Its 3 am in the morning and Katherine Beckett can't sleep. Set after 1 x 01

3:02am

Kate rolled over in bed and watched as the illuminated numbers ticked over from 3:01 to 3:02 am on her bedside alarm clock. She let out an exasperated sigh as she punched her pillow yet again, twisting and pulling at it to find a more comfortable position. Flipping over to her stomach she buried her head in the pillow, inhaling the floral scent of her detergent and resisting the childish urge to scream. She had to be up in three hours for work and she hadn't managed a wink of sleep so far. She was going to have to free line the caffeine tomorrow, scratch that make it today if she was going to ever make it through the day.

"Urghhh." Kate flung the offending pillow off the bed as she remembered that she was going to have to put up with him again today. Maybe she could bribe Esposito to partner with him, do his paperwork for the next month, god she would even cover for him the next time he was late after flirting with the secretary down in Robbery on the second floor, anything to get out of having that man shadow her.

"Humppff" she muttered, throwing her quilt aside as she climbed out of bed. No way was Esposito going to help her out, he was having way too much fun watching her pain. Giving up on sleep she wandered out into the kitchen to make a hot chocolate, hoping that the warm drink would help her relax. Kate had moved into this apartment after Will had moved to Boston, unable to pay the rent on the much bigger two-bedroom condo they'd shared. But she loved this apartment, the almost industrial appearance fusing well with the second-hand furniture and artwork she had picked up at the local markets on her brief and too infrequent days off.

Turning on the kettle she paced around the small lounge room waiting for it to boil, too keyed up to sit at the island bench. Stopping in front of her bookcase she let her eyes wander over her collection of books. She had varied and eclectic tastes in books. Harry Potter novels sat next her Russian translation of "War and Peace" which abutted the latest James Patterson novel that she had picked up at the bookstore last week but hadn't yet found time to read. Well no time like the present she thought when it was 3am and she couldn't sleep. As her hand drifted up to remove the book, her eyes halted at the copy of "Storm Fall" that she had shoved into her shelves in anger just hours before, determined never to read a Richard Castle novel again.

He was so annoying, so frustrating, so….so damn cocky with that little bit of scruff on his chin, knowing how sexy he looked with it. Sexy, urghhh no that's not want she meant. Juvenile, yeah that's a better word to describe him. Like a nine-year old on a sugar rush. But she bet most nine-year olds would know when they weren't wanted. Urrgghh she had to stop thinking about him. Not only was he in her precinct, instigating himself into her investigations but now he was in her head too. This had to stop.

Kate let her hand drop away from the newest 'Storm" novel, refusing to even consider that she was tempted to read it. The kettle whistle blew providing a much needed distraction even if it was from her own thoughts. Reaching into the cabinet, Kate bypassed the can of hot chocolate for a chamomile teabag. She didn't need any sugar pumping through her blood at this hour, tea was a much safer option. Wrapping her hands around the hot mug she wandered back to her bedroom, avoiding glancing back at the bookcase.

She probably wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been so intent on ignoring the shelves and the book with the red dust cover that appeared to be jumping out at her. She bumped into it as she turned towards the bedroom, actually her toes caught the edge and she stopped to bend down and push it out of the way when she realised it was the cardboard box she had used to carry her collection of books into the precinct just a day before. The box still lay where she had dumped it when she got home tonight. Her usual excitement at closing a case dampened down by the biting frustration at being ordered to allow him to follow her around so that he could write a book based on her. She didn't want a book written about her. Especially by him. It didn't matter that his words had been the only thing that had pulled her back from the brink of destruction when her mom had died and her dad had disappeared into a whisky bottle to try and drown his sorrows. His words had resonated within and made her believe that heroes did exist and that good did triumph over evil. They had been her escape from a world that was crashing down around her. But she didn't want those words to now be written about her. She used his books to escape, not to see herself laid out in black and white for all the world to see.

He sees me. For the first time in ten years someone sees me. Not Kate Beckett the homicide detective but Katie the scared lonely girl who lost her mom and dad in one night. Who fell apart and was never put back the same way. I don't want him to see me, I can't go back to being that damaged, fragile little girl.

In frustration she set her mug down on the arm of the sofa and picked up the box of books. Balancing them on her knee she opened the hallway closet intending to stow them away out of sight. Lifting the box over her head, she felt it slip from her fingers and watched in slow motion as the books tumbled free, hitting the floor with a loud bang. Great, all she needed was the cranky neighbour above her to wake up and make a bad night even worse.

Shoving them quickly back into the box, a little rougher than she probably should be, her hand stopped as she came to the open title page of "Flowers for your Grave". She had put it amongst the books to take into the precinct but she had purposely taken it out and hidden it in the top drawer of her desk, not wanting the other detectives to see the inscription. "In a Hail of Bullets" had also found its way into the drawer for the same reason. It was bad enough Ryan had seen her name in the other books but she didn't want them knowing that she had stood in line to get his books signed. She would never hear the end of that.

"To Johanna, your smile makes this all worthwhile. I hope your daughter grows up to be half as beautiful and wise as you. Forever in your debt, Richard Castle" Kate read the words out loud like she had on so many occasions before. Unlike the other books, this one was her mother's. Kate didn't know what had prompted Castle to write that inscription and her mother had never told her. She had been about sixteen when her mother had tried to get her to go to his book signing with her. But Kate was working at a local garage, saving up money to buy her first bike and she didn't want to tag along after her mother to stand in line for an author she didn't even like. Kate would give anything to go back and spend those missed moments with her mom, take back each rebellious act, each argument and every missed opportunity to spend more time with her. Running her finger over his words Kate wished she could go back and stand in line with her mother and find out what she had done to make him write those words. Kate wondered what had changed to turn the man that wrote such interesting, clever and poignant words into the selfish, juvenile jackass she had met on that roof top two days ago.

Closing the book and placing it with the others, Kate stood up and walked over to the bookcase, setting the box down on the bottom shelf. She left them to be shelved tomorrow. Grabbing her lukewarm mug of chamomile tea she wandered back into her bedroom to try and get some rest before the sun came up.