I am a machine. Pumping out another chapter. My strength is my resolve.
Second 2000+ chapter in a day.
Well it's not going to be uploaded tomorrow, but just know:
I wrote it in a day.

So there is a tiny little FB, but it's marked by italics. I just hope I've managed to stay true to the characters So this chapter brings out something new I'm trying, it involves an actual murder case. Need your input desperately on this bit. Enjoy :

First Names

Morning.
It was morning at the precinct.

Kate arrived, the picture of punctuality, seating herself at her desk, setting down her cup of hot coffee. She turned on her computer, letting the machine warm up before attempting to use it, shaking the mouse frantically. She was never one for patience.

The bullpen was empty pardon herself- it was nearing six am and the world of the working had yet to arise. She didn't mind, it was quiet, not to mention dark, lit only by the dawn streaming in through the crummy windows. It was good for her thought process. Usually she loved the rush of the day, the frenzy the bullpen usually housed. But it was a nice change of pace to sit, cloaked only in a bluish light and peace.

Her computer decided it wanted to work today, and cooperated perfectly when she began her work. She tried to concentrate, she really did. But she was too preoccupied with the events of the evening before. The last night consumed her mind- took it over, so all she could do was play it over and over and over.

She slipped into her apartment, the slightly stunned face Castle wore eliciting a grin. That wasn't why she was grinning, some part of her told her. It was the same voice that was informing her in that matter-of-fact way that she heard earlier. The one that told her things she didn't want to know but needed to hear anyways. That voice. She shut the door, turning around and leaning against it, her eyes falling shut. Happy. She was smiling because she was happy. What had she just done? Part of her asked. What the hell had she just done?

Whatever it was she had done,
She decided that she didn't for a second regret it.

She took her time getting out of the dress, not quite ready to take it off. When she finally did it was with great reluctance, as she showered and slipped into bed. Her hypothesis of the evening was partially correct: she was going to bed alone tonight. It was also partially incorrect. Things would most definitely not go back to normal.

Which brought her to her current dilemma.

A million questions raced through her mind.
Would he show up today?
Would he tell anyone what happened?
Would she tell anyone what happened?
Would he try to kiss her again?
God, not at the precinct.

These things and more just like them whirled around, preventing her from getting any work done. Before she knew it, people were filtering in. Desks started filling up, lights were turned on, words were spoken, and the serenity was shattered.

All the same, the day began.

It wasn't until a few hours later, around 9 when Castle arrived. He strode in, two cups of coffee in his hand, plopping down in his familiar seat next to Beckett. "Good morning," he greeted. She eyed him carefully. He was acting normal enough. He offered one of the cups to her.

"I'm good," she said, shortly, nodding to her half-full coffee mug.

"Nonsense, that crap you insist so ardently on drinking is not coffee," he proceeded to take her mug, setting his cup in its place. "It's hot, and it is delicious- brought to you today by Dean and Deluca's." A small smile betrayed her as she gave in, sipping at the coffee.

He was right, it was delicious. She took a moment to enjoy it before forcing her eyes open and facing him.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Here to help on the case," He answered, simply.

"We don't have any open cases," she informed him, as if he didn't already know.

"Oh, you mean here here?" he asked, pointing to his chair. "I came to the precinct to check up on Karpowski's case. No, I'm here to see you," he informed her, equally as deprecatingly.

Again she sipped her coffee, this time to hide her smile.
Her stealth did not fool him, but he was wise enough to say nothing.

Before she could whip back what was no doubt going to be a witty retort, Ryan walked up. "Beckett- we got a homicide on 44th and-" he stopped short. "Hey, Castle, what are you doing here?"

Castle just shrugged. "I like it here," and for Ryan, that was enough.

"44th and Lex- Epso and I will meet you two there? That is, if Castle plans to attend?"

"Consider this my RSVP," Castle told him, earning an eye roll from Beckett.

The crime scene was a bloody one- Castle discovered this as he stepped under the yellow tape, close behind Beckett. He watched her reaction, carefully.

Horror, at first.
Then disgust.
Anger.
Fear.
Sadness.
Finally he saw sadness.

He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to comfort her.
He refrained, instead 'accidentally' brushing up against her when he joined her at her side.

"Patrick Wayne," Esposito was reading off of a notepad. "Male, white, 32, lives alone here. Downstairs neighbor came up to feed his cat, found Mr. Wayne here around 9:36 this morning."

"Feed his cat?" Beckett asked.

"Apparently, Wayne was supposed to be out of town until Tuesday. The neighbor was supposed to feed the cat, take care of the mail, pick up the paper from the doorstep, etcetera," Esposito explained. Beckett nodded, tilting her head as she absorbed the crime scene.

"Door?" she asked, making her way in a full circle around the body.

"Unlocked," Esposito answered.

"And the paper?"

"What?" he asked, confused. Normally his boss's one-word questions were routine, but this one escaped him.

Beckett indicated to the coffee table, where a thick newspaper lay. "It's Sunday, and that's the Sunday 'Times,'" she told him. "Did the neighbor set it there?"

"No," he read over the witness statement. "Why?"Suddenly, she turned around to Castle.

"What time is your Sunday paper delivered?" she asked, her head still cocked to the side, a curious expression on her face.

"Six in the morning, without fail," he told her.

"You live about five blocks from here," she thought out loud. "And the paper plant closest is uptown so moving downtown…" he could practically see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. Mental math happened- he could tell by the way she was furrowing her brows. "Our vic was alive this morning, and if my calculations are correct, he was alive at 6:20-ish. This gives us the beginning of a timeline," she announced. "I will talk to Lanie when she gets here, Ryan, I want you to talk to the head of security in the building- I want any and all camera footage. Espo- I need you to take the neighbors- I want this whole hall questioned, and you can get names from the neighbor that found him." Both Detectives nodded and hurried off, leaving Castle and Beckett alone to search the apartment. "I'll take stage left, you take stage right," she delegated.

They began the search, Castle starting in the living room and she in the kitchen, combing the place for any sign of who this man was, or why anyone would want him dead. "Hey Becks," Castle called, after a good fifteen minutes. She muted the smile that threatened to break at the nickname and peered over the counter separating them. He was sitting on the black futon, reading what looked like a book.

"What is it?

"C'mere," he beckoned, not looking up from his literature. She obliged, sitting down next to him on the futon, maybe a smidgen too close. He said nothing. "Look here," she was dangerously close as she leaned into him to see, her cheek hovering mere centimeters from his. The smell of cherries mixed with her Pantene shampoo and something uniquely hers assaulted his senses. He had to remind himself to speak.

"His calendar book?" she asked, her voice snapping him out of his reverie.

"Look under Saturday," he pointed. She did.

"It looks like he had a meeting with a John Marcus at 3 pm?" she asked, fingering the corner of the book.

"What is it with this case and names?" Castle asked, seemingly annoyed. "They all have two first names! John Marcus, Patrick Wayne,"

"Not to mention Kevin Ryan," Beckett allowed a snicker to escape her before turning serious. Before she could decide what to do with this new information, though, Lanie made her entrance.

"Hey girl, sorry I'm late. The Lincoln is backed up to Jersey, it's so bad out there," she gasped, practically dropping the heavy equipment she lugged up here. "Do you know the elevator is broken?" she asked. "I had to carry this crap up six flights of stairs," she informed them, exasperatedly. That was when she saw them sitting on the futon. "Honey," she said, all annoyance evaporated from her voice. "Is there something either of you would like to share with the class?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?" Kate asked, leaning away from Castle, as if that would fix the problem.

Oh, if looks could kill.
When the proverbial eye daggers didn't work on either of them, she arched a brow at Kate, as if to say we will talk about this later. "Where's my stiff?" she asked aloud instead.

She was shown to the body, where she knelt beside the victim and her exam began. About a half an hour later, she called for Castle and Beckett. "You were right, Kate, based on liver temp I'd say poor Patrick here kicked it around 4-6 hours ago." Kate turned to Castle.

"If TOD is say, what? 7 at the latest? And he was awake to pick up his paper, putting out kill zone between six-thirty and 7…"again she trailed off, and again, mental math was occurring.

"Once I get Mr. Wayne on my table I can probably give you a better estimate," Lanie told her.

"I need a murder board," Kate concluded, breezing out of the room. Castle wheeled around to follow her, hot on her heels.

At the precinct they both sat, staring at the murder board. It was decorated with a multitude of colored marker residue and writing, as well as adorned with the contents of the case file and crime scene photos. Castle stood, leaning against the edge of her desk and Kate beside him, sitting on top of her desk, her arms crossed, brows stitched together. Night had fallen, the digital clock was glowing midnight and they were the only ones left in the bullpen, draping them in not only a yellow glow but a comfortable silence.

He reached out, placing an open hand on her shoulder, pulling her into him. She didn't protest, letting him rope her in, letting herself relax in his comforting hold. "How are you doing, KB? He asked her. She pulled away a little so she could look up.

"We need to talk," she told him.

"I know," he smiled, his thumb rubbing her arm up and down, soothingly.

"About last night-"

"Please don't tell me things are going to go back to normal," he said, quietly. She looked at him, sideways, confused.

"Normal?" she asked him.

"To how it was before. I don't want that, Kate. Let's take what happened last night and start from there."His words touched her heart. "I like you, a lot more than I could ever let you know. And don't say last night wasn't a date, that it didn't mean something, that that dance didn't mean something, that that kiss didn't mean something, cause it did. Mellissa is nobody to me. Other women- they're nobody. It's just you, Kate. It always has been."

She took a moment to process his speech before replying.

"How long did it take you to come up with that?" she murmured.

"All night, and maybe a little of today," he admitted. The air around them immediately lightened a little. "But?"

"I don't want things to go back to normal," she began, slowly, raking her brain for the right words. "But I'm not ready for… anything more?" it was a question. "I just…I need to think about things," she told him. "Let me get through this case, and then we can sit and talk about it?"He nodded.

"That's a good idea," he told her. "But for right now," he stood up straight and held out a hand. "It's midnight, neither of us has had a real meal, and I am exhausted. Let me get you a burger and drive you home," he said. She cracked one of the smiles she had been suppressing all day and slipped her hand in his, letting him pull her off the desk.

What should happen now?
It is up to you, the readers.
You really do decide what happens, and how fast you get to read about it.
Should I continue following the case, or should I ditch it and move the fluff along?

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