Chapter 1: The Encounter

"Watch out, dude!"

Castle almost tripped with his own feet in his haste to get out of the way of the angry-looking, muscular man that almost sent him tumbling down when they collided. It was the third time that Castle had bumped into someone on the busy sidewalks of New York City that morning. But, to be fair, he was not at fault for his lack of focus. At least, not entirely. Castle blamed Beckett's jacket. Beckett's gorgeous new leather jacket, that accentuated her curves just right and gave her that no-nonsense badass cop look that he was so enthralled with.

She had been wearing a lot of new clothes lately. After her apartment had exploded —and with it, her closet— Beckett had not only updated her wardrobe, but also enhanced it, much to Castle's delight. Not that her previous look didn't suit her, but it was undeniable that Kate Beckett in high-heeled boots, tight jeans and blouses and jackets that wouldn't be out of place in a designer's catalogue was a sight for sore eyes.

They were on their way back from a meeting with a person of interest in their latest case- a corporate lawyer more worried about defending his clients than about finding justice for his sister, who had been murdered the previous weekend. Castle had despised the man from the moment his eyes landed on his perfectly tailored three-piece suit. It hadn't helped matters that the lawyer had seemed extremely interested in getting into Beckett's pants. The way he had leered at her throughout the whole interview had Castle seeing red within minutes. But Beckett, far from being deterred by it, had managed to turn it into her favor, obtaining a key piece of evidence that would most definitely lead them to the young girl's killer. If Castle thought that she was extraordinary before, now he couldn't even find the words to describe her. She was… something else.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked, Castle once again ran into something- a lamp post this time. Glancing at Beckett to see if she had noticed his little incident, he found her trying to hold back a smirk. But if she suspected the reason for his clumsiness, she didn't comment on it.

They were getting better at communicating without words lately. After the serial killer case and the few days Beckett spent at Castle's loft, they seemed to be more in sync than ever. Castle had noticed a slight change in the way Beckett looked at him; in the smiles she dedicated to him after one of his stupid jokes. Before then, she tried to conceal them, but now, she made no effort to hide them. At the precinct, she was still the collected and dedicated detective that he knew and admired, but when they were alone, that façade crumbled in front of his eyes, and he was able to catch glimpses of the woman behind the badge, beyond her duties and worries. In those moments, however scarce they were, Castle could allow himself to dream that someday, maybe they could have a chance of becoming something more than friends. But in the blink of an eye, the image vanished, and they were back to being Castle and Beckett, the two-times-divorced man incapable of taking anything seriously and the police detective too focused on her past to let anyone share her future.

Maybe it was for the best. After all, Castle was not looking for a serious relationship. He was very satisfied with the status quo- following her during her cases and bringing his crazy theories to the table, just to see her smile. They didn't have to spend time together outside the precinct, when they had everything they needed inside it… right? Castle needed to forget how coming back home with Beckett had felt; how good she looked in the morning light, preparing breakfast for his family. It hadn't been real, just a temporary fix born out of necessity.

He needed to get his head back in the game before he could embarrass himself further, or worse, knock into something harder than a lamp post- like a moving vehicle, for instance. He tried to focus. There had to be something he could say to excuse himself. Somewhere in his brain, an innuendo-filled sentence was struggling to break free; he just had to find it. Castle was saved from his efforts, however, by an excited cry, more similar to a squeak.

"Katie Beckett, is that you?"

Startled, he turned to find a petite woman striding decisively in their direction, though somewhat wobbly, due to an impressive pair of five inch stilettos on her feet. The woman exuded authority, and Castle immediately thought that if she were to give him an order, he would rush to do whatever she wanted. That woman exuded authority. She seemed the kind of person with whom you didn't want to get into trouble. He couldn't help but wonder how many reputations owed their demise to her. The closer she got to them, the greater Castle's impulse to run away grew. And maybe he would have done just that, had it not been for Beckett's unsteady voice next to him.

"Trisha?"

Glancing at the detective, Castle was glad to see that his survival instinct didn't differ much from hers. Beckett was standing sideways, without facing the other woman completely, her jaw working silently, her eyes unfocused and her stance one of a fugitive on the verge of taking off.

But before they could react at all, the other woman closed the remaining distance between them and arrived at their side, pushing her blonde hair away from her face with a gracious flick of her wrist, and, without preamble, engulfed Beckett in a bone-crushing hug that was bound to impregnate the detective with the rich and a little dizzying fragrance of her perfume.

"Oh, my God! It's really you! I can't believe my eyes! I wasn't sure when I first spotted you. What are you in, some kind of uniform?" she rambled on without sparing a glance in Castle's direction.

Whoever this woman was, Beckett didn't seem to have recovered from the shock, so Castle jumped in her help.

"She looks lovely today, doesn't she?"

The blonde turned her head towards him in that moment, so abruptly that Castle could barely repress the shiver that ran up his spine. The blonde woman's demeanor changed as soon as her eyes landed on him, though. She looked him over like her sunglasses were equipped with an x-ray machine, and something in him seemed to please her, because her posture softened. She removed her sunglasses and extended a perfectly-manicured hand in his direction.

"I don't think we've met. Hi, I'm Patricia Fitzberger. Or I will be soon," she said, rolling her eyes at herself like her mishap wasn't completely intentional, while she wiggled her left hand so they could see the megalithic diamond that engulfed her fourth finger.

"No, I don't think we have. Richard Castle," he introduced himself, taking her hand in both of his.

"The author?" she asked, appreciatively.

"Guilty as charged." Next to him, Beckett seemed to have recovered from the shock, so Castle deemed safe to bring the attention back to her.

"So, how did you two meet?" he inquired.

"Katie and I went together to Stanford," she offered, stressing the moniker. "Well, at least, until you dropped out, of course," Blondie said, turning back to Beckett. "Why was that, again? A family tragedy of sorts, right?"

"My mother died," Beckett let out through clenched teeth. "And I didn't drop out, I transferred."

"Oh, that's terrific. It's always a shame to see young girls fail in their lives. So, where did you go? Princeton? Yale? Columbia?"

"NYU, and then the police academy," Beckett replied, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly. If this woman thought she could take down his partner, Castle was more than happy to sit back and enjoy the show.

"Police academy? Wait, are you a…?" she trailed off, glancing at Beckett's outfit like she had missed a key element, which Beckett was happy to reveal, setting her leather jacket aside so the blonde could take a look at her badge.

"I'm a detective with the NYPD, yes."

"Wow, that's…" Finally, the woman seemed at a loss for words.

"Awesome?" Castle provided.

"Absolutely," she agreed. Trisha had quick reflexes, Castle had to give her that. "We need people to do that kind of job; not all of us can be lawyers or politicians, right?" No matter how hard he tried, Castle couldn't picture this woman and Beckett in the same room, let alone having a conversation.

"And what do you do, Patricia?" he inquired.

"Little bit of this, little bit of that, you know. Lately, I'm very involved in a couple of charity projects at the Hamptons."

So, a trophy wife. Of course. He had encountered many of those during his years vacationing there. Mostly, they were like vixens, ready to attack at any second. Castle strongly believed that, if they were to bit their own tongues, they would die of poisoning.

"Nice," he said instead. "Well, I guess not everyone can be a lawyer, right?" His comment was rewarded with a slight upturn of Beckett's lips. Blondie seemed unfazed by it, though. Maybe she had a little bit of a politician in her, after all.

"Thank you, Rick," she replied, before turning her attention back to Beckett. "So, Katie, tell me, what's going on in your life? We haven't seen each other in years! Don't hold out on me, dear."

"Nothing much, really." If Beckett was taken aback by Blondie's bluntness, she didn't let on. "I work really hard, and I barely have time for anything else."

"I know the feeling, darling. I'm swamped at the moment with wedding preparations. But I've discovered the trick for a well-balanced life." She paused for dramatic effect, leaning in and dropping her voice a full octave. "Always save a little of time for yourself."

Castle nodded enthusiastically. "What a great truth," he agreed, in a mock serious tone.

"Yes, and that's also the only way to keep a healthy relationship. Men don't like drama, you know? So it's better to keep things simple. I learned that with Albert."

"I'm sure you will be very happy together," Castle chimed in. "Your relationship sure sounds interesting, and full of thrill and adventure."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Beckett's warning glance. Okay, he might have to tone it down a little bit.

"It sure is. Thank you for your kind words. Sadly, not everyone realizes the truth behind that statement. Some people think their job is more fulfilling than a stable and functional home. And on that note, how's your love life, Katie?"

Beckett was left looking like a deer in the headlights, stunned into silence by this woman.

Enough. This woman was too much, and Castle was starting to get angry. How dared she make judgmental remarks about Kate Beckett? Couldn't she see how remarkable she was? So, before the situation could get more awkward for Beckett, he decided to put a stop to it. Or at least, his mouth decided for him.

"Funny you should mention that," he interrupted again.

"Oh, and why is that?" Blondie asked, her interest piqued.

"Next week will be our anniversary. Right, honey?" he provided, stepping closer to Beckett.

Seeing the murderous glare she shot in his direction a second later, he regretted that move very quickly. Trying to placate her, he shrugged, apologetically.

"Is that right?" Blondie continued, oblivious to their non-verbal exchange. "Wow, I certainly wasn't expecting that. Katie doesn't seem like your type, dear. No offense, of course," she chuckled, examining Beckett's appearance once more.

Castle went to answer her, but fell silent when he noticed someone linking their arm with his. He couldn't believe it when he looked down to see that the arm was, in fact, Beckett's.

"Well, we're trying to keep it in the down low, so we would appreciate your discretion," she said, and Castle almost didn't recognize the sweet quality of her voice.

He must have zoned out, gaping hopelessly at her, because he was brought abruptly to the present with a strong squeeze in his arm, in time to catch the end of Blondie's next sentence.

"… delightful! I must tell Albert about this. You should totally meet him. He's a he fan of your work, Rick. In fact, why don't you both come to our engagement party? It's this weekend. I know it's short notice, but I couldn't reach you, Katie, with your little disappearing act after your father's death, or was it your mother? Anyway, I didn't have your number. But you'll come, right? Please, you have to!"

"Sorry, I don't think—" Kate began.

"We'll be there," Castle blurted out at the same time.

"Perfect! Here are the details," Blondie– Patricia, her name was Patricia, he had to remember it—said, pulling an intricately-decorated card from the depths of her Gucci handbag and handing it to Castle.

And then she turned to the awaiting town car, with a parting wave of her hand. "I can't wait to see you again, darlings!"

After he watched the car turning the corner, Castle busied himself studying the invitation, too afraid to face his muse and potentially soon-to-be murderer. Eventually, he looked up, finding Beckett still staring at the point where Patricia's car had disappeared. Blinking twice in rapid succession, she snapped back to reality, fixing him with her best glare.

"What the hell, Castle?"

As always, a huge thank you to my fantastic beta, encantadaa, for all her patience and help with this one.