"She wore that?" Will Sorenson gasped, staring at the picture of Dectective Kate Beckett in his hands.
In said photo, she was hanging off Rick Castle's arm, but he was trying to ignore that part. She was wearing a dress that showed off more of Kate Beckett that he had never wanted any man but him to see. She looked gorgeous in it, Kate always looked gorgeous, but, the way the people were gawking at her, wasn't just because she was hanging off the arm (damnit, why did he keep reminding himself of this?) of a world famous writer. That night, Kate Beckett had blended in with those people. The higher society. She had almost pulled it off too, if she hadn't arrested that guy and pulled the badge out of . . . Where did she hide that thing anyway?
Her dress was too tight to have stuff it in her chest, which, he had heard, was a favourite natural pocket for women. She couldn't have put it anywhere else, she couldn't have grabbed it quickly. Where had she put that thing?
But never mind the question of where her badge had been hidden. Will focused his attention back onto the author. That stupid author. If that thing had just stayed a nice distance away for about another half of a year or so, Kate Beckett probably would have been engaged. To him. He'd always planned to come back for her. He'd never stopped missing her. He'd never stopped loving her. He had tried, really tried, to get over her, but he could never forget Kate. Not Kate. It took him several one night stands and pregnancy scares (scares, he had no children that he knew of) to realize that Kate Beckett was his one and only. He wanted to be her Romeo. He wanted her to be his Juliet.
So he came back.
He came back too late.
By the time he returned, Rick Castle had returned, and even if Kate hadn't acknowledged it, yet, Will Sorenson had lost his Juliet.
Forever.
The idea cornered me and was holding me hostage. I swear. I don't own Castle. Review please.
~DI4MGZ~