To Katherine Beckett, 47 was an age unlike any other. It was closer to 50 than 40, and came with a lot of rules and limitations. Such as, "you can't wear heels to work any more because your feet will hurt in two hours," and, "don't wear as much eyeliner as you used to because it'll make you look older than you are". A few people had told her that she aged well, while others insisted that she didn't look her age. 47 was an age floating somewhere between "young" and "old", between "naive" and "wise", "lost" and "discovered".

She didn't look like she did in her early thirties, obviously. She had fine lines between her eyebrows and crows feet at the corners of her eyes. She had kept herself in shape, but things just weren't as…firm as they used to be, and she had developed a small tummy (still remarkably flat for her age). Grey hair had begun to crop up at her temples and at the part in her hair. She had dyed it a couple of times, but mostly she was too busy to keep up with it, so she just let it go. Stress had taken its toll in a few ways.

It was an overcast October Tuesday around three in the afternoon when Beckett decided to take a break from doing paperwork. There was a little café in Midtown East that she hadn't been to in years – maybe since her twenties – that she knew was still open. It was out of her way to say the least working on the Upper West Side, but she needed to get out. She had been behind a desk for days.

Beckett stood and slipped back into the navy blazer that was hanging on the back of her chair, dug her keys out of her black bag, and stepped out of her office, locking the door behind her. She walked in the direction of the bullpen, "Hey, Espo?"

The detective looked up from the desk that had once been Beckett's own, eyebrows raised, silently responding to his boss' call.

"I'm uh, I'm going to step out for a bit," Beckett told him. "I've gotta get out of here, I'm going to go nuts just sitting around."

Esposito smirked, "Office life still making you claustrophobic, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Beckett rubbed her temples. "Anybody needs anything, just call my cell, and I'll hail a cab back, and be here in an instant, alright?"

"Got it, boss," Esposito said with a kind smile. "Go on, get your fresh air. I got things covered here."

"Okay, thanks Javi," Beckett said sounding a bit excited and flashing him a small grin. She walked briskly to the elevator, and then out of the precinct. A chilly gust of wind hit her as she headed southeast down West 82nd. For a moment, she wished she had grabbed the slightly heavier pea coat that she had worn into work that morning, but then decided that by the time she reached her destination (the better part of an hour away by foot) the walking would have warmed her up plenty. She turned right on Columbus, then took that to Lincoln Square, to Broadway, and followed that until she hit West 42nd and hung a right. It was a long way to go for a cup of coffee, but she was enjoying being back in the city for once. Between the people, the crisp air, and the fall foliage that made everything look like it was on fire…she felt alive.

By 4:05, Beckett was standing in front of Rize Coffee. It looked exactly as she had remembered it; a gold strip where the store met the rest of the Chanin Building, and Broadway-esque lettering spelling out the little café's name. She smiled and checked her phone once to make sure that no one needed her yet, and then opened the heavy gold door and stepped inside.

The place was as tiny as she had recalled, with seating for maybe ten people, but never getting crowded. People came and went with to go orders. The bare light bulbs hovering above the counter casting a warm glow about the place. There were only a few people actually sitting down. Two of them made up a young couple sitting at the table in the further most corner from the door, looking like they were sharing their most intimate secrets. The other was a man, sitting with his back to her, staring out the window. There was something familiar about him to Beckett. Something she almost knew in the slope of his shoulders and the way his hair fell in the back. But, there were millions of people in Manhattan, she supposed, and she might have met him once during a case.

Beckett made her way up to the counter, gazing at the chalkboard menu for a moment. It was comforting to her to see that prices hadn't soared dramatically there. A place frozen in time, at least one thing had stayed the same.

"Hi," a pretty, young girl at the counter greeted her. She had bright red hair that could only come from a box piled loosely on top of her head with a Bic pen stuck through it, and thick black rectangle glasses. Her nametag read. "Maria", and she had a small smile on her face. She seemed to belong to the cozy atmosphere, as much a fixture of the place as the walls themselves. "Can I get you anything?"

"Um, yeah, could I just get a vanilla latte, please?" Beckett requested with a polite smile.

"Sure thing," Maria punched something into the cash register. "For here or to go?"

"Not sure."
"I'll just make it to go," Maria smiled at her. "Will that be all?"

Beckett nodded.

"That'll be 3.52," Maria grabbed a cup from a stack. "Can I get a name?"

"Kate," Beckett replied.

"Kate Beckett?" a voice asked incredulously behind her.

Beckett turned around to find the familiar man staring at her with eyes the exact color of the Atlantic. "Castle?" she whispered.

Maria stepped purposefully out of earshot to make Beckett's drink.

"Ah," Castle managed out, opening and closing his mouth a few times. "H-hi."

If Beckett had aged well, Castle had aged fantastically. He had gained a few lines on his face as well, but they looked as if they belonged there. Smile and laugh lines near his mouth. Subtle creases in his forehead from the way he raised his eyebrows when he told a joke. Not even a grey hair. Of course. If she was 47, that would make him…54? 54 looked good on him. Like life had been kind. "Yeah…hi…" she finally got out.

"How are you?" Castle asked, his tone making the question sound deeper than it was, and his eyes holding something between shock and cautious delight.

"I'm good," Beckett said, beginning to regain her composure and thought process. "Can't complain, I suppose. How about you?"

"About the same, you know," Castle nodded.

"Yeah," Beckett said, because that was the only word she could think of. What was one even to say? There was so much…

"Vanilla latte for Kate," Maria called out behind her.

"I think that's yours," Castle said, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Yeah," Beckett repeated before going and retrieving her cup. She returned to Castle, biting her lip. "Well, uh…it was really nice seeing you again."

"Yeah," Castle said as well. "Yeah, it was good to see you too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Um," Beckett gave a tiny wave and a weak smile, and began to walk toward the door.

"Kate?" Castle called, standing up.

"Yeah?" Beckett's hand froze on the door, and she turned back to him.

"Do you, uh…" Castle shook his head, seemingly trying to sort his thoughts. "Do you have anything to do right now?"

Just work. "Not really, why?"

"Did you maybe want to sit down?" Castle asked her, sounding slightly hopeful. "Catch up?"

Beckett felt herself smile the way she only ever had for him. It had been a while since she'd felt that. "Yeah," she said yet again. "I'd like that."

Castle smiled back at her, seeming to thaw a bit. He gestured at the table.

Beckett took the seat across from him, placing her arms on the very edge of the ridiculously small table. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have cared, and he wouldn't have either. They would've just plopped their arms in the middle together. Usually never quite touching. Never quite to the point of contact, but close enough that they could feel the other's body heat. Close enough to proudly display that personal space was not something that they believed in. Not with each other, anyway. Those days were so long ago, as they kept to their respective sides, just looking at each other, not quite speaking in words.

Finally, Castle sighed, "This shouldn't be awkward."

Beckett shrugged, "It's been, what, 14 years? What do you expect?"

"I don't know, for things to be a little more natural? I – wait, why are you laughing?"

Beckett shook her head and continued laughing lightly, "It's all just kind of ridiculous, you know? Meeting here, after all this time…we should be able to speak to each other like human beings, shouldn't we?"

Despite everything, Castle began to chuckle along with her, "And not just say 'yeah'."

"Yeah," Beckett agreed, which just made them laugh more. "Four years of partnership comes down to…"

"Yeah," Castle finished.

"Yeah," Beckett said.

They laughed some more.

Once that had died down, Beckett nudged his hand with hers almost shyly. "So, come on, what all's happened with you?"

"Kind of a loaded question when there's 14 years to cover," Castle smirked a bit.

Beckett considered that for a moment, and then accepted it. "Okay…how're Alexis and Martha?"

"Mother is still living with me. The acting school has really taken off, so she's been spending three days a week there, teaching. She seems to be enjoying herself," Castle took a sip of his coffee. "Alexis – oh, you'll get a kick out of this."

Beckett raised her eyebrows.

"Alexis got her doctorate, and then became a family therapist," Castle informed her.

Beckett grinned, "I can see that for her. She got all her needed training at home."

"Her exact words, I kid you not," Castle chuckled. "But she loves it."

"How old is Alexis now?" Beckett asked.

"32," Castle said with a grimace. He sighed heavily. "I have no idea where the time's gone. She's married now, to a man named Tom Lawson. Good kid. Steady job, polite, polished, treats her well, and we get along great. Can't say I have any complaints. They had a kid a couple of years ago. A boy. His name is Jacob. I suggested that she named him 'Jude', but Alexis said that would be cruel. Oh, here," he dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting a family photo from it. "Here they are. This was in April, so it's fairly recent. Of course, Jake already looks different. A few months make a huge difference at that age."

Beckett picked up the photo and smiled that one smile again, "Grandpa Castle," she handed it back to him, "Alexis is beautiful."

"Thanks," Castle beamed at the picture. "Jake's a great kid. Scary smart, just like Alexis was at his age. I think he'll grow up to be just like his parents. I love spending time with him. We took him to the zoo Saturday. He loved it."

"That sounds really nice," Beckett said. "I can only imagine you on the loose with a two-year-old at the zoo…"

Castle laughed, "Oh, we got reprimanded by Alexis several times, but we were having too much fun." He grinned.

Beckett shook her head and smiled yet again, "So…what about you?"

"What about me?" Castle asked absently, tucking the photo back into his wallet.

"What have you been up to?" Beckett clarified. "I haven't seen any new books lately."

"Oh, yeah," Castle scratched the back of his head. "Black Pawn dropped me when I told them I wasn't going to write another Nikki Heat. Apparently, they have a very strict Three Strikes policy."

"Three Strikes?" Beckett echoed, feeling guilt pang in her chest.

"Killing Derrick Storm, walking away from Nikki Heat, and breaking up with Gina. Again," he ticked them off on his fingers, and then gave a small shrug.

"Couldn't you have gotten another publisher?" Beckett asked, almost desperate for some relief from the feeling that she was the one who ruined Richard Castle, and made him stop writing. "I'm sure other agencies were dying to sign you."

"Maybe. I don't know, my heart wasn't in it. You need your heart to be in it to write something that people really want to read," Castle told her. "Now, I just write for myself."

Beckett swallowed the sickening guilt rising up in her. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Castle analyzed her for a moment, and then waved a hand. "Anyway, tell me, Detective, what have you been up to these days?"

"Actually, that's Captain, to you," Beckett said with a smirk, pulling out her badge and sliding it across the table.

"Really? Captain? Wow, congratulations," Castle's smile held the hint of something restrained as he ran his thumb over the badge, turned it over a couple times in his hand, and then handed it back. "What made you give up field work?"

"There was nothing really there for me anymore," Beckett said simply.

Now it was Castle's turn to raise his eyebrows.

I didn't have my partner, I hadn't had a good captain in a while, and..."We caught my mother's killer," she confessed quietly, her gaze dropping to her hands. "He uh...he died. Head on collision with a drunk driver going the wrong way on the FDR," she swallowed hard. "In 2001."

"But…the man who shot you…" Castle trailed off. Stating that the event happened still gave him chills. If that had never had happened…

"Just one of his goons who didn't want cops sniffing around their 'businesses'," she hooked air quotes. "Which is one of the reasons they killed her. She got to close, she knew too much…it was all about drugs, mostly," Beckett shrugged and went back to looking at her hands, "Just one of life's little ironies, I guess," her eyes drifted out the window, "He's been dead for 20 years, Rick," she whispered.

Without thinking, Castle reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it lightly.

Beckett folded her fingers over his, "Sorry, didn't mean to just spew that at you," she gave a tiny, self-conscious laugh.

"Don't apologize," Castle told her sincerely. "I'm so sorry, Kate." It boggled his mind that despite everything she did to him and how much time had passed, his heart still broke when hers did. He was angry with her, sad with her, overjoyed with her. It was all still there.

Beckett shrugged slightly again, doing her best to look nonchalant. "Just one of those things. Anyway, I applied for Captain when Gates retired last year and gave the team to Esposito and Ryan. Jointly. I couldn't pick just one."

Castle smiled at that. "How are they doing?"

"Well, Ryan and Jenny have three kids now," Beckett said. "Erin and Grace, the girls, and then Kieran, the boy. 13, 9, and 6."

"Wow," Castle gave a low whistle. "That's a lot. And very Irish, I might add. He tearing his hair out yet?"

"Nah, you know Ryan," Beckett replied. "He loves it. Jenny, the kids, the whole thing. They're really happy."

Castle smiled again. "And Esposito?"

"On-Again-Off-Again thing with Lanie for years now. They have a dog. It's pretty much a committed relationship," Beckett shook her head. "Everyone's happy, you know? Seems like they've got things pretty much worked out."

"That's good," Castle nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."

Beckett nodded as well, but said nothing more. A million thoughts were coursing through her brain. But where to even start? I knew. I'm so sorry. Why did you leave? I've missed you…

"I've gotta say," Castle began, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Middle age looks good on you."

"You're not so bad yourself, Castle," Beckett said with a smile. She wondered briefly if he remembered that night in the hotel room in L.A. so many years ago. She couldn't be sure.

But judging from the spark that flared in his eyes, she thought he did.

Castle opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. It was hard to tell where the lines were now, what would be okay to say and what wouldn't. What would just qualify as embarrassing himself because she never felt the same way. He decided instead to go with something benign and said, "So, I never saw you come here before…do you come here regularly, or…?" instead of what he was actually thinking. I've missed you.

Beckett laughed a little, looked at him skeptically – a look they were both no strangers to –, and asked, "Are you really asking me if I come here often?"

Castle chuckled, "I hadn't meant it to come out like that, but yeah, yeah I guess I am."

Beckett laughed a little more and then covered their still clasped hands with her other one. "You're rusty."

They talked for hours about everything from family, to the weather, to what they had done with the past summer. They talked about anything and everything, with two key exceptions.

They did not talk about their partnership years.

And the especially did not talk about That Night, when everything changed.

At 7 PM, after three hours of nonstop talking and taking turns buying each other coffee, Maria made her way to their table and cleared her throat gently, "I'm very sorry, but it's time for me to close up."

"Oh," Beckett let go of Castle's hand for the first time in hours. "No, that's okay, I have to get going anyway. I'm working double shifts tonight," she told Castle.

"Yeah, I have to go too," Castle stood, looking a bit disappointed. "I have a dinner date with Alexis, Tom, Jacob and Mother," he searched her face for a moment, and almost opened his mouth to invite her. But he stopped himself. No, they weren't there yet. It would take work to get them back to the place where she was considered family. Hell, he wasn't even sure they were friends yet. There was something still there, but it needed lots of work.

"Um," Beckett pulled a pen from her bag and scribbled her number on a napkin. "Call me sometime, I'd love to do this again." She bit her lip.

"I will," Castle smiled softly at her, and then tucked the napkin into his pocket. "It really was good to see you again."

"You too," Beckett smiled back and gave a little wave as he walked out the door.

"Shoulda kissed him," Maria said softly, before ducking into the back room.

They didn't talk about their partnership, or about That Night.

But it was all either of them could think about.