Everyone who got the "Let's go with chocolate reference" in the last chapter gets a hug okay :)

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world, mad world

Beckett got home at about 7pm that night, stumbling in on a tired, yet cheerful, Josh Davidson cooking her dinner. They ate peacefully together, murmuring small talk and exchanging stories about their days. When they finished they both did the dishes (despite Josh insisting that he should do it) and soon ended up curled up on the couch together watching TV.

"You know," Beckett started, "I feel like having a bath," she voiced, standing up, not mentioning to Josh the real reason why.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, about to get off the couch too.

"Urm, yes..." she spoke unsurely, receiving a confused look from the man in her apartment, "I just need some alone time," she explained. It wasn't a complete lie and Kate didn't want to hurt his feelings but she could practically feel Heat Wave burning a hole in her bag all afternoon at the precinct. She was dying to read it.

"Yeah, no I get it," muttered Josh schooling his features, "You've had a long day."

"Exactly. I won't be long, I promise," she uttered, leaving her boyfriend in front of the TV. She inwardly kicked herself, reminding herself that you were supposed to want to spend time with your boyfriend, not space from him.

Shrugging off that thought, Beckett started running the bath and, knowing it would take a while to fill up, went into her bedroom to collect Castle's manuscript still hidden in her purse. She grinned at it, biting her lip reading the words "Richard Castle" written on the bottom of the cover. Shaking her head, Kate returned to the bathroom and lit the candles scattered around the room, placing her wine glass and Castle's manuscript on the side.

Baths were what the detective considered her haven, her sanctuary. It was where she had read every single one of Castle's novels and this was her favourite pastime: not catching killers, not even working on her mother's murder, it was simply settling down with one of Castle's books, reading until she almost fell asleep.

Beckett was excited to see what this new novel would be about as Castle refused to tell her earlier. She knew it would be about murders or CIA agents one way or another (those were his specialties after all), but she loved to see what kinds of characters he had created too. The relationships they held with each other drew her in as well as puzzling out in her mind who the killer could be. The detective had now made it a game with Castle to try to figure out which character was the murderer before the end of the book. So far she hadn't done too badly, if she said so herself.

Kate ran her hand up and down the length of the bath under the water, mixing and swirling the warmth around until the bath tub was full enough. She then squirted some bubble bath in for good measure and stripped off, dropping her clothes in a pile in the corner of the room. Climbing in, the detective smiled at the sensation of the heat surrounding her. It felt homely, safe.

She took a quick sip of wine, and then turned her attention to the manuscript sat beside her. Kate flicked open the book and within a few pages it soon became abundantly clear that she was Nikki Heat.

They were all there: Ryan, Espo, even Lanie had been turned into fiction. Given their names in the novel weren't that different to their names in real life, it wasn't challenging to work out. Shortly afterwards came the biggest surprise yet – Jameson Rook. That's right, Rook; as in chess piece 'rook', as in the piece that looked like a castle. Yup, the reporter was based on Castle: the witty comments, the inappropriate jokes, they were all there.

The way in which Nikki was acting with Rook was a little bit like how Beckett's relationship with Castle had started out. However, Castle was less of an ass in real life and much more sensitive; more of a family man than Jameson. And Kate was less aggressive toward Castle than Nikki was towards Rook, less frustrated with him. But it was, in the end, just fiction.

She continued to skim through the pages and was coming towards the end of Chapter Three when it emerged that Nikki Heat's mother had been murdered one Thanksgiving and the case remained unsolved. It reminded her of her own mother's murder and that was undoubtedly why Nikki had a backstory. Kate wanted to cry, be outraged at the fact that he had written in something so personal, so true, into the novel without even asking her permission. She had never even mentioned her mother to Castle, not told him how the NYPD had written it off as "random gang violence". As far as she knew Castle didn't know anything about it. But showed how well he knew her, didn't it?

Kate couldn't stop the tears threatening to spill down on face, so she just let go. She placed the manuscript on the side and sobbed, wishing her mother was still alive and with her. She wished that her father had never turned to alcohol, that she didn't have an obsession over her mother's death, that she wasn't afraid to love someone again. The tears were streaming faster, keeping her in a state of grief and self-pity. The detective wanted that wall inside her gone; she wanted to be free from the pain and suffering of death. She wanted so much. And one man (or woman) had snatched all of that away from her leaving her wondering "would I ever be happy again?"

"You are when you're with Castle," small voice at the back of her head reminded her, "he makes you feel alive again." Beckett willed the words to stop, but they wouldn't. She needed him, she wanted him, would do anything for him. Did he love her? She only wished he did.

Eventually Kate stopped weeping and the water around her was starting to get cold. She dried her face on a nearby towel and decided that she was done reading for the night - she just wanted to go to sleep and long for her demons leave her soul. The detective clambered out of the tub, watching the water trickle off of her skin and pulled a warm fluffy robe around her, shielding her from all the darkness in the world if only for a moment.

She checked in the mirror, luckily the heat from the water masked the fact that she had been crying. Kate slipped out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom, carrying her bundle of clothes and trying as hard as possible not to bump into Josh in the small space of her apartment. Shutting the door behind her, Beckett breathed a small sigh of relief and took a second to collect her thoughts. She placed her clothes in the wash basket and then laid Castle's manuscript in the draw beside her bed, finding some leggings and a long purple top to dress herself in along the way.

"Kate?" Josh knocked on the door, wanting to give the cop her boundaries, "Is everything okay?" he asked.

Beckett frowned. Josh wasn't a bad guy; in fact he was a very nice guy: smart, sweet, handsome. But he wasn't Castle. She told herself that she was keeping one foot out the door just in case, but that wasn't it. She didn't love him. Not in the way that she felt about Castle. And so the detective felt guilty; it wasn't fair to be leading him on like this, but at the same time she wasn't sure if she could face being alone again.

"You can come in, Josh," she spoke, somehow managing to hide to waiver in her voice and plastered a fake smile onto her face. "What were you asking?"

After seeing she was fine, the worry dissipated from the doctor's face, "Oh, erm, nothing," he shrugged. He didn't comment on the fact that he had heard her weeping in the bathroom.

"Good. I was going to get an early night's sleep. I'm just tired," she justified, running a hand through her wet hair.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed. Thankfully Josh had already put his pyjamas on and jumped straight under the covers, with Beckett following soon after.

"Night Kate," he whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek.

"Night Josh," she yawned and drifted to sleep.

Death. Blood and death; the stench filling her nostrils in the alleyway as Detective Beckett walked up to the crime scene with Esposito and Ryan following close behind her. She turned the corner and there by the trash cans she saw Castle's lifeless body positioned in the same way in which they found her mother; the dark red liquid continuing to ooze out of his many stab wounds, staining the concrete crimson.

"Castle!" she screamed rushing towards him, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. His body was still warm, it must have just happened and her clothes were now covered in his blood. "Castle, please," she wept. "Castle, I need you, come back," she begged, bringing her lips close to his forehead and shaking him slightly as her tears dripped onto his body. "Castle, please," Kate sobbed. "I love you Castle, I love you. Don't leave me, please. Please," she kissed the top of his forehead and begged for him to look at her again, and again, and again...

Kate woke up covered in sweat, tears streaming down the sides of her face. It was a dream... it was only a dream.

She looked over to see if she had disturbed Josh but he was in a deep slumber. After that nightmare she knew it wasn't likely she would get to sleep again, even if it was only 1am. Beckett dragged herself out of bed, grabbed a change of clothes and headed towards the bathroom. She washed her face down with a flannel and her arms too, trying to wash away the nightmare and drown the urge to call Castle, rising in her chest.

She had the barista's number for reasons such as this but she figured it would be inappropriate to call him at this time in the morning. The detective remembers him giving it to her, when there was a case she had finished working on that reminded her of her mother's, only Kate would probably never get any closure herself. He had found her completely by chance on the swing set in a park a few blocks away. She used to go there often with her mother and she simply sat there as tiny droplets of rain fell around her, penetrating into the ground.

"Beckett?" Castle questioned walking towards her, kept safe from the downpour by an umbrella. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting on the swings," she stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He wasn't sure what to do so he just sat down on the swing next to her.

"And... Is there a particular reason why you're sat on a swing in the middle of a storm?"

She shrugged, "Not really," Kate lied, obscuring her face away from him with a lock of her hair that fallen out from behind her ear. Castle knew when and when not to push her, he had known her long enough; and right now was definitely not the time to push her. He reached out his hand, Beckett watching him carefully, as he tucked the strand of hair tenderly behind her ear, their eyes never averting from each other's gaze. Her skin felt cold against his palm and Kate shivered slightly against his touch. He needed to get her somewhere warm, and fast.

"Come on," he murmured, pushing himself off the swing.

"Where are we going?" the detective asked.

"Muse. You look like you need the coffee... and the warmth."

Castle had just come back from the public library, fortunately spotting her during the rainfall. If he hadn't seen her she didn't know what she would've done. Probably stay there, getting hypothermia and emotionally distressed for another half an hour in the cold.

When they got back to Muse her gave her a latte and his number, "Just in case you need someone to talk to," he promised. She had called him a few times, usually when she needed cheering up. When she called him it was very intimate, private. They never spoke about her issues face to face.

Unsure of what to do and missing the barista, Beckett decided to read some more of Heat Wave, however annoyed she was that he had written about her mother in it. In all fairness, he did write about the tragedy with incredible passion and understanding. No, she wasn't that mad.

Kate collected it from her bedroom, retreated to the living room and sat on the couch. As she kept flicking through the novel it became evident that there was some strong sexual chemistry between Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook, not much unlike her and Castle's own. "He must feel it too," she thought, and her heart fluttered.

By Chapter 9 it was relatively obvious that they were going to get together; but with body shots? Really? What kind of girl did he take her for?

Nikki and Rook went on to sleep together and Kate couldn't help but feel a sense of yearning to be with Castle. If they would be anywhere as good together as the fictional versions of them, then what the hell were they waiting for? She wanted to be with him and Heat Wave was a pretty clear indicator that he wanted to be with her; they were both such a mess. This whole 'just friends' issue and fear for losing one another was holding them back for what they could truly be together – amazing.

Beckett sighed and continued to read. Before she knew it she had finished the book, saying goodbye the characters kissing in the rain. It was 5am and shortly the detective fell asleep wrapped in a blanket. But this time, instead of being haunted by her demons, Kate dreamt of everything she and Castle could be... she only wished it were real.

A/N: I felt so American writing "couch" all the time... Why can't you guys just call it a sofa? Sofa is cuter :D Hope you enjoyed! X Verity.