A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus and this short update. And I'm sorry I haven't and won't be able to reply to reviews and messages again. I was planning to do it today but I got into a car accident yesterday so that's taking up all my energy and focus.

Chapter 18

It's over. They got the smug bastard. Kate Beckett sat across from Harrison Tisdale in the sterile interrogation room, staring him down as he hung his head low in the face of all the evidence against him: his half shredded passport, security cam photos detailing his true whereabouts for each murder. It's over.

Kate pushed herself off the table, finally satisfied that she was able to bring justice to her victims. It's been on grueling and frustrating week—how is today only Sunday?—but looking down at Harrison Tisdale right now, she knew she it was all worth it. Her victims can now rest in peace, knowing their true killer has been caught. Though the closure of Alison may not bring with it the necessary ease of mind for Jonathan Tisdale, what with his other child to be convicted as her killer, at least for Alison, there has been justice.

It's over.

Alex sat in his silent office, contemplating Kate's unexpected appearance yesterday and his daughter's response to their conversation afterwards. Understandably, she didn't agree with him when he let Kate in and even after he explained his reasons why, she still didn't seem to approve. Alexis just couldn't seem to get past how he simply let Kate walk back into his life, given what she had done to him.

But the thing was, he wasn't letting Kate back in; at least, that wasn't his intention, and considering the result of their conversation, he doubted that it would ever be the case. No, he recognized that his issues with Richard Castle were with himself, and that he couldn't hold Kate at fault forever. His mother was right when she said he needed to take a hard look at himself before he went and laid his anger on another person. He still didn't know what he was going to do next—did he still want to be a novelist, in spite of it all?—but one step at a time. He was comfortable with that. He'd figure out what he wanted to have happen to Richard Castle after the whole thing blew over. So first things first, he had to try and be the bigger person and let Kate in to hear her out.

His daughter, however, was not of the same mindset. She believed that Kate should be punished, not accepted with this halfhearted resignation. Alexis had been as much invested in his career as he was: always so proud of him as both a novelist and a professor, so she probably thought she was looking out for him when she tried to send Kate away. To hear afterwards that he was trying to rise above it, well, as much as she may know to agree, she didn't like it. She was still looking out for her father.

Sigh. What a mess.

As if his phone knew he needed a distraction, it chose then to call for his attention. But glancing at the number on the screen, he immediately regretted his unvoiced plea for a diversion. Seriously? It's not enough that half my profession took a hit this weekend; everything else has to come down with it?

It was his department chair calling. Alex had a pretty good relationship with his boss but that's speaking in the professional sense; his boss did not make social calls. So with everything that's happened this weekend, dared he hope his department chair was calling him to announce that maybe more grant money was available, or possibly to congratulate a recent paper of his?

"Andrew! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Alex, don't you dare joke around with me," greeted his boss.

No grant money, it would seem.

"How could you keep something like this from me? From us?" continued the accusations.

Oh he's definitely referring to some papers, just not ones written by him but about him.

"Andrew, calm down. I … I assume you're talking about Richard Castle?"

"No, Rodgers, I'm talking about the Count of Monte Cristo. Yes I'm talking about Richard Castle! What do you think?"

"I think you're blowing this all out of proportions. Yeah, I'll admit it; it's true. I'm the writer behind those novels."

"You think I give a flying fart in space about your novels? Publish them under your name or not, that's your business."

"Then what do you—"

"What I care about, Rodgers, is how you neglected to tell us about any of this! Do you know how many calls this department, nay, this university has received because of your scandal?"

"I—"

"Hundreds! And counting!" Andrew had to pause a bit to catch his breath before continuing, a bit more solemnly. "Rodgers … Alex. What you do on your own time is your business, to the extent that it does not affect your work or image here as an academic professor. Am I happy to find out that one of my most beloved professors, by students and colleagues alike, publishes murder mysteries? Not particularly. But does that change anything? I don't know, Alex. You're a respected professor—your paper on English Literature in the 21st Century is still being heralded as groundbreaking and frankly, your students could not love you more—but I don't know if this new dimension is too dichotomous. I wish you had let us in on this plan of yours so we can better protect you and not feel blindsided when calls come in at all hours from various news outlets asking for quotes we do not have to give."

"Andrew … I … I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

"Damn right you didn't think! Dammit Rodgers, don't do this again!"

Alex sat back in his office chair and closed his eyes briefly. The stress this room had seen in just a few days was more than he had ever anticipated. And this new conversation was not something he even considered, at least not yet. Of course, he knew there would be a backlash or conflict of some sorts when his writing mistress was introduced to his professorial marriage but honestly, he had never got around to planning for that eventuality. So to see it sort itself out like this? He was shocked and humbled by the support that was being implied. He really didn't deserve this. Have I truly been that selfish? Am I?

"I knew that loft of yours was too nice for your pay grade. Family money, my ass."

"Haha, right." Damn, he really did have it good, with people to look out for him. "Look, I really am sorry. Sincerely."

"I know, Rodgers. Listen. I think that's enough of a lecture, but you know it can't just end at a scolding right?"

"Of course." He'll take it. Any punishment they give him. It was his fault and he will take responsibility.

"I gotta ask that you stay home these next few days. I'm not forcing you to take a sabbatical or anything like that—though if you want to consider it, I think the university would more than understand—but we need to give this some time to die down. The story just broke over the weekend and students coming back to school tomorrow will probably crowd your lecture halls to overcapacity—safety hazard, you know that. We're also getting word to expect a number of reporters on campus as well. Just—why couldn't you have written less gripping novels and become less famous?"

"Please, Andrew, we both know it's my rugged handsomeness that's drawing in those reporters. But I hear you. Monday, I won't set a foot on campus, or the few days after that. Let's just say I called in sick."

"Good. Glad to work that out. Feel 'better' then."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Oh and Rodgers? Derrick Storm is one hell of a character."

With that, his department chair hung up. Cheeky fellow. Of course he would like Derrick. Too bad he killed him off. Not that he knows that yet.

Wait.

The world doesn't know that yet either, that he's killed off Derrick Storm. This was a decision he made before his pseudonym got revealed and one, he can't help but feel, could not have come at a better time. With absolute clarity, he saw now what he wants to have happen.

His conversation with his boss soon forgotten, Alex felt energized and ready to tackle on the day. He needs to talk to his other "boss" now and sort some things out with Gina.

He knows what he wants to do with Richard Castle.

"Congratulations, Beckett," commended Captain Montgomery, as he paused before Kate's desk on his way back to his office from the break room.

It was Monday morning and everything around her made her feel like a ticking time bomb—especially her captain right now. They solved their case yesterday, but she had been given no further news about the NYPD lawsuit. She left Alex's loft fully prepared to have her badge taken back the minute she finished her arrest and interrogation, but now, it's been a day and she had no idea what to expect.

"Thank you, sir?" Kate hesitantly replied back.

"You solved another case," Montgomery stated, simply.

What was she supposed to make of that? Did he not expect her to solve her case? What does he want from her?

"Thank you, sir," Kate repeated, at a loss for further words.

Captain Montgomery was giving her a pointed look that seemed to indicate he was expecting something, but Kate didn't know what that was. Ryan and Esposito were nowhere to be found—they always seemed to know just went to hide and pop back up at the most inopportune moments—not that Montgomery would say anything to them. No, she could tell now, from his piercing gaze, that he could care less about this case. He wants to know the results of that mission he sent her on: did her efforts pay off when she visited the man launching the lawsuit against them?

What was she to say though? She didn't know where they stood. About anything. She'd never felt so lost before.

"I—. About that thing, sir. Umm…" Ugh! Why did she feel so insecure about herself? She felt like a child sitting in the principal's office for having done something stupid. Something incredibly stupid, it would seem.

"Hold on, Beckett. Hey, can someone turn up the volume on that thing?"

"Huh?"

When she followed her captain's gaze towards the old television mounted in the corner of the precinct's ceiling, she suddenly understood her captain's distraction. There stood Alexander Rodgers surrounded by a group of paparazzi, cameras thrust relentlessly into his face.

It's over.