A/N: All the thanks to Jennifer for lighting a fire under my ass to get this one finished. I got it done before the new ep, whoo!

Disclaimer: These are not my characters. Except for Mary, she's totally mine.


"Okay, so how'd you do it?"

Kate smiles into her tea cup, sets it and the book she was reading aside. She's surprised that it's taken him two days to ask. A few times now she's caught him staring at nothing, his writer's imagination spinning out scenarios. She almost started the story more than once but it occurred to her that maybe he didn't want to know, that maybe he was content with his version of it.

Apparently not. And she's more than happy to brag about the epic production they placed him in the middle of. He wheels over to the sofa, stands on his good leg and pivots to flop next her, props his cast-encased leg in the wheelchair. He twists his upper body towards her, eyes bright and alert, an excited smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

"A lot of text messages, mainly," she starts, placing her hand on his thigh, wanting the physical connection. "A couple of phone calls when we were sure you wouldn't hear them. Almost every time you saw Michael on the phone, he was talking to Martha or Mary."

The new name peaks his interest. "Mary?"

"Your mom's stage manager."

"How on earth did she stage manage that?" He sweeps a hand towards the windows.

"She was 2 more floors up in the stairwell; there's a window there that she watched you from. We basically banked on you getting so invested in Michael and Emily that you wouldn't look any higher."


Kate was looking through Clara DeWinter's stack of tax files when the text from Mary came through.

It's starting.

She gasped, the slightest of inhales but it caught Ryan and Esposito's attention. No time to tell them though. Our director knows?

She's the one that called action.

Excellent. Keep me updated?

Will do.

She set the phone down to find two pairs of eyes, one brown, one blue, fixed intently on her.

"He's getting the set up now," she gleefully informed them.

The boys shared a fist bump before getting back to work.

She got one more message a few minutes later. Hook, line, and sinker.

Just as she planned.


It was 45 minutes later – later than she told Castle she'd be leaving – and they were just about to call it a night when her phone started ringing beside her.

She honestly expected him to whine about where she was again so when she was met with his frenetic pace of words and a blurted "I think I just saw a murder!", she almost let out a whoop of delight.

When he was sufficiently convinced that she and the boys were going to come over, she hung up, allowed the grin that she'd been suppressing to steal across her face.

"Showtime."


She was well aware that he was just humoring her when they went to bed. There was no way that he could sleep after what he saw that evening. She feigned sleep right along with him but her ruse was a little more effective. Probably because of how distracted he was. She let him slip out of bed, let him think that he managed it without disturbing her. Which was so far from the truth. Any coordination that he had with 2 good legs was completely gone with one of them incapacitated.

When she heard the door softly snick closed, she groped for her phone on the nightstand and called up the group text that all involved parties were using to communicate.

He's on the move, just "snuck" out of bed.

Michael and Mary replied almost simultaneously.

I was taking a nap in the bed.

Mary's here.

Shit. Blinds are still closed?

Of course.

Yes.

Then I guess she's stuck there.

Better than that folding chair in the hallway, the girl quipped.

Got it handled kiddos? Martha's reply cut in.

All issues are manageable, director, Mary assured. Kate made a mental note to offer the girl a letter of recommendation for any future employment; her crisis handling skills were top notch.


"Okay, wait," Castle cut in to her reverie. "You're saying that the night that I watched him pace the floors and sleep on the couch, it was because the stage manager was there?"

"Yep. And most of the pacing was because he was trying to keep himself awake." Try as she might, she can't stop the smug smile from twisting her lips. "The next night, Mary had to watch you pretty close to make sure that you saw him taking the 'body' out."

A storm moves across his face, brings a haunted and sad look to his eyes. "She had to watch because I had basically kicked you out. I'm sorry."

"Hey, no," she's quick to soothe, raises a hand to grip his bicep, shakes him gently to get him to look at her. "You didn't know and I was shooting you down at every turn. I almost just told you everything right then, but…" she trails off.

"Why didn't you?" he asks softly.

"I really thought you'd understand, that you'd forgive me in hindsight. Finishing the gift seemed like the better plan."

"I do forgive you." His voice is urgent, the words sharp with the intent of making an impact.

"I know." She presses closer to him, their thighs flush against each other, her hand sliding around to his shoulder blade. "Castle, you know I would have believed you if it had been a real murder, right? I know that you seek the truth as hard as I do and if you really had seen something, I would have backed you up."

"I do know that which is why I was so hurt at the time, none of it was what I was expecting you to say." She opens her mouth to reply but he holds up a hand, rushes on with his words. "It does make sense in hindsight. And it's okay, Kate. It's more than okay." He reaches out to gather her against his chest, drops a kiss to her hair as she breathes out a sigh against his collar bone.

A thought occurs to him and he pulls away to look at her. "Is that why Alexis came over?"

She nods. "Your mother tasked her with making sure that the story progressed."


So I knew that I was supposed to make sure Dad sees him clean the room. But you didn't tell me he was going to do it in his boxers.

Kate laughed loud enough that she caught the boys' attention across the bullpen, twin curious expressions on their faces. She waved them off and buried her face in the small screen to reply to Alexis's text.

I could always come over if you can't handle it.

No no no, I'm fine. The reply came quickly and had Kate chuckling again.

Thank you for your sacrifice.

Anything for my dear father. Yeah, she didn't grow up with an actress and a writer for influence. No, not at all.

Seriously though, thank you Alexis.

It's not a problem, honestly. I'm having fun. I'll let you know what happens.

Thanks.

Despite the young woman's insistence, Kate felt bad for putting her in the middle of it. This was her convoluted plan and playing her part got her kicked out. There's no reason that Alexis should have to pick up the pieces and thread them back together. She was still staring at her phone when the boys came over to fill her in on Tommy the Shark and the new lead managed to distract her for the few hours that it took to find and interrogate him.

She was so distracted, in fact, that she left her phone in the top desk drawer and when she came out from interrogation, her phone was inundated with text message notifications, a few from Alexis but most of them were from the group text and chronicled the events of The Great Break-In.

While it would have been fine if he had just grabbed the bag from the shredder and left, she wasn't even a little bit surprised that he felt the need to explore the bedroom as well. That was why Martha had insisted that no detail go unnoticed. "A flaw in the set can ruin the whole show," she had said when the set designer questioned her on the blood in the closet. And they had even worked in an overheard phone call as well. It had actually gone better than planned.

Content that Castle had his next clue and would call her with his "proof" when he came across it, she settled into getting more information out of Gavin DeWinter.


Things progressed smoothly for a little while after that, bits of the story falling perfectly into place.

Until the guard at the storage center caught them. There was no way that she could explain – let alone prove – that the person leasing the space wouldn't press charges without tipping off Castle.

Help, she managed to send to Esposito in a moment of Castle trying to charm his way out of the situation.

What's up?

Caught at storage center, threatening charges.

On it. On it? What on earth was he was talking about?

A few agonizing minutes later, during which the office manager seemed to have a suspicious amount of difficulty locating the contract for that particular unit, another message came through. Call Gates now. Don't ask me why or what's going to happen, just do it.

Despite all the questions screaming in her head, she scrolled through her contacts and hit the number for her captain's office line. There was only about half a ring before it was answered.

"Sir, it's Beckett," was all that she managed to get out before the crisp voice of Victoria Gates on a warpath blasted in her ear.

"Detective Esposito has apprised me of your current situation and while I appreciate that you were trying to keep Mr. Castle out of trouble, why am I not surprised that he got you into it? Now hand the phone to whoever is in charge at that facility so that I can clean up this mess."

Kate held the phone out to the security guard since he was the one that was so insistent that the trespassing charges be pressed, gleefully informing him that her police captain from the 12th precinct would like to talk to him. The man gulped but took the phone and Kate tried not to laugh as all color drained out of his face.

He handed the phone back a minute later, squeaking out, "She'd like to speak to you again."

She barely had the phone up to her ear before "Beckett, you and Castle will go straight from there to my office, no exceptions," was barked in her ear and the call was disconnected.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, gentleman, we'll be on our way." She motioned for Castle to go ahead and when he turned to start hobbling out, she could have sworn that the office manager winked at her.


Kate was desperate to know what Esposito had just pulled off but really did need an update on the case so she used that convenient cover to lag behind after their dressing down from Gates. She feigned trying to fellow Castle to the elevator but saw the doors sliding shut as she turned and, shooting a look into her captain's office, rounded on the boys.

"Okay, what'd you do?"

"She thinks it's our idea and that we roped you into, too. She jumped at the chance to have a legitimate excuse to yell at Castle." Espo's smug smile was almost as big as Ryan's. Almost.

She shook her head at them, chewing on her lip to try to stop the pleased smile that was threatening. These two really would always have her back, wouldn't they? "I owe you."

"Oh, we know," Ryan was quick to answer.

She sighed. "I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?"

"Probably." Esposito agreed.

"Thanks, guys."

"Of course." Ryan's smile shifted to one of encouragement.

She really did owe them.


The odd behavior of the office manager continued to bother her that evening and when she was safely ensconced in the bathroom to get ready for Castle's party (No, dinner. Castle thinks we're going to dinner), she took the opportunity to text Michael.

Did you tell the guy at the storage center the plan?

I was renting a place at 3 in the morning with nothing but a rolled up rug. He was looking at me funny so I unrolled it to prove that there was nothing in it and told him what was up. He loved it.

But the security guard didn't know?

He said that the guy was a terrible liar so he'd keep it from him in case you guys showed up. I'm guessing it worked?

Like a charm except for the part where we almost got slapped with a trespassing charge.

Good thing you're a cop?

Very good. Final phase coming up, you ready?

Absolutely.

Do actors need letters of recommendation? She'd write one for all of them if it would help anything.


She adjusted the pearls at her wrist again, smoothed down the skirt of her dress one last time before exiting the bedroom. This was it. She had to get him over there one way or another and was prepared with a few contingency plans should the first one not work.

A wave of relief washed over her when he made the connection with the fridge and she had to slow herself down to make she that she stalked and didn't run out of the loft. She was supposed to be angry, not giddy with excitement.

And while the final reveal wasn't quite as smooth as she had imagined, his final reaction was worth all of the effort.


He's smiling at her as she's finishing telling him about their scramble to drag decorations out of the bedroom and food out of the fridge (the real reason that it couldn't be opened while he was watching) and the soft turn of his lips is almost as loving as the look in his eyes.

"What?" she asks, suddenly self-conscious as she's caught in his gaze.

"So, I was right in thinking that this whole thing hinged on you being able to predict what I would do next?"

She hears the inflection, can tell it's not a plural you. He's talking about her. About how well she knows him.

"Yeah." She shrugs, just a rise and drop of one shoulder as she tries not to make too much of the comment.

But he's having none of that.

"I meant what I said before, no one has ever done something like that for me. I don't think that anyone took the time to get to know me well enough to even attempt something like that." He reaches for her hand, threads their fingers together and raises their joined hands to rest over his heart, the back of her hand against his chest. "Kate, thank you." His voice is low, the words vibrating through her palm, settling into her bones.

She blushes and ducks her head, words completely failing her. "You're welcome" isn't enough. "Of course" is too light and seems like a brush off. And she doesn't want to brush this off, this beautiful moment that means so much to both of them. There's only one reply that she can give.

"Always."


I would love to know what you think.