The knock on her office door has her lifting her head. It's opening before she can grant permission and Richard Castle is slipping inside, two coffees in hand and a smile on his face that makes her stomach churn.

"Morning Captain," he chirps, the travel mug making a quiet echo through her office as he places it on her desk. Kate pauses in her reading, lowering the paperwork back to the growing pile on her desk. The commissioner is going to kill her if she doesn't have it all finished by the end of the day, but she lifts her gaze to the man standing before her with a hopeful smile and blue eyes that spark and ripple with light for her.

Just like they used to. She almost forgot what joy looks like on him. She'll never admit the truth to anyone, let alone him, but she's kept track of his rise to fame, as well as his fall from the edge of it, studying the images on Page Six for minutes too long, tracing the lines and angles of his frame in black and white print, the tired but dazzling curve of his smile. Always forced. Never like this.

"Mr. Castle," she sighs, secretly relishing in the flash of exasperation the professional use of his surname evokes. "You're back."

"Duh." He rolls his eyes at her observation and pulls up a seat in front of her desk before thinking better of it, tugging the uncomfortable leather seat around to the side of her work station instead. He really has lost his mind, hasn't he? "And I brought you coffee, but I wasn't sure of your usual order since you had yet to enter your coffee drinking phase at the age of fifteen. I figured I couldn't go wrong with the common favorite of a vanilla latte-"

"Castle," she mumbles, too tired to reprimand him for returning, but he forges on.

"But if you were craving something else, just let me know and I can make a proper coffee run, maybe pick you up some breakfast too if you haven't eaten-"

"Rick." Her former best friend and newfound nuisance snaps his mouth shut, gives her his full attention without a second thought. "I appreciate the coffee, but is there an actual reason you're here?"

Kate reaches forward to curl her fingers around the still warm cup. It's not from her usual coffee shop, but she does recognize the logo from one of the more expensive cafés in the city. She raises the cup to her lips, taking an experimental sip just so he will stop watching her with such ridiculous anticipation.

She shows no reaction to the rich, dark roast that spreads across her tongue, but Castle preens with satisfaction anyway when she indulges in a second sip.

"Castle," she repeats, arching her brow. "Your reason for being here?"

Kate watches in silent horror as he leans in closer, propping his elbows on the edge of her desk, an expression of determination rippling across his features that can only mean trouble.

"We really haven't seen each other once in the last twenty years?" he probes, his eyes an electric blue, piercing as he sits forward in his chair, stares her down as if he's the detective of the two of them.

"You are never going to drop this, are you?" Kate mutters, relenting and taking another sip of his stupid coffee, subduing her hum of approval when the rich flavor and sweet burst of vanilla cascades past her tongue down her throat.

His smug pride worsens, leaves him grinning at her from around the rim of his own travel cup.

"Nope."

"Incorrigible ass," she grumbles, but his smile only widens.

"Impressive use in adjectives," Castle appraises, easing back in his seat, looking far too comfortable. "Stopped skipping English classes, I assume?"

The assault of memories he continues to hit her with is maddening, the way he speaks of their youth as if it was only yesterday far too much for her. After they parted ways twenty years ago, after her mother was murdered and her father became an alcoholic, after the real world stripped her of any and all vestiges of childhood innocence, she put those memories in a box, locked it up tight, and shelved it into the back of her mind, never to be opened again.

That is, until Rick Castle shows up and wreaks more emotional havoc in her life in the last 24 hours than she's experienced in years.

"Back to my question," he prompts and Beckett sets her coffee down, ignoring his eager eyes in favor of returning her gaze to the safety the set of reports in front of her provides. "And I mean aside from seeing me in newspapers and television interviews, all of which are pretty cringe-worthy."

"You Googled yourself?" she scoffs, attempting to skim the twenty-second page of the departmental record-keeping report she has to authorize.

"Beckett, I am a man lost in a world of the unknown. I needed guidance," he explains, melodramatic and threatening to evoke a laugh deep in her chest, but she smothers the amusement with the reminder that this is not a man who knows her, not anymore.

He may look like Castle, talk like him, and remind her of easier days that she has done her best not to think about in the last two decades, but whatever is wrong with him – memory loss, retrograde amnesia, some weird side effect of drugs or an intense night of drinking – will fade and the pompous, millionaire playboy jerk will return. And she'll be nothing more than a distant memory once more.

"So aside from confirming that I am a ruggedly handsome and charming best-selling author, I am still at square one of rediscovering my life."

"Still not sure why I'm the one who is being forced to help with this when I haven't been a part of your life for twenty years," she mumbles, signing her name on the bottom of the form and flipping the page onto the next.

"Because my last memory is of you and honestly, Kate, regardless of if my memory returns or not, I don't want a life without you in it."

To her credit, Beckett doesn't pause at his words even while her heart takes quite a tumble over them.

"Writing cheesy romance novels now?" she volleys back, scribbling her signature again with a little too much force. "You already apologized, Castle. There's nothing left for you to-"

"You obviously need more than an apology."

"What I need is for you to leave me alone," she snaps, refusing to look up at him, but still managing to feel the pang of hurt that radiates from his frame, crashes into the guilt consuming hers.

"I can't," he murmurs, softer now, almost apologetic. "I don't blame you for being angry with me, for hating me, I would too." Kate sighs and lowers her pen, training her eyes on the hand resting atop her desk, just out of reach. "And obviously, I can't speak for the man I've been over the last twenty years, but right now, all I know is that nothing makes sense without you."

"Rick, I am not the girl you knew back then," she says evenly, finally allowing him her attention.

"That okay," he assures her too quickly, hope blooming like firelight in his eyes. "It's-"

"You want to know what you missed?" she cuts him off, squaring her jaw and watching some of that hope dim, dread darkening his gaze. "When I was 19, I came home from Stanford for Christmas-"

"Stanford," he murmurs under his breath, pride tugging on his lips that she ignores.

"It was January and I was eager to get back to California. We were going out to dinner, my mom, my dad, and I. She was supposed to meet us there, but she never showed." The silence between them is heavy. Rick's emotions play out like a scene across his features - confusion, understanding, horror. "After two hours, we went home and there was a detective waiting for us."

"Johanna-"

"They found her body. She was-" She wills her throat not to catch. It's been a while since she's discussed her mother with anyone, since she's shared this story outside of a therapist's office. "Stabbed."

Rick stands from the chair, visibly shaken, and paces towards the small window opposite her desk. She observes the irony, how she is now in the place of Detective Raglan, delivering the bad news of Johanna Beckett's murder to someone who loved her. Because Rick did - love her, that is. He always had.

Her mother was the mom Kate knew he always wanted. Martha was wonderful, but she knew Rick craved a parent who was present in their childhood, and her parents were more than happy to aid in filling his lost roles.

"They attributed it to gang violence," she murmurs, allowing herself a deep breath while he's turned away. "A random wayward event. And the killer was never caught."

She watches his head bow, his broad shoulders tense with the information.

"I hate this place." She barely catches the words, and when she processes them, her brow furrows. He turns away from the clouded city sky and back to her before she can question him. "This isn't how our lives were supposed to go."

Kate releases a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, no shit."

"So help me," he says with greater determination.

"You are unbelievable." Her lips form a scowl of disgust as she rises from her seat, set on escorting him out now. "I just told you-"

Castle strides across the room to stand in front of her, snagging one of her hands and gripping it tightly.

"Help me so I can go back," he clarifies, so earnestly it almost gets to her. "Listen, maybe I can't change everything, but if I can just go back-"

"Rick, have you lost your fucking mind?" she finally seethes, ripping her hand from his. "We are both nearly forty years old. I don't know what happened to you and I'm sorry you're obviously struggling, but you do not get to use me as some lifeboat. Not when you weren't there to be mine."

He pauses, the forming hurt on his face stalling. "What?"

She shakes her head, but he's reaching for her, sending her scuttling backwards. "No, don't. I just meant - when my mom died."

"Kate, did you reach out to me?" he practically demands, the anticipation of her answer swirling like storm clouds through his eyes. He may have memory loss, but he's seemingly learned enough about his character in this 'lifetime' he was apparently transported to. He already knows the answer.

"Once," she replies evenly. Clearing her throat, she steadies herself beside the desk, letting her attention settle on her mom's elephants. "That night. It had only been three years, I thought you needed to know - I called you, but you were at some party. It was loud, you were drunk-"

Rick rubs at his jaw, suddenly looking so much older than she knows him to be.

"Castle, it was a long time ago, okay? I moved on, you moved on." She softens her voice. "I appreciate your sympathies for my mom, but after her death, this-" Kate waves her hand to the bullpen past the closed blinds of her office. "Is what I committed my life to. To honor her, to seek justice for her, and to find closure for other families even if I never have it for myself. We are two very different people now and I'm happy for you."

Rick lifts his gaze to her once more, blue eyes dulled and glazed with moisture. She only saw him cry once when they were kids, to see him cry now somehow made her heart ache in a far more visceral way.

"Rick, you're an incredibly successful author, Martha is on Broadway-"

"But you aren't there."

She isn't sure what to say to that. Had she pictured themselves as pillars in the other's life, immovable and strong, when she was young? Sure. Did she ever truly let him go? No, but who really forgets their first love? Regardless, she spoke the truth earlier - she moved on.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he sighs, all of that bubbling hope finally deflating out of him. "I don't know how all of this happened, but you're right. It's not your responsibility to fix this and I'm sorry I dragged you into it."

Guilt blooms in her stomach like a poisonous flower.

"Castle-"

"I'll see myself out."

He nods to her in departure, but doesn't meet her eye. She purses her lips and watches him go, cursing under her breath.

Kate remains stuck in an indecisive stalemate before tugging open her desk drawer and grabbing her keys.

Rick sways back and forth in the swing, watching the younger children with their nannies at the slide in the distance. It's the middle of the day and luckily the park is quiet, empty. The trees are rich with foliage, providing shade from the unforgiving beat of the sun. The park has remained well-maintained, the swings barely creaking with his weight, his movements.

He came here to remember, to mourn, to grieve until acceptance becomes visible.

He's come to the conclusion that all he can do now is attempt to accept his life as it is now. Clearly, this is not a dream and he is not a teenager anymore. He's thirty-eight and he built a good life for himself. He'll never give up on Kate, he doesn't think it's possible, but he'll go forward instead of clinging to the past. He has to.

He wipes at his eyes, trying his best to release his grip on the memory of Kate's mother, the image of her lying in an alley somewhere. Stabbed to death like some victim in one of his novels.

Johanna Beckett was murdered. God, it was unreal. He could still hear her laugh, voluminous and bright like Kate's, echoing through his head like it was yesterday. He should have asked Kate about Jim. He hopes the older man, the father he never had, is okay.

But imagining Kate, at only nineteen years old, losing her mom, is what truly shreds his insides to pieces. Kate and Johanna were the mother and daughter he imagined every girl envied - Johanna raised her daughter with discipline and respect, but with compassion and adoration as well. They were best friends, even when Kate was going through her wildest of phases in high school.

How could he not have known? Worse, what if he did know in this universe? What if this version of himself had heard the news and failed to do anything about it? Just left Kate to grieve alone. Had he become so calloused, so jaded?

Rick startles at the rattle of chains, the presence of another body beside him in the once empty swing.

Kate glances over at him. "Hey."

"Hey." He blinks. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured it's where you'd be." She shrugs. "I was also kinda worried you were lost and wandering the streets of SoHo. I didn't want your mom to have to bail you out if you got picked up by a beat cop."

He huffs, but his lips quirk ever so slightly. "Apparently, I have enough money to bail myself out of jail."

"Bail doesn't work quite so easily," she chuckles, rocking back on her heels and swinging forward. "But you'll remember that one day when you recover from your amnesia episode."

His jaw slackens. "Are you implying I was arrested?"

Kate cuts her eyes to him, sly and knowing as she swings back and forth.

"You looked up my file?"

"Castle, I'm a police captain and you showed up like a deranged idiot in my precinct. Of course I pulled your file," she chuckles. "I was reassured that it wasn't a drug charge. Wasn't as surprised when I saw it was disorderly conduct."

Rick begins to match her rhythm, swaying back and forth without his feet leaving the ground. "Do I want to know?"

"Stealing a police horse in Central Park," she answers, clipped but amused. A severe improvement. "While naked."

His cheeks burn red, his ears too, and she laughs, a real laugh this time. Kate sighs and slows to a sway, her bottom lip falling victim to her teeth.

"So public intoxication as well?" he hedges, unable to stop the spread of his smile as he watches her.

"No, I think your money made that charge go away," she murmurs wryly, but it feels as if she's speaking about someone else. It always has anytime she mentions any part of the past twenty years. "But listen, I just came out here to apologize. You're obviously trying very hard to get things straight in your head after whatever accident you suffered and I was maybe a bit harsh."

Castle watches her throat ripple with a swallow, a nervous tell.

"Well, I may have come on a bit strong," he reasons, catching the flicker of her gaze. "I hear I get the dramatics from my mother."

A breath of laughter puffs past her lips, but she's easing from the swing, rising to her feet. He can't help but follow.

"Kate-"

"But I don't think we can be friends again, Castle," she says quietly, looking almost apologetic as she turns to face him. "I can appreciate that it's unfair, me being angry at you for things you can't remember or may not even be aware happened. But I'm not able to forget any of those things."

"I understand," he concedes, but he reaches for her hand before he can stop himself. "And look, I know I don't deserve it, but if I have to stay in this weird, sucky new world… I will make it my new life goal to make up for what I've done to you."

Kate purses her lips, staring at her limp hand encased in his large one.

"You do realize that once your memory comes back-"

"If," he corrects.

She rolls her eyes. "If your memory returns, you're going to realize this friendship you're dying to rekindle is not going to be the priority you're treating it like right now."

"You really think that I couldn't combine the two? That people can't change?" He takes a step closer and she stiffens, but doesn't shake his hand off. "Maybe I have been a total and utter jackass for the last twenty years. Maybe I've done horrible things and been nothing but a bad memory to you. But unless this memory gets wiped from my brain too, I plan to learn from what I lost. All I'm asking for is a chance, Kate."

"Look, I have a busy job-"

An idea surges to life in his brain.

"Let me shadow you."

Horror flares across her face and she quickly pulls her hand from his as if burned. "What? No way-"

"Come on! I know it's a thing. Remember that TV show we used to watch-"

"Castle, absolutely not-"

"Okay, okay, compromise," he suggests, raising his hands in supplication. "No official shadowing, but... morning coffee in your office."

She narrows her gaze on him, searching for the catch.

"Once a week."

"Three times," he bargains. "In your office or before work at a coffee shop. Whatever you want."

Her chest expands with a deep breath.

"Twice."

He jumps at the bargain. "Deal."

"Fine, but if your memory comes back or-"

"I become the asshole you remember, I'm gone. Yes, got it," he promises her, nearly lurching forward to hug her before remembering to restrain himself.

Kate eyes him warily before rubbing at a spot between her eyebrows. "Well, I'm going back to work. Do you know how to get home?"

"Yeah," he smiles at her, feeling like an idiot but he can't help it. He may not have fixed things with his former best friend, but it's a start. And that's all he needs. "Tomorrow?"

The corner of her mouth quirks before she pins her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Tomorrow," she confirms, nodding to him once before turning back towards her cruiser.