A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I'm actually going faster than I thought I might. This chapter was going to be longer, but it feels like this is where it ends, so I'll post it as is.

She should have called him when she got his number, gotten him out of her system. Now, it's gotten weird. It feels almost like a relationship but not quite. And, Royce aside, Beckett doesn't do relationships. Doesn't do the distraction. And god knows she's distracted now.

When Kate goes in to work again the next day, she's refreshed. Sleep helps, she muses. She had hit the hay early last night, and the more than eight hours was an unforeseen luxury. So this morning she feels good, alive, awake, and the coffee she picks up on her way into work is more a pleasure than a sheer necessity. The early morning text from Castle- he sent it last night, but she only got it this morning- has given her another reason to smile. He wants to see her tonight. And she doesn't know how her day will play out, but instead of avoiding, she tells herself she'll find a way to make it work, even if it means skipping out early.

Jones catches her before she can go far, and before she knows it, she's up to speed on the case, staring at the timeline next to the detective. They had the wife in yesterday, and Jones jokes that he had expected to see Beckett on her day off. Beckett just smiles and tells him she had planned to, but something had come up. She's not embarrassed. She knows Jones comes in on his days off too.

They had brought the wife in yesterday, but weren't much closer to a suspect. The wife had alibied out, but there was something she was keeping from them. So they'll give her a few hours, but they will drag her back in here before the day is out, unless they come up with a better lead in the meantime.

Jones takes a call from Lanie, evidently the latest test results are back, so the two of them head down to the morgue. Usually the detectives don't take the uniforms with them, but Beckett's sensing she might be Jones' unofficial partner now.

As they enter the morgue and are confronted with the body, Beckett reflects that it's strange, being on homicide. More personal than Vice. Her rotation through Vice had sucked, but she imagines that would be the case for any female rookie. It had felt like hundreds of rounds of look how short my skirt is and she had hated every second of play acting the street walker, just to set up a sting that the Vice detectives would take credit for, their eyes all the while leering at her. Burglary wasn't so bad, she liked the team. But nothing like this. No work is more serious, no dark humour more obvious than among the homicide detectives, yet the pull for justice is genuine. It pushes Beckett, makes her strive. She wants to hold on to this feeling, push herself out of her introspection. She needs to remember that she's not just here for her mother, for herself. She's here for this body on the table too.

Lanie and the other M.E.- an impatient man Beckett has never met before- run them through a few points of note on the body. They've basically cleared the wife, based on the ferocity of the bruising- apparently the wife would have to be a lot stronger than she looks to inflict that kind of damage. Which brings them back to square one, or as Jones' puts it, "keeps them at square one".

As Beckett and Jones turn to leave, Lanie grabs her wrist, speaks to Jones. "Detective? My girl will catch up with you after lunch." Perlmutter glares at Lanie, mumbles something about inappropriate workplace friendships and stalks into the office. Kate and Lanie catch each other's eyes and laugh, and Kate has a sudden flurry of flashbacks to high school, the first semester of college. A world where girlfriends are for life and giggles keep you up all night. She shakes her head. Not high school, Katie, she reminds herself, but she's smiling. Being friends with Lanie? Totally something she's down with.

"So, Beckett. You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. Are you this into murder, or did you get some on your day off yesterday?"

"Lanie!"

"Girl. You and I are both new in town. If we don't tell each other, we've got no-one to tell. And me, I kiss and tell."

Kate narrows her eyes. "I'm not new in town. I grew up in Manhattan."

Lanie waves her hand casually. "Details. I am new in town. And you need some fun." She pauses, cocks her head. "And maybe a new lipstick."

"Fine. Fine! I- well actually I didn't get any. Okay? And that is confusing as fuck to me, because I never don't get any, and- he keeps texting, and I think he likes me, likes me."

Lanie's laughing, and she threads her arm through Kate's as they head out of the building to get lunch.

Talking to Lanie is fun. Kate now knows more about Javier Esposito than she wants to, but she's happy for Lanie. For all Lanie's insistence that it was a one time thing, she kind of thinks the M.E. wouldn't mind at all if happened again. For her part, Lanie's totally intrigued by the idea that Kate met a guy when she was alone in a restaurant. Kate omits most of the details- the ones where the guy was on a date, bought her a drink, signed her book, and oh yeah, was her favourite author. She offers a few excuses, but Lanie's having none of it.

"He has a kid-"

"Not a deal breaker, "Lanie swiftly replies.

"And he's older than me."

"Experienced, knows what he's doing-"

"He's divorced?" Kate offers.

"Better than married."

They are both laughing as they finish up their sandwiches and head back to the precinct.

Rick wants to be at home, pondering Kate. Wondering what Beckett is up to- now that would be better than what he's doing. Not that he's fooling himself. He is pondering Kate, wondering what she's up to. Whether she's thinking about him, whether she's catching bad guys. Whether she'll really come over tonight. He groans audibly. He's got it bad.

"Mr. Castle. Are we keeping you from something you'd rather be doing?" Gina's foot is tapping impatiently, as is Lyndall's. The two Black Pawn representatives are both tight lipped, unhappy, as they dialogue with his lawyer.

"No, no." He shakes his head frantically, looking sheepishly at his lawyer, who, for someone Castle is paying handsomely, looks none too impressed about being there.

"Anyway," the lawyer continues, as though Gina hadn't interrupted him. "I will leave this contract here, for you and your representatives to look over. Assuming Mr. Castle produces the next Storm book by his deadline, there should be no reason why this next book shouldn't be something other than Storm, and we'll work on the assumption that if the new story doesn't sell for some reason, we'll revert back to the original contract."

Gina and Lyndall nod and take the contract. "Yes!" exclaims Castle. Off their looks, he reins himself in. "I mean- thank you both for your time-" he nods to the women- "and you, for yours of course-" he shakes his lawyers hand- and he's out of there. Home free. He's practically skipping as he leaves the building. He barely feels the icy wind and he ignores the sleet as he decides to walk home instead of taking a cab. January might not be Kate's favourite month, but to him, right now, the ice at his face tastes like new beginnings, like redemption.

It's not just Kate, he reminds himself. Derek was bringing him down, tearing at his insides. Kate's just a tangible reminder that he wants to be more. And at the thought of Kate and his new book project, he stops dead in the street, among the New York crowds. He's bumped, and sworn at, by a heavy woman swinging grocery bags, but he doesn't hear the curse, as he realises. Crap. This oh-so-brilliant plan that has been germinating in his brain, suddenly taking flight? It certainly involves Kate, if he's going to follow through with it. Crap. How the heck is he going to get gun-shy, intensely private, Kate Beckett to agree to be his muse?