It's taunting him… laughing at him… sneering at him from the safety it knows it has behind the screen. He's been keeping its menacing tempo with his finger, tapping against his knuckle as he clasps his hands together, resting his mouth against them. One flash every second, the most sinister thing ever to rear its ugly head since before he's met her.

Writer's block.

That thin line blinking him in the face has been mocking him ever since she said no and ran out of his life. And he's been sitting in front of his laptop for at least three hours now, in complete silence, in an overly spacious pent house in DC that Gina got him as a surprise for his agreement to narrate those stupid audio books. He hates audio books. Just put in the effort and read the book, he's done his part in writing it.

But now, staring at the endless bottomless pit that is the blank white screen shining in his face, sitting on the large couch with his laptop sitting on the table in front of it, still tapping his finger to the beat of the flashing line in Word, his mind is clouded with… nothingness. Ideas dimly flickering, but never igniting the story. Sentences starting, but never forming.

Oh yeah, he's done plenty of research to write ten more books, Mother. She wasn't wrong, so why can't he just do it? "Oh, when are you gonna write another Nikki Heat book?" He mockingly sneers to himself as he stands up and slowly starts to pace his way across his hotel room, crossing his arms. "Just as soon as that stupid line quits blinking at me." He says with clenched teeth and a frustrated wave of his arm through the air.

His head is starting to hurt. He wants to just bang it against something, wanting to physically knock some sense into himself. He's been going crazy ever since he got to DC. He even imagined seeing her at that book signing yesterday. It was like a ghost, catching the glimpse of the petite figure of a woman he'd recognize anywhere, shooting past the window. Maybe he does need to hit his head against something, because there is clearly something loose in there, maybe that's what keeping him from being able to write anything.

He paces his way back behind the couch, staring down the screen of his laptop as if it's challenged him to a duel. A duel he is losing, but is determined to win. He's going to come up with something if it kills him. He's a professional, bestselling writer for God's sake, it really shouldn't be this hard. He can feel his jaw click as his screen saver comes up, turning the screen black. Letting out a frustrated groan, he feels his arms tense and flex in anger with himself.

Accepting temporary defeat to his foe, he leans forward against the back of the couch with his head hanging heavily. It's just a few seconds after that that he hears a rapid fire knock on the door. He didn't call for any room service or anything, and his flight home isn't scheduled till Monday. He quickly goes around the white leather couch in the pent house suite and pulls open the door with unaware naivety.

His eyes go wide, his blood quickly thickens in his veins, his heart jumps into his throat, and his emotions are flashing so quickly, he honestly can't decide what he's supposed to be feeling looking at the woman in front of him. In a pair of pressed black slacks, a tight white blouse, a black blazer, and hair pulled back into a tight ponytail with her hands clasped almost gingerly in front of her as she looks down to the floor between them, he can't help but wonder if he's just seeing things like he did yesterday.

Still paralyzed, he doesn't react to her looking up with a soft smile and crinkling hazel green eyes. "Hey Castle." Her voice sounds like her; soft, soothing, airy when she's not entirely confident of herself.

His mouth falls open, but his vocal chords are seized up. "Uh…" He struggles, his subconscious mind trying to force its way to his frontal lobe to tell him that it's her, she's really here, just like he fantasized about, do something. "Hey." He says, surprising himself by lifting his voice in an honest friendly greeting.

Kate spindles from side to side as she stands in his doorway, head turned down, looking at him through the veil of her lashes. "I-I uh… I heard you were in town, so…" She says with a small voice, still surprising him with her nervousness. "I figured I'd stop by."

His mouth still hangs open, at a complete loss for words. He knows what he should be feeling; anger, hurt, pain, anguish. But he just feels a lightness to him, like she's just sucking everything out of him. She's always had a way of doing that. All he can muster is a blink and a small nod.

Her brow lifts as she lifts up her hand. "Mind if I come in?"

It's in that second that the old version of himself comes crawling back, the version of himself that will put him through hell to be around her just because of the way she makes him feel. He is well aware of this as his muscles make the decision to step aside that it's not healthy… but he loves her. He steps off to the side with a smile and lifts his hand, gesturing her inside. "Not at all."

She flashes a crocked smile as she sheepishly steps past him, her shoulders sunken in, her hands clasped, and making sure the distance between them is noticeable as she goes past him. His heart starts to pull as he slides the door closed behind her, turning back around to watch her slowly make her way into his hotel room.

He's still taken aback by her beauty. It has a way of shutting down his meager defenses, making him feel weak. "So uh…" She starts, turning around to take a step backward, leaving him to slowly follow her inside, "you look good… like you've lost weight."

He can feel himself smile at her compliment, but can't help miss the sour taste of awkwardness permeating the air between them. "You…" He starts, lifting a hand as his eyes jealously rake over her, watching as she puts on leg over the other and twists her hips, as if on cue. "You look like every conspiracy theorists fantasy."

She gives him a knowing smirk, and he would think that she was sexily teasing him if it were any other time. "You mean yours?"

"You know how I love a good conspiracy theory." He says with the same smirk she has. It isn't until the words leap off his tongue that he snaps his mental filter back in place, realizing that that isn't them anymore. He doesn't have the right to say those things to her anymore, to be this teasing and… and charming.

But she just widens her smile and looks down to the floor as she twists her ankle around.

With another awkward silence befalling them, standing a good distance apart from each other, a thought floats into his mind. "How'd you know where to find me?" She looks up from the floor, and his mental filter falls away before he can stop it. "Let me guess. NSA spying is actually real?"

She narrows her eyes and grins. "I don't have that kind of clearance, Castle." She tells him, starting to meander off to the side in front of him.

"So I guess a Men in Black memory eraser is out of the question then?" He jokes, slowly starting to follow her through the hotel room.

"Not standard issue, I'm afraid." She says with her lips pursed.

"Laser watch?"

"After that little incident with my microwave? I don't think so, Castle."

"Hey, I said I was sorry about that." He says, looking over to her with a shrug in his shoulders, and an arch in his brow. Her smile is soft, bright, happy, and it reminds him yet again that this isn't supposed to be them anymore.

"So…" She says, a strain sounding like it's gripping her voice as she turns to a stop, facing him, "I didn't expect to find you here alone."

His brow pushes together, meandering away from her a bit. "What do you mean?" He knows that they broke up, but she at least has to think more of him than that.

"Well… it's just…" She nervously says, her eyes seeming hurt. "I-I stopped by your book reading yesterday, and… a-and I heard you say that you were seeing someone, so…"

His eyes flick around, flipping back through the memory of that long event he had to do the day before, and when he realizes his, his eyes roll and his tense muscles relax a bit. "Oh, that?" He can see her eyes soften a bit, from concentrated anxiousness to pure wondering. "Beckett… I just say that so they won't hit on me."

Her head shakes a bit, her lips puckered out as if lost for words, blinking rapidly as she stammers. "What?"

"You'd be surprised how fast women throwing themselves at you loses its appeal after..." being with you, "a while." He corrects himself, snapping his filter back in place in the nick of time. He sees her smile break out for just a split second as she looks away, breathing out an airy chuckle, the aura of tenseness surrounding her seeming to drop. And then, his pull, his curiosity, a question he probably doesn't want answered gets asked. "What about you?"

Her eyes find his again, wide in wondering what he's asking.

"Anyone sweep you off your feet yet?" He asks her, heart pounding in his throat despite the casualness of the question.

She softens her eyes with a shake of her head. "I'm still trying to come down from the last time that happened." She answers, looking him straight in the eye, silently telling him what he hopes she means.

"So that was you I saw." He says, taking a step toward her. She just nods sharply, looking away again. "You couldn't have said hi?" He asks with his voice soft and deep.

"Well…" She starts on a small chuckle, "seeing you again after…" you said you didn't want to marry me? "what happened…" She corrects his thoughts, "it…" She struggles, shaking her head as she grasps for words.

He nods, lifting a hand to save her from her stammering. "No, I get it." God, this is so awkward. A part of him wants to grab her up and kiss her just to break the air between them, or maybe to shut himself up so he won't say anything stupid. He could tell her to just get out, like any normal person would, but that self-destructive habit seems to be harder to kill than he gave it credit for.

"Good, then…" She says, her voice more solid now as she squares off her shoulders to him, lifting her neck to look at him in the eye, the first time she's done since he let her in, "why don't you come by tonight? We can catch up."

He decides that he just needs to be honest with her now. With a shake of his head, he begins, "Kate-"

But she stops him, "Rick." She says softly, putting her hand up to stop him, "please." She says, blindsiding him with her plead. "There's just some things I want to say."

He lets out a long, draining breath and feels his shoulders tense. But after a few seconds, he betrays himself for her. "Okay."

Her lips break into a smile before she seems to correct herself with a nod. "I'll uh…" She says, her long legs stepping off to the side to move over to the counter, "I'll write down the address for you." As she goes about to quickly write down her address, he can't help but drink her in. He tries to remind himself that she broke his heart, and that it was her that destroyed what they had, but he can't help but just be drawn to her.

She turns around with a scrap of paper in her hand, still emitting nervousness and awkwardness, both of them guilty of it.

"So, seven thirty?"

"That'll work."

She smiles softly again with a huff of air, her eyes unmistakably sparkling at him and hands him the scrap of paper. He takes it from her, mindfully careful not to brush her fingers with his. But as she looks toward the door, she starts toward it and lifts her hand, gently placing it on his right bicep as she passes, only letting go when she's out of reach.

His breath feels stolen from him as he watches her leave, feeling as if she's sucking every bit of him that said it was all her fault right out of him. And once she closes the door behind her, he draws in a long breath and exhales in a long sigh. Maybe it's his fault; for letting her go at all, for not giving her enough of a reason to stay, for not pushing her enough, or maybe for expecting that she may have even wanted to marry him at all.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head again, blaming himself for getting them into this situation at all, and throws himself back in front of his laptop on the couch, tapping against the keyboard to bring back up that same menacing screen, that…

He stops, looking back toward the door she just walked out of, then back down to the blank screen, putting his fingers over the keys. He isn't feeling blocked… but pulled. He pauses to look to where he last saw her.

It's just seconds after that the duel he'd been losing for months is won, and the words start flowing again.


A/N: Really loved the response I got from the last chapter. Overwhelmed! Not as sure about this chapter, it felt off for some reason. But hopefully the next chapter will feel more... natural, I guess. Let me know what you think. :)