Well, that was certainly one hell of a Season Finale wasn't it Castle lovers? I'm still a little bit nuts from everything that happened but I am happy to say that I am quite satisfied with how it turned out. Not only that, but like 75% of fanfics became AU in two minutes flat, it was kind of amusing. Luckily, mine was AU to begin with. A quick note about this chapter, I've sort of extended the timeline with this story. That is, Johana died when Kate was 19 but she doesn't meet Rick when she's 29. We're just adding in a few years somewhere to help get all of my story in. Hopefully, no one gets too confused about that.

And before I forget, if you aren't subscribed to me, you should get on that because I'll be posting a brand new story tomorrow; a collab fic with two other authros and it's going to be insane and awesome so you should check it out.

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Enjoy 3

The cemetery was quiet – not that it was ever loud given the somber state of its residence – but there was an eerie calm that had settled over the trees as though they were honoring a moment of silence with her. Kate stood over her mother's grave, the wind picking up the thin tendrils of hair around her neck, cooling her skin until it was soft and tender to the elements. Her fingers were clutching the diamond ring on the chain around her neck, running her fingers over the rim of the band in remembrance of a time when it had fit on a finger instead of burning her skin. She had memorized the tomb stone but she still traced the lines with her eyes, as if hoping that the words would suddenly change and she wouldn't be standing over her mother's grave. "Hey mom, it's me. It's been a while but I've been busy at the precinct and I couldn't get out here until now. There was no way I was missing today though right? It's a pretty big day for me and I wanted to share at least a little bit with you. You know, when I was a teenager and thinking about what this day would be like, I never ever imagined it without you and now…" she sniffled "it sucks royal ass. I miss you everyday mom and there are days when I can't imagine getting along without you but I somehow do and I know it's because you're here, somehow and I know that you won't be able to rest until I find out what happened to you and neither will I. I will not stop until I bring the man who did this to you to justice." Her breath came out in shaking sobs now but she clung to the ring even tighter, staining her palm "nothing will stop me." Her jaw set, reading and reading the phrase under Johanna Beckett's name. Vincit omnia veritas: Truth Conquers All. She would not stop until she learnt the truth; but slowly her expression softened and her tone became gentler. "About a third of my life without you and…dad and I still aren't coping well. We've each got our own ways of grieving but like true Becketts, we've kind of taken it to extremes. But we'll find the light at the end of the tunnel; it might just take it a while. Until then," one last, deep breath "I'm heading over to dad's after this to get some of my old high school stuff. I'll tell him you say 'hi'. Bye mom." She took one last look at her mother's wedding ring hanging around her neck before she slipped the chain inside the boat neck of her crimson top and took a moment of silence with the trees in honor of her mother.

"Katie," Jim Beckett pulled her into a one-armed hug, kissing the top of her head as she stood in the doorway of her childhood home "happy thirtieth birthday."

"Oh," she winced, pulling back with a laugh "thirty makes me sound so old."

"You think it makes you feel old? Try being the father of a thirty-year old woman."

"I think I'll just keep you instead."

He chuckled "I'll accept that." But when he pulled away, standing in the threshold, his arms still around his daughter, his smile fell to a look of apprehension and concern. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be;" she shrugged, mentally grabbing for her ring but refrained; instead, she looked at him with a lopsided smile "you?"

His nod was solemn but hopeful "yeah; I think it's time we did this."

And so they descended the stairs to her old bedroom, a wave of sentimentality and sweet sorrow passing over her. This was her place of childhood dreams, of teenage ambition and rebellion; this was her place of refuge from the storms outside and the source of the raging sea she nearly drowned in. But she was here, and she was standing – more determined than ever and completely confident that she would never drown again – and now was the perfect time to look back with a sense of familiarity and happiness.

Two hours later, father and daughter were sitting on her bed with tears in their eyes as they looked at yet another photo of Kate's wild outfits and crazy hair. Honestly she couldn't remember laughing at herself so hard in all her life. She still couldn't believe that outfit with those shoes – thank god she inherited her fashion sense from her mother's side – but mostly she was feeling this incredible giddy feeling which hadn't happened when she thought about her teenage years since the end of her teenage years. Everything seemed to be tainted by that one event but just sitting here beside her dad looking at the past as a pile of photos rather than a sequence of events leading up to a tragic end, it felt like there was a string holding up the weight on her heart; it wasn't gone by any means but it felt a little lighter – just for today. "Oh god, I can't believe I wore that outfit." She covered her face, wiping the tears from her eyes and wiping them on her jeans.

Jim released a bark of laughter "your mother had to physically restrain me when I saw you in that outfit." She paused at the mention of her mother but Jim didn't. He continued to sift through the photos as though the sound of her name didn't squeeze his heart and stop the world; and maybe it didn't. That thought gave her pause knowing it was wrong but finding herself unable to push it back.

"Well now, look at this." She shook the lingering thoughts away and returned her attention to the object in her father's hand; her old cell phone, bulky and bedazzled as ever.

"I can't believe you still have this." She muttered in awe, taking the contraption from him and turning it over in her hand. "God, it's so heavy." She was once again laughing, opening the flip phone and blinking when it beeped, indicating that it was turned on. "It still works?"

"Yeah," he hummed, digging through another box like Kate sat transfixed with the phone "I found it last week and looks like the battery still works but you can't make any phone calls at all." She pressed a button to flip through her contacts, reminiscing on each and every name. Jessica, the wonderful woman who'd been the worst of influence over her; Madison – she twitched her nose at the name but still had to smile – it would be nice to see Maddie again; Rick…Rick? She wracked her brain. She didn't remember a Rick from any of her classes. Someone from that summer job she worked out at the Hamptons? No; how did she know a Rick? Pulling her phone from her back pocket she quickly punched out the number and held it to her ear.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh," she scolded "I'm just checking something out."

He snorted, not looking up at her "'checking something out' you sound like your mother."

Her smile dropped as she heard a voice through her phone. "We're sorry, the number you've dialed is no longer in service, please check the number and dial again." She knit her eyebrows in frustration. Who the hell was Rick?

Meanwhile in a loft in downtown New York, a married couple were making passionate late-afternoon love brought about by boredom and a need to get one round in before their evening attendance was required at some upscale party; and things were going wonderfully. He was completely responsive to her every need and she was feeling rather minx-ish this afternoon, hitting everything below the belt in all the right ways. Her climax was reached and she felt his release imminent, she called out his name, enticing him over the edge.

"Rick."

He groaned "Alison." And just like that, the moment was ended.

"Who's Alison?" Rick opened his eyes to come face to face with Gina, his wife, looking at him in anger, confusion and just a sliver of hurt. Oh shit.

"Wh-what?" He laughed anxiously, rolling over to lie beside her so as to avoid any damage to his area below the belt. "What are you talking about?"

"You said Alison just now," she sat up, terrifying as she loomed over him even when they were both completely nude. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

His eyes only widened for a brief moment as realization took over and had a flashback to a night more than ten years ago – why was this coming up now? – but she caught his hesitation and flew from the bed, throwing around whatever scraps of clothing had been left from their torched escapade until she found enough clothing for her to storm out of the bedroom, slamming the door and leave a shaking house as she threw the front door closed.

The room was completely immersed in an echoy silence that ate Rick up. What the hell had just happened?

"Richard darling?" Rick groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow while searching for the comforter long ago discarded to cover him up to his chin. His mother would surely come bursting in, in three…two… "Richard, I just ran into Gina on the way out, what did you do now?"

"Nothing mother it's just a spat." He stared at the ceiling, willing it to collapse on him; no such luck.

Martha came toddling over to sit on the bed by his chest, patting his covered shoulder "now lover's spats I'm an expert on."

"Not domestic ones." He deadpanned

She pinched his cheek good-naturedly "cute. Seriously, what happened?"

He blinked at her. "Nothing I really feel like discussing with you."

"Oh a bedroom problem," she murmured and any thought Rick had of getting laid ever again was gone in an instant "while I'm also quite knowledgeable in that area as well, I'll spare you the details and ask you this: was it your fault?"

"Yes," he grumbled "but I honestly didn't mean for it to happen."

"Well then the solution is simple; you must apologize to your fair maiden if you ever want to keep her heart."

Rick sighed, dropping his head to the side, reading the clock as two minutes passed the time they were supposed to have finished. "Unfortunately, I need to get ready for some party and while that may not mean much to my wife Gina, my publisher Gina will murder me and trust me, publisher Gina is a hell of a lot scarier."

Martha shook her head "if you say so;" she patted his shoulder "so where are you headed to tonight?"

"Some high-society party uptown." Maybe if he just pretended like he wasn't completely uncomfortable in this situation she'd go away.

"Oh those always have the worst entertainment." She mumbled, not completely oblivious but just aware enough not to care.

"Well I heard through the grape vine something about a psychic."

"Maybe they can tell you how this fight with Gina ends."

He already knew how it would end; not well.