This is a bit of a follow up to my story "Confession." While they don't need to be read together, there are a few points that overlap. Basically, it's my take on what might have happened if Josh had left the picture after Countdown. I don't own Castle or anything related to it.
The bullpen was quiet, which wasn't unusual on a Friday night. Most of the action was still happening on the streets, so patrols were out making rounds, and detectives who weren't working timely cases had cleared out for the weekend. That left only a handful of people scattered around, including Kate Beckett, who was silently isolated in her own little corner of the office. It had taken her the better part of an hour to get Ryan and Esposito out the door, insisting that she was not feeling up to joining them and their significant others for a night out.
"Come on Beckett, if Josh is on call, we can see what Castle's doing." Catching her sharp look, he amended quickly, "Make it a professional get-together."
"Thanks, Esposito, but I'm sure Castle has plans of his own tonight, and besides, I don't need an escort."
"Then come on out with us. You know Lanie'd be thrilled the spend some time chatting it up over appletinis."
"Again, thanks for the offer, and it's tempting, but my fluffly bunny slippers and Mets sweatshirt are about as dressed up as I plan to be tonight. Tell Lanie I'll call her tomorrow."
Esposito reluctantly accepted defeat and took his leave, with Ryan behind him, looking back at Beckett still huddled over her desk. That had been two hours ago, and with all of her work officially complete, Kate scoured her desk for any distraction and any reason to avoid going home to her empty apartment. The best she could find was a an article she'd been meaning to read for weeks from a criminal justice journal she subscribed to. She was three pages into it when she faintly registered the sound of the elevator doors opening. Because she didn't even bother to glance over, she was surprised to hear an unexpected voice say her name.
"Beckett?"
Her head snapped up, and she focused in on the man walking toward her. "Castle? What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same."
"I work here, remember?"
Wow, he looked good, she noted, like he was ready to hit the town in his charcoal jacket and cobalt shirt that made his eyes stand out like twin sapphires. His hair was combed and shiny, the gold highlights glinting in the florescent lights. The overall affect was potent. In a rare moment of unguarded vanity, she thought of her own hair, stringy and mussed from running her hands through it all night, her rumpled blouse and slacks, and make-up that hadn't been touched up since lunch time. An image of Munch's The Scream came to mind, and she mentally winced. In any event, he didn't give her much time to dwell on their difference in appearance.
"Yeah, but last time I checked, your schedule doesn't include 12-hour Fridays unless there's a terrorist or serial killer on the loose." She wasn't sure whether that was an attempt at humor or a statement of fact.
"Yeah, well, I had some work to catch up on."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"No, I mean seriously, that's the best you can come up with." He fixed a pointed stare on her that clearly said, Liar.
"Castle, please, I'm really not in the mood."
"That's exactly my point. You've been stretched tighter than a snare drum for weeks. What gives?" He could see that the tension that had defined her posture in recent weeks had not eased. If anything, the usual iron bar that ran the length of her spine had galvanized into steel.
"None of your business," she snapped, a little more harshly than she'd meant to, so she decided to change the subject. "And anyway, you never answered my question - what are you doing here?"
"I forgot my flash drive."
Now it was her turn to look at him with obvious disbelief. "Seriously, that's the best you can come up with."
"Okay, fine, someone tipped me off that you were hibernating another Friday night away."
"Thanks a lot, Esposito," she mumbled to herself.
"Actually, it was Ryan. He sent me a text."
"And you decided to come rescue me from my pitifully isolated existence?"
"Something like that. Come on, Kate, people are worried about you. I'm worried. You know, it's one thing to keep your personal life personal. I get that - sometimes - but you've been here at your desk day in and day out, whether or not you have a case, for three weeks. I don't think first-year med students clock this many hours." When she didn't respond, he continued with what he suspected was at the root of her behavior recently, "Speaking of doctors, where's Josh been? Another mission?"
"Castle, it's none ... "
"... of my business. I know. I heard you the first time."
The silence stretched between them. He didn't know what to do. This wasn't how he envisioned this little intervention going, and he began to wonder whether he'd overstepped his bounds and once again assumed to much about his role in her life. One thing he'd learned is that when she decided to close down, there was no opening her back up. Reluctantly, and wishing he could do something else - anything else - he decided to back away.
"Okay, fine. I'm sorry I interrupted your work. Enjoy your evening."
He got halfway to the elevator when she called to him. It would have been a cliche, but his decision to leave had been sincere, not a ploy. He'd fully expected her to be stubborn enough to let him go. Maybe that's what made it a cliche, but he was grateful for it.
He stopped and waited, his back still to her. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said.
He turned and walked slowly back toward her desk where she stood. "That's it?"
She took a breath, collected her thoughts - and her courage - and continued, "No. But can we go somewhere else? You're right, I've been here long enough."
"Your place or mine?" he inquired with a charming smile and that naughty tone in his voice that was only ever half joking. Seeing that his comment failed to draw even the slightest smile, he dropped the charm. "Okay, how about a pizza at Petrillo's?"
"How 'bout my place."
"What? Really?" He choked out.
She shot him a look that clearly said Get you mind out of the gutter, buddy. But she decided to take pity on him and clarify her answer. "I didn't lie to the guys. I really don't want to go out. I want my yoga pants, my bunny slippers, and a glass of Chardonnay."
"I think I can help you with that. Come on, let's get out of here." He smiled, and took it as a good sign when she returned the smile and linked her arm with his as they walked back to the elevator. "You have bunny slippers?"
The cab ride to her apartment didn't take long, and Kate was quiet most of the way. Her mind was flashing back to her last conversation with Josh, the night they'd decided it was over between them. "Tell him," Josh had said. He'd been referring to Castle and the feelings Kate had for him that had prevented her from opening up to the man she was supposed to be in a relationship with. That had been three weeks ago. Kate had promised Josh she'd tell Castle, but she hadn't said when. Maybe it was time. At the very least, she knew it was long past time she told him that Josh was gone. She should have mentioned it right away, but she didn't want it to look like she was declaring her availability. So she'd stayed quiet and noncommittal whenever the subject had come up, which had blessedly been infrequently. But now, it was just too obvious. She hadn't said or done anything in three weeks that gave any indication she had a boyfriend. In fact, everything from the hours she kept at work, to the conspicuous silence of her cell phone, to a lack of casual references about Josh pointed to his utter absence from her life. And she had no doubt Castle and everyone else saw the signs.
Castle insisted on paying the fare when they reached her building. He followed her up the narrow stairs and down the hall to her door, wondering the whole way about her silence. He still wasn't sure why she'd invited him to her apartment at eight o'clock on a Friday night, but he wasn't arguing. When it came to Kate Beckett, he welcomed her company under any circumstances, a conviction that had been thoroughly tested recently. While he much preferred the eclectic coziness of her apartment to, say, a locked storage freezer, he still didn't know what to make of her shift from defensive frustration to an almost welcomed acceptance of his presence. With typical affability, he simply chalked it up to one more Beckett riddle for him to solve.
She opened the door, set her stuff on the table and made her way toward the bedroom. "I'm just going to change. Make yourself at home."
Castle's first instinct was to follow her to the bedroom, a familiar compulsion that had only grown stronger the longer he knew her. But he caught himself in time, got his libido in check, and turned toward the kitchen. "How 'bout I get to work on that chardonnay?" As he rifled through her fridge, he did his best to focus on locating the wine and some food rather than the thought of her undressing in the other room. As yet another image of her slipping out of her clothes flitted across his mind, he thought to himself he'd have had an easier time climbing Everest ... in high heels ... during a blizzard.
But by the time she returned, he had a pasta boiling on the stove and a jar of Ragu waiting on the counter. "Well, it's not Patsy's, but it's the best I can do on short notice," he said, referencing the famed Italian restaurant on 57th.
"Castle, you don't have to cook for me." But the shy smile and subtle blush that crept up her face told him she appreciated the gesture.
"I'm not doing it because I have to. Besides, knowing you, the last thing you ate was a cup of Ramen noodles from the vending machine."
"That's not true." At his dubious look, she confessed with a grin, "It was mac and cheese."
"Uh-huh, that's what I figured."
With an approving perusal, he took in her black yoga pants, Mets shirt, and bare feet. She'd brushed her hair, and pulled it back in a low pony tail. He didn't know how it was possible for someone to look so vulnerable and so alluring at the same time. "You ... ah ... you look a lot more comfortable."
"Yeah, well ... I am."
"No bunny slippers?"
"Too warm."
They fell back into a silence that was at the same time companionable yet full of things unspoken. It was familiar territory for them, but that didn't make it any less meaningful. Kate glanced around as Castle busied himself straining the pasta from the boiling water. It hadn't escaped her notice that he'd taken off his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and had undone the top button. Yeah, definitely ruggedly handsome. Ruggedly sexy was more like it, she amended.
The impromptu meal was done a few minutes later, and they sat at the counter eating their spaghetti. "Didn't realize how hungry I was," Kate said casually.
"Yeah, something about jarred tomato sauce really hits the spot."
"You, ah, look like you were going out tonight."
"Nowhere special. I just wanted to be prepared in case you said you wanted to hit the club scene again." His smile was disarming, and she found herself relaxing even more. He took that as a good sign and decided to cut to the chase. "So, you want to tell me about Josh?"
The corners of her mouth slipped a bit, but she didn't tense up. It had to be said, and at least here they weren't going to be interrupted. "He left."
"For Haiti?"
"For good. Three weeks ago."
"Why didn't you say anything? That's a long time to be carrying something like that around. What were you afraid of?"
Her head snapped up, a denial at the ready, and then she realized he was right. She had been scared. "I don't know. I just didn't know how to bring it up. 'Oh, by the way everyone, Josh is history.' Every time I thought about it, it felt like I was announcing to the world that another relationship had ended. 'Guess what, Beckett's single again.'"
He didn't know if he wanted to hear her answer to his next question, but he had to ask. "So it wasn't a mutual split?"
She thought for a moment, then said, "In the end it was. He was just the first to realize that I still had that one foot out the door, and I wasn't ever going to bring it in."
Before he could say anything else, she placed her bowl in the sink and took her glass of wine over to the sofa.
Hoping an invitation was implied, he followed suit. But rather than taking a seat at the opposite end, he took a chance and sat next to her. Instantly, the temperature in the room seemed to rise and time slowed down so that they both became aware of every subtle shift in position, every rustle of fabric, and especially, every heartbeat that passed as they met each others' gaze. The effect was more intoxicating than the wine.
It dimly crossed Kate's mind that this was what was missing when she was with Josh - this crackling energy that came from simply being in another person's presence, this all-consuming anticipation and magnetic attraction that drove her beyond distraction. But was Castle feeling it too? Were his palms suddenly sweaty, his heart racing, his mind swimming through the same thick morass of desire? Her heart screamed yes and begged her to remember the way he'd kissed her, the way he'd promised he'd always be there, the way he looked at her with such intensity that she could swear he was trying to cast his thoughts and emotions into her mind. That's how he was looking at her at that moment.
"Tell me I'm not imaging this."
The words slipped past her defenses in a whisper, and she panicked at such a loss of control. In nearly three years, she'd never once allowed her private thoughts about Castle to escape, and yet in one moment of unguarded speculation, she put nearly every card on the table. Exposed and vulnerable, she immediately sought cover by breaking eye contact and stammering out an awkward and transparent excuse. "I'm sorry ... I just ... it's been a long day."
"Kate." If that one softly spoke word weren't enough, the warm pressure of his hand covering hers was like a salve on an open wound, soothing and tender. "You're not imagining anything."
She stopped fidgeting and met his eyes once again. "Then what is this, Rick? And what do we do about it?"
"Well, for starters ..." He leaned in ever so slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. The memory of their first kiss outside the warehouse two months earlier came flooding back, and suddenly Kate had to know what it felt like to kiss Castle without pretense. Later, there would be no denying the deliberate choice she made to lean toward him and welcome his mouth as it closed gently over hers. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but she never could have prepared herself for the bolt of desire that hit her with the force of a battering ram. His lips were as she remembered them, soft and skillful as they captured hers. There was a familiarity in the kiss that was almost inexplicable. How could she know precisely how to react and reciprocate? She felt herself opening up to the flood of sensation, and savored the feel of his mouth as it glided over hers, the touch of his hand on her face, and the solid presence of his body against her own.
When Rick pulled away, Kate was surprised to find her hands around his neck, curled into the hair at his nape. Their eyes met, and Castle murmured, "So lightning can strike twice."
Before she could change her mind, Kate abruptly stood up and began pacing. She didn't know what to say or even what to think.
"Kate, what's wrong? Why are you upset about this?"
Without stopping, she answered, "I'm not upset. I'm just ... confused."
"You can't tell me you don't feel this, that you haven't known something's been simmering between us for a while now."
At his softly spoken words, she stopped pacing and turned toward him, meeting his clear blue eyes that were neither smug nor cocky nor gloating. They were pleading, and in them she saw that he was every bit as exposed and vulnerable as she.
She returned to her seat and took his hands in her own. It was the most overt personal gesture she'd ever made toward him. She'd promised Josh she would tell Castle how she felt, and it looked like that time had arrived. But at that moment, she realized her desire to finally be honest with Castle had nothing to do with anyone besides the two of them. This was about finally acknowledging something that had been growing between them from the moment they'd met. "Castle, I've never felt anything like this before. I can't control this, and it scares me." She paused, looked down at their joined hands, focused on how right his skin felt against hers, and then took the single greatest t risk of her life with her next words. "I've fallen in love with you."
He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "And you thought you were the only one taking that fall."
"Was I?"
"Not by a long shot. Kate, I've written two dozen books, and I've never needed a model for my characters. But when I met you, I knew you were a story that I had to tell - that I had to live. I don't know when it stopped being about the books. Hell, I don't know anymore whether it was ever about the books. But at some point, it became all about you, being with you, being there for you. Somewhere along the way, Kate, I fell in love."
She smiled through her tears, brought her hand up to caress his face, and then brought him to her for another kiss.