Ten chapters in… I really hope people are still enjoying (and reading) this fic.

I only have one more topic idea left and then my list is done…

So if you want me to write more of these one-shots, feel free to toss some ideas my way.

xxxxx

Thank you to Ky03elk for the item suggestion that sparked this chapter.

Hope you enjoy this one...

Chapter 10 - "Outside The Box"

This was a new aspect of her life that she hadn't quite gotten used to. Dressing up. Parading around like a peacock. It never sat quite well with Beckett. But, as Lanie said, she had to find a way to make her baggage match his baggage.

And being in a relationship with Richard Castle meant black tie events. Sigh.

He'd been very understanding and extremely patient with her unease. He'd even cut down on the number of benefits he'd agreed to attend, and sometimes he made an appearance with his mother - because Martha Rodgers would never decline an opportunity to dress to the nines.

It wasn't that she didn't dress the part. Quite the contrary. When Kate Beckett entered a room, heads turned and conversations ebbed.

But that was the part that bothered her the most.

Being the centre of attention never sat well with her. The gut-wrenching, stomach-churning sensation in her mid-section was unavoidable. Ever since she appeared at his book launch for Heat Wave all those years ago, she'd never been entirely comfortable with the media frenzy wishing to splash her picture all over page six.

Hunt down murderers and serial killers?... no problem.

Face the paparazzi?… ughh.

Officially involved with Castle or not, dealing with the ravenous entertainment reporters had never been her "thing".

Whenever she could avoid them, she did.

But, on occasion, she did concede that her presence at a party was required… and this was one of those occasions.

The Mayor had extended Castle and Beckett an invitation to attend his swanky New Year's Eve bash, and after almost costing Robert Weldon his position in the political arena a few years ago, there was no way Beckett was going to balk on the invitation. She owed Castle. Heck, she owed Weldon.

Last year at this time, Castle hadn't pushed. He'd been happy to take whatever she was willing to give. She'd embraced the idea of starting new traditions by spending Christmas with his family - which was strange enough - but she just hadn't been ready to ring in the new year in a grand, outlandish way. But Castle was more than willing to accommodate - cooking her a gourmet meal before they curled up on the couch and welcomed the new year wrapped up in each other. Just the two of them. And it was perfect.

But things were different now. She was no longer the girlfriend of six months… she was the fiancée. She was his "third time's a charm." He was her "one and done." And the power Johanna's murder held over her for what seemed like an eternity had been completely vanquished. She was diving in… so a lavish party at The St. Regis seemed like the perfect way to show Castle - but mostly herself - that she was ready for yet another new tradition.

That didn't mean that the notion of hundreds of flash bulbs and a cacophony of cattle-calls from the press line were at all enticing - they weren't - but it also didn't mean that she wasn't going to look dazzling.

But she had no desire to impress the reporters. Hell, she didn't even care if she impressed "Bob". There was only one person she wanted to impress… and she planned to make him forget his own name.

Watching herself in the mirror, Beckett removed the final roller from the bottom half of her hair. She smiled to herself mischievously, eyes twinkling. This style was taking a lot more effort than she usually bothered with, but it would be worth it.

Standing back from counter, she observed her reflection - face free of make-up, hair not done, body loosely enrobed in a white, silk bathrobe. Her fingers unconsciously traced along the edging of the open vee of the garment, trailing towards the faded scar between her breasts. It was now flat, faint… hardly visible anymore unless you were looking for it.

However, it would always be there. Always. The scar - like so many wounds in her life - would never heal completely.

But she could live with them now.

Achieve balance between the moments of war and peace in her life. Yin and Yang. Harmony.

Her heart fluttered at the thought. How he'd told her all those years ago that Yin needed Yang and how she'd simply brushed it off.

There were so many…

So many things he'd said to her over so many years. So many wisdoms. So many truths. And despite her best efforts, he could always make her hear him. She was damaged in so many ways, yet he'd always been able to worm his way past her defenses to help her see what she was missing. Who she could be.

And she would happily spend the rest of her life thanking him.

She pushed herself back from the counter and padded across to the robe hook on the back of the door. Pulling down the zipper of the garment bag, she scowled slightly at herself. The red dress inside was definitely not the one she intended to bring into the bathroom with her.

'Oh well,' she mused to herself, grinning slightly at her minimally-dressed state, 'Castle'll just get to enjoy a pre-show before the main event.'

Stepping through the doorway into the bedroom, she paused for a moment - taken aback by the sight of her fiancé, standing in front of the dresser, his muscular back facing her. Her tongue trailed hungrily across the soft, moist flesh of her upper lip. He looked absolutely delicious - jet-black Armani pants that were perfectly pressed; suspenders hanging from his waist, swaying gently beside his taut ass; untied bowtie loosely draped around the neck of his white silk shirt.

She padded towards him, the magnetic draw impossible to resist, teeth biting down gently on her lower lip. He shivered at the sensation of her heated palms snaking around his torso, her chest flush against his back. Her senses were flooded by the blended aromas of musk and cloves and vanilla and him, delectable and arousing.

"Hey," she whispered sensually, pressing her lips to his shoulder.

"Hey," he breathed in response, enclosing one of his hands over hers, the connection between them electric. Bringing entwined palms up to rest against his firm chest, shivers coursed through his veins. And hers.

She sighed heavily, relishing the sensation of the intense palpitations of his heart pounding against her sensitized fingers.

"What're you thinking about?' she smiled, caressing the middle of his back, lips snaking along his shoulder blades.

Castle remained silent for a heartbeat before replying. "This."

Loosening the possessive grasp on her fingers, their hands descended together, coming to rest against Castle's stomach. Beckett slid herself around his wide, solid, muscular body, to see for herself what had captured his attention.

She took a deep breath as she glanced at the surface of the dresser, his free hand deftly tracing the edges of her jewelry box, the youthful faces of her parents smiling up at them. She felt the beat of her own heart quicken, the rhythm erratic.

"It used to belong to my mother," she whispered meekly, her own fingers mirroring his, smoothing the edge of the dark wood.

"Kate… I…" he stuttered after a moment, not sure what to say.

"C'mere," she smiled softly, carefully picking up the box with one hand, gently grasping his palm with her other, leading him towards the settee beside the bookshelves.

He sat down beside her on the small, cream-coloured couch, breathing slowly, silently. He knew that what she was about to talk about would not be easy… for either of them. Revealing aspects of her mother's past was always cathartic, but often left them both emotionally raw. Especially this time of year.

The jewelry box sat on Beckett's lap, the vision of the dark wood sitting on white silk reminiscent of the box floating on a soft cloud. The tip of her finger traced along the image of Johanna's face, outlining the side of her mother's cheek before she found her voice, clearing her throat slightly as she began to speak.

"Dad gave it to her for Christmas one year…" she whispered. "I think I was about ten at the time. She was the one who put this photo in it. It was one of the last pictures my parents had taken of the two of them together before…" her voice trailed off silently, a tear threatening the corner of her eye.

Castle reached over and enclosed her hand in his, his mammoth palm dwarfing hers. Fingers twined together, he gently rested the tangle of digits on top her thigh just beside the box.

"Dad was a mess for a long time..." she exhaled, taking a deep breath before continuing. "When he was at his lowest, he said a lot of hurtful things… and did worse..." Her voice cracked a bit as the last few words escaped her throat.

She felt him squeeze her fingers, giving her strength, comfort. He said nothing, embracing the silence, allowing her to choose the moment, find the right words.

"One night, I found him passed out on his bed, lying in his own vomit, bedroom trashed," she stuttered slightly as her voice cracked, eyes closed in an effort to suppress any defiant tears. "Torn clothes on the floor, shredded photographs scattered everywhere, alcohol soaked into the carpet from the broken bottles that he'd thrown against the wall. There were several garbage bags piled up in the corner - full of jewelry that he'd broken into pieces, smashed picture frames, shoes… everything…" She paused, eyelids parting slowly, before murmuring, "All demolished..."

He took a deep breath as he whispered, "He was trying to erase her…"

"Yeah…" she muttered, hypnotic stare fixed on the jewelry box. "While he was recovering in the hospital, I went back to clean up. I searched through the room, hoping to salvage... something… anything... to keep my mother from disappearing."

She paused a moment to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. "I managed to find a box of photos at the back of the closet…"

They both knew how important those photos had been… especially one particular roll from Johanna's last Christmas.

"...but I also looked through the trash bags. Everything was wrecked completely… except for this." She ran her fingers lightly across the lid of the box, mesmerized. Lost in the memory. "He'd thrown it out… but he hadn't destroyed it," she sighed. "I took them both."

Castle remained silent as he wrapped his strong arm around her, pulling her close to his side as he pressed a gentle kiss into her silky, chestnut hair. The subtle scent of cherries and vanilla wafted around him like a ribbon, permeating her within his very being. He tightened his hold on her before she spoke again... stabilizing her… finding solid ground.

"I returned the photos to him years later… when he was okay… sober…" she muttered, her heavy breath expanding in her chest.

"But you kept the jewelry box…" he whispered into her soft curls.

"Mm-hmm…" she hummed affirmatively, releasing a deep sigh.

"Does Jim know you have the box now?" Castle inquired quietly after observing a moment of reverent silence.

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "He does."

The thick silence bounced off the walls of the bedroom as they sat there, wrapped around each other on the miniscule couch, comforted by each other's slow, steady, rhythmic breathing.

"She will never be erased," her fiancé muttered, holding her tighter, "because her legacy lives on… You are her legacy, Kate."

She turned partially in his arms, leaning back so her eyes could wash over the entirety of his face, eyes soft and warm and loving. She beamed at him, voice caught in her throat… this beautiful, caring, wonderful man. The man who always seemed to find the perfect words when she couldn't.

She leaned into his chest, his arms enclosed around her - their bodies fitting together seamlessly. Two halves of a whole. Perfection... as was the silence that comforted them as they just held each other, allowing the beauty of the moment to infuse itself into their souls.

Beckett stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror - smoky eyes, thickly lengthened lashes, deepened cheek bones, painted lips. A few wavy tendrils framed her face, hair styled in an elaborate up-do with loose S-shaped curls cascading from beneath the tucked bun, drawing attention to her long, swan-like neck. The highlights of her chestnut hair shimmered, giving the impression of a halo gleaming angelically above her head.

The deep purple of the original Zac Posen gown that was hugging her body gave off an ethereal sheen of regal elegance. For once, she was grateful for her modestly endowed chest, as the plunging vee of the dress draped smoothly down her torso, showcasing her assets perfectly, the open neckline both tasteful and tantalizing.

The tips of her fingers brushed along her throat, the shadowy fabric framing the delicate line of her collarbones and accentuating the smooth slope of her breasts. Her palm flattened against her bare chest. She knew that Castle's eyes would spend much of the evening following the path down her neck to that exact spot where the fabric met skin in the middle of her torso. And the thought thrilled her.

She'd toyed with the idea of accentuating her neckline with a gorgeous jewel-encrusted necklace or even a simple gold pendant, but she didn't want to obstruct Castle's view. In the end, she opted to don only a pair of small, dew-drop diamond earrings which dangled from her lobes.

She smoothed her hands down her waist, along the sides of her thighs. The dark plum material hugged her hips seamlessly - her silhouette a perfect hourglass - satin flaring out around her smooth, endless legs. The sheer fabric kissed her thighs, the texture delicate, creating gentle, intoxicating friction against her fingertips. Yards of soft satin fell from her waist, the train at the back spilling around her feet, trailing on the floor ever-so-slightly. The short skirt at the front was not long enough to cover her knees, leaving her legs visible, enrobed by a flowing splay of purple chiffon.

She could almost feel the ghost of his agile fingers sneaking a light touch of her waist, angling for a pathway around her hip and down her backside.

Even the thought of it was enticing. Titillating. Arousing.

She was well aware of the power she had over him… how she could tease him, get his heart racing with a simple look, an alluring glance, a smoldering grin. But her body sheathed in a sultry outfit could corrupt his mind entirely… and she knew he loved her all the more for it.

The dark satin lay on her shoulders, the ribbed lines of the material falling gently across her breasts, leaving much of her midsection bare. A few years ago, having the space between her breasts be so naked - allowing her scar to be so visible - would have been distracting… distressing even. It had left her insecure about her own body for a time.

But not any more.

She'd come to love everything about that scar. Everything that the now-faded mark symbolized. It was a reminder of everything she'd overcome, every battle that she had won. She didn't want to cover it up or mask it at all. It was a part of her. A part of them.

No more living in the past... but no more hiding the past either.

'I hope you're proud of your legacy, Mom,' she sighed, taking one last look at her reflection before pivoting on the heel of her four-inch Jimmy Choos.

She stepped out of the bathroom, glancing at the man in front of her. He looked like he just stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine - crisp, white shirt off-set by the sharp, black tuxedo adorning his magnificent body. The black bow at his neck expertly tied. His perfectly coiffed hair fluttered a bit as he turned to face her. She canted her head lightly to the side, a shy smile eking from her lips, eyes glistening as he drank in the sight of her.

"So?" she smiled coyly, casually brushing her hand along the delicate train of fabric framing her hips. "Whad'ya think?"

"I... uhh, I … I…"

Daintily shifting one foot behind the other, crossing her legs slightly, she batted her luscious, soft lashes once. Just once. Agonizingly slowly.

"Castle?..." she whispered sensually, voice fluttering in the heavy air.

"Uhhhhh…" he blanked, wide-eyed, brain completely mush.

'Mission accomplished,' she mused to herself, tongue poking between her teeth as she flashed him a seductive grin.

Words escaped him.

Debonair, smooth, speechless, but still confident, he glided across the room, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His hand slid around her slim waist and landed just above her hips, his warm palm smoothing along the small of her back, the intense heat of his large hand radiating through the fine material. Pulling her towards him till their bodies grazed each other deliciously, he smoothed his nose down the line of her jaw towards her ear.

He breathed heavily, a stammering of, "K... uhhh..." pouring from his lips.

"So eloquent," she smirked, chest heaving as his deft fingers skated along her spine towards her shoulders. The sensation of his flesh smoothing along her skin sent intense waves of electricity coursing through her body.

A light moan rippled from the back of her throat as his fingers toyed seductively with the zipper of her dress - the languid sound of parting teeth dangerously arousing - his other palm infusing heat into her waist as his lips painted a soft, sensual trail along the supple, sensitized flesh behind her ear.

"You're going to pay dearly, Castle, if you mess up my hair," she exhaled deeply, wrapping her hands around his arms, stilling his movements as she pushed him back slightly.

"We could just stay in," he smirked, darkened eyes scanning her mouth as he canted towards her.

"And stand-up the Mayor?" she retorted, laughing as she pushed two fingers against his pursed lips. "Not on your life!"

He released a heavy sigh, eyes smiling, as she backed away from her fiancé, retrieving her clutch from the bedside table.

"I haven't celebrated the start of the new year in grand fashion in fourteen years," she stated, once again stepping into his personal space. "I want to do this, Castle," she hummed, her open palm resting flat against his strong chest, twinkling eyes locking with his. "I want to start a new tradition."

He drew her mouth to his, her gorgeous face held tenderly within his large palms, lips brushing against each other in a passionate yet chaste promise of comfort and devotion and forever.

"And when we get home..." she smiled, twining her fingers with his as she led him towards the front entrance, the look in her eye seductive, intoxicating and alluring, "...we can begin another tradition as you help me out of this dress."

xxxxx

Happy New Year, everyone!

It's been an interesting 3 months… never been much of a story writer (never thought I was creative enough).

I started writing fics mostly as an outlet while dealing with the health issues of my parents (which is why I mostly write humour fics) so the kind words and support I've been getting have been beyond amazing.

Thanks to anyone who has read - and especially to those who have taken a moment to review - any of my stories. **HUG** Your many kindnesses mean so much to me. Truly.

Wishing you all a wonderful and restful 2014 filled with Caskett-y goodness!

Huge props to Fooxoo for giving me necessary nudges and pokes when I was stuck on: "She was wearing a sexy dress. It was purple. 'Nuff said." ;)

Posted a pic of the dress Beckett was wearing on my Twitter feed... (Shena1FF)

And for the last time in 2013…

There you go… Judge away. :D