Who's excited for the Blue Butterfly? Oh just everyone. Any way this is a possible ending for what is sure to be a brilliant episode. As with every one else I don't own Castle and this is proof of that. A.W. and crew haven't let us down yet so we'll just have to wait impatiently and see.

Happy Ending

"So how's the story end?" She asked leaning back in the booth. We'd come to the Old Haunt once the case was closed. I'd been spent the whole case spinning a story of the 1940's detective on a case similar to our won based on the notebook of a forties private investigator I'd found in the victim's home. The story had intrigued Esposito and Ryan; the uniforms were lingering on the edge of the bullpen listening to me as I'd spun the tale from the murder board. Even Gate's was listening as I added more to the story with each advance in the case, the door to her office left open for the first time since she set foot in the precinct.

Then there was Kate. She'd hung onto my every word, listening to the story like a five year old at bedtime. Eyes glistening with amusement at the interaction between the private eye and the gangsters as he followed the clues of the case. When I told her about the P.I. and the gangsters Moll she had to fight her smile, biting her lip tightly the corners turning up when she thought I wasn't looking.

Of course, the story hadn't really been helpful in figuring out the case but it had given us some insight to the victim and the suspects that littered the murder board. But mostly I'd kept weaving the story because the notebook I'd found fueled my creative thoughts. Moreover, to see that unrestrained smile grace her face I'd do just about anything.

It was hours later though and the boys had just left to met up with Jenny and Lanie respectively. Now she was smiling softly at me, the hair she'd straightened this morning was swept over one shoulder as she cocked her head at me, biting her lip. "Come on Castle how's it end?"

"How's what end Detective?" I teased. Technically I'd finished the story the P.I. had caught the killer, but that wasn't what she wanted to know. The fan of my work that she tried so hard to keep hidden from me was peaking out and she wanted to know what happened to the P.I. and the Gangster's Moll that had fallen madly in love in the span of four days. She wanted to know how the story ends.

The kick under table, really just a tap of her heel against my shin, as the grin on her face bloomed in a full-blown smile. "Castle."

Rolling my scotch glass between my hand it was my turn to lean back, and briefly wonder how we ended up at the back of the booth with just inches between our shoulders. "Oh you want to know what happened between our ruggedly handsome P.I. and the stunning Moll and their scandalous love affair."

She didn't answer, she just rotated her head on the ledge of the leather booth so that she was looking right at me expectantly, that eyebrow arching one corner of her mouth lifted in that smirk she gives me. Closer than I thought she was, but I wasn't going to complain. "How would you like it end Kate?"

Her eyes sparkled, and she pursued her lips thinking for a moment. "Well there's two options aren't there?" She sat up rotating just a little bit so we were facing each other. I didn't answer just waited her out, which didn't take very long. "Either it's happily ever after or he leaves her in the world of gangsters and gun running." Then she seriously contemplates her choice. "Happily Ever After." She decides assertively and now she's waiting for the story.

I take a sip of the scotch in front of me, "Happily ever after you say?" And at her answering smile, I take the story-telling plunge filling our booth with the secret whispers of a P.I. whisking the girl that he fell head over heels for in seconds, away to start a new life. Their lives so drastically different and yet none of that matter to either of them as he meticulously planned their lives so that he could whisk her away from her dangerous boyfriend and family before anyone could even miss her. Beckett's laughter filled the air around us at the appropriate points and she listened with rapt attention to the very end of the story that I was weaving just for her.

Normally, I would just get to a point where the reader can infer that happily ever after was in the offing. It never made any sense to beat the happy points to death rather it just make sure you left the characters in a good place. But with my favorite detective hanging on the words, I weaved the darling story continued on to the story of the P.I. and Moll moving to a new city and a new life.

The story however found its end as my scotch founds its and for a moment she just looked at me. Her eyes flicking between my lips and eyes, desperately testing my patience to wait for her to be ready. Breaking our eye contact, she leans back against the booth again. "Thank you Castle," she laid a hand on the wrist of my hand still holding the scotch glass. "It was a lovely story."

"Any time, I like telling you stories." I confessed and she just smiled again, "So why happily ever after?"

"If the stories don't have a happy ending what hope does that give to real life?" She told me with a shrug.

I stared at her in disbelief. Here's this woman that in all honesty had never truly witnessed a happy ending in her entire life. She lost her own mother and never received closure for it. She'd been shot and very nearly died herself. She works every day surrounded by destroyed happy endings, and yet she desperately believed in the possibility of a happy ending.

Choking just a little bit, "Well I'm glad I could give you one." I told her only realizing how much meaning those words carried when her eyes popped open, and she just looked at me.

For a second the silence was oppressive, as I waited for her reaction, and then the happy grin came back. She released my wrist scooped up her jacket and slid out of the booth pausing to pull on the leather jacket watching me the whole time.

Jacket on, keys in hand she leaned over and brushed as kiss over my cheek, "Thanks for the happy ending Castle." She whisper in my ear before pulling back as I fought the urge the stroke my own cheek. "Goodnight." She told me, before strolling out the bar with a swing of her hips leaving me breathless.

What did you think?

Babyrose