*SPOILERS AHEAD*

In the spirit of Christmas I'm giving out little presents to those who want them. If you want to you can PM me with the plot of a one-shot or drabble you'd like to see written and I'll write it. I've been wanting to say thank you to all of my wonderful readers and the only thing I'm decent at is writing so I'm going to give you stories. So if you want one and have even the most basic of plots, or even just a concept, don't hesitate for a moment to message me. I'll do my best to write whatever you dream up.

This is my Fanfiction present for VEEBS8. I really hope you like this one!

This is based off of the promotional picture of Beckett and Castle kissing. Yep, that legend of a photo. And my opinion on what might go down during that pivotal episode.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just love.

If she had to describe it the pain would be classified as an ache. As if a chunk of her heart had been ripped out and on the outside the wound had healed, not even a scar left as evidence of what had happened. But on the inside, well that was a different story. The wound was a mess after having gone untreated for almost eleven years, pulsating as the pain coursed through her body and somehow found its way to her soul, blackening it and turning her into a skeptic. It had subsided a bit. With the laughter and wisdom of several years the ache had dulled. It never left, never fully disappearing, but it had gotten better. But now, sitting in the car across from a building that housed her mom's killer, the sole reason she had been broken in the first place, it was back with a vengeance. Her heart seemed to be throbbing and tightening all at the same time, the pain raw as it had been that night when she'd first crossed yellow police tape.

And after all this time, all of this anguish, they were waiting on one man to walk out of that building and pay his hired assassin. They had him; she finally caught him. Ever since her mother's death she'd been after justice, her mission to find the man who had ripped a beloved mother and wife away from her family. She'd reached the end. Thanks for playing, Kate. And just like that, poof it was almost over. She'd always thought that when she got here, that when she finally had a full proof plan that ended with this bastard in jail, that the wound would heal. But instead she felt like she was reliving that night, like she was back at square one.

She shouldn't feel this way, like it was just beginning again. The story was over, the final page about to be written and she already knew the ending. They couldn't lose. The hit man was working with them, they had an airtight case and she had an entire precinct backing her up on this one. Not to mention a writer who she knew, whether she'd admit it or not, would do just about anything to help her. In fact, he'd been pretty amazing lately. She hadn't shown a shred of gratitude, hadn't encouraged him at all, he'd just known what to do and what to say to make her relax.

"Oh my god, it's freezing in here! Are you sure we can't turn on the heat?" Said writer's whining brought her back to reality as he shivered in the passenger's seat.

"No, Castle. I am not letting you turn on the heat. The point of a stakeout is to be inconspicuous and having a car, engine running, in the middle of the street is going to scare off our killer." She glared at him. She may have been a little harsh on him but she was tense, she couldn't screw this up. Everything had to be perfect; she wouldn't let him get away.

"Oh, come on Beckett, we've been sitting here for hours. You have to be cold. Oh, I have an idea. Care to share your body heat?" Apparently he'd decided to break his streak of understanding and just being there. Opting to try and distract her from her thoughts. But she couldn't get distracted right now, not when she could be moments away from fixing the broken piece inside of her. No, she had to focus. But that was hard when it felt like there wasn't enough air in the cramped car.

"Castle." She turned to look at him once again, pinning him with her stare.

"Humph, you're only warm because you have that thick coat. But some people were told that they weren't allowed to go home and get a better jacket, some people were told that it wasn't even supposed to be that cold tonight." He grumbled, folding his arms like a defiant child. That was it. She knew he meant well, that he was only innocently baiting her, but she couldn't take it anymore. She was being strangled, both by her own thoughts and Castle's comments.

She threw the Crown Vic's door open, mentally apologizing to her baby for being so rough, and stepped outside. But even in the open space she felt as if the world was closing in on her, walls creeping closer as each minute passed. What if the plan wasn't enough? What if she was never able to close the case, to give her mother the justice she deserved? What if she failed? What if her mother was disappointed in her for not doing more, for not ending the madness? She turned away from the car and ran a hand through her hair. She was losing it; she was becoming obsessed again. She couldn't do this to herself, she couldn't go back down that path and eventually destroy herself and everything she'd worked for. She clenched her hands into fists, breathing deeply while trying to calm down.

They had him and he wasn't going anywhere. But she couldn't ignore the what ifs playing through her head as if on repeat. What if it wasn't enough? What if she wasn't enough? She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and almost jumped away until she realized that Castle was no longer in the passenger seat. For a moment she was concerned that their suspect would see them and run for it. But cops wouldn't be standing on the sidewalk, one of them one the verge of a breakdown. No, cops wouldn't do that. She was getting too emotional; she had to rein it in. But all she could do was stand there and stare at the brick wall in front of her as the hand on her shoulder squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry," his voice was much softer than before, "I was only trying to distract you. I just don't know what to do. I hate seeing you like this, like you're in so much pain and I can't do anything about it."

"You can't make this one go away, Castle." Her voice was barely a whisper, almost getting lost in the wind as it whipped through the alleyways of the city.

"I know, Beckett. Trust me, I know. But please, let me in. Tell me what's going through that beautiful yet stubborn head of yours because I can see those wheels turning. Please, just let me try and help." She's wasn't sure if it was the pleading in his voice, the feel of his thumb gently stroking her neck or the obvious truth to everything he said but she felt herself slump a little. If only for a moment, giving up the image that was Detective Beckett and letting the false confidence fall away.

"Rick," apparently when her cop persona disappeared so did his last name, "what if I can't do it? What if I let her down because I didn't do everything I could? But what if I can do it, what if I can put this son of a bitch away for life but it's still not enough? What if the wounds can't heal, what do I do then?" She turned and looked at him, something new and vulnerable in her eyes. He cupped her face with his hands, beginning to rub circles on her cheeks with his thumb. This was new territory for both of them, emotionally and physically. But they were both in too deep to pull out now.

"Kate, listen to me. I didn't meet her but I am a parent. And after everything you've done, everything you've accomplished, there's no way she could ever be disappointed in you." His eyes were serious, betraying his own walls and showing a man who cared about much more than wealth and pretty girls.

"Ever since she died," she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, she was not going to cry, "I've been on this journey. It's been my mission to find her killer and put him away. Getting her the justice that she deserves. And I thought that once I did that that this pain, the horrible pain I've carried around since that night, would go away. I thought the wounds would heal and I'd finally feel whole again. But instead I feel like I'm twenty and seeing the crime scene for the first time. The pain hasn't gone away. I finally have him and I feel more broken than I have in years." She kept her eyes closed, knowing that if she opened them the tears would spill out and she'd lose the last shred of control she had over herself. She couldn't do that. She may have opened up to him tonight, letting him see more than anybody else had in a long time. But she was still Kate Beckett; she was still scared.

"Kate," his calming voice broke the silence hanging in the air between them, "look at me. Open those gorgeous eyes. Okay, good. Look, I know you just want to make the pain go away, that you just want to make it better and move on. But Kate, you lost your mother. You're always going to carry that with you, it's not something that can be fixed. So yes, you're always going to have that pain with you. But some days it'll only be a dull reminder and others it'll feel as though it's fresh. But you're most definitely not broken. You're a strong, confident, caring and not to mention beautiful woman. You're inspiring, and certainly I can attest to that. I wouldn't write about you unless I thought you were special. And you, Kate, are so much more than special. You're extraordinary." Her eyes were watery, brimming with unshed tears of both sadness and joy. She didn't know what to feel, too many conflicting emotions were surging through her system and fighting for dominance.

"Thanks Rick." She couldn't keep the happiness out of her voice as she said it, even if it was still overshadowed by the guilt and grief. "For everything, I mean it." She looked up at him again, pleading with him to understand that that simple thank you meant so much more than what she'd voiced. And by the way his facial expression changed, subtly but detectable to someone who'd spent as much time around him as she did, she was sure he understood.

"Kate," he started but couldn't seem to find the right words to finish his sentence. After a moment of silence, him fumbling for the right words for once in years, his lips were suddenly on hers. She gasped in surprise as he finished his sentence with an action both of them had only dreamt of. But it wasn't long before she was responding, lips moving under his as if that was all they were meant for. His mouth was soft and warm, emotion enveloping her entire being as she allowed herself to taste him. Slowly and sweetly they kissed, tentatively exploring each other as all needs for oxygen were forgotten. The demands of the outside world put aside as they allowed themselves to venture into fantasy and get lost in passion.

The sound of a crash and a rat scurrying away from the trash can it had been exploring brought reality crashing back in. Remembering whom this was, where she was and what she was on the verge of doing she pulled back. Her eyes turned towards the ground and she took another step backwards, immediately transitioning back into detective mode.

"Castle," his last name came rushing back as she scrambled to rebuild her defenses, "don't do this."

"Kate, it's not just me. You feel it too. Please, just–"

"No," she cut him off, "we can't do this. Castle, it can't happen. We wouldn't work, we're all wrong. I know that but you can't seem to see it. Just look at us, we can't work." She steeled herself and looked up at him, swallowing and holding her chin up high as she frantically searched for any semblance of control over the situation.

"Kate, please." She was about to respond when she saw the hit man, the man who had turned against his boss after a very long interrogation, give the signal. There was another man, taller but also much skinnier, standing beside him and facing away from her and Castle.

"Oh my god," she slowly pulled out her gun and walked around Castle.

"Kate, what are you doing? This conversation is far from over. Oh…" He trailed off when he turned around and saw the man standing casually next to their man on the inside. At the sound of his voice she turned around quickly, silently pleading with him to understand.

"It's okay. Go, this is your chance. Go." And with that she turned and ran towards the reason her mother was dead, gun raised and heels clacking rhythmically on the concrete.

Remember, if you have an idea don't hesitate to ask for a little present.

Oh, and review? Please? I actually really want to know how I did on this one. I even said please.