle that she felt so strongly towards Alex... Wow. Where did that come from? But that has to be it. She never really considered it from that point of view, but boy would it put a lot of things into perspective. It wasn't just that Alex concealed the truth from her—hell she probably could've forgiven him if it was anything else, but no, this had to be about her mother and the fact that Alex was also Richard freaking Castle, the very author she idolized and respected. His novels helped her after her mother's murder; his words brought his victims a justice never afforded to her mother. For someone who was barely an adult at the time of her mother's passing, there was nothing she needed more than to fall into the fantasy that good can and will triumph in the end.

Richard Castle held such a special place in her heart that she was having a hard time reconciling that person with Alex, the man she was getting intimate with. But before she could take her thoughts any further, Esposito and Ryan came in and told her about Alison Tisdale's brother, the very person Alex had suggested they look into. As much as Kate didn't want to concede that Alex might have had a point with his observations, she couldn't let a possible lead and murderer go unchecked just because of her pride.

The interview with the brother was straightforward, even if Harrison Tisdale himself wasn't very forthcoming with her. But she saw through his lies—innocent people do not prepare alibis—yet when she went back to the precinct to follow up, there was nothing amiss. His credit card company confirmed that he paid for three round trip tickets and the dates coincided with all three murders. They tried passport patrol, thinking the passport stamps were forged, but the logs showed him entering and leaving the country as was stipulated. They were at a dead end yet again. But this time, they were so close, she could feel it. As much as she almost wanted to pin everything on Alex when she had him in for questioning, she knew deep down he was innocent. Harrison Tisdale on the other hand? No, she could feel it in her gut. That guy is their killer.

Kate and the boys spent the rest of their morning and early afternoon going through every one of their resources and avenues of thought trying to figure out how Harrison could have done it. She was nearly at her wit's end when her captain gave her another worry to consider. For the first time that day, Montgomery stuck his head out his door and called her in to see him. The boys gave her a brief apprehensive look, both aware of the situation, before forcing themselves back to their work. Kate herself didn't know what to expect—her captain has never isolated himself for that long to field phone calls and emails, but she had to rip off the Band-Aid sooner or later.

"Beckett, close the door behind you. I'll be brief but you may want to sit down."

The seriousness of the room the moment she entered was palpable. Feeling no other recourse, she did as he asked.

"I'm going to be blunt with you. The situation is not favorable. I am getting word that the lawyers who represent Black Pawn and Alexander Rodgers are seriously discussing a lawsuit against us for what happened. Beckett, there's nothing more I can do," Montgomery announced solemnly. He hesitated only a moment before plowing straight on with his quasi-lecture. "Beckett, I've heard you have some sort of personal relationship with Alex Rodgers. You need to go talk to him and sort this thing out. Make it right. Otherwise, this whole thing might not just end at a suspension."

Kate opened her mouth a few times to try and come up with some sort of response, but each time, she failed and remained silent. Her captain dismissed her from his office for the second time in as many days, but in leaving his office this time around, the weight of his words only pressed down on her shoulders considerably more.

How was she supposed to make all this go away?