While the men - all of them, which was an amusing sight - headed out to follow some leads, Kate stayed with the Canadian inspector, looking through the consular paperwork.

"So - you normally have Mr. Castle as a ridealong? Is that common?"

Kate shrugged. "Not common, I guess, but it happens. We also had an actress once. She was preparing to play me - I mean, the character he based on me - in a movie. It was surreal. She even started dressing as me."

Thatcher looked startled, her eyes skeptical. "I imagine that was an odd experience."

"It was bizarre. Absolutely bizarre."

The Canadian woman nodded. "So he's a novelist - a crime novelist, I understand?"

Kate nodded. "He started shadowing me to learn about my work, and he's sort of...never left."

"I admire your fortitude, Detective."

Kate smiled, her voice getting softer. "I give him a hard time, but - to be honest, I don't know what I'd do without him. He's saved my life so many times. And - as much as he drives me crazy, he makes this job easier to do."

Thatcher got very quiet then, and Kate looked up to find a gentler look on her face. A softer expression, her eyes downcast, a bit of a pink flush on her cheeks.

Hmm.

After a lot of leads that didn't pan out, Thatcher and Gates finally decided to call it a day. "We'll start again in the morning," the inspector told her constable, who nodded. "Get a fresh perspective."

Fraser tucked his hat under his arm. "Very good, sir."

Castle shot Beckett a look; she blinked, clearly thinking the same thing. Sir. Amazing.

"Detectives, Captain, Mr. Castle, good evening," Fraser smiled, offering his hand to everyone. "See you in the morning."

The Canadians headed for the elevator, leaving Castle and Beckett sitting at her desk.

"So what do you think?" Castle asked quietly.

"About what?"

"They're an interesting pair."

She shrugged, sitting back in her chair, stretching her neck out after a long day of reading paperwork. "I guess."

"You know, she reminds me of you in some ways," he pointed out.

Kate frowned at him, bemused. "Do I want to know?"

Castle chuckled. "No, no, it's good. Smart. Determined. And you both drink entirely too much coffee."

She eyed him, but decided not to bother feigning insult. It's not like he was wrong.

There was something about the Mounties. Kate couldn't quite put her finger on it. But something about Fraser's clean-cut, boyish earnestness, and Thatcher's cool, keen intelligence that would suddenly stutter into a blush when he appeared - it gave her pause.

It was far too familiar.

The Inspector was quiet during their trip to the hotel. Captain Gates had very kindly asked a uniformed officer to give them a lift, and the young man chatted amiably with Fraser through the drive.

Fraser kept an eye on Thatcher, who was quietly watching the New York streets fly by as Officer Blair paused, mid-story. "Ma'am?"

She blinked, clearly startled, and looked up at him. "Yes, Constable?"

Oh. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. "Do you need something, Inspector? You seem, ah - distracted."

"Oh. No. Sorry. Just - thinking." She looked down at her lap, and it was dark in the back of the car, but Fraser thought he noticed the faintest pink blush in her cheeks, something he wasn't quite catching.

"I like the detectives," he offered. "Very astute. They make a good team."

Thatcher nodded. "I like Detective Beckett. She's very easy to work with. Very intelligent."

"She reminds me of you," he said quietly.

The inspector flicked a glance at him, but then looked back out the window, tucking her hair behind her ear, and he thought he saw a faint smile on her lips.

We kissed. Once. We never talk about it.

Fraser looked back out his own window, smiling politely as Officer Blair told them about the one time he'd been to Toronto, and how much he'd enjoyed the poutine.