Beckett leans her head against the door after she closes it on Castle. She's… exhausted. Truly, fully, spent. She kicks off her heels and stumbles into her bedroom, pushing her gun into its drawer. She pulls off her shirt and pants, and collapses onto the bed in her bra and panties; she doesn't want to shower, she doesn't want to eat. She just wants the mess of the whole day to fade away.

Kate squirms under the covers and pulls them tightly over herself; she creates a gap through which she can breathe, tries to hold her eyes open for a second longer, battling with herself and her need to replay just where she went wrong today, but she can't stay awake. Her last thought, before sleep reaches her, is that she misses Castle.


"Darling, where have you been?" Martha's concerned tone pierces through Castle's slumber, and he forces himself to sit up, pushing his mostly empty glass away in a half-hearted attempt to look respectable. Martha looks pointedly at the glass, and he shrugs, reaching for it again and sipping.

"You're the one who just came home, Mother," he tells her, and she offers a little wave of her hand which has him smirking and glancing at his watch. Midnight. Huh. He hadn't heard Martha come in and judging by the crick in his neck, he thinks he must have drifted off. He rolls his shoulders experimentally; the office chair might be a comfortable stage from which to procrastinate, but it's an appalling place to sleep.

"I may be the one who just came home," Martha tells him, "but I'm not the one who left the apartment at five this evening, walking straight past my mother and my daughter without a word."

Castle flinches. Had he done that? Huh. He hadn't even seen Alexis or his Mother when he'd left, he'd just been struck by the sudden urge to try and make amends with Beckett. "It doesn't matter," he tells her. "It didn't work. She didn't want to talk to me."

"Ah." Martha raises her eyebrows. "So you went to see Beckett."

Castle shrugs, standing and stretching. "I did. For all the good it did me."

"Well, Richard, I hate to say it, but maybe this is how it's meant to be."

Castle glares at his mother. "Thank you, Mother, for that insight."

Martha throws her hands up in the air. "Oh, you know what I mean- I don't mean Beckett not talking to you- although I have to admit, I saw that one coming." She raises her eyebrows knowingly. "No, I mean it's clear that young woman has a lot of demons, and hard as this may be for her, maybe in the long run this will give her a chance to work through it all."

Castle shakes his head. "I don't think so." He reaches again for the glass, swallowing the last of the amber liquid and replacing the glass on his desk. He shrugs, and turns to leave, heading toward his bedroom. He pauses when he gets to the doorway, and turns back. His mother is still standing in his office, staring after him. "She went through a year of therapy to put this to rest," he says. "So no, I can't agree- I've opened old wounds, and I don't think she'll ever forgive me."


"What about Nikki?"

His daughter's question comes out of the blue, and Castle turns to her sharply.

"What about Nikki?"

Alexis shrugs and swallows down another mouthful of cereal before she answers. "I just meant- if you're not following Detective Beckett around anymore, what are you going to do about Nikki?"

Castle narrows his eyes at his daughter. He's ninety-nine percent sure she's asking innocently, but her wide eyes are just a little too guileless to convince him completely. "I'm-" He's at a loss, and he shrugs, pouring himself a coffee while he considers. "I'm going to finish it, and, well, we'll see." He can't very well not finish it, not with Gina on his case; besides, he's signed a contract, and he intends to fulfill it.

Alexis smiles sweetly up at him, reaching for the coffee before he can replace the pot and filling her own mug. "Okay," she says. "So- you won't be killing her off, like you did Derrick?"

Castle half curses under his breath, before he catches himself; he makes a point of setting an example for his daughter, at least as far as language is concerned. "No," he chokes out, coughing as his sip of coffee goes down the wrong way. "What is this is about, Alexis?"

Alexis shrugs, but she's no longer meeting his eyes. "It's just- this is what you do, Dad. You get bored, and you move on." She shrugs and smiles weakly, but when her blue eyes finally meet his own, all mirth is gone.

"I don't-" He scratches his head, considering. She's not entirely wrong. She's not completely right either, and for the first time he wonders if he's been doing the right thing, working so hard on shielding Alexis from the more difficult moments in his life. "I don't just move on," he tells her at last. "I wrote Derrick for years- years, Alexis. Longer than I should have."

"So why didn't you stop sooner?" she asks. He watches her as she sips her coffee cautiously, screwing up her nose at the bitter flavor. She looks and sounds so young, all of a sudden, younger than her fourteen years. "If you should have stopped earlier?"

"I- uh…" Castle trails off. Because Gina wanted him to write Derrick. Because he'd tried to save his marriage. Because he liked the income Derrick generated, because he liked that he could afford to enroll his daughter at an exclusive school. Because it was all he knew. Because he was afraid of doing something new, starting fresh. "Because I didn't know anything else, until I realized I couldn't live a lie anymore," he says instead, cupping his daughter's face in his hand.

She smiles up at him and ducks her head away, pushing her half empty cereal bowl away and standing up. "Then I think you should keep writing Nikki, Dad. Since you care about her so much." Alexis dumps her bowl in the sink and walks away toward the stairs and he watches her go. He doesn't know if she's talking about Nikki or Kate.


Kate stretches as she wakes up. She can't tell if she feels better or worse, but a glance at her wristwatch tells her she got a full eight hours, so mostly she's just grateful. She sighs; no messages on her phone this morning, from dispatch or otherwise, and there's a funny sinking feeling in her stomach. She usually loves the solace of her apartment but lately it's stifling and she feels lonely.

She shrugs into a robe and makes herself a coffee in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter with a sigh. She's out of creamer, so she drinks it black; whether or not she goes into the precinct today there won't be anyone there to bring her a decent cup, so she swallows the last of this one down and heads back into her bedroom to get dressed, make a start on the day.

There's a funny emptiness competing with the ache in her head; a buzzing void, and with another sigh, Kate pulls on jeans and a sweater and shrugs, almost in resignation as she opens her closet, climbing on the armchair beside her bed to reach to the top shelf.

She reaches for the box that's balanced precariously on top of her warmest winter jackets and lifts it down gingerly. She carries it all the way back into the living room before she opens it, shaking her head even as she does so. This feels every bit the mistake but she has the odd feeling that events have been set in motion. She feels helpless to stop herself.

The carton is dusty, and she sweeps the top with her hand before she opens it, both reluctant and eager to see what's inside.

The contents haven't changed and Kate breathes in sharply when she sees the photograph at the top; the image is seared in her brain, but the shock of seeing the crime scene picture of her mother slumped in the alley is still enough to make her squeeze her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and forcing herself to delve into the box.

She lays it all out on the coffee table before her; how many times did she look at this during her first few years on the force? She wonders why she still has all this; she'd seen a therapist for a full year, put the case aside when she realized there was no way through the investigation. And now Castle. Beckett closes her eyes again, leaning back into the sofa cushions.

He'd been so sure they could solve this, and she shakes her head at his arrogance; one of things she's secretly appreciated about Castle, for the whole time she's known him, is just how willing he is to push the envelope. The counter balance, though, is that he's accustomed to using his money to open doors, influence people, and push for privileges.

She shrugs again, pushing the box and its contents aside and reaching for her phone. Staying in and looking at this isn't doing her any favors and she's determined that she won't get lost in it. She opens her contacts list and texts Lanie. It's still too early to call her friend for something that's not work related, but it's not too early to text and make plans for later. Kate types the message out and presses send. Drinks tonight? I'm buying.


Castle rifles through the case file for the hundredth time, slumping down in his chair. He's sorry that he'd brought it back up, hurting Beckett in the process, but he's sick of being swamped with guilt. He'd made a mistake, but that was all it was. His intentions had been pure but he hates that he went into this telling Beckett that he had the resources to help; money wasn't going to solve this, and his bravado had been misplaced.

He sits up straighter, finding a new determination as he flicks through the crime scene photographs. He spreads the pictures of Johanna Beckett across the desk; seeing Beckett's mother's face staring up at him strengthens his resolve. Beckett may not want him to investigate, but he's already come further than she did and he can't stop now.

He opens the thin file Dr. Murray had left with him. He doesn't have much; three names and a verbal assurance that they were killed by the same person who killed Kate's mother. He wonders how he can get their files. He's probably not going to be able to get past Esposito this time; he'd be surprised if either of the boys are talking to him, and he has no interest in going up against Montgomery. No, he needs someone else, preferably someone who doesn't know the ins and outs of his relationship with Beckett.

Castle stretches out and stands up, considering. He's got a shot with Ryan if it comes down to it, but it would be better to approach one of the other Detectives; he's chatted with Karpowski a half dozen times in the break room. Smiling with the relief of having a plan at last, Castle strides into his bedroom and through to the bathroom, humming as he showers and pulls on some clothes. He's going to the precinct, Kate's unspoken edict that he stay away be damned.


A/N: Thanks for reading- reviews would make my day! A promise- Beckett and Castle will be back in the same room as one another soon! Many thanks for the read through Kylie!