A/N: This will be a multi-chapter story in which Castle - trapped in the alternate universe of 7x06 'The Time of Our Lives' - avoids the man with the gun and doesn't get abducted. Instead he makes it to Captain Beckett with those two coffees, a change of state wherein he hopes to effect another change of state.

Also, since this is a concept that Sandiane Carter and I explored in 'A Better Fate', I feel a debt towards her for some of that groundwork we did together in exploring their relationship via an Alternate Beckett. Thanks, Julie.

x

for those of you who come with me on these journeys into the alternate - and always have

Change of State

Sonnet 29, William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Mm, he could smell the coffee.

Okay. Taxi?

No. He had too much energy for that.

In fact, Richard Castle was whistling as he weaved through New York City's heavy rush hour foot traffic. He had eyes only for the path before him, neatly sidestepping a burly man who was blocking his way, darting around a couple having a messy fight, eating up the sidewalk with his long stride.

He went yards in seconds, racing towards his goal, his vision firmly fixed before him in his mind's eye.

He knew exactly what had to be done to get him home, get him back to Kate.

Prove to this version of his lovely almost-bride that it was all worth it, that there could be a different life for them.

Of course, the Kate Beckett in any world was worth it, any of it, even this strange universe-shifting he had done.

He was nearly breathless as he homed in on the 12th Precinct.

He had such a renewed purpose now: he was a chivalrous knight on a noble quest to win his lady's love.

If he was honest, if he stopped long enough to think about it, he hadn't been chivalrous in a good long while, let alone on a noble quest. He'd done enough tilting at windmills, but there'd been no substance behind it. He had left her for two months.

Two months. And for reasons he didn't even know, but he had to live with the consequences every day.

He had to see it in her eyes when she was caught off-guard. Two weeks ago, he'd walked into the closet to look for his tie and found her with her nose in his shirts and tears streaking down her face.

Didn't make him feel good. How could he ask that woman to do it all over again? Trust that he'd show up this time, that he'd make it to the altar.

They were both skittish.

But he had two coffees in his hands, her coffee, just as she liked it, and he had a mission to invigorate him once more. That coal factory in his own timeline had given him a good knock to the head, setting straight his priorities, reminding him of how good it really was.

She'd made him coffee that morning, hadn't she? Extra strong to battle his insomnia-induced, jaw-cracking yawns. She'd been cutting a melon for breakfast, ready to share; she'd wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed her hips to his and smiled, head tilting like it did when she was seeing him again as if for the first time.

He'd used to pay attention to those things.

It had been a while.

He missed Kate.

For a second, his step faltered. The pedestrians diverted around him, flowing on either side, and he was caught, struck by the missing.

Would the universe leave him here alone for two months, missing her like she'd missed him? Not certain he'd ever find her again, hoping but losing hope when things got dark, two months of-

A pedestrian bumped into him from behind, knocked him loose.

But no.

No, he was changing their fate today.

And it all started with Kate Beckett, whom he had faith in, absolute faith.

He'd get back to her through her.

Castle picked up his pace, ready now, ready. He was going to do this; he could do this. He wasn't leaving her for another two months - or however this worked. Wasn't there some rule of the universe that matter could be neither created nor destroyed? So his alter ego had to have disappeared from this timeline just as he'd entered it.

Maybe his Kate was dealing with this universe's version of himself. Perish the thought. The same world class jerk who had a girl his daughter's age sneaking into the loft for a round of no-strings sex, the same guy who had alienated said daughter and pushed her to live with her mother in LA - that guy?

No, he really hoped Kate wasn't getting that version of him. They were doomed if-

He froze on the sidewalk, smile splitting his face.

Felt like serendipity because there she was.

A guy walking too close knocked into him, but Castle stepped off the curb and into the street, ducked his head to peer into the car parked there. A car he knew very well, intimately acquainted with, as one might say.

He grinned, rapped his knuckles on the glass. "Hello, Captain."

The engine was running; she had her hand on the gear shift, ready to go, but her head had turned to him at the intrusion. Castle took a chance and pried up the handle on the passenger door, letting out a war-whoop when it opened for him.

Fate.

Her shoulders slumped a little, but he ignored it. (He was good at ignoring her tell-tale no, Castle; he'd been doing it for years).

He got into her police cruiser, the very same car that had gone into the drink with them in it, and he sank back into that awful, wonderfully-poking spring in the bucket seat. He slammed the door shut after him and turned to Captain Kate Beckett.

She wasn't glaring at him. This was quite a more approachable Kate Beckett than he'd even hoped.

This Beckett was a little more... worn down.

"Well?" he said. "Shall we be off?"

Her eyes flicked past him to something outside the window, but her attention came right back. She sighed and finished putting the car in gear.

"You're incorrigible, aren't you, Mr Castle?"

He grinned and handed over her coffee.

She actually took it.

He left it to silence long enough for her to appreciate her first few swallows, knowing how Kate needed the chance to savor the hit of caffeine and clear her head of sleep. It was so much easier, this time around, knowing her like he did.

"So what're we doing?" he asked. When she had pulled into traffic, he'd fumbled with his seatbelt before he'd managed it, his eagerness almost a taste in his mouth. Now the seatbelt cut into him as she braked suddenly, grinding to a halt in rush hour traffic.

"We're revisiting this case," she grit out.

He lifted an exaggerated eyebrow and stared at her.

She pressed her lips flat, that grimace that would later, over time, turn to not-smiling-at-you-Castle. Grimace was a place to start. He could work with that.

"Revisiting this case, are we?" he rejoiced.

"I am." Her words were clipped, brows knitted together. But she gave him an uncertain look - a darting of her eyes - before focusing back to the traffic before them. Her finger tapped against the steering wheel. "There - might be more that can be done. A second shooter out there."

She was defensive, not happy with herself, but driven to see this through. She had so much more caution than his Kate; his Kate who would have jumped right in, who had arrested a New York Times best-selling author just because he'd shown her up.

She was older and wiser, and she wasn't quite the same woman.

So he was silent a moment, letting the atmosphere in the car unwind, letting her ruffled feathers settle again. And then he said quietly, "What made you change your mind, Captain?"

She huffed. "What you said. About compromising. It's weighed on me all night. That's not me. That's not who I am, Mr Castle."

He felt it filling his chest again - hope.

Castle reached out - couldn't help himself - and lightly placed his hand over her forearm, rubbed his thumb at her wrist. One of his favorite places, the harsh scallop of bone meeting the flex of tendons.

She flinched, and he released her, but the hope still clung to him.

He smiled to himself, spoke into the silence of the car, spoke to the woman he was trying to get back to. "I know you're not."