Thanks everyone for your kind words again. Still much appreciated. I'm having fun :-)


Castle got shot today. Possibly, Kate supposed, "grazed" was more accurate. "Nicked" would do. He was fine; he joked that the accursed paper-cut he'd suffered had been more life-threatening. He still bled, though. And Kate had seen that flash of fear in his eyes.

Proving that a month later, their trio of near-death experiences hadn't yet gone stale. Until the shot, they'd believed otherwise. Or the graze. Or the nick. Until whatever-she-called-it exposed just how fresh those experiences were.

He hadn't even been doing anything stupid (he'd wizened up on the job, like every...cop did). Made it hard to justify yelling at him, but she couldn't stop.

She'd dragged him into the break room at the precinct, locked the doors, closed the blinds, and unloaded on him. They were together now, she'd said. He'd worn her down. He didn't need to keep doing this. It wasn't his job.

And that? Just pissed him off. She didn't blame him-she was pissed at herself. Had things been reversed, with him telling her to quit, she would've been livid.

She was the one who'd made the call a month ago. She was the one who wanted everything, who wanted a partner in all facets of her life. She'd chosen to be that selfish.

(Not that Castle wouldn't have fought her tooth and nail if she'd chosen different.)

She needed him to be in that chair every day. Not just because he was fun, or because she'd miss seeing him near constantly. It was about trust. She trusted him on some instinctual level, not even questioning that he had her back.

He asked questions she forgot to; she asked questions he forgot to. He held back when she pushed; she held back when he pushed. They worked though the pieces together, made them fit. They were a team. Like Ryan and Esposito were a team.

You couldn't force that kind of simpatico. You could hone it, but if it wasn't already there to begin with, it was never going to be. That's why she needed him in that chair.

Which, even after all this time, she was still trying to get used to. To not see it as a regret waiting to happen. If the next shot wasn't a graze, or a nick, where would she be then? How could she look Martha and Alexis in the eye and tell them...that? Especially when it would be her fault. Because she was too selfish to tell him to retire his vest and stick to writing.

And these were just the musings of Kate the Cop. She refused to think about how the other Kate would react. She hadn't lied to Alexis-she'd been ready for "them" to be right, for reasons much like Castle's. So she went zero-to-love in sixty seconds. Or in 63,072,000 seconds, depending on your point-of-view.

The thought of having it taken away after diving in so willingly, and it being out of her control...

She'd been gut-punched once before. Exactly why she avoided this exact dilemma for such a long time. Damn it.


Walking down the basement stairs of the Old Haunt, Kate didn't know what to expect. About three hours or so after their first, actual, two-sided fight (unlike those others when she'd get legitimately mad, and he would stand there and take it), he called her, asked her to come. She was in the wrong for once, and he was making the first move? Now she was even more pissed at herself than before.

Would he be drunk? Would he still be angry? She'd never seen Castle truly mad at her until today, and she truly hated it. If this was how he'd felt when...well, then she had something else to be sorry for. Would he try shouldering the blame and have her feeling worse?

He started talking before she'd reached the bottom. "I've been thinking."

She needed to gauge where he was at, and this was the quickest way to do it. "Why do those three words always only sound terrifying when they're comin' from you?"

He was writing the old-fashioned way in this old, beat-up, "Masterpiece Theater" chair he bought off eBay. It was the only change he'd made down here. Besides un-spackling the buckshot holes because "they added character."

She knew he came here sometimes when he couldn't write at the loft, because Martha was being too Martha, or because Alexis and Ashley were still very much together (Kate's theory had been backwards-Alexis was the one who didn't say the "L" word, not him), but today Castle came here to be away from her.

"Because you weren't alive to hear Hitler say them. If you were, I'd come out way ahead by comparison." He hadn't taken his eyes off his notebook as he spoke.

Kate allowed herself to sigh in relief.

"Except he still would've been saying them in German, and just my luck, I took French in high school," she told him, walking over more surely now.

"Isn't a total loss-at least you would've known how to surrender. And so efficiently, too," he joked. When he looked up finally, she wasn't in front of him anymore. "Aha! That explains how you do that thing with..." Her arms were slipping around his neck from behind. "...your toast."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking down over his shoulder (his grazed/nicked shoulder) at the filled pages.

"For what? Not being overly fond of my getting caught in a hail of bullets?" He questioned in reply. "Neither am I. Don Johnson made it look much cooler."

Yes, she rolled her eyes. How could she not? She could tell by the sound of his voice how pleased he was with himself. And only he would be pleased about referencing "Miami Vice" and one of his book titles almost back-to-back.

"Frankly, I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on that. Otherwise I don't think I'd be very comfortable letting you this close to my neck," he joked.

Since he brought it up, she gave his neck a quick squeeze before continuing her delayed apology. "I'm sorry for how I reacted, okay? I could've...expressed how much I hated what almost happened today...better. Calmer. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, and I'm, yeah, sorry."

"Can I be sorry too?" He asked, grabbing her right hand and hinting for her to come around the chair.

He set his notebook on the floor, sliding the pencil in its spine.

"No," she denied him, taking up residence in his just-emptied lap.

"But I don't wanna feel left out," he persisted.

"Maybe next time." Then she thought about it. "What am I saying? Definitely next time."

He sighed, hugging her around the waist. "Can I at least tell you what I've been thinking, now? I swear it's relevant and even has a point."

Kate raised her brow. "Relevant and a point? I've gotta hear this."

"Whenever Meredith or Gina and I would fight, argue or just have glaring contests across a room for hours on end, we'd despise each other. I mean it. It didn't matter how big or ridiculous the fight was, we'd look at each other and not even remember why we got together in the first place. There'd be nothing there.

"When the fight was over? We'd storm off to separate, distant corners long enough to be able to pretend it didn't happen. Looking back, I probably should've seen the divorce papers coming. And the adultery. Both times.

"When you and I fought today? I knew why our odds are astronomically higher; I know why we're different." He took a dramatic pause. "First, I didn't despise you."

She'd held her breath for that? "Gee, thanks."

"Second," he plowed ahead undeterred, "after I stormed off out of habit, later I realized I hadn't wanted to-I wanted to stay. I'd rather be around an angry Beckett than no Beckett. Does that make me a masochist? Maybe. I am owned by an intimidatingly tall woman skilled in the art of restraint, after all."

Somehow she figured he had several meanings in mind with a certain word in that last sentence.

"But more to the point," he said for her benefit, "even angry, there was something there. There always is. Something resembling actual, honest-to-god, human affection. Which doesn't just go up in smoke when it gets a little bumpy. Kind of a new experience-outside of my family-but I adapt fast and, it's a refreshing change. So I'll never hide from you in here again. From my mother, however..."

"Are you done?" She asked, her voice for some reason thicker than before. "'Cause I was serious about apologizing, and I don't need you...being you...and letting me off the hook, masochist or not."

"Who else am I supposed to be? Batman?" Naturally, he got lost in the fantasy. "Hmm..."

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "And that part at the end was you trying to apologize without actually doing it, don't think I didn't notice. Why can't you ever listen to me?"

"Fine," he caved begrudgingly. "You're forgiven for allowing your unflappable, 'Robo-Cop'-esque exterior to break, letting your emotions run wild and amuck, and for forgetting we're in this together. Happy?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," she nodded. "Thank you."

She placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I almost can't wait for our next squabble," he smiled, sounding honestly excited. "What do you think it'll be about?"

"I'm sure it won't be long before we find out," she deadpanned. "Here's hoping it'll have nothing to do with days like today, and everything to do with you refusing to rinse a plate before putting it in the dishwasher."

"I shouldn't have to! That's the dishwasher's job!" He argued immediately. "And until the inevitable occurs, when we're all enslaved by Cylo-"

"Just, don't die on me, Castle." Apparently she wasn't ready to let this go. Even so, as soon as she said it, she wished she hadn't. It wasn't fair, asking for that. "You'd be-"

"-way too heavy," they spoke at the same time.

"Jinx," he called right away.

Kate smiled, grateful that he'd went along with the joke instead.

"Thanks for, uh, making it miss," he said soberly a moment later, holding her tighter. Right. She had yanked him out of harm's way, hadn't she? "What's the score now?"

Kate pointed to her closed mouth, arching an expectant eyebrow at him.

He chuckled, and his mood switched back to light. "Such a stickler for the rules, Detective...you may speak."

"I don't keep it," she answered instantly.

"Me neither. Too high."

There was something Kate had to know. Something she couldn't figure out even after three years. "How do you...? How can you walk with me into...what we walked into? Me, Ryan, Esposito...we had training drilled into us. Again and again and again, so when it was real, and we didn't know what was waiting behind a door, we wouldn't completely panic."

"Oh, I've panicked on occasion," he readily admitted while adding, "Panicked manly. Except for when I got bit by that vampire, and c'mon, who wouldn't shriek a little?"

"Lockerby was not a-"

"But it's simple-I trust you, that's how." He had a lot of faith in her. It was a little overwhelming. "And yeah, I get that you don't need me there, but I need to be there, hopefully helping my partner stay alive," he told her, his own emotions running amuck. "Can never have enough people watching your back, right?"

"I-I do. Need you there," she stuttered. One, because she was saying it aloud, and two, because it killed her that he thought otherwise. "I wish I didn't, for Alexis' sake, for Martha's, for yours...but I do."

Things went quiet as he took that in. "Don't worry, if I'm ever questioned, you wouldn't, nay couldn't, have just said that."

"I'm not ashamed of it." She wanted to make him understand. "Scared? Yeah. The way I trust you? Royce is the only other person I let in like that. When he retired, it felt like he was abandoning me. That wasn't what he was doing, but at the time..."

She shook her head at her complicated past. "Let's just say I took it badly. After I made detective, all I wanted was to be on my own. I eventually inherited the boys, but it wasn't...it's different. Then you showed up."

"I'm not Royce," he swore. "As long as it's up to me-"

Now she shook her head at him. "I know you aren't; you came back. Once when I didn't even want you to," she smiled, then asked a question she already knew the answer to. "But if it was up to Alexis, if she asked, you'd quit, wouldn't you?"

"She'd never ask," he hedged.

"But if she did?" She pressed.

"If she did," he reluctantly nodded.

Good, that was good. Meant there was a limit to what he'd risk, so Alexis wouldn't have to ask.

"Doesn't mean you'd be rid of me, though." Oh, he was still talking. "I might turn in my choco-tastic badge, but I wouldn't turn in my 'I (Heart) Kate Beckett' t-shirt. It's silk-very classy."

She could only stare. "Tell me you don't really..."

"I will," he promised with a grin, which was quickly replaced by...concern? "Can I, ask you something? If you're scared, how'd we get here? Pretty bold move for you."

"Castle...Rick...no. It isn't 'us' that scares me. I'm talking about work."

She was. Kate knew how it sounded, but-

"It's all the same thing," Castle believed. "Just like with Royce."

Her eyes widened at his implication, but she didn't deny it. "Figured that one out, huh?"

He shrugged. "I'm clever."

There was no humor there, and Kate wanted to kick herself for the horrible job she was doing-he wasn't getting it. "You can't compare us to whatever Royce and I were, trust me. So don't." She took a breath. "You're a better man than he is. I know, because you let me in, too. Royce never did. I told myself he did, because I thought I understood what that meant back then, but I was wrong."

Tapping him lightly on the arm, she felt his grip loosen, which allowed her to get off his lap and to her feet.

"Stand up," she said, facing him.

He looked half-frightened as he obeyed. "Um...'kay."

"So I can do this, you idiot." She drew him into a close, strong hug. "What's scary is thinking about how much fun I'm having, how glad I am that we both just figured, 'What the hell?' and didn't second guess ourselves...and then thinking, 'What happens if the next bullet doesn't miss?' That's all this is, I promise."

"Then don't think about it," he said obviously. "I'll help. I've mastered not thinking."

She smirked into his shoulder. "...Nah, too easy."

He was right, though. She had to work on not thinking about it. There was nothing else she could do.

"That...that sounded more impressive in my head," he assured her.

She bit back a laugh. "Should be the title of your autobiography."

"Too bad I already have the perfect one picked out."

She lifted her head to lean in toward his. "I'm shocked."

"Join the club," said a voice that was neither of theirs.

They ended the hug, but didn't move away. They turned to see the entirely too pleased faces of Detectives Ryan and Esposito. The latter was who'd spoken.

But then Ryan winced. "This is almost as bad as catching my parents doin' it when I was ten."


Everyone stared at the tiny Irish man.

"Dude." Esposito looked like he was considering just what was wrong with his friend. "Now I'll never be able to look your Mom and Dad in the eye again. Thanks, thanks a lot."

"Yeah," Ryan recalled the trauma, "for the whole last half of fourth grade, I couldn't either."

"There a reason you two are here, or what?" Kate glared their way.

"The free booze," they answered as one.

"But that can wait. Can't it, Detective Esposito?"

"Oh, absolutely, Detective Ryan."

The two detectives began walking in a slow, continuous circle around Kate and Castle.

Ryan put on a Cheshire Cat grin. "Soooo...whatcha doin'?"

"And how long you been doin' it for?" Esposito followed up.

"I was having an intimate, private moment with my partner," Kate revealed with unashamed ease. "Something I've-we've-done plenty for the last month."

"And four days," Castle added, always one for detail.

"No kidding," clucked Ryan, after mouthing the word, "intimate" together with Esposito to make sure they'd heard correctly. "That long?"

"Sounds kinda serious," deduced Esposito.

"What if it is? Got a problem with that?" Kate dared them.

Esposito put up his hands. "Hey, it's your lives."

"And, problem? Who would have a problem?" Ryan wondered less than innocently.

"Who indeed."

"Certainly not Lanie. I mean, even if we weren't good enough to be allowed in the 'share circle,' I'm sure she was. She's had to know for a while."

"Dunno, bro. Think I woulda I heard about it before tonight if she does. Least gotten a hint. Somethin'."

"Huh, didn't think of that. Maybe you should call her and ask."

"Good idea."

'Oh, crap,' Kate thought before stalking toward Esposito as he pulled his cell from his jacket.

"Esposito, give me the phone. Now." Her eyes narrowed, full of threats. "Or we collect our winnings from the Bet."

That stopped him cold. Castle grinned deviously at the turn of events.

Ryan also was no longer so cocky. "Whoa, what? Hang on a second..."

"Thought we decided. It was a draw," Esposito reminded the other duo.

"Yeah, but it was a pity decision," Castle reminded them in return.

"Hey, let's not do anything rash, here." Ryan attempted to play peacemaker. "No one has to call anyone."

Esposito nodded. "We just wanna hear you say it, Beckett."

"Say what?" She asked them coolly.

"'Richard Castle is my...'" Ryan helpfully got it going.

"...partner," Kate finished, knowing that wasn't what they wanted. "And among other things? I've decided to spend my private, personal time, making out with him. Don't see what the big deal is." In an abrupt one-eighty, she suddenly came off casual. That was never good. "You should know what it's like, right fellas?"

Passing her now dumbfounded, slack-jawed team members with Castle at her side biting hard on his bottom lip in an effort to contain himself, she swiftly nabbed the cell phone out of Esposito's hand. He didn't even notice.

"Buy me a drink, Castle?" She smiled slyly.

Her partner threw his arm around her shoulders as they headed upstairs. "After that? I'm buying you a bar."

Meanwhile, the boys were coming back around. They regarded one another silently a moment, getting a good look.

Until Esposito scoffed. "Like I'd ever go gay for you."

"Like I would?" Ryan retorted defensively. "I know where you've been."

"Aw, that's it." Esposito used his hardest, "bad cop" stare. "I've gotta make the call. No choice."

Ryan smiled back at him, glancing at the other man's empty hand. "Best of luck."

He slapped Esposito on the back and turned to leave.

Esposito closed that hand into a fist. "Damn. Beckett!"