He shifted the large box in his arms, once again cursing himself for not bringing a dolly. Sighing, he gripped its edges and continued from the elevator to her new door. He managed to knock on the door using his foot and not drop his package.

Kate Beckett opened the door and blinked. Confronted with a large box hiding the individual holding it, she cleared her throat "Uh, hello?"

The box tilted dangerously before righting itself again and swiveled to the left, revealing a grinning Castle.

"Hey there…uh can I come in…this box is really heavy and I uh…oh…" Castle suddenly paused and blinked. Tom Demming came into view from Beckett's living room. "Got a case?"

Beckett found herself flushing and at a loss to explain why. She heard the sudden hope in Castle's voice as he asked about a case, which wasn't in itself unusual, but there was a look in his eyes that she didn't recognize. It unnerved her. "Oh, um, No, no case. Tom just came by…I mean we…" She shook her head and stood back from the door. "Please come in and set that on the table."

His eyes shuttered in a way she could not interpret, but he made a great show of bringing in the box and setting it down; gasping about how he would need an hour with his chiropractor. It was so Castle that she found herself smirking in amusement. "So what was so important that you felt the need to come all this way and endanger yourself…" Curiosity lifted her brows and she couldn't help but lift onto her toes to check out the box. "It isn't an espresso machine is it?" she drawled.

Castle stood and shot a glance at Demming, who was leaning against her kitchen door frame. The man looked far too comfortable in Kate's new apartment. Something clenched inside him, but he brushed it off with a bright silly smile and a waggle of eyebrows. "Ohhhh, I just figured that you lost so much in the explosion that I'd replace some of your items…But I see that you are busy entertaining and I've got to meet Alexis…soooo, I guess I'll be off…" He gave a half salute to Demming in acknowledgement and a quick smile to Beckett. "Call if anything gruesome happens."

With that, he moved quickly out of Beckett's apartment and to the elevators.

Beckett blinked. Ok…that was different. She turned to look at the box furrowing her brow. Tom moved into her line of sight as he leaned over the box…"You mind?" His voice was thick with curiosity.

She resisted the sudden urge to move him out of the way… his presence suddenly seemed intrusive. Swallowing her initial comment, she shrugged, "Sure. Go ahead, but be warned, I'm not responsible for your safety."

Tom grinned at her and replied "I think I'll take my chances". He ripped the top open and half frowned half laughed. "Wow, he really does have an ego doesn't he?"

Beckett had been unconsciously holding her breath. Now she let it out in a whoosh and frowned. "What? What is it?" She stepped across the room and looked inside.

Books.

Specifically, HIS books.

And it looked like all of them. Everything he had ever published. She dimly heard Tom saying, "Your home blows up and he brings you his books… Quite the housewarming gift."

She forced a smile, but her brow was still furrowed. Tentatively she reached inside; pulled one out: "Flowers for Your Grave"; opened it…

He'd signed it. But he'd signed it to her…

"To the amazing and yes, extraordinary KB; Thanks for believing in the details… Your biggest fan…Richard Castle"

The details had set an innocent man free and captured the killer. Because of his details. Because she was willing, even then, to give him a chance.

She set the book aside and picked up another…

It too was signed…to her.

And the next, and the next….

Each one with a different inscription. To her; for her. Something that reminded her of a case they had worked; a moment shared. She bit her lip.

She had waited in line for over an hour.

Over an hour to have him sign just one of his books for her. A quick, polite exchange of words and smiles. Her heart pounding as she kept a cool façade, not letting on that she felt like a teenage girl meeting a rock star.

"Does he know how big a fan you are? How reading his books got you through your mother's death?"

Now she had his entire collection; all signed to her.

Tom watched from across the room as she stood and flipped through each book. He didn't miss the way she suddenly started biting her lip, or the way her eyes tightened with emotion. He rocked back on his heels. So…

He made the attempt "So, no new toaster under all that?"

She looked up startled, like she had forgotten Tom's existence.

So… he thought again.

He had a light smile on his face, but there was new knowledge in his eyes.

Kate cringed away from his perception. "Yeah, silly huh…a bunch of books…his books." She laughed, but she knew it sounded forced. Trying to cover for herself, she pretended to look closer at the book in her hand…and her breath caught in her throat.

"They really are his books."

Demming frowned "Yeah…?"

Kate looked up at him again and wasn't bothering to hide her frown and a bit of awe. "They are his books. They are all advance copies of first edition prints… They came from his own personal collection, not from the Barnes and Noble up the street."

"Ah." So…

Demming sighed, he should have known. There had been no obvious play on the field…but it was there on the sidelines… and it wasn't just Rick Castle… Kate Beckett most definitely had a stake in the game. Without realizing it, Castle had just thrown a Hail Mary. "Hey, I just remembered I have court in the morning and I wanted to go over my notes for testimony…you mind if I grab a raincheck for tonight's dinner?"

Beckett stared at him for a minute. Demming could see that she knew something was up; that she was trying to work it out in her mind. She finally nodded at him. Work. Work was something she could understand, something that fit in her life, something that didn't make her question.

"Sure Tom, that would be fine… a raincheck…" She smiled and this time it reached her eyes. He leaned in and gave her a brief kiss on the forehead, then gathered his jacket and headed for her door.

Kate watched him go and kept wondering why she wasn't trying to talk him out of leaving. Why she wasn't offering to go over his notes with him. She liked him. She really did. But, she looked down at the book in her hands; "Storm Fall"… and felt relieved that Demming had left.

She stepped into her room and picked up her copy of "Heat Wave". It was the only book that had survived the blast. It had survived because it was under her bed…dog eared to page 107. She bit her lip again.

Her heart was pounding and she was trying to keep the tears from spilling over. It may have been just a frivolous egotistical gift from a smug author, but she knew it wasn't…

It was a gift from the heart.