Title: Alias

Summary: When Beckett makes an embarrassing admission at a crime scene, Castle lets her in on a guilty little secret of his own.

Rating: T, just to be sure.

Disclaimer: yadda, yadda, I still don't own Castle etc. Spoiler (minor) for Boom!

Author's Note: Another random ficlet that I couldn't shake, even though I should be writing the next chapter of 'Layers of the Onion' (I am still working on it, honest, folks!). Almost nothing but fluff.

NevynR

Beckett bent down to examine the body of the elderly woman, sprawled on the floor of her own lounge room. Her perusal of the corpse was interrupted by a muffled chortle from the other side of the room, as her partner ran his eyes over the book case.

"Care to share with the class, Castle?" She asked, still a little put out by the way he could find something amusing, even at a murder scene.

"Not really, Detective. I was just admiring her taste in books. It's been a while since I saw a few of the Derrick Storm books mixed in with Desirée Beauchamp bodice-rippers." He wandered over to her, a cheeky grin dancing on his lips.

"You find it amusing because you don't think they are a similar literary caliber to your books?"

"Not that at all, Beckett... although I must admit to being more than a little curious as to how exactly you can comment on their content. I know you have read all the Rick Castle books, I just wouldn't have pegged you for having an interest in... those as well. Fan of the genre?"

Beckett stood up, having gathered all the detail she could from the body, anything more would need to wait on the autopsy report. Blushing slightly, she turned and hissed at Castle.

"Can we not do this right now, Castle?" Still grinning, he nodded, deciding that keeping his mouth shut for a little while might be a good idea.

Ten minutes later, they were done investigating the crime scene, and headed back to the precinct.

Stuck in traffic on the way back, Castle took the opportunity to restart their earlier conversation.

"So... as you were saying, Detective... Are you a fan of the genre?" Beckett shot him a quick glare, before sighing, and muttering quietly.

"Not the genre, Castle, just... that author." Embarrassed to even say the name, she focused her attention on the crowded street in front of her.

"Why?" He prodded, trying to tease as much information as possible out of her before she clammed up again.

"Because..." She paused, and gave in. "Because, Castle, I happen to like the way she writes. I caught a friend of mine reading one back in college, and I had a quick flick through it, and couldn't put it down. I'm not usually into all that romance and heaving bosoms, but I just... kept reading. I finished the book that night, and every now and then, when I saw a new one out, I'd buy it. They..." She paused again, biting her lip. "I read them when I've had a rough day, and am not in the mood for any of your books, okay?"

"So... just out of curiosity, how many do you have?" A teasing smile worked it way into his eyes.

"Um... all of them?" She replied, blushing hotly. Castle couldn't restrain a burst of laughter as Beckett glared ahead, mortified. Restraining his amusement, Castle put on his 'serious' voice.

"Beckett?" He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She turned her face to him, still blushing, daring him to say anything further. "Can I let you in on a secret?"

"What, Castle?"

"No, seriously, Beckett... when I tell you this, you'll see the funny side, I promise."

She sighed, looking over to him again, her irritation fading somewhat, replaced by curiosity. "Okay Castle, what's your secret?"

His face dead serious, her gave her his undivided attention. "I want your word that this conversation doesn't leave this car, Beckett. Not even Alexis or Mother know this, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." Taken aback, Beckett nodded.

"You have my word, Castle. Now, what the hell is going on?"

"I found it amusing at the crime scene, because I hadn't seen my books together like that before, not even back at the loft." Puzzled, she looked at him, trying to figure out what the hell he was getting at.

"Come again?"

"The Storm books weren't the only ones of mine on that shelf, Detective."

"Yes they were, Castle, I know every single one of those books, inside and out."

"Yes you do..." He said, pausing. "Not just the Derrick Storm ones."

There were several seconds silence as she ran his words through her mind, trying to decipher his cryptic remarks. Only one conclusion came to mind, and she just couldn't accept that one...

"You..." She swallowed, still trying to come to grips with it. "You... wrote the Beauchamp books? You're Desirée Beauchamp?" He actually blushed, before responding.

"Guilty as charged. Now you see why I was amused when you said that you read them when you didn't feel in the mood for my other books..."

"Castle, I... You... No. I don't believe it. You are pulling my leg."

"Nope. I mean every word. How can I prove it to you?" She thought quickly, still not ready to believe. An idea occurred to her.

"Ok, Castle... when my apartment got blown up, I lost a couple of the books. I found replacements on Ebay. One of those was actually signed by her, nothing personal, just a signature. I know your writing, and that isn't it."

"Want to bet, Beckett? It wouldn't exactly do to have a nom de plume, and have my own signature on it now... Feel like a small wager?"

"You're on, Castle. I win, you stay in the car when I tell you to for a whole week."

"I can handle that. I win, I take you to dinner Friday night."

"Castle..."

"What? If you're so sure, Beckett, how come you are afraid to lose?"

"Fine. Deal."

"So, you want me to swing by your place after work today so I can sign my life away?"

"Since you insist, Castle, yes." She smirked confidently, although she was just a little bit worried at how easily she had been suckered into accepting even the possibility of a date with Castle.

The rest of the trip to the precinct was quiet, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence with conversation.

Beckett glanced at the clock in frustration. Logging off her computer, she ran her hands through her hair and sighed.

"Okay Castle, time to get out of here. We can't do any more until Lanie is done with the autopsy, and that'll be tomorrow at the earliest. You still coming over to lose the bet?"

"But of course..." He slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. "How could I resist such a charming offer?" Rolling her eyes at him, she walked around her desk and they made their way out.

Kate slipped her key into the lock and turned it, opening the door. Dumping her bag on the bench, she waved Castle over to the couch.

"You have time for a drink?" She asked, heading to the kitchen.

"Mother is out tonight, and Alexis is staying over at Paige's place tonight, so I'd really only be ordering in and trying to get a couple of chapters done." He settled on the couch as she poured two glasses, knowing red wine would be ok for them both. Handing over his glass, she decided that there was no time like the present. She sipped her wine, and grabbed down her already-signed Desirée Beauchamp novel. A secretive smile on her lips, she sat next to him on the couch and took another sip. He reached over and plucked the novel from her hands, smiling as he said,

"Ah, The Black Rose... Probably one of my favorites, actually." He opened the cover saw the signature and put on his poker face. He pulled a pen from inside his jacket and placed the book on the coffee table. Leaning forward, he switched the pen to his left hand and quickly began writing on the inside cover, opposite the other signature.

"For Kate,

May the fire in these pages keep you warm when all else seems cold and dark.

Always,

Desirée Beauchamp"

He slipped the pen back and handed the book over to Beckett. Setting her glass down, she took the book in both hands, her eyes quickly reading the inscription, and then double-checking the handwriting. The delicate, feminine script was nothing like the one Castle used. It was, however, an exact match for the signature on the other page. Her mouth fell open as she struggled to comprehend that her two favorite authors were actually one and the same.

"You... Her..." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "How? Why?" He chuckled at her confusion as he took a drink of his wine.

"Honestly? I was bored." He saw the confused look on her face, and continued. "It was not long after In a Hail of Bullets was released... I happened across one of Mother's bodice-rippers, and had a look at it, purely for research purposes mind you... I can't honestly remember who it was written by, but I couldn't help but be taken aback as just how... tacky it was. I thought to myself 'I could write better than this drivel with my eyes shut'. I started almost immediately, just to prove a point. A week later, I had For His Eyes Only written, and ready to go to the publisher. I knew I couldn't exactly use my own name for it, so I made one up. I sent the manuscript off to some small-time publishing house, figuring they'd be less inclined to ask too many questions, and made sure I used a couple of post boxes to throw anybody curious off the scent. It actually took me longer to set up the false identity than it did to write the damned thing. It got published, and I found that there was a steady trickle of royalties coming in. I didn't really need the money, so I funneled the profits into charitable donations to organizations that I thought needed it. I kept on writing them, almost out of habit. It gives me a chance to clear my head if Nikki is being bothersome, or Rook just won't do as he's damn well told." He studied the wine in his glass as he swirled it around. "You know, four years ago, I got stuck big-time. It took writing the last two Desirée novels before I finally made my mind up to kill of Storm..."

"Richard Castle, or should I say Ms Beauchamp, you never cease to amaze me. So why don't your Mother and Alexis know about it?"

"Alexis because she's never shown the slightest interest in that genre, and it's not exactly something that comes up in dinner conversation... I mean, 'Hey Pumpkin, daddy wrote another steamy romance novel today, how was school?' doesn't exactly flow, does it? And Mother...? Well, I honestly thought about telling her when the first book was published, but when she came home, she already had her nose in the thing. That wouldn't have been so bad, but then she started to rave about it, and I couldn't look her in the face and tell her that her little boy had written the book that she was getting all steamed up about... Way too Oedipus Rex for my taste, so I have kept it as my guilty little secret for nearly twenty years." He paused, draining his glass. "So now you know, Beckett, just why I was so amused when you said you take a Desirée book to bed if you aren't in the mood for a Castle one."

"I guess I'll have to keep your secret now too, since I can't exactly tell anybody about it without admitting that I read those books. It's bad enough you knowing, and you wrote the damn things. Can you imagine how much crap the guys would give me if they found out?" She finished off her glass of wine and put the book back on the coffee table. "More wine?" She asked, a second before she yawned. Castle stoop up, offering her his hand.

"Not tonight, Detective. I think you could do with an early night." Grasping his hand, she allowed him to help her up. Beckett grabbed their glasses and took them to the kitchen, placing them in the sink. Castle grabbed his jacket as she met him at the door. As he entered the hall, he turned back to her, asking

"How does dinner at Da Angelo's sound for tomorrow night? Pick you up at 7 o'clock?" Kate blinked twice and blushed, remembering that she had lost the bet fair and square. Finding her voice unexpectedly light, she replied.

"Sure, Castle. That sounds fine." Taking a risk, Castle put his hand on her shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Stepping back before she had a chance to react, he said

"Until tomorrow, Beckett." She watched him walk down the hall until he was lost from sight, before she went back inside and closed the door. Locking it, she leaned back against the frame, still feeling the brush of his lips against her skin as a giddy smile took over her features. Who knows, she thought, maybe losing the bet was the best thing to happen in a while...