Author's Note: From this point forward is where things will start to deviate more from established canon. I appreciate those who are along for the ride so far, and urge everyone to keep reading (despite the fact that, yes, I am a maniac who currently has three on-going multi-chapter Castle fics, on top of a Buffyverse on-going fic, and a novel I'm trying to finish). Reviews are appreciated! Also, for those curious, my headcast for Ricki Castle is none other than Eliza Dushku, so there's that.

The Old Haunt…

Ricki's face lit up as soon as she saw Detective Beckett walk into the bar, and she downed her shot glass without breaking her gaze. Kate was wearing the same thing she was wearing at the precinct earlier that day, and though Ricki enjoyed this particular ensemble, she figured she would like anything the cop decided to wear.

Even if it was nothing. Especially if it was nothing.

Ricki cleared her throat when the bartender refilled her shot glass, raising it to Detective Beckett when she joined her at the bar. Pointing at Kate, Ricki flagged down the bartender again. "Whatever she wants. On my tab."

Beckett nodded. "Beer. Whatever's on tap."

With the bartender off to fetch Beckett's drink, she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gave Ricki a sideways glance over her hunched shoulder. This place was quieter than Kate had expected; just the din of conversation to keep them company.

"I see you started without me."

Ricki flashed a toothy grin and shrugged. "Hey, I got a reputation to uphold."

Beckett laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head. "Which one is that? Ricki Castle, the party animal or Ricki Castle, the serial sex fiend?"

Ricki arched her brows. "Wouldn't you like to know, B?" She saw Beckett's face scrunch at the nickname, downing her shot and waving her hand. "Sorry. Beckett." The bartender returned to give Beckett her beer and fill Ricki's glass again, though the writer motioned to the bartender that this would be her last one.

Ricki wanted to drink, but she wanted to make sure she remembered this night.

"Let me ask you something, Detective." Ricki leaned against the bar, silently glad she changed out of her button-down and into a more form-fitting black t-shirt and jeans. It wasn't a look Ricki sported often – only when she was angling for a reaction. "Why'd you ask me out tonight?"

Beckett took a moment to sip at her beer, as if she were buying herself time to answer the question – and judging from the look on her face, that was exactly what she was doing. Ricki smirked to herself when she saw the detective's eyes flick sideways, down then up.

Detective Beckett, are you checking me out?

"To say thank you." Kate tried to keep things light, safe. "For your insight on the case. And for apologizing to me."

Ricki raised her glass in a toast, which Beckett reciprocated, before downing her shot with a hiss. "Hey, no big." She shrugged. "I'm just glad to see the right guy go to jail. And my publicist tells me the whole thing will only help book sales."

Beckett shot Ricki a look of disbelief. "You told your publicist?!"

"No!" Ricki put her hands up as if she were being held at gunpoint. "Paul read about it in the paper this morning. I swear!"

Beckett smirked, as if she'd pushed the exact button she wanted to, taking a long swig of her beer before twirling the mug in her hands. She cast another sideways glance at the writer, biting her lip.

"So my dad tells me he met you today."

Ricki was suddenly re-thinking the whole not-drinking-anymore-tonight thing. She nodded and sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah, at the coffee shop."

Kate shook her head. "I hope he didn't embarrass me too bad."

"Nope." Ricki leaned in so she could lower her voice. Having to raise it a little over everyone else in the bar was making her throat start to hurt. "He told me about Johanna liking my books. He, uh…" Ricki looked down at the floor. "He showed me a picture she had taken with me at a book signing."

Beckett studied Ricki, noting the subtle shifts in her facial expression. "Is that why you apologized to me?"

Ricki shook her head. "I was gonna do that anyway. I actually had the box with me when he came up to my table." She sucked in a deep breath, reaching up to undo the ponytail and let her brown locks flow out over her shoulders. If Ricki didn't know any better, she could've sworn she heard Beckett gasp.

"Look…I know you're not that fond of me. You think I'm obnoxious, in the way, like a 9-year-old on a sugar rush. And most of the time…yeah, that's me. But…" Her brown eyes flickered downward. "I'm bored, Beckett. That's why Storm Fall is my last Derrick Storm novel. But see, when I hear things like what Jim told me today, about how much my work meant to your mother – to you – that has me wanting to write again." She shrugged. "I just don't know what yet."

Kate nursed her beer, letting Ricki go on her rant. She wanted to curse her father later for admitting to Beckett being a fan, but really, who was she kidding? Ricki had already pegged her as such during the interrogation.

And she was respectful and, frankly, in awe over the way her mother enjoyed her work, so Beckett couldn't really give her too hard a time for it, right?

"This watch is my father's." Beckett pointed at her wrist. "He took mom's death hard – probably harder than I did. He's been sober five years now. So…this is for the life I saved." She pulled at the chain around her neck, placing her thumb in the ring as her voice hitched. "And this is…for the life I lost."

Ricki wanted to reach over and give Detective Beckett a hug, to just squeeze her in her arms for having to shoulder that much burden, that much personal responsibility, over the years. She did, however, reach her hand across to Kate's, cupping it and fighting the urge to smile when the detective didn't pull away the hand.

Instead, Kate stared at Ricki's hand on hers before her eyes flicked up to the author's. It almost looked as if Ricki was hypnotized by Kate. It wasn't really anything new – Ricki had stolen glances or stared every chance she got, but there was something different about this gaze. It felt more genuine.

"So what about you, Castle?" Kate sucked in a deep breath to steel herself. "What skeletons do you have in your closet?"

"You mean aside from two ex-husbands, one of whom just happens to also be my publisher?" There was that urge to start drinking again. "I don't have a father." She admitted, struggling to hold Detective Beckett's gaze, even as her hand was still clasped over Kate's. "Well, I do – obviously – but I've never met him."

Beckett chewed on her lip. "I'm sorry…"

Ricki shrugged. "It's not so bad. Mother raised me fine, considering. And I've got Alexis."

Beckett cocked her head to the side. "Alexis…?"

"When you came to my book party the other night." Ricki reluctantly removed her hand from Beckett's, not wanting to seem overly anxious to touch her – even though she was. "The redhead sitting with me? That's my daughter."

"I didn't know you had any children."

"And here I thought you were a fan." Ricki teased before shaking her head. "She's from my first marriage. I had her while I was in college, actually, not that long after my first book got published." Another shrug. "Martin and I split when she was four, and it's been pretty much just me and her ever since."

"And where's Martin been?"

Ricki shook her head and stared at her fingers. Truth be told, she didn't miss him, but the fact that he was never around for her daughter was always a bit of a sore spot. Alexis didn't seem to mind – or if she did, she never said anything.

"L.A. Paris. Wherever the next gig is." Ricki glanced at the detective, surprised to find empathy in her eyes. "One time, Martin showed up out of the blue when Alexis was nine, wanted to pull her out of school and just…take her to Paris."

"What happened?"

"I told him no and kicked him out of my life. I wasn't about to let him just take my daughter and get her hopes up like that." She waved at the bartender, deciding she wanted another drink after all. "No parent's better than a bad parent."

"I'm sorry." This time, Beckett's hand rested on top of Ricki's, and before she could even think about it, she turned her hand over so their fingers interlocked. Their eyes met, and a hopeful smile crept onto Ricki's face.

"You're not wrong." Beckett stared at their interlocked hands. "About how I wasn't fond of you. Not at first. I mean…" She shook her head, slowly pulling her hand away, careful not to let Ricki think she was eager to break the contact.

"My first impression of you – as a person – wasn't very good." Beckett's eyes locked with Ricki's. "You were flippant about the victims and you spent half the interrogation prodding at me and flirting."

Ricki nodded. "And then my stunt last night…"

"I know you didn't mean anything by it." Beckett shrugged. "You were just being…you, I guess. But it did sting, and I appreciate that you apologized for it. Maybe you're not as bad as I thought."

A playful smile cracked onto Ricki's face. "Or maybe I am and I just hide it well."

Beckett huffed a laugh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" She downed the rest of her beer with a sideways grin.

Emboldened – by either the alcohol or something else she couldn't quite place – Ricki sat up a little straighter with one of her knowing, smug grins, the kind that screamed Yeah, I'm hot shit, and don't I know it. "Not when I'm around you, Detective."

Beckett laughed, which was so not the reaction Ricki expected. She was half-expecting to be shot down or admonished, but she made Beckett laugh. It wasn't one of those I can't believe this girl laughs with a head shake and an eyeroll; it was a genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh, and Ricki was struck by how Beckett's face lit up when she smiled.

Ricki chewed on her lip, thinking she would have to make Kate Beckett smile as often as possible from this point forward.

Beckett finished her beer, flashing Ricki another smile as she stood. "I'd love to stay and continue this little chat…" She threw a glance the writer's way that screamed Believe me, I would love to. "…but I'm on call in the morning, and I don't want a body dropping while I'm nursing a hangover."

Ricki swallowed the disappointment and nodded. "Of course, Detective."

Beckett leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Ricki's cheek, and the author felt like her stomach was doing back flips. She watched as Beckett straightened again, averting her gaze with a tiny grin on her face, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

"Call me sometime, Castle."

Ricki was again left speechless – twice in as many days – watching with mouth agape as Beckett slipped through the crowd and walked out the door. The bartender arrived with the check, smirking at the look on Ricki's face.

"I take it she's good company?"

Ricki shook her head and grinned. "Extraordinary…"

Ricki Castle's loft…

Ricki was glad she hadn't drank any more than she did, because her head was clear enough – even at three in the morning – that she found herself writing for the first time in months. Light from her laptop bathed her face, piercing the pitch black that was otherwise her office. Her fingers tapped rapidly against the keys, biting her lip in concentration.

So engrossed in this new story, was Ricki, that she didn't notice when the door to her office opened. If it were possible, her fingers went even faster over the keyboard, the words flowing with ease.

She hadn't felt like this in a long, long while. Writing was easy again. Fun.

Martha leaned against the doorway, watching her daughter with a bemused smirk. She was thankful for the dark hiding the bags under her eyes. Not wanting to disturb Ricki, Martha waited for a break.

Finally, she got one.

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes." Martha grinned and pushed herself off the doorway. "What happened, kiddo? Another threat from George."

"No, mother." Ricki sat back with a shit-eating grin on her face, leaning back in her chair and clasping her hands together on the back of her head. "I've been…inspired."

The writer frowned, glancing at the clock. "What are you doing here so late?"

Martha waved dismissively. "The after party ran long. It was easier to just come here to crash for the night than go home." The redhead crossed to the back of Ricki's desk, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder and glancing at the laptop.

"Soooo…do we have a replacement for Derrick Storm?"

"I hope so." Ricki lowered her arms and smiled up at Martha. "Mother, remember the case the police were working on? The murders that looked like my books?"

Martha blanched and nodded.

"Well…" A knowing smile played across the writer's face. "One of the detectives working the case, Detective Beckett, she…made quite the impression on me."

Martha arched her brows and placed a hand on her hip. "An impression."

Ignoring the inquisitive glare being sent her way, and the knowing tone with which Martha repeated her words, Ricki resumed writing, a sideways grin splayed across her face as word after word poured out onto the screen. She punched the period key as her grin broke out into a smile before scrolling up to the top of the page, turning the monitor to Martha.

"Mother…" Ricki stood and beamed with pride. "Say hello to Detective Nikki Heat."