Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

Are you following?

What was she supposed to do with this information? They had just dumped the information in her lap with brotherly concern and a disconcerting faith that she would know what to do.

Katherine Beckett didn't have the faintest idea, just a faint queasiness and more than a little trepidation at having to share the fact with her partner.

The physical weight of the folder in her hand was nonexistent. It was flimsy, just unprocessed thin cardboard and a few pages of paper while the familiar feel of her phone was comforting knowing his voice would greet her with only a few lazy swipes of her fingers.

She flicked open the file again and let her eyes settle on the crime scene photo. In the crowd of people captured by the crime scene photographer, she easily picked out some of the 12th officers and some witnesses crowding the yellow tape. She had worked with them closely the last two days trying to draw out the truth.

That case was closed.

The other photo in the file was an enhanced section of the first wide shot. Through the pixilation Kate made out a general set of features and a head of dark hair as the woman headed away from the rest of the crowd, looking back over her shoulder.

This woman was barely visible in the wide shot, obviously having a disturbing ability to just fade into the background. Even with the enhanced image Kate Beckett could not get enough detail to look into this other woman's face and read her.

"Hey, Beckett," Ryan's voice followed only second after she became conscious of someone moving into her space. She dragged her eyes up and off the glossy paper to meet his gaze where he stood off her shoulder, his jacket slung across his arm.

"You guys heading out?" reawakened to the rest of the bullpen, she saw Esposito shutting down their computers.

"Yeah. All the reports are filed and are being processed before storage. That one," he nodded to the file she was holding, "Is just a copy, so we thought we'd go ahead and clear the rest."

She gave him a small nod, and sucked in a breath at the reminder. "Thanks."

"Do you need any help?"

The sincere blue eyes in front of her demanded nothing but honesty but when she answered, it was as much to convince herself as anything else. "I've got it," she assured him.

If he didn't buy her front he made no comment but just nodded and met his partner on their way towards the elevator. While he didn't always read her as well as Esposito did, she was grateful for Ryan's trusting nature; especially now. She didn't have the confidence to convince him as well as herself.

Kate dropped her eyes once more to their mystery woman and flipped the file closed. She may not know who this person was, but she did know how to deal with her partner.

…

There was something to be said for working insane hours: by the time you dragged yourself home, the traffic was manageable. The streets were never empty, not in this city, but there was a sense of calm as you drifted further from the epicenter; catching lights going out and knowing that soon you would have the chance to do the same.

The downside about finishing work at a 'normal' time was that you got to go home and wait with everyone else.

She watched the cars spilling clouds of exhaust into the fading light, all waiting, huddled together for a sign. A sign would be good, some advice as to how she was supposed to proceed.

Maybe she was just letting herself blow this out of proportion.

But at the risk of sounding like Scully, her gut told her this woman wasn't just an overly curious citizen.

…

She heard the soft notes before she finished sliding her key into the lock. One thing she had come to learn quickly about her boyfriend was that he had an eclectic taste in music There didn't seem to be anything he didn't like. Today some lounge music echoed off the nude brick walls of her apartment. More music than singing and slightly upbeat without losing its background soothing quality, it was well suited as an accompaniment for his current action.

He threw a "Hey" over his shoulder and returned his focus to the pot on her stove. She didn't think she would ever grow accustomed to seeing him standing there and looking so right. Sometimes she caught herself thinking that if this ever went south, that the memory of moments like this would haunt her and drive her into a new apartment in an attempt to escape them. So damn perfect.

Her bag found a home behind the couch and her gun and badge were only left on the coffee table as she headed straight for the kitchen and him. Kate didn't stop until she eased her arm around him and she had satisfied herself that she couldn't get any closer to him while staying fully clothed. He had looked over and away from his creation at the unusual sounds of her shoes on the hardwood floor but didn't move as she pressed herself against his back.

He nudged his head against hers when she let it fall on is shoulder but kept stirring the thick soup he had made. Chicken, garlic, onion, rosemary, thyme, a little pepper and salt. The smells were distinct and from her vantage point she saw vegetables rise and submerge in the creamy concoction as his wooden spoon made the rounds.

"Paperwork all done?"

She made a wordless note of agreement against his shoulder and sighed. His free arm caught hers around his waist and he pulled it closer to him as if willing her to take some of the light and warmth from him. She let her mouth drift across the skin from the side of his neck so she could touch her lips to the vertebrae there.

He gave a low hum she felt low in her sternum but didn't move when she rested her chin against him and returned to her earlier contemplation of their dinner.

It shouldn't be so difficult.

"Soup's on," he told her, flicking off the burner and heading her off before she could let her mind wander back to the file in her bag. "You want some bread?"

"Yeah," she released her hold on him and collected a loaf of wholegrain from the pantry, making a pit stop to gather up a bread knife and dancing around him as he snatched up the ladle before she could shut the utensils draw. He gave a triumphant grin when he managed to snag it before she could pinch his hand and she just pushed against his face affectionately, moving past him for the chopping board.

"Are you going to stay in that jacket all night?" he followed her, standing behind her and running his hands down the arms of her blazer.

"No," she sighed, depositing both bread and knife so she could roll it off her shoulders. He went to take it from her in a gentlemanly quirk he hadn't dropped yet after dating for more than six months, but she caught the sliding fabric in one hand and made a well aimed toss for the armchair in the living room.

"Can you take your shoes off too, please?" he pouted a little but with good humor. "I like my feet the way they are." His bare toes gripped at the hardwood floors pointedly. Maybe he had a point: stepping on him in stilettos right now would not be the best way to wind down.

With one hand she picked up the knife, quirking an eyebrow at him until his eyes widened in comical shock, and toed off her heels. She couldn't help but wince as she felt the small bones readjust to being flat and unconfined, but the cool surface of the floor felt good. His warmth moved away and she heard porcelain scraping lightly as he fished two bowls out. She pulled the bread towards her and began cutting into it rhythmically even as she alternately flexed each foot, resting the weight on her toes and bending it in stretches.

It was a little painful, but the relief at the loosening muscles more than made up for it. She absently studied the clean lines her legs made and reminded herself she was going to have to redo her nail polish. When this new problem had been solved. She had almost let herself forget.

With this invitation, the nagging he had banished to the back of her mind worked its way to the forefront again. The only sound as she pointed her toes was the rough catch of the serrated teeth against the crust while her mind went through all the different possibilities. An obsessed fan was the best she could come up with.

The knife came dangerously close to her hand when he grabbed her from behind.

"The things you do to me," he sounded a little breathless from watching her and a little of the tension she had felt since the boys offloaded the file on her made way for a tingle of heat in her belly.

"The things I could do to you," she corrected him. "Don't you know better than to throw yourself at someone with a knife?"

"As if a little thing like that could keep me away." He pulled her in for a kiss, deliberately taking his time and holding each of her hands firmly down on the countertop so she wouldn't reach for him and gut him. Despite the lazy, gentle circles he seemed to content himself with, the underlying heat in the tense line of him suggested he had missed her as much as she had him.

And she had missed him. But she was beginning to find her balance again now as she allowed herself to reacquaint herself with him; home.

"Welcome home," he breathed, releasing her hands but not stepping away.

"Good to be home," she admitted, no longer embarrassed to admit it. Six months had proved to be a steep learning curve. It was okay to talk with him- the man had no boundaries. It was okay to lavish the same unconditional affection on him that she had when she was a little girl and hadn't learned about independence. When she was six years old, her parents were her world. And now he was her world.

What she would have cringed at as being clingy before was just letting herself be with him. He certainly had no more hesitation when they weren't at work.

"So how about you tell me what's on your mind so we can actually enjoy the meal I slaved over while you were off saving the city?"

Kate huffed out an amused breath, shook him off and wandered out of the kitchen where she stooped to retrieve her bag, newly grounded and more confident than she had been as she felt him follow curiously. She easily picked the cardboard from where it had been nestled against her clipboard and let the bag slide boneless back to the floor as she turned and presented it to him.

His eyebrows knit together as soon as he opened it and recognized the first photo. "I thought we closed this one. We had the DNA evidence. We even got a confession." He looked up at her in askance.

"No, we did," she reassured him. "It's over."

"Then I don't get it."

She moved around to his side and drew out the enhanced photo at the back, a knot slipping back into her stomach. "Do you know this woman?"

He squinted in concentration for a long moment before shaking his head, "No. Who is she?"

"We can't get a very good idea from this photo but after canvassing the uniforms and working up a sketch, Ryan and Esposito made up a list of possibilities. They're going to work through them tomorrow."

"What did she do? Should I know her?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Maybe."

"What's going on, Kate?"

"She was at our crime scene," Beckett stated evenly. "According to some of the officers, it's not the first time. After some of the uniforms mentioned her, Ryan and Esposito canvassed all of them and went through the other crime scene photos."

He looked up at her in surprise.

"She's been at three in the last month," Beckett said quietly.

"Is she a reporter? A blogger?"

"We don't know. We have to wait on an ID and a background check."

"But that's not what's bugging you," Castle surmised.

"Castle, she only ever comes to our scenes. We don't have any record of her at any other crime scenes."

"Okay," he wasn't understanding. "Can't you just bring her in and talk to her when we get an ID?"

"I thought about it, but it might not have anything to do with the Force," Kate allowed herself one more look at the woman whose agenda was still unknown. "She might be following you."

Maybe she had been counting on him brushing her theory off, because when he didn't reply, the gnawing concern she hoped he would tell her was ridiculous, flared sharply.

"Castle?"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"What do you usually do?"

"If you can get me a name, I can get Black Pawn to run it against their records."

"They keep records?"

"A precaution, mostly to appease new writers about security. There's too much mail to keep but they keep a record of all the people that send it in, providing they give a name. They also keep any suspicious items."

"Okay," she breathed, happy for the direction. "If we get a match?"

"We talk to her about the appropriate boundaries and thank her for being such a dedicated fan," he shifted his weight and frowned, obviously trying to place the blurry woman in question. "But Kate, I don't think we'll get anything: most of the fan mail is anonymous, a fact I'm sure you remember from the Tisdale case. What do we do then?"

"Then it becomes police business and I'll give her fair warning," she resolved.

"Okay," his face showing the same blind faith the other members of her team had displayed earlier.

"Okay," she breathed, willing herself to shake off the anxiety.

"You know," he started lightly. "Even if she does turn out to be a stalker, we have to keep in mind not all stalkers are psychopaths."

"Are you drawing from experience again?"

"Yes," he said earnestly. "I stalk you for a living."

Review?