The buzzing of her cell phone on the nightstand wakes her up. She's always been a light sleeper, but ever since she became a cop, even the faintest noise is enough to make her eyes fly open. She's used to being summoned to crime scenes at odd hours.
Her boyfriend Josh remains asleep on the bed next to her, unperturbed. Kate briefly wonders how it is possible that the phone call hasn't woken him up as well. After all, he's also accustomed to being called at any time, the minute a patient needs surgery. It could be due to the exhaustion, though. He arrived late this evening with just enough time to have dinner before collapsing onto the bed, extremely tired after a long and grueling surgery. They truly are quite a match in that aspect.
However, Kate doesn't have the time to dwell on these thoughts for long, because her cell is still vibrating. Reluctantly, she reaches for the device, narrowing her eyes to protect them from the brightness of the screen. When she's finally grown accustomed to the light, she squints at the picture on the screen, attempting to distinguish the identity of her late-night caller. Before she even sees the caller's name, she recognizes the blue eyes in the picture. Castle. What does he want now?
Kate rises from the bed carefully, so as not to rouse Josh, and tiptoes out of the room, catching a glimpse of the clock on the other nightstand as she passes through the doorway. It's half past twelve. Why on earth is Castle calling so late?
As soon as she makes it into the living room, she flops on the couch and answers the phone.
"Castle, what's up?"
"Hey, Beckett, listen—" The writer stops talking for a moment, apparently noting the sleepiness lacing the detective's voice. "Er… I didn't… did I wake you?"
Beckett inhales deeply before answering him. It's been a hard week for her. She and the team have been facing a very challenging and demanding case for the past four days, and she's physically and emotionally drained. The case still isn't solved, though, and she and wants nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep in hopes of tomorrow being better. But Kate doesn't want to admit how tired she is to Castle.
"No, don't worry, I wasn't sleeping yet," she lies, trying to keep the exhaustion from showing in her voice.
Apparently, it's not that easy to fool Castle, though. "I'm so sorry, Beckett," he says with a sigh. "I'll let you go back to sleep."
"Castle, wait." She stops him, before he can hang up on her. "Is everything okay?"
"Er… yes… I just…" Castle stutters.
"Spill, Castle," Beckett demands.
"What do you think is the best way to get rid of a corpse in the city?" he blurts out quickly.
Okay, so it's a question about Nikki Heat. He must be doing some late-night writing. While he was writing the first books in the series, Castle pestered her with endless questions about police procedure, but he limited his grilling to the hours they spent together at the precinct. Lately, though, he's been calling her to ask her all kinds of things. Curiously enough, the calls grow in number when they haven't seen each other in a while. Kate doesn't mind, as much as she pretends otherwise; it's the perfect way to keep in touch with him, even when he doesn't come to the precinct in person. Besides, she's thoroughly amused by the fact that accomplished author Richard Castle, with twenty-eight best-selling mystery novels under his belt, isn't capable of imagining a creative way of dispose of a body. She knows that book advice is not the only reason behind his phone calls.
"Oh my God, Castle! What have you done?" she gasps in mock horror.
"Ha ha, very funny, Detective," the writer deadpans. "Seriously, I'm completely stuck. If the killer doesn't work a little bit harder, Nikki is going to be all over him by the end of the third chapter."
"Don't sweat it," Kate replies. "She's just that good."
"That she is," he responds candidly.
The sincerity in Castle's tone causes her heart start pounding furiously. She knows that he's referring to her, and no longer talking about Nikki, and she is left breathless, just as she always is when he says something like this to her. If she and Castle were face to face, it would be much harder for her to deflect the issue, but on the phone, she takes the easy way out, simply choosing not to reply. The silence stretches until he ends it, as usual.
"Although, of course, Nikki wouldn't be nearly as good as she is without Rook."
"Please, Castle, you're exaggerating," she responds lightly. She knows how true that statement is, though, for both the fictional characters and for the real couple they represent.
"Oh, come on! Nikki and Rook complement each other. They're the best team in town!"
So it was going to be one of those talks– dialogues in which they both carefully mask what they really mean behind half-truths and innuendos, with the goal of diverting the other's attention, but without ever managing it. It's not safe territory for Kate, due to the risk of accidentally confessing her carefully bottled up feelings, so she quickly changes the subject.
"Soak it in acid."
"I'm sorry?"
"The corpse," she clarifies. "If you submerge it in acid, you will wipe all the traces of the killer's DNA, and you will make it more difficult to ID the body. So that would delay Nikki at least another three or four chapters."
"You know, sometimes I wonder what the FBI would think if they listened to these little chats," he laughs.
"It's better if they don't. We would probably end up in prison. Well, you would, anyway," Kate adds, a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Let's hope not; orange isn't really my color," he jokes.
Castle changes the subject, and his initial "Nikki Heat" issue is quickly forgotten as they begin to talk endlessly about everything and anything. Time slips away from them as they laugh, banter, and poke fun at each other. It's not until he abruptly interrupts his rambling, asking her if she noticed the time, that Kate looks at the clock.
"It can't be…" she mutters incredulously. "Four AM? My clock must be broken."
"In that case, mine is too, because it says the same," Castle replies.
"Castle, we've been talking for over three hours!"
"We certainly have," he says quietly. "We'd better hang up. You have an early start tomorrow– well, today, I guess."
Kate is suddenly overwhelmed by a new sensation. It feels a lot like disappointment, but it can't be. Not so long ago, she collapsed onto her bed, utterly exhausted. But now, even though she has to be up and about in a few hours, she doesn't want to stop talking to Castle, despite knowing that she'll see him at work in the morning. How is it possible that the idea of hanging up the phone makes her sad?
"Yeah, you're right," she whispers.
"Hold on, can I get that in writing?"
"Very funny, Castle," she says sarcastically. "See you tomorrow?"
"I'll be there," he promises.
"Don't forget my coffee," she adds at the last second, as a way of saying goodbye.
"Goodnight, Detective," he replies, chuckling softly.
"Night, Castle."
She hangs up the phone and remains seated for a moment, staring absently at the rug. Suddenly, she remembers: Josh. Her boyfriend is still in the bedroom, asleep, and she's been so absorbed in her chat with Castle that she has completely forgotten about him.
In that moment, she's struck with an abrupt realization: talking to her partner makes her happy. Much happier than sharing a bed with her boyfriend does. Shouldn't it be the other way around?
As she enters her bedroom, Kate sees the sleeping form of Josh and realizes something else: Royce's words to her in his letter were right. She's been hiding from the truth, and she has turned her back to her true feelings. Before she can stop them, her carefully erected walls begin to crumple, and the only thing she's left with is the truth: she's in love with Castle. And it's time to do something about it.
A/N: I want to thank encantadaa for all her help and beta work. I send you my "unchanging" love ;)