Hey there, reader. I don't have much to say about this one. Three Caskett-y, Coffee-y moments. Oh, and this is my first Castle fic. I'm a bit nervous.

Disclaimer: Sadly, Castle is not mine. I also stole a line from Firefly (see if you can find it. It's kinda obvious). So, Andrew Marlowe rules supreme and Joss is Boss.

The last few days had been a nightmare. Worse, in fact, because she couldn't wake up, couldn't escape. The case even filled her dreams, the haunted eyes of the eleven year old victim burning their way into her subconscious.

They had caught a break, though. A fingerprint. And now the brother was being brought in for questioning, thanks in no small part to Richard Castle. Her annoying writer tag along, whom she still hadn't grown used to, but had somehow proved invaluable when she and the rest of the team had been stumped. With no leads to speak of. She hoped that his new character, the one he was basing on her, wouldn't turn out to be a bumbling idiot.

But they hadn't convicted the brother yet. There were still too many loose ends, too many threads… and Beckett was never content to leave a case like that. Only with closure could she stop thinking about the victims. It was a courtesy she paid to every body that passed across her desk, and to every grieving family member. One that, eleven years ago, she and her mother had not received.

So she tried to make the pieces fit, and was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice Castle enter the precinct and approach her. A large coffee appearing on her desk did the trick though, and she glanced up at the writer.

'For you,' he said with a small smile.

'Thanks, Castle,' Beckett took a sip of the coffee, then paused. Vanilla latte? How had he known that was her favourite? She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't think of the words. She still didn't know how to act around this side of Castle, the side that she had only really seen so far around Alexis and Martha. The side that brought her coffee, with no innuendoes or witty remarks. The side that, if she were honest with herself, she actually cared about and wanted to protect. And that she could see having around for a long time to come.

'So, do you think you've found your guy?' he asked.

'I, uh…' Beckett began, tripping over her words. Her guy? What did he mean? Then it hit her, he was talking about the case. Of course he was talking about the case. 'I don't know.'

Castle shrugged, and stared at the portrait of the girl she had pinned to the murder board a few days earlier. 'You'll find out, though. You always do.'

Beckett smiled, and took another sip of her coffee. 'No. We always do.'

The whiff of fresh coffee broke though Beckett's reverie, she sat upright, suddenly alert. Could it be?

No, he hadn't even called the whole time that he had been in the Hamptons, and she doubted he would just turn up unannounced as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't run off with his publisher, leaving her alone. Beckett swallowed the feeling of grief that had suddenly amassed in her throat. She was crazy to feel this way about someone who she didn't even care about. And who probably saw her as nothing more than a pay day in the form of 'inspiration', or a potential notch on his bedpost. But even as she repeated this in her head, repeated all the reasons for hating Castle, Beckett knew she was lying to herself.

And now, as footsteps approached her desk, and the smell of coffee grew stronger, all the feelings that she had tried to suppress over the past month came flooding back to the surface. It's not him, she told herself. He's not here. But she couldn't bring herself to look up and check, because he was, after all, Castle. He was nothing if not impulsive. So she held the fantasy in her head until the very last moment (fantasy? Had she really just thought that?).

A coffee landed on her desk. Starbucks. A smile began to tug at her mouth, but she forced it down and replaced it with a glare. She didn't want him to know how much she had missed him. 'Do you really think you can just bring me a coffee, and I'll just forget about what you did?' she asked, wryly, finally looking up. To be met with-

Esposito. 'I thought it might be a start.'

Of course.

Esposito, whom she had discovered yesterday betting with Ryan over how long it would take the victim's sister to cry. Those two would bet on anything, but this one hit a little too close to home, and Beckett had completely lost it with the two detectives. And could likely expect some grovelling over the next few days from both of them.

She may as well make the most of it, she thought, taking the coffee.

'Thanks,' she said, with a soft sigh.

Esposito glanced from the coffee to her face, made to walk away, then paused. 'You should call. He'd want to hear from you.'

'Who?' Beckett asked flippantly, burying her eyes in her paperwork.

Esposito just shrugged, and left her, sitting down at his own desk. When he was out of earshot, Beckett spoke under her breath.

'That man doesn't know what he wants.'

She couldn't remember how she arrived at his door. She had driven there seemingly on autopilot from the precinct, ridden up the elevator, too lost in her own thoughts to comprehend where she was going. It was only now, as she stood outside his apartment, that she realised.

And it didn't feel wrong. Her body had taken her to the place where she most wanted to be in the world. Not to her own home, or her father's. She still hadn't really spoken with him about the events of that past few days. Her mother's killer was behind bars, after all these years, but she had paid him nothing more than a quick phone call. She just didn't feel up to anything else.

Remembering where she was, she knocked hesitantly.

Castle opened the door. 'Hey,' he said softly.

'I, uh,' Beckett began, not knowing quite how to explain her reason for being here.

But Castle smiled, 'Come in. Do you want coffee?'

'Please.'

Coffee was easy. Coffee was normal. But this - turning up at his apartment late at night, and for no reason, this wasn't normal. She glanced around, suddenly uncomfortable. She stood awkwardly near the kitchen, watching Castle prepare the coffee.

'Are Martha and Alexis home?' she asked.

'No. Alexis is at a friends, and Mother is at a theater thing,' Castle paused. 'At least, that's what she told me. Could you grab a couple of mugs?'

Beckett opened the cupboard to which he had gestured and removed two, setting them down on the bench with a small clunk. After pouring the coffee, he slid one across to her, but when she didn't make a move to grab it his eyes met hers.

'Kate?' he asked, noticing her sudden tears. He impulsively pulling her into a hug. 'What's wrong?'

Beckett began to sob quietly against his chest. I'm ruining his shirt, she thought, at the back of her mind. She laughed quietly, but Castle must have mistaken it for more sobs because he clutched her tighter.

'Nothing, nothing's wrong,' she said softly. 'I just - I thought it would feel different after I caught him. I thought-'

'She'd come back,' Castle whispered, stroking her hair.

Beckett shrugged against his chest. 'It's stupid.'

'No,' Castle drew back, and gently brushed a tear out of her eye. 'No.'

He leant forward slowly, looking into her eyes for something, and, finding it, he kissed her softly. Before she could fully comprehend what had happened, he pulled back.

'You're never stupid,' he said.

She felt the tears rising again, and pulled herself back into the hug, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

After a minute, 'Castle?'

'Hmm?' he asked. His fingers, in her hair, stopped their movement.

'I think I've found him.'

He looked confused, thinking that she was talking about the case. 'What? Who?'

She smiled softly, leaning up for another kiss, but pausing for the slightest second to whisper. 'My guy.'

Hope you liked it! Review! Be generous to the little writer gremlins in my head who survive only on a strange concoction of reviews, caffeinated beverages, and syrup. And the syrup crops haven't been doing so well thing year.