Disclaimer: Does anyone really believe that Castle is mine? Because if you do, jeez, I'm flattered, but I'm not that good. But it's more than likely that since you're on a fanfiction website, you all already know that I don't own the characters and I'm not telling you anything helpful or especially interesting right now. But just in case… I don't own Castle. Happy?
In other disclaimer news, the title and the quotes that start each chapter are from a song called "Daylight" by Better Than Ezra. I don't own the rights to that, either. Technically I do own the song, but only on MP3, which really doesn't count for much.
Also, I'm my own editor, so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Author's Note: I got the idea for this story during a very long car ride, and wrote pretty much the entire first chapter during that same very long car ride. I've thought for quite a long time now that the song "Daylight" by Better Than Ezra describes Castle and Beckett's relationship really well. Part of that might be my need to relate pretty much everything to Castle in some way, but I really do think that this song works well for them. So I came up with a brilliant idea for how to tie the two together (brilliant being a relative term… I'm sure I'm not the first person that's thought of this), hence the concept for this story. Each line of the song will become a chapter, and each chapter will be based on that line.

If you don't know the song, which I would imagine most of you don't because neither the song nor the band is particularly popular, it really doesn't matter. You'll still understand the story just fine. What this does mean though (if you've read some of my other stuff you've probably seen me blabbering about this, otherwise I'm sure you probably don't care) is that the lyrics to the song have formed a kind of rough outline for me, so for once in my life I actually have some idea of where I'm going and how long it'll take me to get there. Gasp. What this also means is that this story is eventually going to be pretty long. Songs tend to have a lot of lines.

At least for now, the T rating is primarily for safety and language. The tone of this is a bit darker and the language a bit stronger than I usually write. I think you'll see what I mean.

Last detail, I swear. Setting. A couple of months into the future. It's still this year, but some things have happened here that haven't happened on the show. And I know what you're probably thinking, but these events are products of my imagination, and completely unrelated to certain spoilers that we probably all know about at this point. I'll let you read to find out what I'm talking about.

Sorry, that was disturbingly long, but I kept thinking of more background information I wanted to tell you. Go, read! Hope you like it. :)

"You're a long walk in a rainstorm."

She stared at the whiteboard, trying in vain for about the fourteenth time today to get the details to connect, to get everything to line up. The thought that Ryan had voiced earlier was pushing at the borders of her tired mind, threatening to break the surface: If only Castle was here. He could come up with something. But she wouldn't allow it to fully form, because if she thought of him she would get angry, and if she was angry she wouldn't be able to focus, and she was having enough trouble with this case already without losing her focus.

"Beckett." The sound of her own name pulled her out of her zone, and she snapped her head in the direction from which it had come. The chief was at the door of his office, beckoning her to join him, his trademark stern-but-kind expression on his face. Shit. Whatever this was, she already knew she wasn't going to like it.

"Sir?" she asked as she stepped into the office. He closed the door behind them, confirming what she'd already known. She wasn't going to like this.

"Go home, Detective," he said, not looking at her.

"What? No! Sir, we're so close. Now isn't the time to take a break."

He sighed, turning toward her. "Beckett, how dense do you think I am? I've been following this case. You have no idea where this guy might be. No solid leads. You don't even know for sure that he's your killer, and you're out of evidence. I'm sorry, and believe me, I know how hard it is to admit, but we've lost this one."

"But sir, if we could just—"

He interrupted her. "No buts. I'm cutting you off. In fact, I'm closing this case. And don't fight with me. Trust me, I don't want to do this any more than you want me to. It's a lot of paperwork, and I hate paperwork. But you've been going on this case for over a week, and we're not getting any closer to solving it. How long has it been since you've had a good night's sleep? Don't answer that, I know the answer. Too long. Go home and relax. It's late. And I don't want to see you in here tomorrow until at least noon. Consider it an order."

She pressed her lips together and let out her breath slowly, trying to retain her composure. "Sir," she finally managed to get out, letting her eyes slide closed for a second, "how do you expect me to get home? My car…" Earlier that day, when they were seconds away from apprehending the suspect that they didn't have any solid evidence against anyway, he'd managed to jump into his car and sandwich hers between his and a telephone pole before driving away. They'd found his car in an alley a few blocks away, but he appeared to have vanished without a trace. Thankfully no one had been in her car, but it was totaled.

"I'm sorry about your car," the chief cut in, "but don't expect me to believe you can't get home without it. This is New York, most people don't drive anyway. Take the subway. Take a cab. Get a ride with someone. I don't care. But go home."

Wordlessly, both because she didn't have anything else to say and because she didn't trust herself not to lose her temper if she opened her mouth, she stalked out of his office and to her desk to grab her things. Esposito must have noticed her fuming, because he was at her desk before she could get away from it, and she was moving fast.

"What?" he asked simply.

"Montgomery's closing the case," she bit out. "And banishing me 'til noon tomorrow."

"Closing the case?" he repeated.

She nodded.

"Oh. Well, it's not like we were making any headway anyway."

She left her desk and her friend, anger only increasing. She'd expected him to be on her side, outraged that they weren't being given the chance to finish what they'd started. His disappointed acceptance felt like a slap in the face. Everyone she'd trusted was letting her down. First Castle, then Montgomery, and now Esposito.

"Beckett, come on," he called after her. "You need a break. Hell, I need a break."

Some part of her knew that what he said was true, but she wasn't willing to admit it at the moment. So she got on the elevator without looking back. And she wasn't sorry about it. She was far too pissed off to be sorry.

It was after midnight and she knew that taking the subway would most likely be unpleasant, and she wasn't in the mood to deal with that. In fact, she wasn't in the mood for any human contact whatsoever. Even giving directions to a cab driver felt like more than she could handle, not to mention that she was positive she didn't have enough money on her for a cab. She didn't like to carry much cash to work with her, for obvious reasons. And the adrenaline pumping through her led her to a clear solution to her transportation dilemma: walk.

She started off at a brisk pace. It was raining, and hard, but she didn't care. The rain fit. It matched her mood. She considered that Castle would appreciate the poetic nature of the situation, and almost laughed humorlessly as her anger increased and a thunderclap sounded. Since when was her life some kind of really ridiculously over-the-top movie?

A few blocks later, she was wet, cold, and beginning to question the wisdom of her decision to walk, but logic gave way to stubbornness, even as she passed the entrance to a subway station. She'd made it this far. She had to be close to halfway there. She could make it the rest of the way.

She saw the car slowing down beside her and instinctively took a step away from it, hand grasping her gun. But then something clicked in her brain and she let it go, balling her hand into a fist. That car almost looked like… but it couldn't have been. Could it?

"Kate," the voice, familiar, but one she hadn't heard in well over a month, came through the open window. It could, and it was. Castle. Her fist tightened. Why had he stopped? She kept walking, studiously ignoring him.

"Kate," he called again. "What the hell are you doing? It's pouring. Get in the car."

She picked up her pace. Oh, hell no.

He matched her stride with his car as a flash of lightning filled the sky. "Kate! It's storming. Don't be stupid. I know you're mad at me, but it's warm in here, and you've gotta be freezing."

A thunderclap so loud it made her jump sounded, and she still didn't answer him, but her mind started working. Warm sounded really good right now. As did dry. Not that she'd be dry, but she found herself wondering what she'd sacrifice to stop the constant pounding of water on her head, her clothes. Would she sacrifice her solitude? Her pride? No, she decided, but she was less set in her decision than she wanted to be. If he asked her again, she wasn't sure she'd be able to refuse. The dominant part of her hoped he'd give up and drive away, but a little traitorous voice in the very corner of her consciousness dared him to ask her just one more time, both because she did need the ride and, buried even deeper in that corner, because the sound of his voice reignited some kind of tiny spark inside of her that had been out since their last fight. And "fight" was definitely the word that would've classified it. It was much more than their usual verbal sparring, more than a disagreement, more than an argument. It was a fight. And a big one.

"Oh my God, Kate, get in the damn car," he pleaded. Actually pleaded. "Please?"

As she'd suspected, she found herself unable to refuse. Whether it was the heart-wrenchingly sincere note in his voice or the fact that she couldn't stop herself from imagining the feeling of warmth inside his car, she didn't bother to consider. But he stopped the car as she started walking toward it, and she got in without a word.

They rode silently for a few minutes, barring the sound of the raindrops constantly pelting the windshield, and though the car was warm, she was unable either to stop herself from shivering or to hide it from him. When they got to a light he took off his jacket and handed it to her. Grudgingly, she accepted it. Why did he have to be such a fucking gentleman? It was making it more difficult for her to stay mad at him. But she was an accomplished grudge-holder and she managed anyway, especially when she remembered the events that had let to her anger.

"I don't know the way to your apartment," he finally admitted, breaking the silence.

She sighed. Of course he didn't. How would he? But she was a little frustrated that she'd have to speak to him in order to give him directions. It was immature, and she felt like she was back in junior high, but the silent treatment was working for her, especially because she knew how much it had to be torturing him. "Right at the second light."

He nodded. Paused. "You're really still mad at me?" he asked after a beat. "It was months ago."

"You slept with a suspect," she reminded him, making it clear through her tone alone that yes, she was still mad at him.

"She was innocent," he protested.

"You didn't know that."

"I had a feeling."

"How many times have I told you not to get involved with anything related to my investigations while we're still investigating them?" she asked him, feeling her adrenaline building again. "How many times did I tell you during that case to leave it alone? Leave her alone? You couldn't have respected that? You couldn't have even pretended to give a damn? Well, that's fine. But we've been over this. I can't have people working with me who I can't trust."

"It didn't affect the investigation," he said quietly.

"The hell it didn't! I'm trying to question her and she knows you're in the other room watching, and she just keeps giggling. She's our primary murder suspect and she's giggling! Do you have any idea how hard that is to deal with? Did you even think about how the hell I was supposed to get any worthwhile information out of her when she was thinking more about your penis than my questions? Of course you didn't, because you never think about how your actions might affect anyone other than you. You were supposed to be my partner. You were supposed to make my job easier, not ten times harder. Apparently that's too much for you to handle, and that's fine. I can't ask you to be someone you're not. But I can't work with you anymore. We're done. I already told you that, and don't expect this little car ride to change it." She spotted her building and pointed it out without missing a beat. "That one right there, on the left."

"That's not why I picked you up." He slowed to a stop outside of her building. "Believe what you want, but that wasn't the reason." He held up his hand to stop her as she started to take off his coat. "Keep it. You need it more than I do. If we run into each other again, you can give it back to me then. Otherwise…" he shrugged, pain registering clearly on his face. "Just keep it. I don't care."

She swallowed, nodded once, and stepped out of the car and back out into the rain, slamming the door behind her. She blinked back tears whose cause she didn't want to determine as she ducked into her building, unsure which was worse, the rainstorm outside or the one she'd found inside the car, whose chilling, dampening effects she felt just as powerfully.

I love reviews! I love them always, but especially since this is a new story, I want to know what you think!