Author's Note: Happy Belated Birthday Berkielynn & Hope! Originally based on a song prompt from Berkielynn. This will be a two shot AU post-ep for season three's One Life to Lose. All of my thanks to Jess and Nic for the help. Love you both!

Hanging By This Moment

They're having a moment. He's sure of it. He's had the photo signed and ready to give to her for a day now, just waiting for the right time. And he really had no ulterior motive behind it, wasn't expecting a story, or trying to bribe her into revealing anything. He just wanted to see her smile. Because Kate Beckett smiling does things to him, makes him want things. Things he shouldn't act upon, things they never talk about, but he can't help it. He's known it for a while now. That somewhere along the line this thing between them has shifted from simple attraction to something deeper, something much more difficult to ignore. From research and flirting to partners to an emotion he's afraid to name because he's not sure that he'd recover if he acknowledged it and she didn't feel the same.

He can't explain it but he feels himself gravitating in her direction, feels the steady draw of it, heavy, magnetic. It's in the way she's let him in over time, the way they have quit fighting with each other and started fighting together. Some days they're still opposing forces getting under each other's skin but, ultimately, they always find each other; and he wonders if they're on a course set long ago, moving toward something that neither of them fully have control over anymore. Maybe they never had control of it in the first place.

He knows she's not his. Knows it's not his place to want more than what they are, whatever it is that they are, but he can do this. He can make her smile, wants to make her smile; and he's done trying to ignore how badly he craves it or how far he'll go to earn those smiles because if that's all he can have he'll spend a lifetime collecting them, filing them away in his mind.

And now they're having a moment. He knows it by the way she paused, just a second, took a breath, got that dreamy look in her eyes as if she was going back in time right before she told him about watching Temptation Lane with her mother. He can't stop himself from leaning in, absorbing the details because it's not just any day that Beckett opens up and shares something from her past. These are the times he treasures, stores in his memories, can't get enough of because they're glimpses into the Kate he wishes so badly to know. He wants to know all of her, will take whatever she gives him and when she does allow him to see this side of her he doesn't want to miss a single thing.

It makes me feel like home and safe.

He hates that there's a desk between them; all at once, that foot of space seems like too much. He's helpless against the way her eyes are shining at him and the smile that lights up her entire face. His stomach flip flops and he wants to touch her, wants to run his hand across her cheek, pull her into his arms because she's magic in these moments and it's irresistible. It fills him with a joy that he can hardly contain but damn, he's got to because he doesn't get to go that far. They're defined by these unspoken boundaries that he's learned to respect because he's done more than his share of overstepping in the past. He can't screw it all up again, not when they've come so far. So he's scrambling to respond somehow, to let her know that he'd never judge her for these memories, to show her how much it means when she allows him another layer deeper. He's got to say something, something that's enough but not too much.

I am glad to know this about you.

It's hardly adequate. The silence between them as they share a look laced with so much of what he's not yet naming is emboldening him, making him want to say the hell with boundaries and lines and just invite her out with him and the boys. He doesn't want to say goodnight yet. Not now that he's mesmerized by the way the light falls across her face, brings out the golden tones in her eyes, and the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip just ever so much as she grins at him across the desk. His heart is pounding, has just increased to about ten times its normal rate.

He can't stop the smile that quirks across his face, hers is so contagious; and he's about to open his mouth, is fully prepared to just go for it (come out with me, Kate)…when he hears her phone ring. They both drop their eyes on cue and he almost doesn't need to look to know. To feel the wave of reality crashing down on them both, the connection instantly severed by the name on the screen.

Josh.

The doctor's face smiles up at them from the phone on the desk and it digs at him like a knife in his chest. He'd almost laugh at the timing if it weren't so painful. A wave of nausea rolls through him as he realizes just how dangerous it is when he lets himself get swept up in her. In just seconds he's gone from feeling on top of the world to being kicked in the stomach, an emotional whiplash that he's grown accustomed to when it comes to Beckett's significant others but hurts nonetheless. They're like a bad film reel in his mind that plays back, taunting him with all the times she's slipped away from him just when it feels like they're on the verge of everything. Will, Demming, Josh…

It's the biggest reason he walks away. He's always walking away. Being the bigger man because really, if she's happy, what more could he ask?

But that doesn't make it any easier. It never seems to get easier. Only more painful to do this dance they do, sidestepping emotions, ignoring the rush of feeling that seems to blanket them in moments like they just shared.

So he looks away, can't bring himself to see the smile on her face that was once for him replaced with one for another man.

"I'll leave you to it."

He turns to grab his coat and go, flashes her a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes anymore. He wills himself not to look back, not to think about another missed opportunity in a long line of those that are steadily piling up. But then she's thanking him, seems almost reluctant to see him leave. He forgoes his usual goodbye for an "I'll see you," because suddenly he's not just sad but also a little angry. Angry at himself for always letting it go, not taking a risk, for forcing himself to ignore the flutters of hope that spring up inside him when she's looking at him the way she is right now. Angry at her for not realizing what they could have, that she's every bit as much invested in this thing as he is, and it's just not fair.

He heads to the bar with a bottle of scotch and her smile haunting his mind.

"Hey." She answers her phone distractedly; something about the look on Castle's face as he walked away is nagging at her. She could have sworn he was going to say something else before Josh called, is slightly embarrassed to admit that she was holding her breath waiting on his words. But then there was the call, startling them both. Just like that he was up and gone and saying "I'll see you," instead of "Until tomorrow," and when the hell did she become so attached to and hyper-aware of the phrasing of his goodbyes?

She shakes her head and tries to focus on the voice speaking on the other side of the line but Josh is telling her about some complicated surgery that has come up, something about it taking hours and being tedious and she can't help but let her mind drift again.

It's just…she was touched by Castle's gift. Sure, it was only a signed photo, probably wasn't even difficult for him to get between his celeb connections and Martha being a former cast member. When he'd discovered that she was a fan, she'd really expected him to make fun of her more, to rib her constantly over the soap opera that she's sure seemed completely out of character for her to be invested in. Instead, he'd been thoughtful enough to bring her the cast photo and he looked so pleased, so genuinely happy to hear about her past with Temptation Lane, about curling up on the couch with her mom, that it'd warmed her heart, made her want to share these things. It was somehow easier with him. Easy in a way that it hadn't been with anyone else since her mother had died. And she can't deny that she was more than a little caught up in the way his eyes were sparkling at her across the desk, his fist tucked against his chin as if he was forcing himself to contain his thoughts from spilling out. And she lo- (she mentally corrects herself, geez, Kate get a grip)…likes that about him, that even though he's usually rambling and energetic and teasing, he always stops and listens to her when she talks, like she's the most important person in the room. Like the only person there.

It's not as though she's never had a man in her life that listened, that cared. But the vast majority of the men she's dated have been busy, as well. Have had their own lives, their own careers that came first. And years ago she'd have argued that's exactly what she wanted, needed even. Her independence, the ability to maintain her distance, to keep herself from risking a loss again. But there's something about Castle that's different, dangerous, has her both wanting to dive in and run away at the same time. Because for the first time since she can remember she finds herself slowly stepping past the lines she's drawn for herself. It's gradual and she's not even always conscious of it until after the fact but it's happening. It scares her. It feels right.

She listens halfheartedly as Josh explains that he's going to have to cancel their dinner plans and her stomach drops when she realizes that the only thing she feels is…relief. She tries to force that thought out of her mind, the way she's been avoiding similar thoughts more and more lately, while she accepts his apology, tells him it's fine.

She packs her things up as she says goodbye, shoves her arms into the coat formerly laying across the back of her chair and wonders why exactly it feels like something's missing when Castle's not there to hold it up for her. Wonders why she can still feel the ghost of his fingertips against her arms from a practiced routine they conduct almost every evening.

She stares down at the phone still in her hand, bites at her bottom lip, wondering whether she should send him a message. She wants to, she's not stubborn enough to deny that. She can still see the bitterness hiding behind his smile as he walked away and it needles at her, part of her fears that a text isn't really what he wants. Something (or someone, her mind screams) shattered their moment earlier and while she knows it's probably not the best idea she's ever had, she can't help wishing she could fix it, that she could recapture that look in his eyes, the one she'd placed there just by giving him a small piece of her past.

She plays with her phone case in an unconscious gesture as she ponders what to do. She did overhear the boys inviting him out for a drink at the Old Haunt earlier so maybe she could stop by later, invite Lanie to come or something too. She is free tonight after all. She finally pockets her phone, mind made up. She tells herself that there's nothing wrong with a night out. Nothing wrong with wanting to cheer her partner up, right?

But there probably is something wrong with the way her pulse is racing at just the memory of his eyes on her across the desk, the image burned into her brain as she steps out of the precinct and into the night.

It's almost enough. The burn of the whiskey along his throat, the banter between the boys, the bar he's loved since his college days full of patrons laughing, talking, having a good time. It's almost enough to drown her out, to drown out the voice in his head saying he's a fool to keep walking away, to keep letting this thing between them go unspoken, unresolved. It's almost enough to forget the pain in his chest when he wonders, like so many times before, if he's doing the right thing by letting it go, letting her go; wonders if that's what she wants, if she's happy. It's almost enough but…it's not.

He takes a long drink, sets the glass back on the table, and forces himself to engage in the conversation. The guys are in typical form tonight, joking and ribbing each other. It's good to be out, despite his wandering mind. It's still better to be here than to have gone home to an empty loft. Alexis had plans with Ashley tonight and his mother is out doing things he probably doesn't want to know about.

Besides, it's been a long time since he's had friends that weren't part of a contrived social scene. He's always enjoyed the poker nights with his writer crew and there used to be the occasional games he arranged with the mayor and the judge. But those are a rare occurrence now that he spends most of his days at the Twelfth and his evenings writing Nikki; and they aren't the kind of people he'd call up on a random night to grab a drink anyway.

The boys are like family to him and he's grateful for that, for them. Under any other circumstances he'd be having a great time. It's just that there's an ever-present ache that resonates through him whenever his thoughts slip back to her. A longing and a bitterness that resides there tonight because no matter how many times he tries to push them away, she's wrapped up in everything, always...

"You're just lucky Beckett didn't catch you!" Esposito taunts Ryan and his focus shifts back to the debate going on at their table, inwardly groaning at the mention of her name. Point proven.

"Dude, I swear Jenny made me do it!"

"Really? That's what you're going with, bro? Your girl made you do it?" Esposito snickers at the detective, whose face is growing redder by the minute.

"It was one time, Javi, once."

"One time was more than enough, man. I'll never be able to erase the images from my mind."

Castle chuckles at the disdainful look on Espo's face. The idea of him walking in on Ryan in the break room doing…ugh, yeah, so maybe he doesn't want to imagine it, can't help but grimace at the thought. He's so staying out of this.

"See bro, Castle thinks it's creepy too!" Esposito gestures toward him. So much for staying out of it…

"Whatever!" Ryan glares at them both, mumbling again, "It was one time," before downing the rest of his beer and setting it down on the table with a loud clink. "I'm going to grab another drink."

"Hey, hold up, I'll come with you," Esposito says, suddenly distracted as he types out something on his phone. Probably Lanie. He's been texting her all night. "And don't think we're done discussing this."

"You need anything Castle?" Ryan asks, looking back, pointedly ignoring Esposito.

"I'm good," he laughs, glancing down at his half empty glass. Half empty…he really needs to get his shit together.

He watches the detectives walk toward the bar, thinks over the day's events for the hundredth time, finally gives up any pretense of distracting himself. He has too many questions, too many nagging thoughts about his relationship with Beckett - or lack of one.

It's just…she has to feel something. He can't be imagining these moments they have. The chemistry between them is so strong that it's a constant battle to hold himself back. He's so damn exhausted from resisting it, from resisting her. And he's reached the point where he can no longer stomach watching her waste her time with these other men, in relationships that seem to be going nowhere. He's tried telling himself that she's happier this way, tried to tell himself that he will take whatever she gives because he owes that to her after invading her life in so many ways; but maybe that's bullshit. Maybe it's just the cowardly way out when there's so much more they could be. Maybe he's doing exactly what he's angry at her for: playing it safe. She practically admitted she keeps one foot out the door, isn't diving in. He wants to invade her space, pull her toward him, to force her to try and deny it, to make her look him in the eyes and tell him she doesn't feel it too. He thinks that if he could touch her, just once, not under the guise of being undercover, but touch her for real, no excuses this time, that maybe, maybe she'd see how good this could be.

A smoldering blaze of desire hums through his veins, a combination of imagining her body against his and the drink in front of him that's all but gone now. He's lost in these thoughts when all the words in his head suddenly disappear; dying the instant he sees her walk through the door of his bar.

His breath catches in his throat and he's frozen. He blinks his eyes, not entirely convinced that he isn't seeing things, that his imagination hasn't conjured up the image of her. Regardless, he's captivated by her movements, can't drag his eyes away. She's laughing, head tilted, eyes wide and happy as she walks through the bar with Lanie at her side. It's impossible for him to hear her from this distance and over the dull roar of the crowd tonight but he'd swear he could anyway. He's memorized that sound, the rich cadence of its tone has swept over him countless times throughout the last couple of years. He still remembers the first time he heard it, so uniquely her, truly free and uninhibited. He felt himself fall a little deeper in love with her in that moment, realized that he'd do anything to hear it again - get chased by rabid dogs, trip over his own two feet, even sacrifice himself for a date auction at his mother's hands if it caused that beautiful sound to spill from her lips.

His chest contracts as he watches the girls make their way toward the bar. It's almost too much for him right now, the sight of her in a dress, those legs that stretch forever, so rarely uncovered. She's shrugging off her coat, unveiling even more skin and he has to force himself to breathe. They've met up with Ryan and Espo now, which means it's only a matter of time before…

She turns toward the booth.

For a second their eyes meet, hold steady across the room. The smile that lights up her face has him struggling to stay seated. Every nerve ending in his body is alive, alert to her presence. She's luminescent. Everything about the look on her face is sending warning signals, nothing about what he's feeling is one-sided and it breaks him.

He doesn't know why she's here, what she's doing when she's supposed to have plans with Josh, when he's supposed to be done with the temptation of being near her tonight, but damnit he's not going to let another opportunity pass him by. He's had just enough drinks, just enough time to let the thoughts and the longing seep into his veins, swallow him whole, and if she's bold enough to come here and look at him like that, he's not letting this go on any longer.