Disclaimer: I have no rights to "Castle".

Castle picked up a statuette from Beckett's dresser. He turned it over in his hands, trying to imagine where she had been when she bought it. He heard Beckett laugh in the next room. The sound sent a pleasant flutter through his stomach. He smiled to himself.

Beckett was curled up on her couch and engrossed in a phone call, leaving Castle alone in her bedroom. A few minutes before, they had been debating where to eat lunch when her phone had rung. It was a college friend she hadn't talked to in a while, and she had insisted on answering. Castle had kept trying to get close enough to the phone to listen in. Feigning exasperation, she had finally gone into the living room to finish the call. He had seized the opportunity to wander her fascinating bedroom while eavesdropping on her end of the conversation.

Setting the statuette back down on her dresser, he bent and casually pulled open a drawer. It held mostly old T-shirts and jeans—not what he had been hoping for. He pulled out a shirt and, after reading the faint lettering, realized that it was from her orientation at Stanford. He smiled, thinking of how fitting the timing was. Hoping to learn more about her mysterious college days, Castle reached back in the drawer. As he picked up another shirt, he glimpsed something familiar under the old clothes. He slid his hand under the stack and pulled out a well-worn copy of one of his books.

Castle glanced over at the back wall, where had seen a complete collection of his novels on her bookshelves. The first time he had been in her bedroom, he had pointed the books out to her with a grin, making her blush and roll her eyes. All of his novels were still on the shelves, lined up in order. He couldn't guess why she had a second copy of one hidden in her dresser.

Curious, Castle sat on the edge of her bed to study the book. It was thicker than it should have been. He turned it over to find that something had been slipped between the pages. Castle opened the book to the gap to find two pressed roses. He could tell they had once been a pale orange.

He carefully replaced the flowers. He suddenly thought he knew why this book was special. Slowly, he turned to the front. On the first page were his signature and a brief note made out to her, the ink fading. Castle read the earnest inscription and knew that she had made an impression on him even then. He wracked his memory, desperate to remember her and devastated that he couldn't.

He heard Beckett finish her conversation and hang up the phone. He briefly considered hiding the book again, but he was sure he couldn't move fast enough without damaging the roses. When she walked into the bedroom, he was holding the book open, staring down at the flowers.

She noticed the book in his hands and slowed to a stop near the bed. Smiling softly, she said, "I never got a chance to open that flower store."

Castle returned her smile. "You kept them." He gingerly flipped to the inside cover. "And you got this signed. When?"

She sat down next to him. "A few days after it came out."

"And you went, yourself?"

She rolled her eyes, a little sheepish. "Yes, Castle, I bought your book and stood in line to get it signed. By you." She looked over at him. "Does that surprise you?"

"It surprises me that I can't remember." He shook his head, disappointed in himself. "When we met at that party, I—I knew you were different. That you were someone I wanted to get to know better." His expression softened at the memory. "You had the most mesmerizing eyes I had ever seen, Kate. I was enchanted." He caught her blush out of the corner of his eye and turned to her. "Plus, you are really hot. I just can't believe I didn't recognize you."

"Well, you've signed a lot of books, Castle—among other things. And when I went to that signing, it wasn't a great time in my life. I wasn't as…put-together then."

"But I bet you were still really hot."

"Yeah, you know, I was," she answered off-handedly.

He grinned. It thrilled him that they could talk so candidly. "So, all this time, you knew we met that long ago, and you didn't say anything?"

Beckett shrugged. "I was going to tell you eventually. There was just a lot to explain. I didn't even like you at first, so I wasn't about to admit that I had gone to a book signing." He shot her a look of exaggerated shock, making her laugh a little. "And I wasn't ready to talk about why I was such a big fan in the first place."

She paused, expecting him to make a joke, but he waited patiently.

After a moment, she continued, "You know how…single-minded I can be when it comes to my mom's case. After she was murdered, I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't do anything else. I didn't even eat or sleep sometimes." She looked at the book in his hands. "The only thing that could pull me out of it were your stories. I went through everything you had written, and then I read it all again. You gave me the courage to make a life for myself again. If it hadn't been for your books, Castle, I don't know where I would be right now."

She finally met his gaze. He stared back at her, stunned. "Kate, I had no idea."

"Well, I kind of made sure you didn't. I'm not sure I could have talked about it until—until we had things out in the open."

Castle nodded. He looked down at the book and said softly, "I always wish I could have been there for you, when you lost your mom." He ran his thumb over the inscription. "Thank you, for telling me." Opening the book to the flowers, he told her, "I hope I didn't crush these."

"You didn't. And it's okay now. I kept them because they reminded me how you felt, about me. I wanted to remember." Beckett picked up one of the roses. She held the flower in her palm, reflecting for a moment before saying, "You know I was conscious until we got to the hospital?" Castle's eyes widened. He shook his head. "I remember the whole ride in the ambulance. There was so much noise. The sirens going off, Lanie yelling at everyone—including me. I could feel myself slipping, and it would have been so easy to just let go, to not have to fight anymore.

"But through all of it, I could hear you, too, begging me to stay with you. I knew you were holding my hand, and I wanted to squeeze back. I wanted to tell you that I loved you, too, that I was trying really hard not to leave you. The last thing I remember was the ambulance stopping, and I felt you touch my cheek. You told me you needed me." She reached over and took his hand. "And then, when you came to see me, I saw that look on your face, and what you said about thinking you'd never see me again—Castle, I made it through that ambulance ride because I knew I had to see you again."

She squeezed his hand. "Obviously, I had no idea what to do after that, but I pressed these"—she carefully slid the rose back onto the book—"as soon as I got home. It's silly, but I didn't want to mess that up, at least, because I didn't know how to get the rest of it right, with you."

Castle shook his head. "It's not silly," he assured her in a whisper. Then he was quiet, staring absently at the flowers. Beckett waited, watching him. She guessed from the pain in his expression that he was replaying that evening, imagining a different outcome. After a moment, he delicately closed the book and placed it on her dresser. Some of the spark was back in his eyes when he turned to her.

"So," he began, "you could say that my words saved you on at least two separate occasions."

He had expected an eye-roll, but Beckett replied easily, "Yes, they did." Narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion, she added, "Does this go on your list of the times you supposedly saved my life?"

Castle pretended to think it over. "I haven't updated that list in a while. I'm considering adding a few entries."

"If you're going to do that, I think I deserve some input. Your embellishments tend to favor you more than me."

"I think I need the embellishing more."

"I'll give you that," Beckett agreed. They shared a smile.

"You know this is going to take me a while to process," he admitted.

Beckett laced her fingers through his. "Would it help if we got some lunch?"

"I can't say no when a lady asks me out—although there are certainly times when I should have," he ended with a small frown.

Beckett laughed. When she saw him relax a little, she stood and tugged on his hand. "Where do you want to go?"

Castle rose. "You pick," he insisted.

"Okay." As she led him from the bedroom, she looked back over her shoulder and asked, "Does this mean you won't whine when I pay?"

"Kate, after that conversation, I might try to buy you the whole restaurant."

They stopped by the door to pull on their shoes. "Do you always throw money at women who reveal their secrets to you?" He grinned as she wrinkled her nose. "Wait, don't answer that."

"I wasn't going to. And speaking of secrets—for the record, I wasn't snooping. I only opened that drawer because I was looking for your—"

"I know what you were looking for. Don't bother. There are some secrets I'm planning on revealing"—she finished zipping her boot and straightened, her gaze now level with his—"very slowly."

Castle gulped. He opened his mouth but couldn't think of a response.

"So don't ruin the surprise." Beckett smirked as he nodded. "Good. Now let's go get some burgers."