Author's Notes: Last old story of mine that I am posting. I wrote this before Rise aired so if details are off, that's why !
Twenty inches.
The reports were predicting it to be the biggest storm New York had seen in years. The snow had already begun to pile onto the city in its coat of white, but nearly two feet seemed a little extreme even for the over exaggeration of zealous news reporters. After all, it was New York City, a place filled with a mass of tall buildings, underground transportation, workers who did jobs around the clock. In other words, no snow storm was going to take out Manhattan, no matter how much decided to fall.
Staring out the window into the abyss of the city and beyond, Rick Castle couldn't help but feel melancholy. It was a trite word and a pathetic one at that, but the artist in him liked the drama and feel of it. His daughter had flown back to northern California the day after Christmas to spend New Year's with her boyfriend (all the while he'd been wishing that the storm would have grounded her plane so she'd be forced to stay) and his mother...well, really, only a higher power knew what Martha was up to. He could call up his writer friends for poker, but Patterson was vacationing off his millions in Tahiti for the winter, Connelly was writing another Lincoln Lawyer novel and the revolving door of writer number three was still spinning for the time being. There was Gina, but he wasn't quite that desperate yet, especially when he owed her the first hundred pages of his new Nikki Heat novel.
And then there was Kate.
Okay, so he couldn't quite call her up to see if she wanted to "hang out." Not when it had been twelve days since they'd last spoken. Her new captain didn't like him hanging around but he convinced himself it was for the better.
I love you.
Three simple words that still haunted him when nightmares came instead of dreams. He said them every time. Sometimes she lived. Other times he was too late and the bullet moved an inch to her left, pierced her heart and she died. He had said it and it had taken another two and a half hours of sitting in a waiting room to realize that he'd actually spoken them aloud. There had been a fight with Josh after that, a lecture from his daughter that he needed to let this life go, a heart monitor flat lining until it slowly gained back its steady rhythm. He had sat by her bed for hours and then days until she woke up. She had blinked when she first saw him there, opened her mouth to say something but had instead given him a weak smile. Those words that haunted him were never brought up and sleepless nights followed wondering if she had even heard them at all.
Just as fast as the bullet had zipped across the cemetery, she was back at work despite doctor's orders that she was to rest another few weeks. Rick tagged along the first few days, long enough to find out her and Josh were over. Long enough for the good ole I love you elephant to silence their car rides whether it was paranoia or not. Long enough that he was relieved when big bad Victoria Gates told him he was limited to ten precinct hours a week.
Which left him at home days after Christmas. Melancholy.
The knock on the door startled him and he glanced at the emptying streets one last time before turning to answer. He couldn't imagine who it would be, not when the snow was getting high, when his mother had a key. Maybe Alexis had come back and she was frazzled with luggage. He pulled open the door expecting to see the fiery red of his daughter's hair but instead stepped back in surprise.
"Kate..." He let her name trail off his tongue. He regained his composure, moving to the right, allowing her the space to enter. "Come in."
Kate Beckett hesitated in the entranceway. Heavy flakes of snow were melting in her dark hair, dampening her waves. She cleared her throat, stuffed her hands in her pockets. She was nervous and he almost wanted to smile. It was the Kate he remembered from the beginning of their partnership. The one who was annoyed with him, but liked his attention. It had been easier then. It had been easier before the guilt. Before he abandoned his reckless womanizing ways and fell in what could only be described as love.
"Sorry to bother you. I was in the neighborhood and..." She looked around the ground floor of his apartment. Searching. "Where are Martha and Alexis?"
Had this been five months ago, she'd know Alexis was back at school already. He would have bitched to her for hours about Alexis neglecting him on New Year's and Beckett would remind him over and over again that his daughter was nearly an adult, one capable of making her own decisions.
"Alexis went back to Stanford early and one can only guess what my mother is up to."
Beckett nodded. "We arrested Mandrake. The lead you started us on really paid off."
He'd have to remember to write this into his next Nikki Heat novel. Uncomfortable Heat. Ridiculously Awkward Heat. Want To Stab Your Eyes Out A Little...Heat.
"Esposito called and told me."
Silent Heat.
Huh. That one wasn't so bad.
Kate nodded, biting down on her lip. He would not think about how cute that was. Not at all. "I should go before it gets any worse out there. I just...I thought you should know."
Rick was back at the window before she could reach the entrance. The snow looked like a perfect blanket over the city; warm, comforting. He could hear the heavy wood slide open and it was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"You heard me, didn't you?"
She knew him well enough to know he didn't mean today. Her footsteps stopped but he still didn't turn to face her. He could almost picture her against the door, her eyes closing, the excuses forming. The truth was in all the years he'd known her, she had never bullshitted him. So she hadn't admitted the feelings he knew she had. She hid inside her tiny white lies seeking protection but when push came to shove, when he asked for the truth, she never did back down.
"Yes." It was a quiet sound that came from her. "I heard it."
Maybe it was time to give up Nikki Heat. He had written three books. It wasn't as many as Derrick Storm - not by a long shot - but a trilogy was solid. The Hunger Games. The Millennium Trilogy. The Godfather. He'd find a new inspiration. A wrestler. A serial killer. Another male. Someone he wouldn't fall in love with. Someone he wouldn't risk his career - and life - for.
"Castle...I...I didn't know what to say."
Rick nodded, finally turning to face her. He had run this scenario a lot since she was shot. How to let her go. He'd had two failed marriages. He'd lost whom he believed to be the love of his life when Kyra had flown to Europe without him. He'd survived. It was more fodder for his work, he figured. More reason to spend nights at his bar writing instead of out on cases that were never really his to begin with.
"I guess I have my answer then."
Kate kicked the door with the back of her foot. It slammed shut and the anger he had seen in her with suspects filled his line of vision. He should have known that if he was gonna fight, she would give him the fight of his life in return. He might have been better with words, but when it came down to the nitty, gritty of all of life's problems, he was a novice compared to her. He had a passion for childish antics, for games, but when push came to shove, she'd beat his ass in the game of life every time.
"Let's be honest here, Rick. Would you have told me if I hadn't just been shot? Or would we still be dancing around whatever crap that continues to sit between us?"
It was like déjà vu; the same fight they had before Montgomery had been killed. Most likely the same result. Walking away. But this time there would be no emergency to make him return. This time it would be the end.
He was off the window then, three long strides before he was standing in front of her. His hands trembled and he squeezed his fists together in protest. "It seems to me as if we still are. Come out and say it, Kate. Say something!"
"You have no right-"
"You've got to be kidding me. What did you think this was, Kate? You think after three years I didn't have enough information to write another twenty novels about Nikki Heat? You think I stayed around because I loved getting up at four in the morning to stare at dead bodies? I did this for you-"
"You did this for you!" she cut off. "Because you were bored, because you needed to play. I didn't ask you to!"
"No, but everyone else sure as hell did."
The air in the room stilled. Silence filtered through, canceling out the winds outside, the heater that was making it a bit too stifling. Kate ran her nails through her hair. "I don't know what that means, Castle." The anger was gone for the time being and in the quiet he considered how good this would be in the written form, how he stayed with Nikki Heat because maybe it gave him something this version of life never would.
Her.
He had seen the anger swiftly leave her, but it was still riled up inside of him. The guilt from the past few months, the anger of being left behind. The fact that she wouldn't admit to anything, that she was so desperate to hide. "It means that everyone – from your father down to Montgomery – asked me to come to you to stop you that night. You wouldn't listen to anyone but for some reason everyone was convinced you would listen to me. I never asked for that responsibility."
"Because God forbid Rick Castle take responsibility for something!"
"I watched you die, Kate," Rick ground out. "You think I don't feel responsible for that?"
Before she could respond, his phone rang breaking the quiet. Once. Twice. He could answer it, but his eyes were glued to hers, his heart beating too fast. Three. Four.
"Hi, you've reached Rick Castle," the machine sputtered on, "if you're calling from an unsolicited number please take me off your list unless you're selling cookies in which case the more the better. If you know me and have my cell phone, why aren't you just using that?"
The machine spit out a beep as a voice filtered through the apartment. "Mr. Castle, this is Gus from the front desk. Just wanted to let you know that we're having some issues with the electricity due to the storm. There's a chance we could lose-"
And then it cut off, taking the power along with it.
Twenty inches.
It was going to be a hell of a storm.
The orange flames from the fireplace flickered as shadows across his walls, taking with it the candles that gave light to the darkened night. The power had gone out nearly two hours ago and it hadn't returned, leaving Kate Beckett stuck inside what she could only imagine was an equivalent to a war zone. She hadn't said anything in response to him. Not before the storm. Not during. She hadn't said anything when all the words were stuck at the base of her throat, refusing to form, to release.
She loved him. She knew it. He knew it. Hell, there wasn't anyone who knew either of them who wasn't aware of that. But she had a plan. Be the best cop she could be. Catch her mother's killer. Fight because she was never the kind of person who'd choose the flight response instead. Boyfriends were forgotten; fun was a myth that she could have sworn once existed but didn't remember what it felt like.
Until she met Rick Castle.
Until she remembered what it was like to laugh, to flirt. Until she realized that someone else was willing to fight her battles with her just so she didn't have to do it alone.
Kate got up from the couch, walking quietly through his apartment in socked feet. The heat was gone and she pulled her long sleeved sweater over her hands to mask the chill. Stopping outside of Castle's office she lingered, watching him work.
Rows of his books lined the shelves and she could remember the first time she had seen his work in a bookstore. The title had made her laugh: A Skull in Springtime. It sounded ostentatious and utterly ridiculous and she'd almost skipped past it until she saw a glimpse of his picture peeking from inside the rack. He was young and handsome and there was something in his smile that got her to pull it off the shelf, like he knew all the answers and was willing to share them with the world. With her.
She was addicted after that. A Rose for Everafter. At Dusk We Die. Death of a Prom Queen. She devoured them in weeks until they were gone and she was left waiting for another to come out.
Being here now - in Richard Castle's apartment, amongst his books, his life, his work based on her - would probably be his favorite example of irony if there ever was one.
Kate took a step into his office, her socks shuffling against the wood. "There was nothing you could have done, Castle." Her voice surprised her when she spoke. How it was strong and vulnerable and somehow cracked. "You need to know that. I never blamed you."
Castle pulled the laptop off his legs, placing it on his desk. From where she stood she could read segments of her alter ago. It had been so simple for Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook. If she had slept with Castle that first year, would this somehow be easier? Would they have been best friends with benefits? Or would she still be in the same position - an all-out battle between her head and her heart.
"What would Nikki Heat do in this situation?"
Much to her surprise, Castle's lips turned up in a hint of a smile. He hadn't shaved in a day or so, and she had forgotten how much she loved the scruff on his face, how boyish it made him look. It was what he looked like when they met; two different people entirely. "I think we've seen what Nikki would do during a blackout." He lifted an eyebrow in suggestion and she laughed, shaking her head.
"Not a chance, Castle."
And then it was quiet again, so very quiet. The storm continued to rage and it made her think of snow storms as a teenager, how she'd spend the entire day in bed with her mother watching Temptation Lane and cheesy Lifetime movies while her father would roll his eyes. Oddly it was on nights like tonight that she missed Johanna the most. Not on birthdays or anniversaries, but in those moments where she ached for someone to talk to, to laugh with, to give her the answers when she sure as hell didn't have them for herself.
"We have to get past this, Castle." She sat down on the edge of his couch, locking her hands together. The glow from his computer illuminated his face in a muted light and she took in a breath, slowly letting it out on an exhale. She wished she had Castle's brain; she wished she was Nikki Heat so someone could be writing her every line. "You were right when you told me I stayed in dead end relationships. I..." She took in another breath, her gaze solidified to his. "I was supposed to be someone different. I was supposed to be a lawyer or an artist or a parent. I wasn't supposed to be a cop. I wasn't supposed to be someone whose mother was killed when she was nineteen."
Castle leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs. He was too close and not close enough all at the same time. "You can't change who you are, Kate. You can't change what happened to you."
"You have to know what you mean to me..." This was too honest for her, too real. Kate folded her hands again, rubbing her thumb over her pointer finger. She looked back up at him, her heart beating fast. She could almost feel the scars on her chest threatening to split open, to make her bleed again until the pain slowly faded. "I can't ask you to wait-"
"You don't need to ask."
She saw the change in Castle's eyes, how the blue seemed to soften, how the hope and playfulness that was gone filtered back in like clouds parting into clear skies. She could breathe easier now; it all seemed a little bit easier. He was different from the Rick Castle of a few months ago, but he still looked at her like he always did. He still looked at her like he knew all the answers, like he knew her.
"I think I need a drink," Kate muttered, resting her head back against the couch.
"Why, Detective Beckett, I knew you were fond of page 105. Blackouts. Tequila. That's why you really came over, isn't it?"
She tilted her head, smiling at him. "Yes, Castle. You got me. You were wrong about the tequila, though. It's rum."
"Really! I think I have a bottle around here somewhere. You interested?" he teased.
"I guess we'll have to see how long the power outage lasts," she joked.
The light on his computer faded to black as his screensaver popped on and the shadows fell on them again. She liked the silence now. No phones ringing. No outside world. She was safe inside of here with him despite her fears of being left behind. There was still so much she wanted to tell him. The truth about why she broke up with Demming. The pain that she lived with the entire summer and fall he spent with Gina. Her last conversation with Josh before it was over for good. She wanted to tell him that she did love him, that even though she lived twenty-nine years without his physical presence, she's not sure how she would have made it through the last three years without ever knowing him.
But for now she stood up, shuffling her way to the door. "It's freezing in here. If only we could turn up the heat."
"Serendipitous. And on a triple word score that's...what is that, Beckett? Forty-eight points?"
Kate took a sip of wine, resting her elbow on the couch cushion. "You're a New York Times bestselling novelist, Castle. Forty-eight points is all you've got?"
"These are crappy letters!"
"Uh huh." He watched her body extend and move lithely over the board, placing her letters down with secretive precision. "Q-U-A-R-T-Z-Y," Kate spelled out with a grin. "On a triple letter, double word that would be…" She did the math quickly, taking a victory drink. "Ninety-six points."
"Stop gloating," Rick grumbled. "You had two of the best letters. Of course you're going to win."
The laughter that fell from her lips was almost like a forgotten memory. "Come on, Castle. Don't be such a sore loser!"
Kate moved an inch to the left – an inch closer to him – pulling her sweater out from underneath her. It had been her idea to move to the floor to play, surrounded by tea light candles and some combination of fall scents from Alexis' room to pass the time during the blackout. It hadn't been mentioned again; not her feelings, not his, not the fights, the shooting, the aftermath of it all.
Instead, they settled into what he always wanted them to be. He had pictured it before, this easy going life. Sure, she would have to dash out for a murder once in a while, maybe he'd follow, maybe he'd stay and write. He thought of her in his bed, tangled in his sheets, on this floor after a long day at work, telling him about the cases, the murdered victim, the suspects, the families. It was a mixture of excitement and feeling as if he'd lost and he figured that every writer needed some pain once in a while and he was probably owed some considering.
"You okay?" Kate asked, quietly.
Rick snapped out of his daze, nodding. "Fine. This game however is not. As a wordsmith, I take offense to the fact that I'm stuck with four I's and no room left on the board."
"A wordsmith? Since when did Nikki start waxing poetic?"
"Don't insult your alter ego like that. She might take offense."
"You're right. Wouldn't want to hurt her feelings," she teased. She tossed her remaining letters into the box, messing up the board. He watched as she glanced down at her cell phone, but it had failed to light up since she arrived. A blessing or a curse, he figured.
Rick picked up his wine glass, spinning the base in his palm. "You working on any cases now?"
It felt weird to ask a question he should know the answer to. He hadn't asked Esposito when he called. He didn't want to know what she was doing without him. But with her across from him, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, her socks as high as they'd go to ward out the chill, he wanted to know it all.
"Ryan and Esposito got a call early this morning and took point on it. It's hard being there sometimes. I keep expecting Montgomery to walk into the precinct." She leaned her head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "There's a part of me that's still angry at him for not telling me who was behind my mother's murder and a part of me that misses him a lot. I just wish he would have told me."
"You know he couldn't. We'll figure it out, Kate. We've come a long way in the past couple of years. There are answers out there somewhere. All it takes is a brilliant detective." He grinned. "And a handsome writer who can twist a plot like no other."
"You sure do have a high opinion of yourself, Castle." She paused, her wine glass poised at her lips. The smell invaded her sense and she took a drink before bringing it back down to her lap. "You okay with Alexis not being here for New Year's?"
"She's grown up so fast. A couple of years ago, she was still my little girl. She would have killed for our New Year's bash. Now she's off at college a year early to be with her boyfriend." Rick scowled. "I should have forced her to party a little more, get her held back a year."
"You might be the only father who would choose a partying daughter over a well-educated one."
"She can be well educated. In New York!"
"Alexis is a smart girl. I'm sure she's completely safe out there."
"She better be. I'm too young to be a grandfather."
Kate rolled her eyes. "That wasn't quite what I meant. Honestly, I think my dad's relieved I became a cop. Not on the day to day, not the reasons why, but I think he feels better knowing I'm not the same girl I once was." He watched as the impact of those words hit her, how quickly her eyes widened, then softened. "When I was sixteen and looking into colleges, he begged me not to leave state. He knew if I did I'd end up ditching classes and riding across country on a motorcycle."
"You're going to have to tell me these stories of your youth one day. And speaking of, Detective, where is that tattoo of yours?"
"I figured you'd have guessed by now, Castle."
Rick had tried not to think about it. It had entered his mind on that afternoon in Los Angeles, her bathing suit glistening brown with drops of pool water, the sunlight beaming off of her brown hair. She had looked gorgeous that day, more so than usual, and it took everything in him not to think of her tattoo, of the skin she barely covered. She might have joked about wanting to kiss him but three thousand miles from home, he wasn't sure he trusted himself not do just that.
He cleared his throat, because answering that in the middle of a blackout could prove to be dangerous. Very, very dangerous. "It looks like your dad won," Rick mused instead. "I couldn't convince Alexis of the same."
"Actually, it was my mom who convinced me to stay. I got into Stanford, Northwestern, UPenn, but she wanted me in New York and truthfully, I'm not sure I wanted to leave the safety of home behind. At the time she was much better at convincing me to do things than my dad was."
"So what were Kate Beckett's career aspirations? I considered having Nikki Heat major in pole dancing, but I've come to find out that's not a real major. Shame, too. She'd be really good on that pole. The heels, hanging upside down, all the-"
"Don't you dare." Kate brought one knee to her chest, resting her chin on it. "I thought about law. You should have seen my mom at work, Castle. She never took no for an answer. It was like magic watching her work on a case. I debated English Lit, focusing on literary theory."
He smiled at her. "A whole different kind of theory we could have spun together."
In that moment, the lights flickered. Rick's DVR rumbled to life, the time on his microwave started to flash. The lights came on fully, the fire and candlelight nothing but meager flames in the bright lights of his living room. He knew the spell was broken once Kate's other knee came up and she pushed herself off the carpeting and onto her feet. He hadn't bothered to look outside at the damage of the storm, but with hours come and gone, he figured enough had accumulated out there. Not enough to keep her there perhaps, but enough that he'd spend the rest of the night wishing for things that didn't belong to him.
God, could he be anymore dramatic?
"I should get going. It'll take me a while to get downtown in this weather."
Ask her to stay. The snow could be evil! It's slippery. And icy. And cold. Bums could have peed in it!
His home line rang, and he reached for the cordless on the living room table, holding up a finger to stop her from leaving. "Hello."
"Mr. Castle, this is Gus. We got the power working again, but we can't get the doors open. Snow has it blocked. With how dangerous it is out there, not sure we can get anyone out here until morning. Hope you're okay being stuck inside for the night."
Well...he was, at least.
"Thanks, Gus."
Rick hung up the phone, turning around to face Kate. She had one boot pulled on, the other about to begin its descent up to her knee. "You might want to take those off again. Looks like we're stuck inside for the night."
Kate stood in front of Castle's book shelf, perusing his titles. Each of his novels were bright in color and there was a part of her that wanted to sit on the floor of his office, surrounded by each and every one of them. He had classics up there as well: Hemmingway, Carroll, Poe of course. There was Mamet, her own favorite playwright. Then the work of his friends: Patterson, Connelley, Cannell. She pulled one of Cannell's books off, flipping through the pages. She hadn't met the writer before he had died, but she knew how much he meant to Castle, how long before Derrick Storm existed, Rick found inspiration in Cannell's words.
"I used to tell him that Shane Scully was my inspiration for Derrick, but he never was," Castle said, startling her. She could feel him behind her, his breath on the back of her neck as he spoke. She shivered and if he asked, it would be due to the cold. He'd know her lies, though. "But he always knew it was bullshit."
Kate smiled, placing it back in its rightful position. "Let me guess," she responded, turning around. "Johnny Depp in 21 Jump Street."
"The only thing I based off of 21 was the pretty boy looks of the prom king in Death of a Prom Queen. Kissed and Killed introduced Alexandra Jones, a savvy street detective whose best qualities mirrored Rita Lance on Silk Stalkings. If you read it now she's more like that sex cop from Law and Order but at the time I dreamed every cop should be like Detective Lance. Cannell never let me forget it. When I started the Storm series, he joked Derrick was like his male lead of Silk." He looked at the row of books with his friend's name on it. "I miss him."
"I wish I could have met him." She smiled at him then. "I always thought that if the Storm series became a movie Rob Estes should play him. I guess I wasn't so far off."
Castle's eyes widened. "You watched Silk! You even know Lorenzo's real name!"
"I keep telling you, Castle. So many layers."
She sat down on his couch, crossing her feet underneath her. Castle was already back at his desk, spinning his chair to the left, then the right. She watched him, listened to the silence that no longer felt like punishment. The books on his shelves stared back at her, one in particular. The yellow binding with bright blue letters made her smile and she was up again, pulling it off the shelf.
"I never told you this but I went to one of your book signings."
Kate took it back to her seat, opening it. The pages felt new between her fingers despite their age and she could almost picture that day once again. The rain. How her hair had curled when she had been so used to wearing it straight. How he had smiled at her when she had told him her name. It was a lifetime ago, a lifetime when he didn't exist inside her everyday life, when she hadn't ever expected to fall in love with this private persona of a man she had admired.
She chanced a look at him and saw the surprise flit across his face. "No, I would have remembered you."
Kate held up the book. "One Bullet One Heart. Ironic now, isn't it?"
"I love when you know how to use irony correctly."
There are a hundred examples involving us that I could give, she thought.
"You would have been a good English major. Did I hit on you? I must have hit on you."
"I think I was probably wishing you did. I was twenty-two and..." She blushed. "I was fascinated by you, Castle. I was on beat all day and I raced across town to get to that signing. I envied how deep inside your characters you were." She watched his eyebrow rise in suggestion and she smiled. "I still don't think Patterson has mastered it quite as well as you have."
"Who'd want to get deep inside of Alex Cross? Unless we're talking the starter movies. Then you're just getting deep inside of God."
Kate burst out laughing. "Where do you even come up with this stuff?"
Castle tapped on the side of his head. "It's a goldmine."
"Tell me about Nikki's backstory. Not the parts based on me, but the other ideas." The wind outside whistled and she shivered, wrapping her sweater tightly around her. Without a word, he tossed her the blanket on the other end of the couch and she smiled gratefully. "Thanks. Why did you choose animated movies for her passion?"
"Shadowing me now, huh?"
"Turnabout is fair play, Mr. Castle."
"Innocence, mostly. Nikki had to be likeable; she had to have a softness to her that counteracted the tough cop. Rook eventually helped that, but before he became someone to her, she needed something else, but there were other reasons. I pictured her as a child curling up on the couch with her mother, watching Lady and the Tramp or Cinderella. She didn't watch them after her mother was killed, but slowly she started to find comfort in it again. It made her feel safe."
She remembered telling him about Temptation Lane and the memories of her mom, of how – even now – the show made her feel as if she was young again, as if Johanna were merely a phone call away. It was like he had known her way of thinking, her backstory without her ever having to tell him. She felt warm inside despite the storm and she should tell him. She should tell him how she felt, but waiting in her personal life was safe.
On the job it could kill her; at home it saved her.
"What else don't I know about Nikki?" Her voice was softer than she expected it to be, almost seductive.
Castle's eyes lit up like a little boy's. "She loves to hang off of stripper poles."
"I swear to God, Castle, if she ever takes a pole dancing class…" But she let herself trail off, because as much as she'd never admit it to him, there was a part of her that loved that he saw her like this.
"Think about it," he said, standing up. "Long day of work, the case is getting to her, she comes home, pours herself a drink, wants a little exercise. Ponder that while I get us some wine."
Castle walked out of the room with a wink and she was left alone, wondering. Not about Nikki on a pole but instead about him. She was antsy being in there by herself, surrounded by his murder board that focused solely on her alter ego. She stood up and wandered out, walking slowly through the halls of his life. Kate knew the layout of his loft by now. The long hallways, the wide open spaces. She had slept upstairs on those couple of nights she had stayed there and at six in the morning when she had snuck downstairs she had noticed that the fourth step creaked beneath her feet. Not loudly enough to wake a soul but it was an imperfection inside his nearly immaculate home.
From where she stood she could see the snow falling, thick flakes against the backdrop of the night. It was just past ten; she'd been here for six hours and she wasn't sure what had been accomplished in that time. They had yelled, they had discussed mundane things, they had joked around as if nothing had changed at all. Before she realized it, Kate was standing in front of the window. From this high up, the city had always looked magical but tonight she found herself gazing out into a world of white. Manhattan was covered, yet untouched. Beauty remained in each drop of snow and she found herself mesmerized by the sight.
"You don't like to sit still, do you?" Castle asked as he handed her a glass of wine.
She took it, turning back to the window. The wine was warm against her throat as she took a sip. In the reflection of the glass his blue eyes looked gray, but regardless of color she knew he was watching her, taking her in.
"Can I ask you something?"
She watched his smile form in the pane. "Silk boxers. With little typewriters on them."
"You're joking." Kate turned around. "And that wasn't my question but good to know."
"Ask away."
"What happened between you and Kyra?"
With the mention of his former flame's name, Kate watched the lights go out behind his eyes. He took a long drink of wine and maybe she shouldn't have asked. Maybe she should have just gone home this morning instead of going there. Maybe she should have shoved her feelings aside until her mother's case was closed Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
"It was a long time ago," he responded, sitting on the couch.
It was the answer he had given her when Kyra had reappeared in his life. She followed him and sat down beside him. She could let this go or she could push, but he surprised her when he opened his mouth, his body tilted toward his.
"When you asked me about her before, you said I didn't go for real women."
"Come on, Castle. Meredith? Gina?"
She was teasing, but for the first time, he was more serious than her. "Kyra was...at the time the love of my life. No one was going to live up to her and I never wanted to feel that again. I had two best sellers by then, women were lined up outside my door. Being with them made the pain of losing Kyra hurt a little less. Meredith was everything Kyra wasn't. She was loud and obnoxious and made it really easy to live the wild life. I knew she wouldn't stick around when something better came along, even after we had Alexis. With Gina...she's Gina. Our relationship was right when it counted and wrong at every other moment."
"But you got back together with her."
"Alexis was at Princeton, my mother was in the city, you were with Demming. It was a long time to spend alone." He must have seen something in her reaction, because he touched her shoulder lightly. "You never did tell me why you and Demming broke up that summer."
But she couldn't, not yet. "You telling me you loved me, was it because I was shot?"
"Kate-"
"You sign women's chests at book signings; you are with someone because you don't want to be alone. You told me you loved me because it was a life or death situation, not because you do."
"You can tell yourself whatever you want, Kate, but since I've met you, you've been in more relationships than I have." His voice was steely, and she was an idiot. "I'm not the womanizer you think I am. Maybe I was then, but I haven't been in a long time."
He was right. She had been in more relationships than him. There was a brief moment with Will, Tom, Josh. She looked up at him and her voice was soft when she asked, filled with fear and doubt. "What about me? Am I just a conquest?"
"You are the first person since Kyra that has made me want to try again."
And just like that he stole her breath. The wine glass in her hand shook with trepidation and the red liquid bounced from side to side like a metronome of their lives. "Rick..."
"Kyra asked for time and I took it to mean she was letting me go. I don't plan on making that mistake again."
For as honest as he'd been with her in the past, it was never like that. Now it was in every expression he gave her; it was in the way he had somehow moved closer and his hand lingered beside her thigh. It was in the fight he battled daily for her.
Kate brought her hand up to his cheek and her heart hammered at the rough skin beneath her fingers. His breath hit her mouth and it smelled like the grapes of their wine; she was sure it tasted the same. She leaned forward and her forehead grazed his. Her eyes closed seconds before his fingers found her hair and she tried to inhale, to take in his air. She had kissed him before. The circumstances had been different, but she had done it, she could do this. She lifted her forehead and brushed her lips over his. They were softer than she remembered, and in that instant, the cold no longer chilled her body. His mouth moved underneath hers, his hand tightened around the dark waves of her hair and she moaned softly. She wanted him and getting shot through the heart might have been less petrifying than this.
Castle's tongue dipped through the crack in her lips and she opened her mouth wider. He tasted like wine and a hint of something else and she wanted more. From the first day she had met him, she had wanted something more.
It felt like minutes or maybe too few seconds when he let her breathe again. Her forehead fell to his cheek. His hands ran up and down her spine.
"Kate, we can't..." He sounded winded and she lifted her head to look up at him.
"What was it about me that made you want to write Nikki?"
"You looked like you were incredibly easy to annoy. And I couldn't stop picturing you with a gun and handcuffs."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." But he sobered and his fingers resume their tickling down her spine. "The look in your eyes when I profiled why you were a cop. It told an entirely different story than the one you presented to the world. The more I got to know you, Kate, the less it became about writing Nikki. It was about discovering you."
Kate untied the knot on her sweater, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the couch.
Castle's eyes lit up. "Am I going to get laid in a snowstorm? So much better than a heat wave!"
"How is it that you know the perfect thing to say and then follow it up with something equally as infuriating?" It wasn't, though. It was so perfectly him that she couldn't help but smile. "One more question." She undid the button on his jeans with a sly smile, her eyes focused intently on his. "Are you really wearing boxers with typewriters on it?"
She felt like everything he imagined she would.
His hands fit perfectly around her waist as she sat on top of him, her bare legs brushing his thighs. Her hair hung around her face as she bent down to his lips, a falling curtain that smelled of cherry blossoms. She was mostly undressed, nothing but a tank top and silk black underwear that answered all the questions of what kind of panties Kate Beckett wore.
The rug burned underneath him, nothing on him but the pair of boxers he had promised he was wearing. He wasn't complaining. What was a burn when he'd get her and sexy times in return? Her hair brushed his chest and she was laughing, spreading her body out over his. It had been a game of questions and answers, trivia about the other. There was no rush in tonight. It wouldn't be morning for hours, and he loved this side of her. He wanted the sex, of course. But it was always about so much more than that when it came to her. It was like she was taking notes from his books on how to loosen up and let go. So much of Nikki was Kate but he continued to discover that Kate had become parts of Nikki as well.
"All right, who do I consider my most influential musician?" Kate asked, shifting a little to the left.
Rick groaned, holding her ass in place. "If we're playing, stop doing that." He dragged both hands through her hair, kissing her lightly. The question sounded familiar and he grinned. "Are you stealing questions from Heat Rises?"
"Chumbawamba? Really, Castle?"
"They give good advice! They take a whisky drink, then a vodka drink." There was a sing-song quality to his voice and she covered his mouth with her hand. He nipped at it and she glared at him. "I'm going to say... Hey, if you're stealing from my book, shouldn't we at least be losing these last items of clothing?"
"Not an answer, Rick."
He thought about it for a moment, rolling them over. A yelp escaped her lips as she landed on the soft rug. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her eyes glazed with desire. He wasn't sure how much longer these questions were going to last at this point. Not that he cared. No, mostly naked Beckett on this floor made him care a lot less about games.
"I'm waiting."
"Bob Seger. Specifically, Against the Wind." He could tell by the way her lips twitched upward that he had guessed right. "What's my prize?"
Kate shimmied his boxers down his legs and it was official. He'd never be able to look at this rug the same way again. He'd get it framed for his office with someone's ass print still embedded in it. His, hers, a tumbling pattern of theirs.
"My being naked isn't a prize for me."
Rick ran his hands underneath her tank top. He could feel her stomach contracting from her breathing and he lifted her cotton camisole higher.
His fingers grazed over it before he saw them. She sucked in a breath at the realization and he rolled her shirt up higher, uncovering the angry red lines. It started at her chest - surrounding her heart - and trickled down to the middle of her stomach. He could almost hear the sirens, the heart monitor declining into nothing but a flatline. It was like losing her again, the nightmares retaliating in full force, the idea of the end at the forefront of his mind. Even after all this time, the scars were jagged, dark in color.
"Castle." It was soothing, but he remained staring at the scars. The surrounding tan skin seemed perfect in contrast.
"Does it hurt?"
"No," Kate whispered. "It happened, Castle. I'm fine."
She pulled her tank top over her head, throwing it aside. It landed somewhere behind her with a soft thud, a quiet sound in the back of his mind. He could feel his own heart skipping beats, missing a rhythm he'd often taken for granted. It was too real. Too fucking real. He wasn't sure if it was tears in his eyes but he blinked regardless. To make it go away, maybe. To process facts that he had pushed aside.
"Rick." It was softer this time. An escape of air. She took his hand in hers, linking their fingers together. She slowly dragged their joint pointer fingers over the scars. He could feel each ridge on the tips of his fingers, skin that might have been mended but would forever be marred. "I'm fine." It sounded like a promise and despite the fear, he wanted so desperately to believe.
He finally took in the oxygen he was losing. "Do me a favor? Never sing Shot Through the Heart during karaoke." He was trying to be the man he was supposed to be. He could do this. And thankfully, she smiled.
"What makes you think I'd ever sing karaoke?"
"Just wait until I get you drunk. Everyone does drunk karaoke!" He rubbed his finger over her hip, his eyes lighting up. "Pelvic bone!"
"Are you just shouting things out now?" Kate lifted her hips, slamming up against his erection. He ground his teeth, inhaling a sharp breath as she slid her underwear off. And on her pelvic bone - written in black scripted ink - were lyrics from the song he had just guessed was her influence.
"I was living to run and running to live," Rick read aloud.
"Not what you expected, was it?"
There was nothing between their bodies now. No clothes, no secrets, no boundaries. He dragged his fingers through her hair, slowly lowering himself on top of her, inside of her. Kate let out a gasp, arching her head back against the carpet. His lips were on hers, unhurried by time. He didn't need to rush this. There'd be times for that in the future, but he wanted the night to stand still, the moment to forever be trapped in time. As he started to move gently inside of her, he thought of that first day with her, how much she had hated him. She had been angry with him so many times that it surprised him when she had changed, when he had started to change because of her.
His words were a whispered declaration against her moans. "Nothing about you, Kate, is what I expected."
The cold water hit her skin as Kate pushed Rick against the wooden wall of his shower. Her body was on fire, years of desire pent up inside of her. The first time she had sex with him tonight it had been slow, quiet, a need released. It had lasted a while and when she had finally let go, she could swear the demons went with her. The emptiness inside of her from her mother still lingered, but it wasn't a gaping hole anymore. She had rolled out from underneath, tucking her legs safely between his. Her eyes had drifted closed to the snow still falling, the sounds of his breaths slowing beside her.
The second time, he woke her up with his fingers massaging her tattoo. His touch moved lower until the pad of his finger was pressed against her clit and she gasped, rocking her hips into his touch. It was too fast and too slow at the same time and she worried that she'd need him like this forever. He had promised her sleep after that, but when he led her into his bedroom, she wasn't tired anymore and dragged him into the bathroom. She had laughed at his shower - some sauna, massage shower thing that only he'd have, but before she could rattle him, she had gotten him inside the door of this little haven. Sleep would come tomorrow. Tonight she wanted this; she wanted him.
Her body was pressed against his and his mouth was all over her. They were a tangle of legs and she turned around, allowing the spray to wash over her. His hands were in her hair, his teeth bit her lobe gently. Fire and ice consumed in the most contradicting of ways and she couldn't breathe. His right hand grazed her breast and she moaned loudly while his right hand pulled her waist back so she was flush against him. His fingers kneaded her nipple in pleasure and she slithered against him. He was hard and ready and she had these ideas that were blown to hell when he pushed her against the wall of the shower. She wanted control, but she found her legs wrapping around his waist as he swiftly pushed up and inside of her.
"Kate," he groaned and it mixed in with the falling water, the sound of her pleasure. "You were worth waiting for."
His hands gripped the wall above her and his body held her flush against the wood. His words registered inside of her, nestled deep within her, and she took his face in her hands, her tongue dipping and weaving over his lips, inside his mouth. She could feel his desperation for her and she dragged her nails down his chest in pleasure.
"Just remember my safe word is-"
"Apples," Kate whispered into his mouth.
He was so slick inside of her and she needed the release more than she had at any other point tonight. She rocked against him, her head hitting the wall gently, and he hoisted her up further, the friction of their bodies nearly sending her off the edge. It was wet everywhere: the shower, their desire. He just needed to move again and again and...
It went black around her, a tailspin as he continued to thrust. She wanted to scream out apples, because it was overwhelming, because she needed less, she needed more. She heard him let go and she wasn't sure who had gone first nor did she care. Her head fell to his shoulder, her heart beating erratically, her breathing wild. Her legs fell from around his waist and she was grateful the wall was behind her, keeping her steady.
"Rook and Nikki are so getting a shower scene," Castle said, before placing a kiss on her mouth. He turned the nozzles of his shower off, pulling them down onto the sauna bench. She fell on top of his lap and she pressed her lips against his neck.
"This shower is ridiculous," Kate muttered, the exhaustion slipping in through her bones. "You have a sauna in here."
"Good thing, too. This bench sure comes in handy."
Yes, Kate thought. Yes it does.
From the doorway of his bedroom, Rick watched Kate nodding off. She was wrapped in a fluffy white towel, her hair half dried. Pieces stuck to her face, the rest hanging over her shoulders, down her back. She looked so peaceful that he almost felt bad for what he was about to do. It was nearing four and with the lack of sleep they had gotten that night, he knew he should let her rest. She'd have work in the morning; she was exhausted from past cases. But he was giddy looking at her in his bed and he dropped four books onto the mattress with a resounding thud. One of Kate's eyes opened and she groaned softly, shutting it again.
"Can't decide which of your books to read?" she mumbled, mockingly.
"Can't decide which of my books I want you to read," he corrected.
That time both of her eyes opened. "I'm not reading you a bedtime story, Rick."
He climbed onto the bed beside her. The covers were rumpled, but not undone, and he pulled it free from the pillows. The heat had managed to stay on and his apartment was warm and cozy, so much so that he wasn't sure he even wanted the blankets. Rick patted his lap and she shook her head, but seconds later her head was resting there. It was a different side to Kate, and if he loved her before, he thought that he loved her even more now. She was softer in the confines of his serenity. She was tough, stubborn, but the burdens that he saw daily in her eyes seemed to vanish even a little.
"Why don't you read to me?" she asked. "They're your novels."
"I don't ask you to read me the Miranda rights because that's your job."
"To my recollection I've already done that. Twice."
"That was more fun for you than it was for me."
Kate's lips lifted in a smile. "It was fun for me."
She dragged the books closer to her to see what he had chosen. When It Comes to Slaughter. Heat Rises. Unholy Storm. Flowers For Your Grave. She picked up the last one, and he smiled. Despite Heat Rises being his third best seller about her, he knew she'd choose the one that had caused them to meet. He had skimmed Flowers For Your Grave a month after meeting her. Every page that he read he thought of Kate. Of her reaction to the case, how she was the first woman who had turned him down in years. She opened to the middle of the book, turning onto her side.
"Fine pounded on the door of his former wife's home," Kate began. Her voice was laced with exhaustion, but it was sexy, rough. "'Julie, let me in,' he yelled. There were no footsteps. The house remained still and Fine pounded on the door again. He considered what he knew of The Florist. He loved games, he loved the chase. Fine took his cell phone out of his pocket and called the house. From outside he could hear the ringing. No answer. The dread swirled in the pit of his stomach. His wife. His son. Gone. It was past midnight and tonight, The Florist had won."
She rolled onto her back, staring up at him. "I re-read this after we met."
"I thought you hated me after we met."
"I read this months after we met."
Rick bent down, kissing her cheek. He pulled the book from her and handed her Heat Rises. "The end of chapter five."
"If I read you the end of chapter five, you'll never let me sleep." She flipped through and stopped on the right page. Kate cleared her throat and began. "She examined herself, trying to see what was different. The stress, that was new. And when she looked at that, she recognized that the hardest part of her day lately was working to avoid confrontation with Captain Montrose. That's when it came to her. In that moment, sitting nearly naked in Rook's living room, playing some silly nineteenth-century parlor game, she came to an unexpected insight. In that moment Nikki woke up and saw with great clarity who she had become—and who she had stopped being."
Kate paused for a moment and he found his fingers in her hair again. He could see the sadness in her, the memories of Montgomery. He knew it still ate her alive at times, the betrayal forefront instead of the devotion. He took the book out of her hands. She rolled onto her other side, her head still in his lap.
"'Hello?' said Rook, bringing her back. 'Ready for the next one?' She looked on him with clear eyes and nodded. 'Here we go then. What is your ideal dream of earthly happiness?' Heat paused only a moment to think. Then she said nothing, but stood and slid out of her panties. Rook looked up to her from the couch with a face that she couldn't resist, so she didn't. She bent down, taking his mouth in hers. He met her hungrily and pulled Nikki into his arms. Soon, the rhythm of their bodies answered that last question. She didn't think about it but found her lips to his ear, whispering, 'This . . . This . . . This . . .'"
"I know I fought you a lot on the books, but it means a lot, Rick. That you've stuck with me."
He rested his head against the pillows. "Always," he said, quietly.
Kate sat up and kissed him. "I can't tell you that tomorrow means we're dating," she admitted honestly. "I need to deal with my mom's case, I need to have answers and learn how to be the person I want to be."
"Kate, we've been through this-"
"Would you let me finish?"
He pouted. "I guess so."
"I just need you to know that...that I do love you, Rick. Against my better judgment, I do."
"You sure do know how to charm a man, don't you? Rick asked, sarcastically.
But it didn't matter. He couldn't wipe the grin off of his face. He closed the book carefully, pushing it to the other side of the bed. He threw her down on top of the undone covers and she laughed. The feel of her underneath him already had him aroused and she wrapped her legs around his upper thighs.
"So, no sleep?"
Rick shook his head. "We'll sleep when we're dead."
And like he knew she would, Kate obliged.
Kate cracked an egg against the side of the bowl, watching the runny liquid fall into a heap at the bottom. The bacon sizzled in a pot on the stove, a soundtrack to a life she hadn't really expected for herself. She had awakened twenty minutes ago, Castle asleep beside her. His head had been buried in his pillow and before she had left, she ran her fingers through his thick hair. He stirred a bit, but he was back asleep before she had left the room. Throwing on an old t-shirt of his, she walked out into the living room. It felt different in the light of day. Everything she had known when she came in was gone. There were no more secrets, no more hidden desires. It was all out in the open now and at that moment she knew she was at the point of no return.
The snow had stopped sometime in the middle of the night. The streets were still piled high with the remains, but the shoveling had begun. In an hour or so, she'd be forced to walk out of there, to go back to work. She'd sit at her desk without Castle beside her and while his limited ten precinct hours had once been a blessing, she now found them a curse. The truth was, she worked better with him beside her. She thought faster, more outside the box than usual. She'd leave here and be spent wondering if this was because of the storm or because it was the right place, right time to start what was inevitable.
Kate poured the eggs into the pan, the hissing heat rising around her. She flipped the bacon over and took the toast out of the toaster oven.
"I'm keeping you around to cook breakfast for me permanently," Castle said, walking into the room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, coming around the counter. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Smells amazing."
"Sit." She pointed her spatula to the bar stools with two place settings already there. "It'll be ready in a second."
Castle poured himself orange juice, looking out the window. "How are the streets looking?"
"They started shoveling already. News said we got twenty-two inches. It's going to be a nightmare getting to a crime scene."
"Who wants to murder someone when it's so damn cold out?"
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Because it makes sense when it's seventy-five and sunny?"
"Less frost bite," he shrugged.
She pulled the bacon off the stove, placing it onto a plate, followed by the eggs. He grabbed a piece of loose egg, muttering an obscenity as it burned the tips of his fingers. She could have made a comment, told him he was an idiot, but she didn't bother. He wouldn't listen. He'd still be the little boy who decided on his own rules. She walked around the counter and sat on her stool sideways, her leg brushing against his.
"What happens when I leave here?" she asked.
"You go to work, I go back to sleep and dream about all the amazing sex we had last night... and this morning."
"It was amazing." She smiled, taking a bite of food. "You mention this to the guys and you're dead."
"Sweet talk, I love it!"
"Castle-"
"Got it, got it." He picked up a piece of bacon in his hand, tilted his head back, and dangled it into his mouth. "The guys will know though. It's like they have a spidey sense."
"They'll never let me live it down."
"Just say 'Vomit Charades' to Ryan. It'll shut him up, believe me. Might shut Esposito up too."
"You're never going to tell me what happened in Atlantic City for the bachelor party, are you?"
Castle shook his head. "Bro code. I will say it was a mix of The Hangover meets Animal House and charades? Not that fun of a game when you're nine shots in."
Kate scrunched her nose in disgust. "I think it's better I don't know." She checked her watch. "I need to go soon. You coming in with me?"
"Too cold," he said around a mouthful. "Staying in the warmth today. Besides, Gates after a snowstorm? Don't want to see that cranky pants just yet." He turned sideways on his stool. "You coming back here tonight?"
It already sounded so domestic, familiar. She should tell him she had to go home, take care of things there. But there was nothing to take care of and she no longer felt inclined to spend the night alone. "If I'm not working all night." She rested her forehead against his. "Thanks, Castle."
She was so close to him that she didn't hear the door open. It closed with a thud and she looked up to see his mother. Fuck. It was like she was sixteen again when her father had caught her in the back seat of Jimmy Dimeski's truck. Kate sat up straight, pulling down the hem of Castle's shirt.
"Kate," Martha mused. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Hello, Mother." She could kill him. He was actually smirking. Like he was...amused. "Home so soon?"
"Streets finally started to open. I had to spend the night in the company of a man I can only imagine thinks that we're meant to be together. Twelve hours locked inside a department store and I'm about ready to swear off shopping. Until tomorrow." She threw her purse onto the couch. "Don't you two look domestic."
"Martha..." Kate began.
Martha waved her off. "Darling, you don't have to explain. You're both consenting adults. I'm off to shower. I have a breakfast date at ten. Good seeing you, Kate."
"You too," she managed. And when Martha was safely out of earshot, Kate slapped Castle across the arm. He grumbled an "ouch" and rubbed his sore spot. "You had nothing to say?"
Castle shrugged. "She lives in my house. If she wants an explanation she should pay some of the rent. For once."
Kate's phone started to ring and she grabbed it off the counter. "Beckett...where? All right, I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up the phone. "That was Esposito." Her anger was all but forgotten as she kissed him. "You sure you don't want to come with me?"
"You'll need someplace warm to come back to. Call me on your way back over. I'll run the shower," he winked.
He was making it hard for her to go get dressed, to leave for the day. It had been a different night than she expected and she couldn't help but smile at how accurate his first book about her had been. No power, too hot, too cold, alcohol, truths, life, love. She hadn't stopped by with expectations; she hadn't known that the wall she had put up in the moment her mother was killed would deteriorate at the same speed.
Kate finished the last of the bacon on her plate and stood up. The sun was shining that morning, but the results of the night would remain.
Twenty-two inches.
It had been a hell of a storm.