Richard Castle was tired. Achingly tired. And drained, and more than a little bit heartbroken. He was trying not to think about it, but it was there, at the edges of his mind, trying to make itself known.

"For four years I've been waiting for you to open your eyes and see that I'm right here!"

"I'm more than a partner"

"How could you do this to me?"

"You're right, there's really nothing I can say is there?"

It's over, he told himself. She didn't stop you, and she didn't stop, and you cannot do this anymore. He picked up the remote for the smart board, and brought up her case. One final sweep – he couldn't help himself. Every time he brought up the images he looked them over, just in case this time he noticed something, in case this time something made sense. His heart wrenched again at the site of all the danger she was facing, all the people who had died for this fucking case. Steeling himself, Castle deleted the lot. Strange that he didn't feel any different, didn't feel a burden being lifted, his heart being lightened, or any other artistic metaphor he could come up with. He just felt tired.

"I'm done."

A knock at the door interrupted Castle's reverie. He grimaced. He was so not in the mood for visitors now. For one brief moment he considered ignoring it, but as usual his curiosity got the better of him. Slapping on the most pleasant expression he could muster, he swung the door open.

"What do you want, Ryan?"

Ryan grimaced. "Castle". Ryan's tone told him everything that he needed to know.