I don't own any of the characters or places mentioned!


The stale air circulating the 12th Precinct was unnervingly calm in a certain author's absence. Detective Beckett sat staring, attempting to focus, at her computer screen, yet the paperwork following the Jill-Shot-Jack case they had solved last week did little to captivate her. The case itself had been clean cut at the end. Though the little false leads that insisted on rearing their ugly heads throughout the investigation kept Castle occupied, spinning his usual theories, they were eventually proved wrong. For it had turned out that the murder was simple; the girlfriend did it over jealousy. Castle's disappointment had been amusing, but Beckett was glad this one had cleared itself up; contrary to popular opinion round the Precinct, she took no joy in arising at 3am to analyse a murder board.

The girlfriend did it. It was so simple. So not Beckett. So not Castle for that matter, too. Beckett didn't usually land the simple ones – in fact, she could barely remember the last time a case wrapped up so cleanly, yet she had experienced a frail sense of déjà vu throughout the investigation. It was there the whole time, like a phantom mist, encircling her, determined not to release its weak bond. Beckett sensed that Castle felt it too, though neither had been willing to confide in the other. She dismissed it; the case was closed, over. Done.

"Good morning, Detective," Castle's cheery tone and bright smile distracted her from her mind's wanderings. It always did, not that she'd ever admit it.

"Hey, Castle," she replied, internally chiding herself for the butterflies she felt murmur in her stomach at the feel of his name leaving her lips.

"You're gonna love me for this," he began excitedly, eyes twinkling with a childlike innocent glee. Beckett lifted one eyebrow pointedly, waiting.

"Buuuuuttt…" Castle drew the word out. "You're going to have to wait." His smile was unmistakably mischievous; all Beckett was left hoping was that it wouldn't be her who was to be the victim of his plans. Just then, Detectives Esposito and Ryan walked out of the break room, armed with steaming mugs of caffeinated goodness. Having taken his usual seat beside Beckett, Castle grinned and whistled a slight chuckle beneath his breath. He reached down into his bag, murmuring his success when he found the focus of his search, and sat up straight, proudly offering Beckett a bright scarlet novel.

"Uh… thanks, Castle," Beckett began quietly, her voice trailing off due to how unsure she felt. Looking at the title, she read "Torrential Rain" by an A. Conrad, following the adventure of NYPD Detective Carlos Rain. Recognising the author and plot, she grinned. "Oh, no," she exclaimed.

"Oh, yes," Castle's grinned reply far outdid her own. "Hey, Javi," he called loudly across the bullpen, holding the red book up like a trophy, "When were you going to tell us?"

The pair watched on in anticipation as the curiosity clouding Esposito's features developed into burgundy embarrassment with a furious glare. Onlookers scattered around the Precinct laughed freely.

"Watch out, everyone," Castle began, voice laced with good humour, "the Rain is spitting for now, but I think there could be a torrential downpour in the weather forecast ahead!"

Esposito glowered, casting his acid stare at the guilty novel his face now matched so well. The other muse and her author merely chuckled.