Chapter 1

It had been a horrid few weeks. The caseload was a crushing weight on Beckett and her team; it was a train of back-to-back cases that barreled into them, each veiled in a cloud of emotional heaviness. Over the past weeks they had tackled two rape-murder cases, one of a 16-year-old girl, a murder-suicide of a man and his mistress, a few muggings gone wrong, and worst of all, a mother murdered in front of her six year old daughter.

Beckett's stress levels were through the roof and sleep was a luxury she hardly had time to enjoy. If there was a night when she got home at a decent hour, her mind was trapped in a cycle of memories, theories, and raw introspection that left her brain drained yet wired. She returned home at 10:30 that night, and the paradox of exhaustion and abraded energy flooded her system. Beckett schlepped off her gloves, scarf, and coat, throwing them on her living room chair because the effort to hang them up was just too damn much. She hesitated at the open bottle of wine in her fridge, but figured she earned an evening to numb the constant anxiety that had taken up residence in her psyche these past days. After decompressing on the couch, sipping on the smooth liquid, and practicing the relaxation techniques that Burke was helping her with, she headed for the bathroom in hopes of a calming bath.

She stripped out of her trousers and blouse, carefully averting her eyes from her scars; she just couldn't face those issues tonight. While water filled her cast iron tub, she stepped on her scale. Beckett had lost a few pounds, not as bad as she was expecting when she was on a non-stop work spree. In the past, when work became this hectic she would forget to eat until she started seeing orbs in her vision and felt her head go light. Why isn't that a bigger concern? She thought to herself, but for Kate Beckett forgetting to eat was as trivial as forgetting to shave her legs or floss her teeth. Glancing at the scale once more, she realized she had only lost four pounds instead of her usual ten, and she guessed she had Castle to thank for that. He was always making sure she ate an energy bar, Chinese, or a burger and fries from Remy's. Always looking out for her. Always. And at that thought the guilt set in.

God I was awful to him today, she realized as she buried her face in her hands and shook her head in frustration. Hell I've been a bitch to him for the past week and a half, and each day she behaved worse than the one before. She bit his head off today for absolutely no provoked reason.

That morning Kate stood ramrod straight, arms crossed rigidly across her chest, as her eyes dashed over her murder board. She was working on an old case that was never solved and always nagged at her. Things just didn't add up and it was pissing her off. All her suspects had rock solid alibis, there were huge gaps in her timeline, nothing conclusive had come back from the lab, and Gates was breathing down her neck, insisting she wrap this up in the next two days or else it be reshelved as a cold case.

Beckett hated a cold case, despised them, she couldn't fail here. So she came in at six that morning just to fit it into her current caseload and had been plugging away for the past four hours. She was strung out, tired, and frustrated. She felt like she was walking a thin line and everyone was trying to throw her off make matters worse she had to cancel her last two sessions with Burke.

Soon Castle walked up beside her from the break room, placing her cup of coffee on her desk. She gave him a glance out of the corner of her eye in acknowledgment. Not even a 'thank you.' She had already squashed his wild, albeit though-provoking theories for this cold case, but he still tried to conjure up events that were missing on the murder board. Beckett grabbed the white board pen out of his hands when he attempted to alter the timeline.

"This is my board Castle, not your little personal notebook for your writing. I have to solve this and I can't have you using the precinct as your playground on this one." He quieted and let her work uninterrupted. But that could only last so long with him.

"So any news from Lanie on those fibers found underneath Ms. Gosland's nails?" Castle asked in attempt to break the frosty atmosphere that had settled between them.

"Nothing revealing, all they tell us is that our perp was wearing leather and that our victim put up a fight," Kate replied curtly as she strode over to sit at her desk to review Gosland's financials yet again.

Castle sat in his chair, resting his fingers underneath his chin as he took Beckett in. She was frustrated that was for damn sure. The vein in her forehead pulsed, her intense mossy eyes squinted at the numbers in front of her, and her hair had lost some volume from unconsciously running her fingers through it. Castle still thought she looked gorgeous. What others would see as angry frustration, he saw as determined fortitude. She gave herself to these victims completely and selflessly, seeking justice for those who deserved it and punishing those who had it coming. She was the heroine of countless stories in Castle's mind. Her fierce strength inspired him and her gentle compassion that lies in the shadows astounded him.

Beckett slipped her fingers into the handle of her coffee as Castle admired her, and she took a large gulp of the dark liquid, her fuel. The gulp filled her mouth and she had to fight not to spit it out. "Damn it Castle. That is fucking scalding," she exclaimed in an angry whisper. The coffee scorched her taste buds and flowed like fire down her throat.

"Fuck," she murmured while Castle attempted to suppress a chuckle, but his smirk gave away his amusement and that just inflamed Beckett's already frayed nerves. "You burned my tongue and throat, could have warn me."

He got the hint: Do not poke the beast. "Sorry, I didn't realize. My mistake," Castle apologized, but his childish side begged to take advantage of the word 'tongue' because it so rarely came up in their natural conversation. Don't piss her off, don't be and idiot, just don't! Oh what the hell...

"I can soothe that hot tongue for you, if need be?" he murmured into her ear as he leaned into her personal space. He is always invading her space. It elicited the expected eye roll, but the response that followed was typically a 50/50 chance between a hidden smile at the corner of her lips or a bit to her cheek to control her reaction. Lately, that is before the rainfall of gruesome cases, it was about a 75% chance of the hidden smile.

"God you are such an arrogant jackass sometime. Do you use that line with your bimbos too?" she spat and in the back of her mind she knew that was completely unfair. He hadn't dated anyone in six months, not since he told her that he loved her, and come to think about it- had there been anyone since Gina? Castle was faithful and loyal to her promise that she'd give him a chance at some indeterminate time in the future. She was being rude and unfair and a straight bitch really, but she was tired and wrung out and she had already said it. Beckett saw the hurt seep into his eyes before a cool demeanor of indifference washed it out.

Castle looked her in the eye with a look of frustration, hints of hurt, and ultimately defeat. He was tired of trying to prove himself to someone who refused to see him as anything more that what he used to be, or who he used to pretend to be. He immediately got up as Esposito came over reporting the results of the secondary canvas he and Ryan had been coordinating.

"We found two witnesses that saw a Caucasian man in a brown leather jacket fleeing near the bus stop around the TOD.." Espo's voice petered out of Beckett's ears as she watched Castle pull on his coat and head down the stair of the precinct without another word.

Damn it, that was harsh but he needs a thicker skin Kate silently justified to herself. Focus. Solve.

She jumped back into refocus on Espo's explanation, "Have the sketch artist meet with them both separately and have Ryan talk to tech about the traffic cams in the area."

"Sure thing boss." Espo replied, "Hey where's Castle off too?"

"I forget what he said, meeting with the publishers maybe?" Beckett easily lied.

Castle stomped out onto the street vexed and confused. He was oh so tempted to head to the Old Haunt and throw back a few shots of tequila and a cold scotch, but it was only ten in the morning and that was a little too pathetic. Though he felt it would fall perfectly into his most recent Richard Castle persona; loyal puppy to the uninterested Kate Beckett who enjoyed kicking and stringing along her pets. Instead he headed to the gym, his sanctuary that few people were aware of.

When his temper got the better of him the gym was the first place he went. He would run off his frustration over his mother, or his anxiety about raising a teenage girl, or his heartache. At times his writing could be a good release and allowed his mind to be drained of its whirlwind of ideas and thoughts. His imagination took a hold of his reality and twisted it into a fantasy of literary revelations, captivating plot lines, or deep character development. He liked that he could control all of that, manipulate his hurt into something he could handle and express. But other times, he just wanted to let go, not think about what it meant that she grabbed his hand at his mother's play, or bumped hips with him to cheer him up, or twirled her luscious locks around her long slender fingers. He wanted his full attention funneled into something that didn't require his reality to be twisted and carved into a world he could be happy in. Sometimes he just wanted to run. And this was one of those times.

Before he knew it he was walking into his gym, nodding at the blonde receptionist who offered a dazzling smile, as he pushed into the locker room to change. The gym was fairly empty, a few bored housewives doing light yoga and an older gentleman lifting light dumbbells. Castle actively resisted his usual habit of creating stories about the strangers in a room, of how the older gentleman was a retired CIA spy who could never kick the routine of staying in shape or how the two housewives played seedy swinger games with each other's husband without one another's knowledge.

No, he didn't want his imagination at work here because it inevitably leads back to Kate. He didn't want Kate haunting his mind. He wanted her out of it. He was on the treadmill, his heavy limbs pounding heavily into the rubber tread, sweat slowly accumulating on his lower back, and he tried to focus on his breathing; consciously taking in each breath, holding it in his expanded lungs, and then releasing it on a controlled exhale. But that would only last for five or six breaths and before he realized it he was imagining Kate doing gentle yoga, her hair falling in her face so that she had to blow a puff of air to get it out of her eyes while maintaining her pose, the taught lines of her lean legs stabilizing her, and her eyes deep in focus with her movements and breathing.

Castle growled at his traitorous mind. He couldn't be stationary; the treadmill offered movement but the world around him wasn't distracting enough. Without hesitation he slammed the stop button and high tailed it out to the street where everything was moving. His mind could jump from one thing to the next without focus, therefore without it leading back to Kate. He started running, sprinting basically, and headed into the park. It was a brisk November morning and he should probably be wearing more substantial clothing than shorts and a long sleeve tee, but he reveled in the thrill of the cold nipping at his body.

He ran hard and fast along the path in Central Park. His cheeks and fingers burned from the cold air, his ears itched, and his lips caught on each other from their chap. Castle didn't have to focus on his breathing out here, it came in heavy exhales and he could see the air come out of his mouth and nose.

The cool air felt exhilarating in his lungs, like he was being reborn from a pathetic sap in love with a woman who may or may not have romantic feelings for him into a capable man who didn't take ridicule and shit from a woman who strung him along. Running gave him power and freedom and he loved that. Castle glanced at his runner's watch and realized he was already rounding out on five miles; his legs were burning as they propelled him with each step, his shoulders were tightening with the rotations of his toned abs, his feet were burning from the friction of his shoes.

He was lost in the sensations of his body when the call of his name dragged him back to his surroundings. The path had gotten crowded with the early lunch crowd that dared to face the whipping wind and Castle slowed to a jog, scanning for a familiar face. He spotted nothing out of the ordinary, at least for New York City; a homeless man dressed in a woman's parka, Goth teen making out with a prom princess, a pair of trannys out for a stroll, business interns hustling coffee and dry cleaning. No one Castle recognized so he began to increase his pace, extending his stride to feel his quads lengthen and contract.

"RICK!" he heard again, loud enough that he shuffled to a stop and turned around to scan the people he had just passed. There he laid his deep blue eyes on the one that got away, twice.

"Kyra?"

Kate melted in the tub, the knots in her back loosened and her eyes glazed over as she stared into space. She felt so guilty for snapping at Castle and she couldn't figure out why she was aiming all her frustration at him. He was an easy target she guessed, resilient and endlessly sweet. His gentle blue eyes conveyed a tenderness that felt like Beckett's anchor, her constant. But when she insinuated that he was sleeping around today, she saw that tenderness drain from his eyes and a shield of indifference went up to protect himself. Why was I such a heartless bitch? She growled at herself because she couldn't even blame it on PMS.

Castle hadn't come back to the precinct until after three that afternoon, bearing pizza and sodas for the boys, along with her usual wrap and peach tea. He placed it on the corner of her desk and gave her a sideways glance.

"Thank you Castle." Beckett said with as much appreciation and apology she could muster at the time.

It wasn't enough. He spent the rest of the day helping Ryan review traffic camera footage. To avoid her, Castle even pitched in on paperwork from a previous case that Espo had to get done. At six she kicked the boys out, thanking them on their full day's work. She was still endlessly ticked off that the case was going nowhere fast. Castle had quickly left with the boys, offering a solemn, "G'Night Beckett."

As she flopped into her bed, Kate assured herself that Castle would be his normal, sweet, humorous, slightly annoying self tomorrow. He'd bounce back. She could nearly bet on it. Part of her felt terrible that she could count on him to just let go of her atrocious behavior out of fear of loosing whatever ground they had gained in the slow crawl toward a wall-less relationship. But most of her was grateful for his graciousness toward her. She would do better tomorrow, bring him that comic book he mentioned last week to make up for it all. It would be better tomorrow. Kate was over-worked, exhausted, and emotionally drained from the rough caseload, but she admitted that was not an excuse to lash out at a innocent Castle; though Castle was never really innocent, but he deserved better.

Beckett was the first one to the 12th the next morning and prepped for the day. She organized her desk and began to take one last look at the financials of the victim. At eight the boys strolled in and a flutter of excitement burst in her stomach because Castle would be coming in shortly after them. His lazy(adorable) ass needed his "deep slumber to produce that level of rugged handsomeness, " as he claimed. The Green Lantern comic book lay under her files, just waiting to illicit that infectious smile of his that crinkles his eyes and smirks his lips in an enticing curve.

By 8:30, still no sign of Castle and Beckett checked her phone for messages for the fifth time.

Nine o'clock, no coffee sitting at the corner of her desk and no man sitting in the chair beside her desk. Beckett checked her phone one last time and as she swiped the lock, a message from Castle appeared:

Meetings lined up with Paula until 4, wont be in after that.

Another one quickly followed:

Look into Gosland's trip to the bank. Who else would know she was carrying that much cash? Someone saw her at the bank, followed her.

Maybe today wouldn't be better. He had meetings? Castle never mentioned that. Paula probably sprung it on him, trapped him into knocking out the copyright meetings in one day. That must be it. Kate panicked a bit but worked to calm herself. He would be at the precinct tomorrow, she was healing, getting to where she needed to be to start something with him. Things were fine, they were making progress. He couldn't be that upset with her, could he?