A/N: I own nothing, it all belongs to ABC.

"31," she thought, the warm water beating down her back as she stood in the shower.

It had snuck up on her this year. Cases had been pouring in over the summer and she hadn't even realized that August was over, Labor Day weekend upon her. Her birthday being in early September, it sometimes even managed to fall on Labor Day weekend itself. This year it was the Friday before, which was today.

Growing up, her mother had jokingly told Kate that the long weekend was especially in her honor, and even in to high school, Kate had always secretly liked to think of Labor Day as "her" holiday. But since her mother's death, Kate Beckett was not big on birthdays or any major celebrations for that matter, so she had hardly thought about the long weekend until now.

Kate had loved her birthday growing up- what kid didn't? But Kate loved her birthday, not for over-the-top parties with ponies or balloon-folding clowns, or even the gifts, but because she shared it with her mother. Her mother always said that Kate's arrival in the world on her birthday was the best gift she had or ever would receive.

"Someone must have thought I needed a pick me up for the big 3-1," her mother had joked.

Now here Kate was, turning 31, and missing her mother more strongly than ever this year.

Kate had also loved their combined birthday because they had carried on a tradition where they each made the other a cake. It had been more of a chore when Kate was younger, because of course her mom ended up baking both cakes. God, how her mother could bake! Italian cream, German chocolate, white cake with fresh strawberry icing, chocolate with whipped cocoa cream icing- all from scratch.

"Never a store bought cake for my Katie," she would say.

As Kate got older, she became quite the accomplished baker, thanks to her mom's loving instruction, and "her little Katie Beth" soon made her mother's birthday cake all by herself. She remembered the all day cake-a-thons more than any presents.

Kate half-smiled as she reached down to turn off the water, the faucet squeaking in protest. The bathroom was a sea of fog and she opened the door to let the cool air in. The bathroom mirror revealed the reflection of her lean body as she stepped out of the shower. She stood there for a few seconds, dripping onto the tile floor, taking herself in. She liked her body and she knew that men found her attractive, but had never really considered herself a typical beauty. She always felt a little too tall, although that didn't keep her from wearing heels, and she wished her chest was a little better endowed.

Nonetheless, she couldn't help think, "Not bad for 31." She shook her head, quickly wrapping herself in a towel, modest even with no one else in the apartment.

She glanced at the clock as she made her way in her bedroom- 7:45.

"Shit," she said to the empty room. "I'll never be ready on time."

She cursed again under her breath as she rifled through the clothes in her closet, looking for her navy pant suit. She was testifying in court today on a case from almost 9 months ago, and she knew Judge Haney did not appreciate people walking into his courtroom late. As she searched, she pushed back to the rear of her closet to reveal a flash of crimson red.

She felt a lump in her throat and took a deep breath as she realized it was the gown that he had given her to wear to the charity event on the stolen jewelry case. Her mind flashed back to that night and their dancing, how his hand had felt on her hip, how he had jokingly dipped her on the dance floor… how her heart had never beat faster in her life just from dancing with a man… Damn! And she had been doing so well too, not thinking about him for the last few weeks.

"Why, why, why are you thinking about him? He left. With her. Without you."

He hadn't called… although, why would he? He thought she was with someone else. She had turned him down. She had been the one that had so diligently maintained the fence around her heart all this time, only to have him stroll on by when the gate had finally been open to him.

She thought the hurt and anger were over, it had been nearly 4 months for heaven's sake. She hadn't even admitted to herself that she even had true feelings for him until just before he left! But from day one, Kate had known that there was always something percolating just beneath the surface of her façade of eye rolls, annoyed expressions, and exasperated comebacks. This "thing" with him sometimes bubbled up when she least expected it- the Heat Wave premiere party when she had read the dedication, when she overheard the conversations he had on the phone with his daughter while at the precinct, and, of course, any and every time he managed to wander into her personal space- those times were the worst… or maybe, the best? Damn.

She had put on a brave face immediately after he left for the Hamptons, stayed for a few minutes with Lanie and the others to say goodnight, and then quickly excused herself, saying she had somewhere else to be. But she knew they knew. She could feel their eyes as they had watched her, watching him, walk away. She knew they had seen the legion of tears that she had thankfully managed to keep at bay until a few hours later when they, with the help of their friend, Mr. Pinot Noir, had ambushed her and her not-so-waterproof mascara. When Lanie had stopped by later that night to check on her, she told Kate she looked "like a drowned raccoon", a description that had earned at least an inkling of a laugh from the detective.

That had been it though, no more tears and no more mention of him by Kate or anyone else at the precinct since he left. She didn't even think his name had passed her lips once in the 4 months since he'd been gone, a fact that seemed surprisingly sad to Kate as she stared at the dress. That didn't mean she hadn't thought about him a little, okay a lot, more often than she should have. It was usually at the end of the day when she was doing paperwork and she would take a few minutes to just… be.

Her mind would relax, put its guard down for a few moments and- bam! His eyes would just appear- those eyes- so blue, endless in depth and understanding. Sometimes she would catch herself almost smiling, just at the thought of his eyes. And then, her own eyes would inevitably wander to the vacant chair to the left of the desk, his chair. When had it become his? A few weeks into June, she had decided the chair had to go, a necessary sacrifice so that she could feel like she was moving on. Next, had been the candy dish that he always kept stocked with Skittles. She didn't even like fruity candy that much anyway. Finally, she had unclipped the "endless" paperclip chain he worked on every time he got the least bit bored. Her mind slipped back to a few weeks before he left…

"Beckett?" he half-whispered.

"Hmm…?" she said without looking up from the file in front of her.

"Guess how many?"

She sighed. "Guess how many what?" Her chair turned now to face him.

An all too familiar mischievous grin crept across his face as he reached to hold the paperclip chain up for her to see. He had attached one end to the far desk at the end of the bullpen and it stretched some 40 feet to her desk.

"Paperclips!" he said as if it was obvious.

"Don't have time for this! Working here!" she said, a sing-song quality to her voice.

"How 'bout this- if you guess correctly, plus/minus 20, I'll give it to you… and I'll buy you dinner," he offered.

"What on earth am I going to do with a paperclip chain, huh?"

"Well, you seem to always have an endless amount of paperwork, so you need an 'endless' paperclip chain!"

"It's not endless. It has ends- two in fact. " She said succinctly before starting to turn back to her file. As she looked away, she had seen the smile leave his face, and instinctively rolled her eyes and returned to meet his gaze.

"Plus/minus 20- dinner?"

"And you get the chain!"

"Oh, yes. How could I forget that part of the bargain," she said dryly.

Her green eyes focused intently on the chain, quickly trying to do the math in her head. Even if this was a mindless exercise, her competitive bone was not easily subdued.

"750."

"Final answer?" he said.

"Jesus! Yes, final answer," she said with exasperation.

He had paused for dramatic effect, just for a second, and she had seen the playfulness in his eyes and she couldn't suppress a smile at him as she leaned her chin on her hand in anticipation of the answer. Even if he was annoying as hell sometimes, he was so damn fun to have around. She had also felt warmth for him in that split second, a warmth that Beckett knew she reserved only for those few who managed to earn her trust and friendship, which, unbeknownst to her until that moment, he had. She remembered feeling a bit surprised at the time, but it was not an unwelcome feeling and her smile had grown at the realization.

"Ding, ding, ding, ding! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen! Detective Beckett, where would you like to go to dinner tonight?" he said with his best game show host voice.

"I'll have to take a rain check I'm afraid. Too much 'endless' paperwork…"

He had never made good on that rain check. She had always had some excuse- work, Tom, or… work. The funny thing was, when she had finally undone all the paperclips weeks later, she realized she hadn't even been close with her guess. It had been around 500- she had taken the time to count.

And life had continued, she had continued- doing what she did best- solving murder cases with professionalism and honor, in reverence to the victims' families. No more tears or thoughts of him.

Until now. Maybe it was the emotions that had been drudged up while thinking of her mother earlier, or that she hadn't gotten over him despite her best housecleaning efforts, but whatever it was, she felt the burn in the back of her throat and nose that always preceded tears. No. She wasn't about to cry when she had court in less than an hour. No sir, she would not arrive late and puffy-eyed to court- the defense attorney would eat her alive. Her eyelids fell shut for mere seconds, regaining control as she always did. She drew in a breath and pushed past the dress, making a mental note to get rid of it, and finally located the suit she had been looking for all along, yanking it with more force than it deserved from the closet.

A touch of make-up, a quick blow dry, half a cup of coffee, and 20 minutes later, she was out the door. She had swung by the precinct to pick up some notes related to her testimony, and would have been on time had it not been for the parking near the courthouse. Even with her police vehicle, she had been forced to park 6 blocks away and therefore testimony had already begun when she arrived. Luckily, she knew she would not be on the stand first this morning- that short straw had been drawn by Esposito.

She debated with herself about just waiting outside until she was summoned, but decided she sort of wanted to see Esposito-to-cool-for-school squirm a little on the stand. He hated testifying, although she didn't quite know why because he always did a great job. Kate, on the other hand, didn't mind going in front of judge and jury, somehow she actually looked forward to it. Going to court gave her a little piece of the elusive closure she could never have for herself. Although no amount of testifying in the world would ever give her all the pieces, Kate felt she owed it to the families of the victims to get up on the stand and hopefully contribute to the conviction of the scum that had taken away their loved ones.

The heavy wooden doors were closed, and she opened one slowly, hoping not to draw any attention as she entered the room. Esposito was on the stand and was just finishing taking the oath.

"Good. I haven't missed anything," she thought. She quickly maneuvered to her right and into the back row in the first empty seat.

The judge hadn't even looked up. "Is he even awake?" she joked to herself as she leaned back in her seat and turned to put her purse in the chair next to her.

That's when she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder closest to the aisle and an all-too-familiar male voice asked, "Were you saving that seat for me? How nice of you, Detective Beckett!"

She didn't need to look up, she knew from his tone that he was smiling down at her, and she felt her heart flutter a bit before her eyes made their way up to the hand, still resting lightly on her shoulder, and then to the arm, and finally to the man …

"Castle?"

31 was definitely not starting off the way Kate Beckett had expected.

A/N: Thanks for reading and hope to hear some feedback! Any suggestions would be appreciated.