Heat Wave


High above the passerbys of the city of New York, the music, the liquor, the laughter and chatter continues endlessly into the evening. The stars alit across the sky; a cool September nights air rolls by outside as Richard Castle takes one last long look at the twinkling nights skyline, bravely turning opening the balcony door to the party that is for him. It is on this night that the fine citizens of Manhattan have gathered in his honour; to celebrate yet another bestseller amidst expensive wine, rich music and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

A lively band plays as Castle enters, smiling and nodding to a woman as she approaches; a pen out for him, a book to sign.

"Who do I make this out to?" he asks, leaning into her so she may hear him amidst the noise, the ruckus of 500 hundred people gathered into one hall.

"Victoria," she says curtly, tilting her head, a finger tracing the line of her bosom.

She smiles as she notices Castle's gaze falling to her, following her graceful finger. He smiles shyly, quickly finishing his insignia before closing the book, returning it to her. Victoria smiles warmly as she opens the book, reading over what he has written; ten digits accompany his autograph. She looks up to see him walk away. He does not turn, does not she her jump slightly into the air holding the book to her chest.

"Richard!" a familiar voice calls out to him from behind a couple talking casually. He turns to see Gina, his ex-wife, slithering toward him, fangs barred.

She is adorned in a tight fitted, red dress which falls to her knees. Stiletto heels compliment her outfit, a clutch purse in her hand. She waves at him, drawing his attention. He finally brings himself to smile at her.

"Hello, Gina," he says through clenched teeth. "You're looking quite vixen this evening." He looks down at her his eyes travelling over her body, "That's a very lovely shade of red. What is it? 'Evening slut'?"

Gina looks up, glaring, her lip curling, "Charming Richard. It's no wonder I divorced your ass years ago."

He holds up a hand, an index finger pointing her in the shoulder, "Ah. I believe it was me that divorced your ass, Gina. I believe his name was Ricardo. Your yoga instructor. Am I correct?"

A wry smile stretches across her face, lips thining, "His name was Sven, Richard," she pauses shaking her head, "Ricardo. You're so full of yourself. But of course-" she cuts herself short, eyes falling to the back of the room. "Well I'll be damned."

Richard follows her line of sight to the back where, through a crowd of people, through the hush of his guests, he makes out the figure of one Detective Kate Beckett. Dressed in a short strapless, black, tight fitted dress, she enters the room on the arm of FBI agent Will Sorenson. Castle feels his stomach tighten and shifts in his stance. It has been weeks since he has seen her. Weeks since he has heard her speak.

"Did you invite her?" he asks weakly, unable to take his eyes off her.

"Of course I did," she says tilting her head back to look at him, "The woman sells Richard. Since your little article in Cosmo, the books have been flying off the shelves." She looks him up and down. "Are you really that slow?"

Without looking her way, he begins to take a step from her, "Maybe," he says in monotone.

"What happened between you two anyway?" she questions, "She not enough woman for you Richard?" She reaches up to grab the lapels on his jacket, "Did you miss your Gina?"

He smiles down at her releasing her hands from his jacket, and continutes to take steps away from her, "You were more than enough woman for the both of us, Gina. That's why I dumped your ass all those years ago."

He edges through the crowd, taking slow steps toward his intended. Sorenson sees him first and in making motions toward Beckett, reaches out to touch her arm. He muffles something before Castle reaches them. Beckett turns to face him.

Castle smiles shyly as he reaches them and takes a careful look over Beckett's body, following long slender lines, curves, calves quickly reaching her face once more. Her eyes dark and smokey, she looks at him with desperation. Not a word escapes them.

"Nice shindig you have here," Sorenson says, leaning toward Castle so he may be heard.

"Thank you," Castle says flatly, eyes held with Beckett's.

He reaches out slowly and takes her hand from her hip, holding it gently with both hands. "You look fantastic," he says warmly now, bringing her hand to his lips.

She allows him the moment, caught in his stare. When he finally releases her, his eyes closing at the touch of his lips to her skin, her hands shakes and she pulls it away unsteadily.

"Thank you, Castle," she says, voice breaking, taking a step toward Sorenson, her sight focusing on something on the floor.

"I'm glad you came," Castle says pulling away from Beckett's body, looking to Will.

"Is that so," Will scoffs, leaning into Beckett, a hand to her lower back.

The air awkward, Castle follows his movements on her back, finally hooking a thump into his right pocket. His other arm he extends, bending it at the elbow, drawing Beckett's gaze once more. "Can I get you a drink," he asks, carefully.

Will leans forward, pressing a palm to Castle's chest, "Actually I was just going to-"

"I would love one," Beckett says looping a hand in his offered arm. Sorenson protests but Beckett leans in and upon whispering something in his ear, he backs off, frowning at Castle.

The air between them thickening in their solitude, Castle releases her arm and upon reaching the bar, leans across to the bartender, giving his instructions close to his ear, "Two very stiff Vodka martinis."

"Yes, Mr. Castle," the bartender nods to him, immediately turning behind him reaching for two chilled martini glasses.

Castle smiles awkwardly at Beckett who is looking at him with such confusion, both unaware of what to say.

"You look fantastic," he says sidling up to her, reaching out to touch her, a hand finds her hip.

"Yes, thank you," she says shyly, "You've said that already."

"Well you do," he says pulling his hand from her hip, turning to pick up their glasses which the bartender has placed behind him. He hands her the beverage and she smiles noticing the familiar drink in her hand.

"Three olives?" she questions.

"Your protein content for the evening," he takes a step into her, standing carefully by her side; hesitant to move any further from her body.

"It's good to see you Kate," he admits, and then, "I'm happy you came."

She looks down her body to her high-heeled shoes and twists her foot, kicking at something invisible on the carpet. "To be honest, I wasn't going to, but the Captain thought it would be best for the force. He's on cloud nine with all the publicity we've been getting with this little book of yours."

"Well nonetheless," he takes a sip of his drink, raising his eyebrows over his glass, "It wouldn't be a book signing party without Nikki Heat herself."

Beckett looks up from her own glass to the crowd that has gathered near them. All eyes in the room transfixed on the pair. She blushes slightly and adds, "Heat and Rook back together, eh?"

"Indeed. Rook does need his Heat."

The air between them thickening again in awkward silence. He turns behind him to place his glass on the bar, "Would you care to-"

"There you two are," Sorenson interrupts.

"Hello Will," Beckett says smiling; a sigh of relief.

"Would you like to dance, Kate," Sorenson says offering a hand, a lustful smirk.

Before she has a chance to say anything, Sorenson is lifting the glass from her hand, offering it to Castle, "Here you go Ricky. Be a good monkey and hold onto this for us, would you?"

Quickly they leave him, standing, mouth slightly held open. He takes a final glance at the pair, their bodies pressed tightly together. She whispers casually in his ear. Castle turns placing her glass beside his and treads heavily across the floor toward another adoring admirer.

***

It is later in the evening, with the crowd dwindling into a comfortable drunken stupor, that he sees her again, standing on the balcony. Will's hands resting on her hips, leaning in he talks to her casually, his body pressed tightly against her. She seems upset; her sights set on the dazzling city below. Will leans in to kiss her gently on the cheek and upon taking one last look at her turns exiting the balcony through the glass door. Several steps and he is looking at Castle, with a smirk of his lips he leaves his the party, making his way to the door. With a deep breath, Castle takes a few steps toward the glass door, entering the balcony quietly. Her hands holding onto the cement railing, she leans over slightly gaping at the quietness of the city from this height.

"Don't jump detective, I beg you," he says edging nearer to her.

She turns smiling, and in a dramatic southern accent, "Oh! Bless my soul. My hero. Mr. Castle."

His heart skips a beat, shocked by the playfulness in her character. He smiles back to her, sidling up, and takes a hand, resting it on the railing.

"So where is Special Agent Pain-in-my-Ass off to?"

She turns her head toward him carefully, a wry smile spreading across her face, "Special FBI business I'm sure," and in looking down to Castle's hands, his white knuckles, "You really shouldn't let him get to you. He's only jealous that's all." She turns away from him quickly, just missing his eyes as they dart across her face. She looks out across the city again.

"Jealous?" Castle adds playfully, "Why would he be jealous of little ol' moi?"

She smiles again, aware that she must address the subject, "Oh you must know."

He stares dumbfounded, yet hopeful.

On his vacant expression she continues. "Oh come on Rick. Look around." She points toward the door, turning her body to lean into the railing. "You're rich. You're popular. The ladies love you." She looks down, attempting to focus, "You have an amazing family. Ties with the public. With the mayor. Ties with the force." She quietly clears her throat, and in a whisper utters, "Ties with me." She looks up slowly, his features boyishly handsome. He smiles carefully.

"Ties with you?" he questions, "But my understanding is that we," he uses a finger to point between them, "We don't exist anymore."

She sighs heavily, "You're going to make this all the more difficult for me, aren't you?"

He leans into the railing, nodding, "I do try my best."

"I told you Montgomery is tickled pink with the press we've been getting and he would really like for you to come back. It is of course against my better judgment but he seems to think you're an asset to our work." She takes a deep breath. "I think he's afraid you'll drop Nikki Heat."

"So it's only he who would really like me back?"

She stares blankly, "Don't push it writer boy."

Castle jumps slightly in the air and with clenched fists, shakes them in front of her, "Yes," he exclaims through clenched teeth. "You want me back. You need me."

"I said don't push it," her tone firmer than before.

"Admit it Detective," he crosses his arms, "You miss having me around. You are finding it difficult to solve the crimes of this crazy messed up city without me. Heat needs her Rook. I get it."

"I repeat-"

"I know. I know. Don't push it. I heard you," he reaches out swiftly to cup her face with both hands, "Thank you, Detective. Thank you." He takes a moment to look her face over and admits almost too carelessly, "I could kiss you right about now."

Her back straight, her expressionless face cupped gently in his hands, he leans into her, carefully.

"Richard, there you are," Martha Rogers calls out from the door to the balcony.

Castle releases Beckett turning to face his mother, "Yes Mother," he hisses.

"It's speech time deary," she looks to Beckett and smiles, "Hello Detective."

Beckett lifts a hand to wave at Martha continuing in its motion to push a piece of hair behind her ear.

When Castle has not moved, Martha adds, "Richard. Now. Gina will have my head." As quickly as she has appeared, Martha exits, dissolving into the crowd within.

Castle clears his throat, "Well," he says.

"Well," Beckett replies bringing her hands in front of her.

Castle offers an arm to her, begging for her hand, "Come with me," he requests casually, "Rook needs his Heat."