Haven't quite made it to 100 yet, like our beloved show (*SQUEAL*), but this appears to be my 60th Castle story and I'd like to take this moment to thank you all for welcoming me into this fandom, for choosing to read my stories, for your kindness and enthusiasm, for the encouraging words you give me in return – I treasure them all tremendously! Thank you! xox Nic

AN: Episode tag for 5x19, 'The Lives of Others.' There isn't really anything that could possibly make this episode any better, but here I am writing something anyway. I can only hope I'm doing it justice.

Congratulations "Castle"! Here's to 100 more. :)


Hooked

She wonders if this is going too far.

Kate shimmies into the dress, runs her hands down the bodice that tightly hugs her breasts and her waistline. She turns in front of the mirror, to the right, to the left, and the skirt flares out, the silky edges brushing her knees like a soft caress. This beautiful dress, a bit out of her price range (okay, a lot out of her price range) but just so very perfect for the night she had in mind that she couldn't stop herself, it had to be this one. And then the designer happened to come by, flittering around her in the tiny boutique store. He looked her up and down, tugging here and smoothing there before he suggested he'd make a change to the neckline for her. 'You have the most beautiful collarbones I've ever seen! We have to emphasize those, darling.' And she had let him. When she came back to the store to pick it up, he'd made her put it on again, gleefully clapped his hands together. 'Like Grace Kelly,' he'd proclaimed, smiling proudly at the smooth lines, the perfect flow of the dress. She scans herself critically but she can't even refute it.

It's perfect and she can't stop worrying whether the night will be the same.

Every moment of this plan hinges on her knowing Castle well enough to correctly predict each of his reactions. On his fascination with the macabre, his profound interest in solving the mystery. And it's working; so far he's been 'with' her on every step; with her subtle guidance in the right direction, all their acting, he's bitten the bait; they got him hook, line and sinker.

But the further it went, the deeper he got into it, worried and getting so anxious, the more her throat closed each time she had to lie to him, to pretend she didn't believe him. She couldn't stop the sharp teeth of remorse that keep gnawing at the back of her mind because, as much as he's her guy for the outlandish theories and she's his girl for the rational approach, in the end, they support each other. It's how they work, who they are. It's why they work, she thinks, and to undermine that, and to see the hurt on his face, the traces of disappointment in her - it pains her more than she'd expected.

Reaching for her jewelry box she extracts her pearl earrings, the pair that matches her bracelet. The pair he'd gotten her as her second Valentine's Day gift, the pair that didn't accidentally end up in the hands of another woman who also happened to be her boss. Now she owns them both, treasures these gorgeous pieces but she may actually love this pair just a little bit more. Because he wanted to make sure she had an 'untainted' gift, just for her. Because he'd snooped through her jewelry box, found her treasured bracelet, the one where she had her mother's string of pearls intertwined with her maternal grandmother's. And he'd matched the earrings to it.

She clasps the bracelet around her wrist and presses her palm over the entwined strings; feeling the pearls warm with the touch of her skin, she reflects for just a moment on how truly small her family is, how few people there are. Her mother gone, her grandparents, no aunts and uncles on either side, no siblings. Just her and her dad, for such a long time.

She has friends of course, the boys at the precinct who've really become more like her brothers, and now… Castle. She has Castle now, and by extension his small family too. His smart daughter and his exuberant mother, the only person who's ever called her Katherine and it's warm and adoring when she addresses her like that; it pulls at something inside of her, that place deep down where she's missed this personal affection and warmth, this pure acceptance, just for who she is.

They've all come through for her; everybody was so supportive, playing their part for this gift for him, full of excitement for her idea and for the first time she's felt like they were truly becoming a family, the kind that sticks together, that doesn't just coexist but relies and counts on each other. It's amazing and overwhelming, her heart skittering with the implications.

She twirls once more, then checks the corners of her eyes for make-up smudges and the perfect fold of her bun. She's nervous, her hands a bit shaky and she inhales sharply, trying to calm the sharp twist of her stomach before she steps outside.

Showtime.


The relief is like a wave, washing over her; two weeks' worth of anxious planning and escalating worry flushing from her skin with his exuberant excitement, his pure joy at his birthday surprise and his tender, lingering kiss, giving her more than words ever could.

She couldn't breathe. For long moments she just couldn't draw in air, her heart hammering, smile frozen as she stood there waiting, waiting, the shocked expression on his face making her blood run cold. 'My own murder mystery? This is the best gift ever!' Sheremembers these words so vividly but did she get it wrong after all? She stammered her explanation, rambled on about why she planned it all but louder than ever it nagged on her brain: Did she go too far? Making him fear for her life when she had almost died in his arms, once before?

And then he breaks open with joy, with the exuberant, boyish excitement that she'd hoped for, had practically been craving to see. Her heartbeats calm, thud slow and strong and steadily as warmth spreads through her, filled with relief and her own contentment at making him so happy.

He's got her too, doesn't he? Just like she has him. He's got her.

Hook, line and sinker.