Things could be stranger but I don't know how
I'm going through changes now
I've spent a lifetime trying to figure it out
I'm going through changes now

And I've just begun
Under a purple sun

There's many reasons we are what we become
I'm going through changes, ripping out pages
I'm going through changes now

-Changes, Langhorne Slim & The Law

Something caused him to wake. He looked around his empty bedroom, trying to place what. It was darker than normal, with the still pounding rain blocking any light from the street.

There was a noise again - a knock on the front door, and he crawled out of bed. He found his slacks, still slightly damp, on the floor by the side of the bed, and when he couldn't find his robe, he grabbed an old t-shirt from the dirty hamper by the door.

"Coming!" he yelled, fumbling as he pulled the shirt over his head.

Standing on the other side of Castle's door was a courier, holding a box similar to the ones he used to deliver a manuscript to his publisher. He reached for it.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm supposed to deliver this to a Katherine Beckett."

Kate.

So it wasn't a dream.

"Um, yeah, just a sec. Kate!"

Kate Beckett came out of the kitchen, wearing his robe. Although tall, the robe still dwarfed her. She'd had to wrap the sash around herself twice. She looked younger, all of a sudden.

"I'm Kate Beckett," she said, and took the tablet the courier handed her, signing for her package. "How did you know I was here?"

"Just following our client's instructions, ma'am. I went where she told me to go." With that, he handed over the manuscript box and left.

She held in her hands for several seconds, staring at it while Castle stared at her. Then she lifted her head and gave him an inquiring look. He just shrugged in response.

"Hi," he said, breaking the silence.

She smiled shyly, but didn't respond for a moment, apparently just taking him in. Then she shook her head. "Should we?" she asked, nodding at the box.

"Let's go in the kitchen. Who knew you were here?"

"I have no more idea what is going on than you do, Castle."

"Whatever it is, I hope it doesn't prevent round two."

"Then let's see."

She placed the box softly down on the countertop. It was unmarked, and sealed with a single strip of tape that she cut open with one of his pairing knives. Without moving the box, she untucked the flaps and cautiously lifted the lid.

The box contained several manilla folders stuffed with papers, and a single charged flip-style cell phone. They both stared at the phone.

The phone rang.

She reached into the box and opened the phone. The number was blocked. She looked at Castle for confirmation, who nodded. She answered the phone.

"This is Beckett."

"Detective Beckett," came the voice of Irene Moriety, "I don't know whether I'm impressed or disappointed. Could you put me on speaker? I'd like to talk to you and Mr. Castle together."

Kate complied.

"You may think you've..." Kate started.

"...oh, detective, no," Irene interrupted. "Let's skip the empty threats, please. They make you sound stupid. And I so wanted to get this conversation off on the right foot."

"What do you want, Irene?" Castle asked.

"Well, mostly to apologize. I underestimated you. Or overestimated you. I'm not sure which, frankly. I have to say, you got further faster than I thought. I had to change my plans a bit because of you two."

"I'm so sorry we inconvenienced you," Beckett spit out.

"I think that's my line," Irene replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "I really didn't want to get you suspended, but it was necessary, after all. But I sincerely hope it doesn't hurt your career."

"You are a sociopath."

"Most psychologists prefer psychopath, actually, but I prefer pragmatist. Racing to the airport was a nice touch, I thought. You two, from what I've read of your files and things, tend to enjoy bringing a touch of Mr. Castle's writing into your case work. I thought you'd like that bit, but don't feel too bad - even if you'd stopped the plane, there was nothing of note on it. Dad's wasn't the only plane I had access to. Rich people love planes."

"So, what, you're just calling to apologize?"

"I recognize why that might be difficult to believe, but yes. To apologize. And to offer an olive branch. I saw that the NYPD killed the sniper that shot you."

"How did you find that out?" Beckett asked, as Castle looked at her. She shook her head. He nodded, understanding that she'd explain later.

"At a certain point, you get rich enough that you find the only thing left worth buying is information. One of the few things I learned from dear old Dad. The specific details don't really matter ... or rather, I'll leave it as an exercise for the two of you to fill in the dots. But you no longer have any leads in your mother's case, and I happen to owe you. So I figured I'd give you a hand."

Castle paused for a second, then reached for the papers in the box.

"Are you telling me..."

"Yes," Irene interrupted Kate again. "All the evidence you need to bring down your mother's killer and the conspiracy he's involved with."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You don't have to. Follow the evidence. You now know where to look, you'll find plenty of corroboration. Conspiracies always hang on the thinnest of threads. But if you really need a reason, I'll just say this; you'll be doing me a favor. My family no longer requires him. I no longer require him, so I'm perfectly happy letting you be the one that cuts his nuts off."

Castle flipped through the documents as Kate just stared at the phone.

"Anyway," Irene said, after a moment. "It was a pleasure meeting you both. You were almost a worthy adversary, which I can't really say about anyone, so thank you. And again, I do hope you continue the good work and that my little case doesn't set you back any. Say hi to Billy for me, when you see him. And call him Billy, he hates that."

And with that, she hung up.

Kate continued to stare at the phone, sitting open on the counter. She rested her weight on her arms. "Who is it?" she asked.

"What?"

"You're looking through the papers, Castle. Who is it?"

Castle flipped the folder shut, and handed it to her. "See for yourself."

Kate took the folder, but placed it on the counter.

"Tomorrow."

"Kate."

"Tomorrow, Castle. I'm on suspension. There isn't anything I can do about whatever is in there right now anyway. Weren't you the one who said I needed some perspective? Let's just ... tomorrow. We'll sit down, figure out what we need to do. Talk to the boys, get their opinion. Tonight... I want tonight to be about us, as much as it can be given ... that," she said, waving at the phone. "We still haven't seen either of the John Woo movies. Or had that wine I brought over. Or had round two."

"You sure?"

"No," she said, walking over and leaning against him. His arms came up around her waist.

"But I'm trying."

Author's note: Obviously, finishing this years after starting it was not the plan. But over the course of writing this (and a few other stories), Castle went from being something I looked forward to every Monday night, to something I'd go weeks without seeing. I'm not sure I saw more than 3 episodes of the last two seasons, and only watched the last five minutes of the finale. I really enjoyed this fandom, but I wrote this story to see if I could write something a little more case-centric and thriller driven, not just a character exploration piece. It was originally supposed to be a 3-part story, where Kate's obsession with her mother's case was replaced with a shared chase for Irene Moriety. But obviously parts 2 and 3 are never going to be written. However, I found this final chapter when moving stuff to a new computer, so I felt I at least owed it to many of you to finish off at least one of the WIPs that I had open. Again, thank you to everyone in this fandom for several years of good stories, reviews, email exchanges, friendships, and the like. I wish you all the best.

-Blindgirl