Disclaimer: I own nothing. Chapter title and lyrics are from the Snow Patrol song Crack the Shutters.

-{ Chapter 1: Crack the Shutters }-

Crack the shutters open wide
I wanna bathe you in the light of day
And just watch you as the rays
Tangle up around your face and body
I could sit for hours finding new ways
To be awed each minute
'Cause the daylight seems to want you
Just as much as I want you

May 9th, 2012

Thin lines of sunlight slipped through the blinds in a wavering pattern, a slight breeze stirring its way into the room through the crack he had left the window open the night before. Richard Castle was not alone in the tangle of sheets that halfway covered his body. An arm was draped lazily over his abdomen, and a smile played across his lips as he lifted a finger to trace patterns across the back of her hand.

This was the part where he would be expecting to wake up, alone and disappointed, in this same lonely bed. Or at the very least, to roll over and find someone he wasn't expecting. But it had been a very long time since that had happened. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone out late and had a wild time. The past few years had seen late nights revolving around the precinct or Beckett's apartment armed with files and a few glasses of wine.

That would be happening a lot more often, now, wouldn't it?

She stirred, behind him, her arm slipping back across him and off. He rolled himself over to face her, and found her facing him, eyes just blinking open sleepily. An easy smile lifted the corner of her lips.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"'Morning," she murmured back, propping herself up on her elbow, long hair lifting off the pillow and cascading down her shoulders. She had never looked so beautiful to him.

She didn't say anything else, and neither did Castle. He wasn't sure how to start, to be honest. There was so much to be said. A line had been crossed, and they were seemingly in another universe entirely than they had been in the night before. Everything had changed… and for the most part, he still didn't know why. What had propelled her to come to him, last night. She had said she had almost died, and the reminder sent a twinge to his stomach. He would need the story, the full story, at some point. He wanted to ask.

"This is nice," he said instead, reaching up hesitantly to play with a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She met his stare openly, smile still fixed on her face. He lifted himself up to look for the time on the nightstand. The clock informed him it was past nine. "Do we have to… get to the precinct?"

She didn't seem fazed by how late they had slept in, but her eyes did pull away, focusing on the bed sheets between them. She traced a wrinkle with her index finger.

"There's something I have to tell you," she admitted, her smile vanishing and her brows drawing together in that serious way they always did before she said something difficult. She struggled with it for a long moment, and Castle put his hand on top of hers, stopping the nervous tracing motion.

"I'll make pancakes," he suggested. Her eyebrows instantly rose, eyes widening in surprise, and then she relaxed, smiling again. It was a relief.

"That… that sounds nice."

He rolled away from her and out of the bed, pulling on a pair of baggy pajama pants and a blue shirt with a hole in it before stepping into his slippers. He tugged on the blinds and the room lit with warm, early morning sunlight. Beckett stood up from the bed, her bare skin glistening in the light, and located her panties in the tangle of clothing on the floor. She pulled on one of his shirts and buttoned it up. He swallowed, slippers pattering on the floor as he made his way out to the kitchen. She followed barefoot, despite the cold of the hardwood floors.

Beckett didn't ask if he wanted help, she simply joined him at the counter, plucking the box of pancake mix from his hand as soon as he'd located it in the cabinet. Together, they set to mixing and flipping around one another, until they found themselves seated at the counter with dishes of pancakes in front of them and maple syrup between… and nothing to keep them from their discussion.

"These are good," Beckett said, sending him a sidelong glance as she took a second bite. He nodded along, saying nothing. She took the hint, her fork settling on the dish with a clank. She took a breath. "I resigned yesterday," she announced.

His fork dropped into his dish loudly, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline.

"You… resigned?" he asked, feeling like he must have heard her wrong. That was the last thing he had been expecting. Maybe they had given her time off after her as-of-yet undefined near-death experience, or maybe Gates had put her on leave for disobeying orders… but not this.

What did that mean? It had been… her decision?

The idea seemed odd. Unrealistic.

"I owe you the whole story," she said heavily, glancing at the pancakes and then pushing the dish away from herself, her decision made. He did the same, propping his elbows on the counter and offering her his full attention. He had a strong feeling he was not going to enjoy most of this tale.

"You told me to stop my investigation. That… that they would kill me if I didn't stop. And I said no." She began. And then she didn't stop for a beat, launching into the tale. "After you left, I visited my mother's grave. Then… I went back to the precinct. Determined. I thought I was ready, even without you. Esposito and Ryan came up with the name Cole Maddox for our mystery man in the surveillance footage at the church. It was a cover ID, of course, but we got him through a car rental service: Eastway. He didn't return the car he rented out of JFK, and because the company keeps tracking devices on their vehicles, we were able to put him on the lower east side. Esposito and I went out to hunt him down… without backup. We went up to Maddox's room, and we found Montgomery's stolen files and the laptop. And that was where things went bad."

She ducked her head, taking a steadying breath. "I don't know where he came from—we had cleared the apartment first—but he hit me as I went around a corner, and knocked me down. He hit Esposito next, and I ran after Maddox alone, up onto the roof. We fought hand-to-hand, both of our guns knocked away, and then… he had me by the throat." Her voice quivered, just slightly, but Castle caught it. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, but now he let it out, biting down the urge to ask questions, to intervene. She needed to finish telling before he interrupted, and he knew it.

"Castle… I don't know why he didn't kill me," she whispered, her eyes fixing on his for the briefest moment before flickering away again. "He just… he got me down and then he watched. Let me speak. He could have just killed me, right then, but he waited…" Castle couldn't sit still. He reached out a hand and placed it over hers, watching as she jumped slightly from the contact. A smile flickered momentarily on her lips, but ultimately vanished. Her brows drew tightly together again.

"You're wasting your time, detective…" she shook her head. "That's what he said to me. He said I had no idea what I was up against." The next part seemed to take forever for her to force out. "I launched myself at him, and he used my momentum against me. The next thing I knew… I was hanging over the side of the building by my fingertips."

Castle swallowed, the writer in him picturing the scene far too clearly. He could have written it. Would have written it, in fact. It was his style, through and through. He shivered, suddenly wondering how he could put his fictional Nikki into any sort of danger when all he wanted to do at the slightest hint of a threat against Beckett was wrap her in his arms and never let her go.

"Ryan pulled me up," she muttered tightly. "With a back-up team. Gates was there." She shook her head, and finally met his eyes. There was a simple clarity in her gaze, and a shadow of fear. "I thought it was you, coming for me."

"I was at Alexis' graduation," he said quietly, and she nodded.

"Gates put me and Esposito on administrative leave… and then I resigned."

"You came here," Castle said, a sudden wave of alarm shooting through him. She had just almost died. And then she had quit the very job that defined her. She had come to him after all of that… what did that mean? That she had been making rash decisions all day and he was the last of them? It didn't look like she was regretting any of it, right now, but what about later? Would this bliss last? Would they still be making pancakes a week from now? Could they last on a legacy like that? Could they become something else?

I almost died and all I could think about was you. The words echoed to him from the night before.

Maybe they could make it. The night before… it certainly argued for it.

"Not right away," she said, jolting him back to the conversation. "I thought a lot, first. About us, about what you said… and I realized that you were right. And that you were just protecting me the only way you knew how. Because I was reckless and out of control. I let my mother's murder control me the way I never wanted to let it… and this time, when the bad guy got away, I didn't care." Slowly, she threaded her fingers through his. "Because I didn't want anything as much as I wanted you when I fell off the side of that building. I didn't want Maddox caught, I didn't want justice… I just wanted you to be there, pulling me up to safety. And you would have been, if I hadn't been so determined to push you away. And Ryan and Esposito… I didn't care what they had to say, so long as it was backing me up. If Ryan hadn't done what was best for me, the way you were trying to do, I'd be dead right now."

Castle squeezed her hand, and she fell silent at last. He could see the exhaustion in her face.

"I'm pretty sure that at some point last night… I conveyed the fact that I forgave you. But in case that failed… I do forgive you, Kate. For all of it." As long as you're done with this, for good.

She nodded, and then he watched her brow crease for a fraction of a second before she leaned forward tentatively, a curiosity in her eyes as she tilted her head and met his lips tenderly. He closed his eyes, moving his lips with hers, and before he knew what was happening, her tongue was tracing his upper lip and he was probing into hers and they were settling into a wonderful dance, a competition for dominance and a war of affection. Their hands fell loose from one another's, moving to explore as one of his traced down the curves of her body to settle at her hip and the other found its way up her back and wrapped around to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. Hers gripped the front of his shirt, running periodically over the expanse of his chest and shoulders. He sank into the sensations, tasting her and drinking in everything about her, like she might vanish at any second.

Beckett was the one to pull away, gasping, eyes wide and chest heaving.

He almost gasped out a wow, but found himself suddenly chuckling, eventually bursting into all out laughter as the corner of her lip twisted upwards and her eyes danced with mirth. Her laugh was beautiful; his favorite sound.

Yesterday, they had been fighting, yelling at each other over the case that she couldn't let go. And today… they were making out wildly in his kitchen over pancakes. It seemed positively absurd, and they were both recognizing that.

"I think our pancakes are getting cold," she observed pointedly, a lightness in her voice. Her burdens had been lifted, her story told. Forgiveness was hers. He felt as light as air, and he knew she must be somewhere close by.

He picked up his fork and tried a bite, making a face. "These weren't all that good to start with, really." She tested hers as well, and then a laugh bubbled out of her throat as she chewed, and she covered her mouth.

"Terrible, right?" he exclaimed, and she nodded. He tilted his head, an idea working its way into his head. "Tell you what. Let's go get brunch. Somewhere nice."

"Brunch?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Besides… we're both out of a day job, last I checked."

She ducked her head, scrunching up her lips. "Brunch it is."

Castle glanced towards the door. "We should get moving, before Alexis or my mother makes an appearance."

"Ashamed, now, are you?" Beckett asked teasingly, scraping her plate off into the trash can.

"Nope. But I don't feel like explaining. And awkwardness was not in my morning forecast."

Beckett had no real choice but to wear the same outfit that she arrived in, which was wrinkled but had at least dried after the rain it had endured the night before.

"We'll stop at your place," he promised, and she smiled gratefully. He went for jeans and a purple collared shirt, and then they both slipped out, thankfully not running into his daughter or anyone else for that matter on their way out of the building.

Being in Beckett's apartment was entirely different from being in his own. She had stood there, by the large painting, when she had turned around and accused him of betraying her, not far over twenty-four hours ago. And there was where he had stood, professing the love that she was already well aware of.

It had not escaped his attention that she had not returned the statement. There had been plenty signs of it, with the way their bodies had melded and the way she had touched him, with the warmth of her kisses… all the indicators were there. He had no intention to press the point. While hearing Beckett say that she loved him back would make him the single happiest man in the entire city, it was obvious she just wasn't ready to say it out loud.

There was plenty of time for that, if things kept going the way they were going. He had high hopes for the first time in a long time, when it came to his possible future with Beckett.

She came out of her bedroom in dark jeans, tall boots, and a smooth red button-up shirt. Stopping short just in front of him, she smiled and then hooked her fingers through his. They hovered for a second, the air between them warm.

Brunch? she seemed to be questioning. Hm. Brunch, he thought.

He swallowed. "Brunch technically goes until like… three in the afternoon," he said informatively.

"Does it?" Beckett asked with mock curiosity, her face now only inches from his. Their noses brushed.

The kiss started softer, with less of an urgency than the one they had shared over their non-breakfast. She sucked on his lower lip, face tilting into his, and he let out a low sigh that came out more like a moan. He could feel her smiling, and then the light brush of air as she laughed once, almost silently. The tip of her nose traced up his cheek, her tongue catching the corner of his lips. He pulled back, taking control as he recaptured her lips with his own. Their bodies pressed flush to one another, every curve melding to fit perfectly. They were interlocking puzzle pieces; they belonged together.

Never had that been as clear as it was now.

He bent his head to kiss her collarbone, trailing slowly up her neck. Her head fell back on a pleasant sigh, and then she gasped as he took her earlobe lightly between his teeth.

His back was pressed against a wall, and he had no idea how he had gotten there, but Beckett's hands were on his shoulders, her fingers grasping firmly as she raised herself up and kissed him with a fresh ferocity. As her kisses slowed, he flipped them around, and she gasped as she found herself pinned to the wall instead. He returned his attentions to her collarbone, hands sliding up from her hips and blindly fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. He managed the first few, but the rest came loose when Beckett tugged at the shirt herself, forcing them to step away from the wall as she shed it and stood before him in just her black satin bra.

They stood apart for a split second, staring at each other and breathing heavily, and then Beckett seized his hand and tugged him in the direction of her bedroom, a place he had never seen before. Last night, he reminded himself, had been her first sight of his bedroom, too.

She used his momentum to toss him on the bed before her, and then crawled up to straddle his waist as she started on his buttons, intent on evening their ratio of skin to clothing. Her hands were warm on his bare skin when he was free of the shirt fabric, nails tracing exhilaratingly down his chest to the line of his waistband.

He was already straining, the jeans too tight. She rocked against him and he groaned, eyelids fluttering as his head fell back into the silky comforter. It was red, like her shirt had been. Where had her shirt ended up? It didn't matter.

Her hair fell in long curls, the tendrils teasing against his skin as she bent again to his lips, her body falling along his and allowing him to roll them over so he could prop himself up on his knees and gaze down at her. Her eyes were dark, eager, her lips just slightly parted. They both moved for the other at the same moment, his fingers locating the clasp on her bra and hers working at his belt.

For a moment, there was a flurry as they fought with their clothing, and then they were skin on skin, and Beckett awkwardly yanked the comforter out of the way so they could fall into the cool wrap of sheets, tumbling together and pressing closer, hungrily kissing as Castle positioned himself over her, their eyes meeting darkly, filled with need, and then they were joined, moving into a rhythm with one another and falling as one, lips locked and bodies intertwined, so that one could not be told from the other.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

Kate Beckett had no idea what she was doing. It seemed that, for years, she had just decided to do whatever she wanted. She had wanted to avoid her mother's case, so she kept it locked out of sight and out of mind. Then she had wanted it solved, and she had put so much effort into the cause that she had nearly gotten herself killed… multiple times over.

And now… now she wanted Castle.

The only thing that stopped her from fearing she was going about this all wrong was the fact that he seemed to wholeheartedly agree that they were on the right track. The light-hearted man-child she had come to know over the past few years had become the voice of reason in her unstable world somehow, one of the few who dared to speak against her convictions. He had her best interests at heart, always, no matter the situation.

If there was one thing that she knew about Castle, it was that he was a good man.

Being with him felt more right than anything she had ever done in her life. It was a stark contrast to her feelings about her mother's murder investigation. It was a black pit of death and conspiracy, and he was a light at the end of the tunnel, pulling her onto dry land.

No, she did not regret her decision.

But she worried.

What was it that Castle had said? That the reason she was alive was because she had stopped looking? Well, she had started looking again. It didn't matter that she was now done with the investigation, that she had chosen Castle over her obsession with the case. She had broken whatever contract Castle had been a part of, and now here she was, waiting to see if somebody would try to kill her all over again.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, frowning just slightly as she washed her hands. Castle had gotten them a table, and then she had excused herself to the restroom. The brunch place—an apparent favorite of his—was called "Lucy's" and featured old-style bar stools and a country feel, right in the bustling center of New York City. She had never heard of it, but she understood at once why Castle liked it so much. It was the sort of place that looked like it had a history, same as The Old Haunt. He pointed out his favorite counter seat when they stepped in the door, and told her he had come up with the closing lines for 'Heat Wave' while scribbling ideas on napkins there.

This place was one of his more recent finds.

She wondered what his plans were. She was certain they involved spending the night again, but at her place or his? Surely his mother and daughter would be home by now. She remembered awkwardly trying to explain her presence before, when her apartment had been blown up and she had truly had nowhere else to go.

Martha, though, was always so wonderful about it. As much as Castle liked to comment about how she lived with him, and complain about all the crazy and wild things that she did, Beckett knew he was only slightly serious. Martha was the sort of person that made coming home worthwhile, even if—like family was so good at doing—she drove him a little crazy every now and again. And Alexis was always lovely. She remembered Castle saying she looks up to you, and shook her head at her reflection. She was involved with Castle, now. Where she had become a part of his life before last night, the line that they had crossed put her in a different position entirely.

They had not defined their relationship, but they were in one… no matter how dysfunctional.

Things were going to be changing a great deal. She wasn't sure if she was ready for just how much those changes would alter her life.

For now, though, she could just focus on having brunch with Castle.

She dried her hands and stepped out of the restroom, finding their table with her gaze and stopping short. Castle was in his seat, and standing beside the booth having a conversation with him were none other than Alexis and Martha themselves.

Castle was a frequent customer here, and apparently… so were they.

Taking a steadying breath, she made her way through the sea of tables to join them, attempting to put a natural smile on her face.

"Oh, Beckett, there you!" Martha beamed, hugging her without qualm. "Sit, sit!" the red-haired woman insisted, and Beckett ducked into the booth across from Castle. He smiled reassuringly.

"We won't keep you from your menus," Martha continued. "We were just leaving. I was telling Richard," she said, focusing on Beckett, "That we had dropped by to see if he was interested in coming with us, but no one was home. And then look! Here you both are! You'll join us for dinner?" she added. Beckett felt like there was only one right answer to that question.

"I… sure. That sounds lovely, Martha."

"Oh, good! Come on Alexis, let's do some shopping and then see about what we can whip up for tonight. You kids have fun!" she added over her shoulder. Alexis waved, giving her dad a narrowed look that said she knew exactly what was going on. But it was coupled with a real smile, which she turned towards Beckett as well before hurrying to keep up with the hurricane that was Martha. The two vanished with a tinkling of bells over the front door.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag," Castle said, lifting a menu and glancing through the list of offerings.

"Did you want to keep us a secret from them?" Beckett asked, picking up her own menu and keeping the question casual.

He shook his head, frowning. "Of course not. But they're nosey enough as it is. If they hadn't been here first, I might think they'd followed us."

"Has she… done that before?"

Castle chuckled. "My mother is hardly subtle. She likes you, so be warned. If the apartment is full of roses and wine when we get back, it's not my fault."

Beckett laughed out loud, shaking her head. "And what would she do if she didn't like me?"

Castle shrugged. "Probably put out a bunch of framed photographs of me and past girlfriends. Recently, she's favored the one I have of the two of us."

Beckett raised an eyebrow, feeling a light blush rising in her cheeks. Castle had a framed picture of the two of them? And Martha had used it to ward off women that she hadn't liked? She had no idea if she should feel flattered or not.

They ordered, Castle choosing the eggs benedict with hash browns and Beckett going for an omelette with bacon. Together, they kept the conversation light and easy, avoiding the serious topics of her former job, the still unsolved case of her mother's murder and her own shooting, and the impending possibility that a killer could be lining her up in the crosshairs at any point in the near future.

Instead, Castle told her about how he spent the money from his first best-seller back in college, a tale that was long and winding and included him consuming a great deal of alcohol. She asked him about the naked horseback riding incident, and he filled her in on the very drunken night which led up to his grand finale of getting himself arrested.

Even when he wasn't making things up, he had a captivating story-telling ability. It occurred to her, several times, that he could be easily fabricating the details. But she knew he wasn't, because he wouldn't lie to her. That knowledge alone would have been enough to keep the smile on her face as she laughed along with him with each twist and turn of his unfortunate tale.

When had things changed? When had he suddenly become this funny, sweet, caring man instead of the arrogant, obnoxious, pain-in-her-ass that had started following her around four years ago? Looking back, she could see the same old Castle that sat before her now. Light-hearted and eager, with wild theories and charming quips. And across from him all that time ago sat a tight-lipped Beckett with short red hair and cold eyes, irritation vibrating from every pore.

Things hadn't changed, she realized.

She had. And he had been the reason.

She watched the way his eyes crinkled, the way his whole face changed when he was laughing. She watched the way his hair flopped slightly across his forehead, and focused on the sharp line of his jaw.

She was in love with him, with the way he sounded, the way he talked, the way he made her feel. Where once he had been an image on the back of the novels that got her through the abyss following her mother's death, he was now the grounding force in her entire life.

He was everything, and she loved him.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

May 10th, 2012

Doctor Lanie Parish wore a smug smile as she sipped her coffee across the table from her best friend. Beckett avoided her gaze, nails scraping at a stain on the tablecloth as she slowly stirred her coffee, focusing intently on the swirl of the hot liquid, steam rising rapidly.

"You had better be planning on giving me more details, girl," the coroner intoned calmly, leaning forward. She set her coffee down. "And at some point I want to hear that you finally told Castle how you feel."

Beckett coughed. "I think I showed more than told."

Lanie's eyes widened and she wagged her eyebrows. "That's my girl. But a real conversation, at some point. Promise me that?"

She sighed. "I'll talk to him. Soon. I just… haven't had the opening. And he hasn't brought it up since we… got together."

"Alright, tell me again. With more details."

Beckett cleared her throat, and started the story once more, from the beginning. She hesitated over where that was, though, finally skipping past her new experience with heights and rooftops and going straight to what happened when she arrived at Castle's door.

Lanie listened with open enthusiasm, 'aweing' appropriately at their attempts to make pancakes the following morning. Then she got to dinner, which she had been holding back on explaining in any detail. Lanie sensed her hesitation.

"Spill it, Beckett," she intoned, only halfway teasing, and Beckett cast her a semi-serious glare before heaving a sigh.

"Martha and Alexis made spaghetti and meatballs with a side salad."

"Mm," Lanie murmured appreciatively.

"Castle told me that her creations could be rather unpleasant, but it was delicious."

"What was the problem?" Lanie asked, frowning. Of course she could tell that there had been a problem. Beckett twisted her mouth, trying to figure out just how to explain it.

There was nothing that had been said or done. It was just… the general feeling she had gotten from her interaction with Castle's mother and daughter. The pleasant conversation and warm smiles couldn't mask the fact that they were not altogether pleased with her involvement with Castle.

"I don't think they like me," she admitted at last, feeling stupid and petty. She waited for Lanie to tell her she was overreacting, that of course they loved her, but she didn't. Instead, her best friend's head tipped to the side and she pursed her lips.

That couldn't possibly be a good sign.

"You told me that Castle knew about how you lied, when you said you didn't remember anything. Which by the way, girl, you are still not off the hook with me for. Thank you very much."

Beckett winced. "I'm sorry. I just… I…" She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I didn't want to admit that it happened, because I was trying to pretend that it didn't."

"Right, well, beyond that… if Castle knew, who do you think he would tell?"

A light bulb went on. "His mother," she groaned, her head falling back. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, rubbing her palm over her forehead. If Castle had confided in Martha, she had every reason to dislike Beckett for her actions. And Alexis… while she doubted that Castle had spoken to her directly on the issue, it was more than likely that the teenager had picked up on some things on her own. She had been there, after all, during those three months when Beckett had failed to call him.

They probably thought she was going to hurt Castle.

That was what the look on their faces had been, the one she hadn't been able to describe: wariness.

"Shit," she muttered.

Lanie smiled sadly. "There you go, sweetie. That answer your questions?"

"A little too well," Beckett muttered, her head spinning. She had no idea how to deal with that, or if she was expected to at all. "What do I do, now?"

Lanie shrugged. "You prove to them that your only intention is to make Castle happy. When they see that in motion, they'll go straight back to loving you. Because let's be honest, you already won them over years ago."

"Winning people's good graces is a lot more difficult the second time around," Beckett recited, remembering a conversation she had had with her father, years ago. She had found it to be true, time and time again. It occurred to her that she should call her father, sometime soon. Would he want to meet Castle? Had he met Castle before? Would she be expected to host some sort of dinner with the three of them?

She pushed away the thought, cringing. There were many ways in which that could be a fun evening. And many ways in which it could not be. Her mother would have liked Castle. She was sure of it, no matter how awkward dinners like that could be.

"If anyone can do it, Kate, it's you," Lanie assured, tipping her coffee cup in the detectives direction before taking a sip.

Beckett nodded slowly. It wasn't as if there was another option available. And Lanie wasn't wrong; Alexis and Martha had liked her at one point. All she had to do was protect Castle, and they would see that she had never meant to hurt him in the first place. This was what she had wanted all along: to be with Castle. There had just been… things in the way, before.

Things that didn't matter enough anymore to hold her back from what she truly wanted.

A thought occurred to her.

"Have you talked to Esposito since… what happened?"

"Yes," Lanie said openly. "It took him awhile to work up the courage, but finally he called me. About time, too."

"You're interrogating me about Castle and you don't even mention that there's progress with you and Esposito?" Beckett demanded teasingly. "Come on, spill."

Lanie grinned unabashedly. "Let's just say we didn't get much talking in. But we're going out for dinner tonight. If this whole situation wasn't so messed up I'd say double-date, but…"

Beckett nodded. "I know. But… soon."

Lanie nodded. "Soon."

She left her meeting with Lanie feeling more confident than she had upon her arrival, and made her way back to her own apartment. Castle had already asked her out to dinner tonight and she had every intention of returning to his apartment well before then, but she needed to change and possibly pack an overnight bag so that she would have clean clothing available.

A shower with her own hair products might be nice, as well.

It was almost strange, how her apartment reflected the change in her relationship. She had left the shades up, so the place was bright and warm when she pushed the door open. She saw Castle everywhere, from their last encounter here. And then she paused by the wall, turning to face his ghost as it told her why he had betrayed her.

She swallowed sharply.

There were still some things that they had failed to discuss. He hadn't brought up his confession of love once since they had given into their feelings, and she suspected he was trying not to pressure her into returning the sentiment before she was ready.

She knew how she felt. She knew it. But there was something still holding her back from saying it. She wasn't sure what it was, only that the words seemed unable to cross her lips. Every time she looked at him, she felt it. And then she felt the tug, pulling her back onto safe ground. She wanted him. She wanted to be with him.

The fear was real, though. Real, and yet undefined.

When she stepped back out of the apartment, though, she was greeted with yet another under-discussed issue. On her neighbor's doorstep sat a thick newspaper.

The headline read "Detective 'Nikki Heat' Resigns from NYPD".

A/N: I have just made the shift from Bones fanfiction over on the account TempeJill, and intend to take up residence as a more permanent Castle writer now. I hope some of you will share your thoughts with me, to let me know what you think of this story so far! There will be roughly eight chapters in total, and I intend to have them all up before the premiere on the 24th.

Also, someone pretty please let me know where this falls on the T/M rating scale. Because this is as steamy as I've ever written on this site, and I seriously have no idea where that fuzzy line is located as far as this story goes. Putting it as T for now.