Author's note: This could tecnically stand alone as a oneshot, but I decided I wanted to blend this fic with a multi-chapter action/romance/family/spy fic I also had in mind. So this is a prologue that takes place before most of what will take place in the future. Spoilers up through series 5, basically. I hope you enjoy! :D

Finding It All

Prologue

It's a few days after Valentine's Day. Castle has slept over at her apartment two of those nights. The third night they had crashed at his place. But the drawer, his drawer, still gave him this ridiculous sense of pride, not so much of himself, but of Kate. The sheer sweetness of her gift, the gesture, proving to him that she was making giant steps every day to let him further into her heart… sometimes it overwhelmed him. That sense of overwhelmedness had manifested itself in the way he would come up behind her when they were at home, hug her quickly from behind and press his lips to her cheek. He'd then let go and they'd go about whatever they were doing… cooking dinner together, flipping through channels, sorting out schedules for future events. He was just so happy, all the time. Well, nearly all the time.

There were still hard cases, and there was still writers block, and he'd spend so much time at the precinct working on cases with Beckett and then they'd go home together, and he'd run out of any time he would have had to write. So one particularly difficult case, when they weren't coming up with any leads, Kate said,

"That's it. Castle, you're staying home to write. The boys and I can take care of things. No more case work until you write at least at least four thousand words."

"But Beckett! Four thousand words?" he whined from his position slouching into the couch, his face twisting into a mask of horror and panic, "how am I supposed to be able to write four thousand words without my muse? And besides, you need me. I can help on your case."

"I need you?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," he insisted, a in a solid, assured voice.

Those eyes… Kate nearly gave in right there. His wide, insistent, pleading blue eyes were just so cute, but she knew he'd put himself in massive trouble if he didn't get some writing done, and at the present, she was more of a distraction than anything, so she held her ground.

"Hm… I'm not sure need is really the right word, Castle." She began walking towards the front door.

"You're right. Desperate longing for my charm, handsomeness and my incredible stash of wit and cleverness is much better terminology for what you'll be experiencing when you go to work without me."

"Desperate longing?" she rolled her eyes at him as he got up and followed her to the counter where she began to gather her things. She poked him in the chest. "Don't push it."

She knew he was right though. As wonderful as it would be to take him with her, as they most often did, or as lovely as it would be to stay home for the day, she knew that both of those things would inhibit his ability to write… but the deeper truth was that it probably would be a little harder for her to go about her day without wishing he were there… Sometimes when he wasn't, when he did stay home and write, she did sense that need for his companionship, and life, and warmth clawing up inside of her while around her there was darkness, and death, and twisted human motives that she was working to solve. Sometimes you couldn't really solve it. You just had to do your best to give some peace to the families of the victims, and remember, no matter how hard it got, that there was always hope waiting for you at the other side of it. It did make going home to him that much sweeter. Still, she liked teasing him, and knew, even if she didn't admit it, that he was fully aware of how much she really did need him, in her heart of hearts.

Castle reached forward like he was going to poke her arm but instead surprised her and brushed the hair off her neck and behind her shoulders. Aww… his little gestures were sweet. But no! This was a tried and true manipulation technique. She could see right through it. He leaned forward and nudged her cheek with his nose and softly pressed a few kisses to her skin.

"Please take me with you," he whispered, like a little kid.

"Stop being such a baby," she said, chastising him, but all the same turned and gave him a small kiss on the lips, then pulled away, out of his grasp, grabbing her purse and opening the door.

Castle followed like a puppy dog at her heels but she gave him a look as she turned around that stopped him in his tracks.

"You are a grown man, with a real job. You need to start acting like you actually have that job. GO! Write your book."

Castle sighed, defeated.

"Ok. But promise me that you'll call me with any new details on the case."

"I can promise no such thing," Beckett replied.

Another sigh verging on a whine.

"I can, however, text you at lunch," she relented.

His whole face brightened.

"Really?"

"Yes," she replied, just as final as his assertion a moment ago that she needed him.

"Ok," he grinned. "Don't… don't have too much fun without me."

"It's a dead end case right now, Castle. You don't have much to worry about there. I'll see you later."

"See ya," Castle replied, and she shut the door.

Writing it was.

He spent the entire morning with his computer on his lap, alternating between typing a few hundred (ok, so maybe it was like 50 at a clip) words and watching YouTube videos of cats, and nerf gun reviews done by teenage boys (what? He was interested!) and playing Angry Birds on his phone.

Around 11:45 he looked at his word count. 700 words. Drat. He was going to have to try harder. But… it wasn't getting any easier. He lay his head down on the desk and groaned. His brain was too preoccupied with wishing he were somewhere else, that he could be with Beckett at the precinct, working on leads. The case had been straightforward enough at first… body of a man found shot in an alley, blood smears, a boot print… But then it started getting more difficult. Everybody's alibi checked out. There was nothing interesting about it either – he was just a middle-aged man who had worked at a department store, apparently trying to scrape by a living off of that. He'd had a simple apartment, no next of kin… It was so frustrating.

The most frustrating however was the fact that Kate was at the precinct right at that very moment, and she was probably frustrated too, but if they were together, there's a possibility they'd be less frustrated. They'd be more at rest. They'd…

Ugh. This was getting him nowhere. Lunch. Kate was supposed to text him at lunch. How soon was lunch? Castle knew there was no way of telling… it varied every single day depending on where they were at with their leads and paperwork. And ooh! Interrogation. You know what? Brilliant idea.

Maybe he could just take his laptop to the precinct and write in the break room. He'd get more done with people watching him, making sure he worked. At least that's what he told himself. And then he could keep up with things. And he could make Beckett coffee! He loved making her coffee.

He grabbed his phone off the desk and texted off a quick message to her:

Can I come to the precinct with my laptop and write there in the break room?

He waited five minutes before her reply.

NO.

Hm. All capital letters… curt reply. He'd better not risk it. Lately whenever she had to tell him anything via text it was accompanied by a teasing remark to compliment the serious. This was firm. He knew better than to cross her on that one.

He replied:

Fine. Ur mean. :(

Maybe the unhappy face would get him some sympathy. She really wasn't mean. Well, she could be. But she was just being all practical and that was annoying.

Her reply came 20 seconds later:

I'll show you just how mean I can be if you haven't got those four thousand words by the time I get home.

He smirked. Two could play that game.

Is that a promise, Detective?

Five seconds.

Shut up, Castle. Write. 3

He grinned at his phone. Oooh, a heart! He'd only received that a few times via text from her before. She was probably expecting that that would suffice and he would stop texting her. With a resigned sigh, he decided to count himself lucky she'd replied to him at all, and put his phone back on the desk. More writing then.

Lunch arrived two hours and thirteen minutes later. He was counting. And his stomach was growling, but he'd made this little silent pact with himself that he wouldn't eat until his phone pinged a new text from her because it would be like them getting to share lunch together, as he most loved doing. He wouldn't reveal that to her, maybe not yet anyway. But still, he was relieved when it pinged and she gave him a status update:

On lunch break now. Not much more to say about the case… currently tracking down the boss's cousin. What are you eating?

He opened the fridge. There could be only one response.

Leftovers.

He began to pull stuff out of the fridge to try and get something going.

Don't let yourself forget to eat, Rick.

Her reply sent a little wave of happiness through him. She could read his mind… sometimes he really did think they had some sort of telepathy. He forgot often that she'd had just as much time to study his habits and learn about his little quirks as he did hers. Maybe she didn't do as much digging into his life, but she was observant, and in addition to that being part of her job, that's part of what made her wonderful.

I won't forget.

After lunch he attempted to write again. It was slow going. He was thoroughly stuck. It was slavish work. Some days writing just came to him, but it felt like he was working on that dead-end case that Beckett had, only in writing form. He grabbed a spare notepad and wrote down the details he knew from the case, and suppressed the urge to phone Kate to find out the rest. He wasn't coming up with anything either…

The hours ticked by, and it got later, and later… he was sitting on the couch with the X-Box running, the laptop, open, but all but abandoned on the coffee table in front of him. Twilight had already fallen and it was almost dark, when she walked through the door. He stumbled over himself trying to turn off the tv at the same time as revive his laptop to pretend he was writing, and standing up to greet Beckett.

She spotted him and instantly saw through his act. She gave him a seriously? look and took off her coat, but the teasing light didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Kate?" he stood up and went over to her.

"Hey Rick," she sighed. His arms came up to encircle her waist but she stopped him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. How many words did you write?"

He paused and cringed.

"Um… 1,700 about…"

She sighed and looked less disapproving, more… disappointed. Almost for her own sake. Ugh, he hated disappointing her. He should have tried harder.

"You're going to have to do better than that," she said.

"But you were gone all day and… you're my muse," he protested.

"That's not the problem, and you know it," she said, taking off her shoes and moving towards the kitchen.

He ignored that comment and followed her as she headed towards the fridge,

"Are you hungry? Let me help you make dinner!"

"No… no Castle. You're going to finish your writing."

"But, I wrote all day!"

"Clearly not."

"But I tried. I did. I swear."

Kate turned around to face him in front of the fridge.

"What's the problem then?" it wasn't an interrogating question, more of a tired, concerned one.

"I…" Castle sighed, "I have writers block. And my characters won't behave. And… I miss you. It's distracting."

She nodded and stepped a step closer, taking his hand.

"Ok… I'm going to make you some brownies."

"Brownies?" Castle half exclaimed. Not the statement he was expecting.

"Yes. Brownies."

"Why?" he asked, confusion written on his face.

Kate shrugged.

"Just because. But you have to go sit down and write."

Castle squinted. Something was wrong. Something was different… he could tell there was something brewing right at the surface, right beneath her skin. Something had happened, but she wasn't saying it, instead she was insisting he write and telling him that she was going to make him brownies and…

"Well… will you come sit with me? After you make the brownies?"

"Will it help you to write?" she asked, in earnest.

"Yes it will," he replied.

"Ok."

"Ok," he smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. But she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No kissing until you reach your 4,000 word goal."

"What!?" he almost yelled.

"You heard me," she said.

"But that's… that's… really mean!" he blurted out.

"I am making you brownies. Now go sit down."

"Ok…" he relented.

She went about making brownies, rummaging in the cupboard until she found the ingredients she was looking for. Ok, so she wasn't going for the box… she was going homemade. Those were going to be some good brownies.

Castle focused as best he could on writing, listening to the sounds of the baking behind him, mixed with Beckett getting leftovers out of the fridge to heat up for dinner. He could already smell the cocoa. He forced the words out of his fingers and onto the page. Brownies. Kissing. Things to work towards, and things to write for.

Slowly but surely, his wordcount began to climb.

"The brownies are done! Also, leftovers," Kate called to him.

"Ok!" he said, finishing his sentence and then getting up to go sit down at the table. He sat at the head where he usually sat and Kate settled on his left.

"Mmmm… these are really nice brownies," he said, as soon as he'd taken his first bite.

"I'm glad you like them," she said softly, with an almost sad smile. In fact, as he looked deeper at her clouded eyes, he could see that it was a sad look after all. He swallowed.

"These brownies, are they like… um… well, I mean," he fumbled for words. She reached over and covered his hand with her own.

"My mom would make this recipe for me whenever I felt bad," she admitted, in a soft tone of voice, drawing her thumb in tiny circles over the back of his hand. "If I was sad, or having trouble with my homework… she did it with the homework a lot. They're incentive, but they were also a bright spot that reminded me that even when life sucked… I was loved."

There was no grandeur in her voice, just a quiet, wistful remembrance. Castle felt his own gaze growing soft and turned her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze.

"So these are symbolic brownies for you?"

"Yeah. I mean… hopefully they help with the writer's block."

He smiled.

"I think they already are."

He leaned down and before she could move away, kissed the back of her hand.

"That's cheating," she said.

"Yeah, probably. It's almost cheating. I'm at 2,698! I'm getting there."

She only smiled in return. There was still a lingering something in her eyes, but he figured he could wait for that to come out on its own, and finished the rest of his dinner and brownies.

After, he went back to the couch. Kate followed a moment later, sitting down next to him, their entire sides touching, his right to her left. She pulled her legs up underneath her on the couch, wrapped her left arm around his back, and lay her head against his shoulder. He sighed a sigh of contentment.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much better. Maybe I'll actually be able to get something more done now."

She snuggled in closer.

"Four thousand words. You can do this. You used to do this all the time."

"I know… I'll finish it. Promise not to read it over my shoulder though. I want it to be a surprise."

"Ok," she replied.

He began to write, and with her warm presence at his side and her arm wrapped around his shoulder he slowly felt the writer's block begin to dissipate. He began typing, deciding to switch scenes to write about Nikki and Rook in a similar situation, after a long day of work and separation. He wrote about what that felt like. And as he worked through it, the words came to him.

With 800 words to go he sneaked a quick kiss to her forehead in there.

"Hey!" she said, lifting her head off his shoulder.

"I'm almost there," he said, with a smile and nudged her head back.

"Ok," she sighed.

Ten minutes later, with his fingers practically flying over the keys, he had reached four thousand words. He clicked save about 5 times, shut the laptop and put it on the table, then immediately turned and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back in a sweet, gentle sort of way and brushed her fingertips through his hair. If this is what accomplishment felt like he'd be willing to write as much as she wanted him to. He stopped and rested his forehead on hers.

"Finished," he whispered, smiling.

"I can see that."

They turned to face each other on the couch and he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. He examined her for a moment.

"Not a good day?"

She nodded, sadness in her eyes.

"You could say that. It was… a difficult day."

"Did you find any leads?"

"Yeah," she took a deep breath, "Yeah, there was this lead about the victim's cousin, who we'd been trying to track down. We finally found the guy in an apartment holding the victim's young daughter hostage. She was nine."

Castle took a deep breath.

"Right… so what happened?"

"We um… we got the daughter out, and got the cousin, who is now in custody and confessed to the murder. But… in the process of hostage negotiations he shot the little girl in the arm."

She let out a shaky breath.

I was right there too… I just… I could have stopped it. But it happened in front of my eyes and I was too late, and I wasn't fast enough."

Castle pulled her to him, and hugged her tightly as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I know how that feels," he said. The reality of his words sank in.

"I know. I know you know. I wish you were there," she clung closer to him.

"Me too. I would have liked to help. How long was it until you were able to get to her?"

"About ten minutes before we could actually help the girl. She was losing a lot of blood. She ended up on the carpet in the living room in the house by the time it was over, and after they put the cousin in handcuffs I went over the girl – held her… tried to quell the bleeding."

"What's her name?" Castle asked.

"Hannah."

He sighed, the similarity of the little girl's name to Kate's mother, not lost on him.

"I rode with her in the ambulance on the way to the children's hospital. She was scared, kept calling out for her mom. She had to have been in shock. Her mom died a year ago from cancer. Her dad took it hard and started gambling. The cousin got word of it and decided to take matters into his own hands by striking deals to try and him out of trouble. That's when the cousin got involved with drug dealers, and Hannah's dad got shot."

Castle was silent for a long moment, his heart aching for Kate, and for Hannah.

"You saw yourself in her didn't you?"

"Nine. She was nine. I was so much older when my mom died… I had my dad, and friends. Hannah's nine and she's lost everyone. And now she's got months of therapy, both physically, and probably mentally. She might not ever be a normal kid again."

"Ever? But shouldn't there be somebody she can go to at least? Other family?"

"Yeah, I don't know, she might get put into foster care, or put up for adoption. Stuff like this… it changes people."

"Sometimes… it makes them better. In the end," he whispered, his fingers in her hair detangling what little knots he found there.

"All I could think about is 'what if it had been me?'" she whispered back. "What if I was the mom… what if she was my kid that got shot? What would that feel like, if it was my own child bleeding there in my arms?"

Perhaps he hadn't expected those words. So she thought about children then? Having her own?

"Do you think about kids a lot?"

"Often. When there's a victim, and there's a family… I've always been part of a small family anyway, and was perpetually envious of families with lots of kids growing up. When my mom died it's like that stopped, instead I resented the fact that other people had each other. It kept a lot of people out for a long time. Including you."

"I understand," Castle said.

"I'm still so sorry. I mean look at Hannah? A few weeks ago she was an innocent little kid… imagine if she turned out like that?"

"Any little girl would be blessed to turn out like you. You broke through those walls. It makes you caring… sweet," he admitted.

"No," she sighed, "I think it was you that broke through those walls more than anybody else. Without you I'd probably still be doing the exact same thing, hiding away, never letting anybody too close to my heart."

They were already as close as they could be, but Castle wrapped his arms tighter around her and kissed her where her neck met her shoulder a few times, burying his face in her skin for a moment.

"I think you would have found a way out eventually. When I saw you with that little girl we saved who had been kidnapped by her aunt, back in the first year we met I started to really see the depth of your softer side."

"I forget you saw those things sometimes… I'm not really sure why."

"Probably because there's a lot of things I just never got around to telling you about. Things I made note of in my own head."

Kate hummed her acknowledgement of his statement as she shifted lay her head against his shoulder. He was quiet, as was she, for a minute.

"If I were to be a mom, I would spend as much time as I could trying to remember everything I could about my child's growing up. I feel like I've forgotten stuff about when I was a kid… things my mom did, or said, and things I did. Sometimes all that's left is pictures, videos, and memories. If you don't write anything down, some of it gets lost. And I'd do anything to have those memories back."

"You know, I think that's part of why I write… or at least why I started writing Nikki Heat. It was a mystery. You were a mystery, and it just fueled my inspiration, but there were little things I wanted to remember… about the way you looked at me, or the way you acted in certain situations. And I wrote those in the form of Nikki Heat so I wouldn't forget."

"Did it help you remember?" she asked.

"It did," he replied. "And… Kate? If. I mean… if you wanted kids – I. I think you'd be a fantastic mom. You wouldn't have to worry." His voice was hesitant, but filled with absolute certainty that almost stunned her. She lifted her head, and pulled back to look into his eyes – and all she saw there was love, and hope, and a trust that quieted her aching soul.

"Yeah?" she said, bringing her palm to his cheek and running her thumb just under his eye.

"Yeah," he said and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.

"Someday you might be right about that," she murmured, so softly that he wasn't even sure he'd heard it at first.

He held her tighter, and she let the weight of the day fall from her shoulders, silenced her questions and let everything drop until the only thing that remained was the reassurance she craved, and the promise of a future.

A few minutes later, he whispered,

"Someday," against her lips. It was more than a whisper, more than a hope.

It was a promise.

Thanks for reading! Do review - I'd love to get your thoughts about how in-character, or out of character this seems! I will be uploading the next chapter soon!