A/N: It's been forever, I know. Guess I'm just putting this out there for the few people who haven't yet lost interest, haha ;).


Kate leans onto the railing, her hands curling around the mango wood that the landlady proudly declared was 'milled at the property'. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the sunlight soak through her skin, warm even the deepest, darkest parts of her.

Castle is asleep in their bed. She pulled the blinds closed to keep the light from spilling into their room; even though it's eleven pm back in New York it's only five here, and the warm, golden afternoon hasn't yet drawn to a close. Didn't keep Castle from sinking right into sleep the moment he lay down to try out the mattress. She tried to sleep too, could tell somewhere in all that buzzing excitement that her body was straining for rest, but the prolonged nap in the plane messed her up enough that she's wide awake now.

Kate exhales slowly, loosens her fingers, opens her eyes.

The view before her is stunning. The slowly-setting sun is painting a wide meadow with pink and gold, the outline of a sharp hill visible in the distance. The overgrown grass whispers in the soft breeze, a cluster of trees rocking gently on Kate's left, and if she listens carefully she can just make out the sound of the waves lapping the shore.

Their cottage is just as simple and lovely as the scenery around her: all light colors and dark hardwood floors, a few subtle reminders of their location in the paddle hanging on the wall of their room, the tasteful paintings by a local artist. There's no question who Castle was thinking of when he booked the place - the opposite of his usual extravagant taste - and it makes Kate's heart thud harder in her chest, the lengths he would go for her.

She trails a finger across the railing and spins on herself, at a loss what to do. Lately her first instinct is always to move, to do something, keep herself active so she won't have time to dwell over what she's done - how she might have thrown away her only chance at getting her mother's murderer. But here, in this peaceful, quiet place, Beckett finds herself paralyzed, the urge to run knocked right out of her.

In the end she turns around, steps back into the cool shade of the living room. Before she knows it her feet are leading her back to the master bedroom and its pale yellow walls, to Castle's sleeping form; she walks around the bed and eases back onto her side of the mattress, inching closer and closer until she's pressed to his warm, slightly sweaty back. He doesn't wake, doesn't even budge when she sneaks an arm around his waist, so she closes her eyes and focuses on the rhythmical rise and fall of his chest.

Even asleep, he keeps the darkness at bay.


Castle jolts awake hot and confused, the place unfamiliar, a weird sense of urgency pulsing in his stomach. There was someone - a dream? - a woman he couldn't reach even though he kept calling her name, and then a narrow alley-

A soft touch at his shoulder makes the images fragment, fade back to nothingness. Lips, he realizes dumbly as awareness unfurls. A kiss at his skin.

"Hey," murmurs a low, rich voice that he recognizes as hers. He rolls onto his back and sure enough, here she is, Kate Beckett, stretched out on her side and watching him with those dark, endless eyes. "Bad dream?"

"Huh?"

Her mouth curls up into a smirk. "You kept twitching and muttering in your sleep. Kinda insulting, Castle, when you're lying right next to me."

He grunts out a laugh, shifts to his side so he's facing her. "I can make it up to you in so many ways," he leers, but just as the words come out he takes a better look at her and sees the tease is only a facade, that there's something else - something more - going on with her.

"Did you sleep?" he asks. She hesitates for a split second before shaking her head no.

"That nap on the plane pretty much did it for me," she says with a smile and a half-shrug, but the shadows under her eyes tell a different story.

He reaches out a hand and traces the smooth line of her jaw with one finger; her lashes flutter and so does his heart, caught in the beauty, the fragility of her. "Kate," he breathes, watching her eyes fly open again when he calls her name. But he doesn't know how to say the rest of it, hasn't yet learned how to express his concern without making her bristle, and in that second he spends oscillating she takes the lead again, brushing her mouth against his and then kissing him thoroughly, teeth and tongue and even that low hum at the back of her throat.

She's not playing fair.

"If you're done sleeping," she says, smiling against his skin, "I could do with some dinner."

He swallows, but admits defeat as gracefully as he can. "Dinner sounds good."


"What do you think? The Sea Scallop Risotto sounds amazing, but then the Fresh Catch - I mean, they probably have some unique fish here that I'll never be able to taste anywhere else, right? And that Macadamia Nut Crust with a Lilikoi sauce. I have no idea what on earth is Lilikoi, but the sound of it's just so right. Exotic and balanced and-"

"Castle."

Kate's voice has that tender tone to it, like she's holding back a laugh; he lifts his eyes from the menu and heaves a dramatic sigh. "You've got to help me out here, Beckett. I don't think I can do this on my own."

She looks amused still, but he can see a hint of seriousness in her gaze as she reaches out her hand across her table and layers her fingers over his. "You know I've always got your back."

He beams at her. "Does that mean I can go for the fresh catch and you'll have the risotto so we can share?"

She laughs - so beautiful, the way it wraps around him, the slow parting of her teeth - and tilts her head at him. "I could be persuaded."

Part of Castle's mind is still debating the different preparations for his fish (the lobster and crab stuffing is pretty tempting too), but now that he's looking at Kate, really looking, he can't believe how - how at home she looks here.

Her skin is golden in the warm sunset, her hair tumbling freely down her shoulders; she's wearing a dress with a flower pattern that he would never have expected from her, wouldn't have even guessed she could own. And not only does she look gorgeous in it, but she looks... At peace. Yes.

She looks happy to be here, looks like this is where she belongs, and relief hits him so hard that the world sways for a moment.

"Castle," she says with a small jerk of her head. She's trying to tell him something. What is she trying to tell him? "Waiter's here," she adds quietly, giving him a pointed look.

Right. Oh. Right. The waiter.

Castle plasters a smile on his face and finally acknowledges the man standing next to them (which is seriously creepy, honestly: who stands in silence by their customers' table waiting to be noticed?). Reaching for his discarded menu he stumbles through their choices, trying to get the pronunciation right, and the whole time he can feel Kate's eyes on him, soft and intent, almost like a touch.

As stunning as the view is at Kula Lodge and Restaurant, Castle suddenly wishes they'd stayed in for dinner.


The night is warm, the stars overhead brighter than they'd ever be in the city. Kate tilts her head back as she walks, the infinity of the sea stretching out at her left, the sand cool under her feet. Castle is at her side, close enough that she can feel him but not close enough to touch, except for the occasional brush of his hand against hers. Every time it happens electricity travels up her arm and down to her gut, a need that pools slowly, slowly, and that she does her best to ignore.

She wants to soak it in, the loveliness of this Hawaiian night, the quiet that has settled over her soul. Those past few months have been riddled with questions and doubts - did she do the right thing, should she have have fought harder to stay in DC, will she ever get justice for her mother - and it feels almost miraculous, being here tonight.

Walking down a tropical beach with a man who has unfailingly been there for her, a man who knows to whisk her away when she needs it most and to ignore her protests.

It's funny, how she can barely remember her life before him.

Only the stifled feeling remains. Not being able to take a deep breath, the need to control everything so that her life wouldn't come crashing down on her. Again.

It's so different today. Of course Johanna's murder will always be a part of her, but it's no longer the black hole that Beckett used to get sucked into - her own life so quickly forgotten in the pursuit of justice for her mother.

No, Kate's living for herself now, spending her birthday on an island instead of staying at home to pore over case files, and she feels strangely...guilt-free about it. Dr. Burke would be proud.

"You're very quiet," Castle murmurs.

She blinks, slowly emerging from her inner world, and looks up at him. There's a wariness in his voice, a hesitation in his eyes that she wishes would go away.

"It's just beautiful, Castle." And it really is. The words are nothing compared to the deep, velvet night, the so-soft whisper of the waves.

"But?"

She closes her eyes for an instant, pauses her walking. She really thought they were past this; she thought she'd proved herself to him. Didn't she say yes? Isn't she wearing his ring? How much more can he want from her?

Kate pushes out a long breath and lets the frustration, the anger drain out of her, waiting an extra second before she looks at him. "There is no but," she says, and even she is surprised by the gentleness in her voice. "How could there be a but? Look at this place. We're alone on a beach with the stars and the waves and the breeze all to ourselves. I - Rick, do you even realize how much this means to me? Do you think there has ever been another man in my life ready to take me to Hawaii for my birthday? Do you think anybody else has ever made my coworkers wear flower leis to the precinct because they wouldn't take no for an answer?"

He watches her for a beat, his mouth pursed. "I'm guessing it's a no?"

He can act so dumb sometimes. "Of course it's a no," she says impatiently, smacking his arm. "Castle. You might not be aware of this, because you tend to forget that not everybody works like you do, but you're… You're a very generous man. And you can be surprisingly considerate. At times."

He smiles at her - at last - and raises an eyebrow. "Why, Beckett, that is quite the declaration. Possibly the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She considers smacking him again, but before she can do so he's already reached for her, wrapped her in a hug that is as genuine as his words were teasing. "I just want you to be happy," he murmurs against her hair, the warm exhale of his words caressing her neck. "I'm sorry it makes me a little irrational sometimes."

"Only a little?"

He laughs quietly, just a shake of his body against hers, and then there's the brush of his lips at her temple, over her cheekbone. "A lot," he agrees before his mouth finds hers. He kisses her slowly at first, reverently, but when she lifts on tiptoe and fists her fingers in his shirt he lets her take control, opens to her completely, and she's so damn turned-on by the way he does that. Gives her the upper hand.

She breaks away flushed and breathless, but before she tears his clothes off there is one more thing. "I would tell you. If I were unhappy. You know I'd tell you."

"Right." His eyes are so dark, she can't read him.

"Castle."

"Yes."

She hesitates. "Do you trust me? When I say I'd tell you, do you...believe me?"

His hand curls at her neck, his touch loose and intoxicating, and then he kisses her again. Only a soft press of his lips this time, a shared breath. Affirmation.

"I do, Kate."

She huffs a laugh into his mouth, tastes the edge of his smile. "Bet you're pretty happy with that one," she hums. "I'll let it slide, Rick Castle, but you know what I think of wedding humor."

"You love it?"

She shakes her head, pats his chest. It's really hard to stop touching him once she's started. Not that she's got any intention of stopping now. "You need to take me home before I ravish you on this beach," she says matter-of-factly.

He flashes her that beautiful grin, a little startled, a lot pleased. "What's wrong with the beach?"

"Nothing, if you want to get sand stuck in your ass. Personally I'm not a fan, but if that's your thing-"

He's laughing again, that deep, honest rumble that she loves. "No, no. I want you between satin sheets, Kate Beckett."

Well. Now they're talking.