TUESDAY, MAY 18TH

(125 days prior to the incident)

Demming lay awake, thinking hard. He was wondering if winning the bet he'd made with his fellow robbery detectives was the smart thing to do. It wasn't because he couldn't win the bet; he was confident he could get the pretty homicide detective in his bed in the next week. However, he was beginning to think that it would be a tactical error to nail Beckett. In order to stay on her good side, he'd have to embark on a more serious relationship than he'd originally planned. He was against long term relationships in general, finding them confining and boring. When he'd made the bet, he'd had no idea how much he would like working with the temperamental detective. More importantly, he could see a future path for himself working in homicide, specifically on her team.

Demming was ambitious. His Mom's brothers were all high powered New York cops – including an Assistant Chief and a Captain over in Brooklyn. His dream job had always been Chief of Detectives – or "COD". Every COD in the past forty years had spent at least some time working in homicide. If he could convince Beckett to allow him to join the best homicide team in the city, he'd be a long way towards punching his COD ticket. The big question was: would it be better to join the team as Beckett's lover or as her friend?

However, right now, that wasn't his biggest concern. No, the biggest problem was Castle. Castle was taking the place of a real working cop on the best homicide team in the city. He knew the writer really liked Beckett, and was surprised Castle had given him the green light to pursue her. He also could tell that, at least some of the time, Beckett really liked Castle. He'd managed to drive a wedge between the two during the cases they worked, but it wasn't a permanent solution. Demming grinned to himself. He'd frequently managed to convince Beckett to treat Castle as the tag-along he was, instead of the partner he wanted to be, sometimes without her even realizing it. However, the man kept coming back. He was extremely resilient. Demming was actually surprised at how even-tempered and good natured the rich guy seemed to be.

At least some of the time, the novelist seemed to be considered a full-fledged member of Beckett's team. Certainly, Esposito and Ryan thought of him that way. To Demming, that was sheer stupidity. If the guy wasn't NYPD, he shouldn't be allowed to hang around. Period. End of story. If he really wanted to be a cop, he could go to the academy, and take his lumps on the street. Otherwise, he should disappear.

Demming didn't like him, at all. He was rich, arrogant, and acted like he was God's gift to the 12th. He did, however have a grudging respect for the man, which only made matters worse. Some of the stories he'd heard pointed to Castle being smart, brave, and lucky – a terrific combination for any line of work, but especially helpful to a homicide investigator. Plus, if half the pictures and stories in the newspaper were true, the man had a way with the ladies, and got his full share of 'strange'. A man after Demming's own heart. That made him a credible threat to take his place. The question was, what was he after? What would it take to make him go away? How long was he planning on hanging around Beckett's homicide squad, taking the place of a real cop?

Could the 'Civie Sissy' have fallen for Beckett? Did he actually think he had a shot at the sexiest cop on the force? And if that was the case, why would Castle have given him the green light to chase her? An old-fashioned sense of chivalry? Demming mentally blew a raspberry. Anybody who didn't play to win deserved to lose. Or maybe he was over-confident in his own ability to ensnare Beckett, or didn't believe that Demming could bag the 'big game'? Maybe he thought bringing her coffee could compete with being a working detective? Demming smiled – what an ass!

So, his answers to his problems just seemed to fall into place. Demming would pursue Beckett, all guns blazing. He'd do everything possible to undermine the homicide detective's relationship with the novelist. He'd make Castle's life at the precinct as uncomfortable as possible. He'd make sure Castle spotted them when they were publicly displaying affection. If he was right, that had begun to bother the guy. He'd also try to get under the guy's skin as much as possible. With any luck, Demming would get the man to do something stupid – maybe even throw a punch! That would be awesome! Regardless, he should be able to chase the dilettante novelist out of the precinct by the summer. He could then put in his request for transfer, and make sure his uncles would grease the skids with Montgomery.

Yeah, he'd start hinting to Kate tomorrow about the bed and breakfast on the beach in New Jersey. If he could get her away for the long weekend that was coming, he was positive in his ability to make her forget Castle's name. Hell, with what he had planned, he'd make her forget her own name! Once he was on the team, he'd be able to control their affair, maybe back off to try to keep it professional. There were regs against team members having a relationship, and Beckett didn't seem to be the type that would ignore the rules. This could really, really work! He wouldn't want to deprive the fine ladies of New York City of his services any longer than necessary. Satisfied, Demming rolled over and fell fast asleep.

Castle looked into his glass of scotch, and sighed. He'd managed to bang out a couple of chapters of the latest Heat book, but was unhappy with the tone and content. His major problem was he was distracted. Distracted and worried.

It seemed that his muse, the ineffable Detective Beckett, had found herself a new boyfriend. Not that there was anything wrong with that – he himself had a fling with an actress last month. Although the subject of countless fantasies, he realized that Beckett had not shown the slightest interest in him romantically. Friend? Yes. Partner? Sometimes. Nemesis? Occasionally. Foil? Endlessly. However, no romance was likely in the foreseeable future. She couldn't seem to get past her first impression of him, which was partially his own damn fault. He'd been too much the rich playboy and spoiled brat when they'd first met. Of course, he still liked to subtly harass her sexually, but that was all in good fun. She just took it and gave it back, innuendo of the highest order.

His worry was that this new boyfriend was a cop, and was totally undermining Castle's status on Beckett's homicide team. Demming had been involved to some degree in three of the last four cases. Each time had resulted in Castle being bumped from the interrogation room, scrambling for rides to and from crime scenes and suspect homes, and in general being ignored. Demming didn't hide his disdain for a 'civie' on a homicide team, and went out of his way to disparage Castle. The new couple's PDA's were becoming more frequent and intense (who'd have guessed that about Kate?), and Demming showed him no respect whatsoever.

Castle was a proud man. He was especially proud of the place he'd carved out in the 12th Precinct. His status there had less to do with his fame and fortune, and was more the result of patience, perseverance, his love of mysteries, and his keen mind. His staying there, despite the brutal hours, terrible conditions, and recent abuse, had everything to do with his near-worship of Detective Kate Beckett. It had taken him months to figure out how to handle the mercurial Beckett. All of that progress seemed to be dissolving right before his eyes.

He thought of saying something to Beckett, but he certainly didn't want to sound like he was whining. She had a right to her own private life, and calling Demming out on his antagonism would not endear him to Beckett. Hell, she was the city's best detective; she had to know what was going on. He'd have to suck it up, and hope the Demming train would quickly run its course. Maybe he'd invite Kate out to the Hampton's next weekend with Alexis and him – reinvest in the friendship. That idea had a lot of merit.

With that last thought, he put down the empty glass, and went to bed.