Author's Note: This is in honor of my mother, whom I love with my whole heart. I don't own Castle, or any of its characters.

In the light of post-dawn, a woman sits. The open window lets in an early morning breeze, brining with it wafts of Chinese food, roasting nuts, and her downstairs neighbor's flowerbox. It's a new day in New York City, full of promise and surprises.

She finds herself jumbled, inexplicably both joyous and sad, triumphant and retreating. The boxes are packed, goodbyes have been made. All that remains of her former life is today. She recognizes this, intellectually. Still, the woman cannot fathom the depth to which this day will affect her. Others do. In years to come, they will speak of this as a defining moment. They will show photographs and video, spend countless hours recounting her tales. She rests on the edge of a precipice before a change.

But, in this moment, all she wants is a shower.

*M*O*M*

Hours later, she has donned her dress and slipped her feet into a pair of shoes. In the late spring heat, she has chosen to forgo heels in favor of more comfortable flats. Without the extra height, she supposes, she is meant to feel grounded. Instead, she feels as though she might float away at any instant. She's always been called "waif-like," but the descriptor has felt more appropriate to her than now.

A quiet knock at the door startles her, and she takes a moment to gather herself before answering. It opens on a small bouquet of flowers, followed by a beautiful visitor clad in red.

"I thought you could use a moment before the show to prepare yourself." The remark breaks the quiet in her room and sends her mind scurrying to form words.

"There is not a moment long enough to prepare me for that." She laughs nervously and takes the flowers, relieved when she elicits a chuckle.

"Still, one day, maybe."

"After twenty-two years, I've given up."

They pause, glancing at each other awkwardly. Day-to-day they interact well, sticking to their own spheres and operating in concentric circles. Today, the system fails, giving way to discomfort and stilted phrases.

"Do you have a vase that I can put the flowers in?" Right. Flowers. Vase. She can do this, she just needs to get out of her head.

"Sorry, I think everything is packed."

"No problem. It was a bad question."

"Why don't I put them in something later, back at home?" That receives a small smile.

"Sure!" Clearly she's not the only one who still has nerves to work out. She glances around awkwardly, then clears her throat.

"Thank you, by the way. For the flowers."

"If there was ever an occasion that called for them… The florist wanted me to buy a bigger bunch. He said that it was a day for going crazy."

"Knowing my dad, I bet that's what he wanted."

"Which is exactly why I didn't let him come with me."

"You know he's going to buy something over-the-top anyway."

"Absolutely. I just had to make sure that at least one of us stayed within the realm of sanity."

"I like it, but sometimes it gets a little hard to breathe when someone is hugging you so tightly."

"Believe me, I know. I have to remind him often."

"I'm glad that you're the one with that job now."

"Feel free to come back and replace me any time. If the two of us say it, maybe our concentrated efforts will penetrate his skull and the message will get through."

"But you know that he would pout, and then we'd never hear the end of it." Both women laugh, and the last bits of tension evaporate from the room.

"I actually have a second gift for you. It's the real reason why I wanted to come before the crazies – I mean the others – arrived." She reaches into her pocketbook and pulls out a thin, square box, passing it over in a trade for the flowers. The bouquet slips from the woman's astonished hand, all but forgotten.

Inside is a thin, silver chain with a charm that she instantly recognizes.

"It's her ring." She whispers as she reverently runs a finger along the delicate setting.

*M*O*M*

Of course her father bought her the biggest arrangement of flowers that he could find, along with what she suspected was a custom-made gigantic university bear. But for all that he gives her, nothing can compare to when they call her name, and she walks onto the stage proudly wearing the ring over her gown. She remembers little of the rest of the ceremony, forgetting to shift her tassel or throw her cap. The next thing she's aware of is being encircled by a pair of arms. She looks up to find watering hazel eyes fixed on her.

"Happy graduation, Alexis."

"Happy Mother's Day… mom."

I'm back, guys! The Shadow has returned! Please drop me a review; I'll likely send you a response if you do.

To all the mothers or females who have taken on motherly roles in one or more lives: thanks for everything.