Author's Note: Apologies for not being able to post last week but RL got in the way. But without further ado, here's the second of the two chapters based on "To Love and Die in LA," including the famous (infamous?) couch scene in the hotel and the end of Royce's letter, which I'm sure a lot of people have been looking forward to. I hope this chapter does the episode justice.

Diving Into It Together

Chapter 28

One surprising encounter with Gene Simmons, a near-arrest, a tongue-lashing from Captain Montgomery, and a visit to the movie studio later, Kate and Castle finally returned to the hotel. It had been a busy afternoon but productive, as they'd managed to figure out just what Royce had been involved in to get him killed.

Castle glanced at Kate as they entered the suite. "Our dinner reservation at Spago is in less than an hour. Are you sure you're up for it? We don't have to go."

"I'm hungry and you promised me a good meal, Castle."

"One good meal coming right up," he promised. "But first, we need to change." He waggled his brows at her. "I want to see which dress you packed."

She managed a small laugh. "And so you will. Later. I think I'll change in the other room so it'll be a real surprise."

"Ooh, now I'm really looking forward to seeing you in your dress. So I'll come knock on the door in a half hour?"

She gave him a teasing look, her heart lifting. "It's such a long way. Make sure you leave enough time for the trip." All 20 feet of it across the main room of the suite.

"I'll make sure to leave, oh, at least 30 seconds ahead of time," he promised with exaggerated gravity.

She smirked. "Sure you don't need more time than that? After all, people do tend to move slower with age."

He spluttered with histrionic outrage as she shut the door of the other bedroom behind her and she could still hear his disgruntled muttering through the door.

Her smile faded as she moved away from the door towards the en suite bathroom to change. She told herself that it was irrational to feel guilty over these moments of enjoyment, of briefly forgetting about grief, but it didn't really help, as she knew from experience. She would still feel these stabs of guilt for laughing or having fun for a while longer, certainly at least until she could bring Royce's killer to justice.

But she had Castle and thanks to him and for his sake, she would get past the grief and the guilt too. And she did want to show her appreciation for his flying them across the country for this case, for all his help today.

She shimmied into the dress she'd bought with Castle's reaction in mind and then touched up her makeup and styled her hair, pinning it up, partly because Castle always appreciated it when her hair was up, baring her neck to his appreciative gaze (and his lips) but also because it would add to the effect of her dress. That done, she surveyed herself in the mirror. The dress was a shade of forest green that she knew would bring out the flecks of green in her eyes. The style was deceptively demure on first glance because aside from nicely outlining her figure, it didn't appear to be made to attract attention. The décolletage was positively prim, enough that Castle would have whole-heartedly approved of it for one of Alexis's dresses, and the skirt fell a ways below her knees, adding to the conservative impression. Until one noticed that the slit up the side of the skirt went halfway up her thigh and the back of the dress was nonexistent, except for two criss-crossed straps, leaving her back bare down to the small of her back.

Kate quite deliberately shrugged on a wrap, planning to keep it firmly in place until they arrived at Spago. After all, half the fun of a dress like this one was in the reveal.

Castle knocked on the bedroom door promptly and she opened it, watching his eyes skim down her figure and knew he'd noticed the slit in her skirt when his gaze froze on the length of her bare leg just visible. She estimated that a good 5 seconds passed before his eyes moved back up her body to meet her eyes.

"God, you're beautiful," he blurted out and Kate smiled, her heart warming. She loved the way Castle so often lost any claim to suavity that he had when it came to her.

"Thank you, Castle." He looked pretty damn good himself, but then he always did when he dressed up.

She slipped her arm into his as they left the suite and she felt another little flutter of amazement that this was really her life now, staying in luxury suites at expensive hotels and about to go out to an equally expensive restaurant while being driven in a Ferrari convertible. She didn't intimidate easily but even now, the occasional reminder of the vast gulf between her income and Castle's caused a pang of self-distrust. How could she, a regular cop whose entire yearly salary was pocket change to Castle, possibly be enough for him, a multi-millionaire celebrity author who used to date supermodels?

Spago wasn't far from the hotel but even so the short drive was enough for her to have managed to shake off her moment of insecurity. She couldn't doubt him and what he felt for her now. Somehow—and she still wasn't sure why or how—she was enough for Castle, made Castle happy.

Of course, now that the adrenaline of chasing down leads had worn off, she was starting to feel tired, the effects of the long day combined with the time difference adding up, not helped by her emotions. But she was hungry and it wasn't like brooding over Royce in the suite would do any good.

Spago was, predictably and obviously, a restaurant meant to cater to the wealthy, with free valet parking, another uniformed valet waiting to open the car door for her, and a maître d' who greeted Castle familiarly by name before having a waiter show them to their table.

Castle was the one who pulled back her chair for her and then made a strangled noise as she slipped off her wrap revealing the back—or lack thereof—of her dress. She smiled to herself as she took her seat and Castle bent to brush his lips against her neck, making a delicious little shiver go through her, before husking in her ear, "Have I mentioned that I really like your dress?"

She turned her head to smile at him. "I thought you would."

Castle kept up a light, steady stream of conversation as they ordered and then ate their meals (which were delicious, although Kate was guiltily aware that she wasn't really doing her meal justice), sticking to easy, undemanding topics that allowed her to respond when necessary but didn't require her to put much thought into what she said. It was enjoyable, relaxing—and exactly what she needed. (He knew her so well.)

He didn't make any mention of the case. The closest he came to it was chatting a little about the Heat Wave movie, recounting some stories about Tony, the director, who they'd met that afternoon, mentioning Natalie Rhodes's whereabouts.

"I don't remember hearing that Natalie had any drug problems, unlike a lot of stars," Kate commented.

"I imagine her PR people found a way of keeping it quiet. That's what they're there for and you'd be amazed the sorts of things they can cover up."

"That sounds like the voice of experience, Castle. Come on, 'fess up, what have your PR people covered up?" she teased.

He laughed a little, although he had the grace to look rather self-conscious and sheepish. "Let me put it this way. Did you ever read anything in the papers about me and a certain police horse?"

She burst out laughing. Oh god, the police horse! She'd almost forgotten about that choice bit of his past. And he was right, she realized. She never had heard anything about that; it had been a surprise when she'd read about it on his rap sheet. It belatedly occurred to her to be surprised that she hadn't heard anything about that incident. Especially as for obvious reasons, she had idly taken note of the publicity about him, had always marveled (and been a little disgusted) at the apparent shallowness of the man when compared to the real complexity of the books that he somehow managed to write. "The police horse incident! That's right. I didn't know about that until I pulled your rap sheet."

His lips twisted a little in self-mockery. "Paula's damn good at her job and she earned her bonus that year."

The mention of Paula rather dampened Kate's amusement. She just couldn't like the other woman, found her manner to be abrasive and her treatment of Castle to be either too possessive or too pushy. She knew Castle didn't particularly enjoy Paula's company but he accepted her for what she was (which was characteristic of Castle's generosity) and she was, as he said, very good at her job.

Castle changed the subject, moving off himself, to talking about meeting the actors playing Raley and Ochoa.

Kate laughed a little. "We've gotta tell Ryan and Espo about meeting their doppelgangers. So creepy."

"Definitely," he agreed. "That actor playing Raley wanted to know what Raley's motivation was."

"Motivation? Raley's a cop, what more motivation does he need?"

"I know, right? That's pretty much what I told him. I guess he wanted to make it more complicated. Give Raley some dramatic backstory."

"Well, dramatic backstory aside, he's not entirely wrong," she conceded. "Good cops are made, not born. A lot has to do with the people around them, their captain, their partner, their training officer." She broke off abruptly, the last words falling into the silence like rocks. She hadn't thought, had been lulled by the ease of their conversation into forgetting. Kate lowered her gaze to the table, idly pushing the remaining scraps of her food around on her plate.

Castle reached out and wrapped a gentle hand around hers. He didn't say he was sorry or otherwise comment on the change in mood. He knew her too well for that. "You ready to head back?" was all he asked.

She managed a faint smile. "Yeah, that sounds good."

He signaled for a waiter and paid the bill and as they left the restaurant, he rested his hand on her lower back, slipping his hand beneath her wrap to touch her bare skin. His large hand was warm and protective and for once, Kate allowed herself to curve into his hand, leaning into him. She was the strong, independent Detective but sometimes, it was… nice to have someone take care of her. Nice to know that when she was tired, when she wasn't strong, she had someone who could—and would—step in and be strong for her. She, who hadn't had anyone to take care of her in the more than ten years since her mother had died. She was still strong—but it was nice not to have to be strong all the time.

They had to wait a couple minutes for the valet to bring the convertible around and Kate leaned over to brush her lips against his cheek.

He glanced at her with a pleased but surprised smile since he knew that public displays of affection weren't really her thing. "What was that for?"

She let her cheek rest against his shoulder for a moment. "No reason," she murmured. "I was just thinking that we seem to be making a tradition of going out on dates when one of us is depressed about something."

His fingers on her bare back tightened a little, his expression becoming soft, serious. "As long as we're still going out on dates, that's the most important thing to me."

She managed a faint smile. "Me too."

The valet returned in the convertible, interrupting the moment, but as Castle opened the car door for her, he bent and kissed her hair.

The short drive back to the hotel was silent, Castle leaving her to her thoughts, apparently sensing that she didn't feel like talking or even listening to him talk at the moment.

He didn't speak until they were back in the suite, turning to her with so much concern on his face it made her throat tight with emotion. "Do you want anything to drink, Kate? Wine, tea?"

She didn't particularly want anything but she recognized that he was asking because he felt helpless and offering a drink made him feel as if he were being of some use to her since he couldn't eradicate her grief over Royce entirely. "Some wine might be nice," she compromised. "I think I'm going to change, get ready for bed."

He nodded. "You should. You look exhausted."

She managed a weak but teasing smile. "Wow, Castle, you really know how to flatter a girl."

He winced. "Sorry."

"I'm only teasing, Castle," she said, patting his chest lightly. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"I'll have Maurice bring up a bottle of wine."

Kate changed into leggings and a loose sleep shirt, reflecting as she hung up her dress that she would have to wear it again sometime on an evening when she and Castle would be more in the mood to appreciate it properly. She was guiltily aware that her change in mood had cut their date night short but she couldn't help it, the thought of Royce practically haunting her, sorrow and regret hanging over her.

She wished desperately, for about the millionth time in the last two days that she and Royce could have actually talked, made amends. Wished she could at least have had the chance to say goodbye. But no, as she knew all too well, a murder never allowed for those final goodbyes to be said.

On the thought, she was reminded of Royce's letter and she pulled it out of her bag, belatedly remembering that she had not actually finished reading the entire letter last night.

She read the entire letter through, even though she still remembered the earlier portions as if they'd been stamped onto her brain.

And now, there's just one more thing, kid. It's clear that you and Castle have something real. Hold on to it, fight for it. I don't expect it'll be easy; making yourself vulnerable to someone else never is. But take it from someone who didn't learn this until too late, putting the job ahead of your heart is a mistake. Risking our hearts is why we're alive. The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder, if only. You deserve more than that. You deserve the real thing and if what I saw is any indication, I think you and Castle have it. And I'm glad.

So be happy. And know that whatever else, whether we ever talk or meet again, I'm your friend and I'm proud of you.

Take care of yourself, kid.

Royce

Kate let out a shaky breath.

She couldn't know what Royce had seen to convince him that she and Castle had the real thing and she wasn't sure why it even meant so much that Royce had written what he had, but somehow it did. She might have known already that what she and Castle had was very real and very precious, but it still mattered to know that Royce had known and approved. In spite of everything, some little corner of her still retained the old wish for Royce's approval. He had been her training officer, her mentor, a man she had respected and wanted to emulate. And in spite of all that had happened last fall, the emotions still lingered. So it mattered to know that her relationship with Castle had Royce's blessing, so to speak.

She felt as if she could finally, once and for all, lay the ghost of her old feelings for Royce to rest. She had loved Royce once, as much as she could have loved anyone while still guarding her heart so fiercely. But she loved Castle now, loved Castle more.

And she suddenly wanted to be with Castle again, wanted the warmth and reassurance and comfort of his presence.

She put the letter back in her bag and then returned to the front room of the suite to see that Castle had poured two glasses of wine and was idly flipping through one of the magazines that were on the coffee table.

He put the magazine away the moment she appeared and she joined him on the couch, curling up next to him, leaning against him as he put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her closely against him. She took a drink of wine and although she had agreed mostly to make Castle feel better, she found that it actually did rather help, the warmth from the rich wine as it slid down her throat pleasant. He slid his hand up and down her arm in a lazy, comforting caress and she relaxed further against him.

"I can't believe he's really gone," she murmured, not even trying to control the faint quaver in her voice. "I wish… I could have talked to him, wish I hadn't missed his call. I keep thinking… maybe I could have saved him if I'd only answered his call…"

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he sighed. "You can't know what would have happened and if what we found out today is any indication, I get the feeling Royce knew how big of trouble he was in and I think… I hope… he'd made his peace with it, with knowing that he was doing the right thing, making amends."

"He said… he was on a righteous path now. It sounds like he'd managed to get a reputation already as helping people who were in trouble but couldn't go to the police for whatever reason."

"Like Violet Young," Castle finished for her, slipping into his storytelling voice. "A gullible young actress desperate to make a name for herself. She meets our mastermind at a club. He needs a pretty girl to help him get the voice code. He tells Violet he's a producer, promises to make her famous if she helps him play a practical joke on a friend."

As always, she got caught up in the story, lulled into it by his voice, as she took up the reins of his theory-building. "She doesn't even realize that she's participating in a crime until afterwards. She can't call the cops so she contacts Royce."

"And then our Mr. McCauley finds out…"

"And Royce tries to change the game. He goes to New York. Home field advantage. Classic. Classic Royce," Kate murmured with a half-smile, suddenly remembering what Royce had once said to her, that being able to pick the battleground could win the battle before it even began. Not always possible, of course, in chasing after a suspect but sometimes, if a cop was smart enough, the cop could feint and try to lure a suspect into more advantageous territory and then the cop would have the advantage.

"I was so in awe of him, Castle," she admitted quietly with a reminiscent smile. "When I first met him, I just hung on his every word. And then later I realized he was just making up stories to mess with me." She paused, her smile fading in a fresh stab of grief. "I can't believe that I'm never going to see him again."

He pressed a kiss to her hair, his hand faltering slightly in its soothing, repetitive caress of her arm. "I'm sorry, Kate."

She blinked back tears as she caught his hand in hers and brought it to her lips to kiss his palm. After a moment, she shifted, sliding further down on the couch until she was lying down, her head pillowed on his thigh.

He tipped his head down to look at her, giving her one of his faint, tender smiles that existed mostly in his eyes and only barely touched his lips.

She had retained her grip on one of his hands but he moved the other to comb gentle fingers through her hair, the motions soft and oddly relaxing. She still wasn't sure exactly why it was so soothing when Castle ran his fingers through her hair like this but it occurred to her to wonder if it was because the last person to have ever brushed her hair for her had been her mother, a lifetime ago in the days when she'd been a little girl wearing pigtails. Or maybe, more prosaically, it was the simple intimacy of the touch, combined with the innocence of it because there was never anything sensual about it. She didn't know nor did she really care; all she knew was that she felt the lingering remnants of tension from the stress of the day draining out of her. They might not have found out the real identity of this Mr. McCauley yet but they had solid leads, knew what he'd plotted with the robbery from Kelvin North America. And at that moment, she couldn't doubt that they would manage to find Royce's killer. They would get justice for Royce and then he could be at peace.

Castle didn't say anything more, only continued with his tender, undemanding ministrations and that made it easier to talk, to share some of the memories that had been constantly bubbling up in her mind the last couple days.

"I almost got Royce shot just after we started working together," she admitted with a small, rueful laugh. Her smile faded, became absent. "I was so green when I got out of the Academy but I didn't even know it, too green to even know all that I didn't know about being a cop. I finished first in my class at the Academy…"

"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest," he commented mildly and she smiled briefly up at him. Castle never really doubted her ability to do anything and his faith in her was heart-warming.

"I'd pushed myself so hard for it that I already believed I knew how to be a real cop from the moment I got my badge." She paused, becoming thoughtful. "I recognize now that the Academy mostly taught us about paperwork and the basics of combat, both how to fight and how to shoot. But it focused so much on teaching us how to use our guns that they didn't really pay much attention to when or whether to use our guns."

"That's a judgment call and that sort of judgment usually takes experience and can't be taught."

"True, but there's still some value in theory, basic guidelines to follow, and the Academy sort of skimped on that part. So in my second or third week after I started working with Royce, we were chasing after a guy who'd just committed armed robbery and he ran into a dead end alley. I'd fallen behind by a few steps in the chase and so Royce cornered him first, seeing first thing that the guy was wildly nervous, a little unstable, waving his gun around so Royce was just trying to calm the guy down. But I didn't stop to notice any of that; I just ran right into the alley, pointed my gun, and yelled out just like they'd taught us in the Academy, 'freeze and put your hands up!'"

Castle chuckled softly and she allowed herself a small smile at the memory. She could see the humor in it now, although it had taken some time.

"The guy startled like a rabbit and his gun went off, missing Royce by a couple inches and then breaking a street lamp and the sound of the breaking glass distracted the guy enough so that Royce was able to tackle him."

"All's well that ends well?"

Kate didn't smile, still caught up in the memory of her own anxiety. "I thought Royce was going to rip me to shreds, figuratively speaking, since my stupidity had almost gotten him killed, but he didn't. He didn't even mention the incident in the report he submitted about it, only mentioning that the suspect had fired wildly before he'd been incapacitated but never mentioning what had startled the guy into firing. He'd have been justified; I know some rookies who dropped out of the force entirely after something like that because their training officers made them feel so bad. But all Royce ever said to me about it was 'don't do that again, kid' and he never mentioned it again, not even when I made other little mistakes which, of course, I did, although none of them had such potentially serious consequences. I guess he already knew me well enough to know that I'd be harder on myself for it than he ever could be."

"He must have known you pretty well."

"Yeah, he did," she agreed softly and then added, her voice lowering, "He knew about Dad and his… problem," she euphemistically phrased it since even now, after so many years, she still shied away from referring to her dad's alcoholism in so many words. It was too… clinical a word for what it had done to her father, to her, and she didn't like it for the way it brought back memories of the counseling she'd had. "Royce was with me the first time I had to… to arrest my dad for public intoxication and that was when I told him about… my mom. And Royce knew about the other times that I had to go get my dad from other precincts when he'd been picked up." Her voice trailed off, flinching a little at the painful memories. She remembered, too, although she didn't say that she'd been scared to look at Royce the day after she'd first arrested her dad, scared that she would see pity in his eyes the way she had in the eyes of the other uniforms in the other precincts when she'd gone to pick up her dad, but no, there had been no pity. Royce had never even mentioned her dad to her again, had only accepted it as part of her life but no more something to pity her about than the color of her eyes or her hair.

It belatedly occurred to Kate to be amazed at having shared the memories in the first place. She almost never spoke about the time when her dad had still been drowning, had never mentioned to anyone else the couple times she'd needed to arrest her own father or the other times when she'd received a call from another precinct to let her know her dad had been picked up. Royce had known because he'd seen it; Captain Montgomery knew out of necessity because he'd been her captain during the last few times she'd needed to leave to get her dad. Esposito and Ryan knew the basic outlines about her dad's issues but they didn't know about those incidents specifically because Captain Montgomery wouldn't have told them and Kate had never mentioned it.

And now she had told Castle. His hand had frozen in her hair at her words but now he resumed the soothing movements.

She looked up at him, a little nervous even now that she might see pity in his expression, that he would express sympathy (which might, oddly, feel even worse.) His eyes were clear and soft, filled with tenderness and love, but there was no pity.

"You know what I thought when I first met you?"

She shook her head in a small jerky motion, a little mesmerized by the intensity of the emotion on his face.

"That you were a mystery I was never gonna solve. And I wonder sometimes if I'll ever reach the limit of how much I'll be amazed by the depths of your strength, your heart—but every day I spend with you, everything I learn about you, just amazes me more."

Her throat seemed to have closed up, her heart melting in her chest. Oh, this man, this man who loved her so fiercely… This man who knew her so well with all her issues and her flaws but who still looked at her as if she were a miracle…

She had no words—how could any paltry words of hers compare to the profound beauty and wonder of what he had just said to her? But she pushed herself upright and then cupped his cheek with her hand before leaning in to kiss him, softly, lingeringly.

"Let's go to bed, Castle," she breathed against his lips.

She led him into the bedroom, holding his hand, and the moment the door was closed behind them, he was kissing her with slow, devastating thoroughness. She was only vaguely aware of falling back onto the bed and it seemed to her fuzzy mind that their clothes almost melted away beneath his sure touch.

She reached for him, her hands sliding around his bare shoulders, but he caught one hand in his, pressing a kiss into her palm and then flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin of her wrist just above her pulse point.

He kissed her lips, again. "Ssh, Kate. Just relax," he murmured against her lips. "Let me take care of you."

The words seeped into her mind, her heart, and she gave herself up to him with a complete trust she'd never felt for anyone else (and never would feel for anyone else) as he proceeded to make love to her not only as no one else ever had before but as he never had before. Made love to her with so much care and tenderness and restrained passion it made tears prick at her eyes.

Afterwards, she was a boneless puddle in the bed, sated, exhausted, feeling as if she were floating in the hazy sea of pleasure and love. She was only vaguely aware of him tracing a gentle hand along the curve of her cheek and then the soft brush of his lips against hers.

"Sleep, Kate."

"Mmm," she mumbled. "Love you."

She was asleep before he answered.


Kate drifted awake, blinking her somewhat bleary eyes open. Her eyes fell on the clock beside the bed and she shut her eyes again with a mental groan. In spite of how tired she was, her body was apparently firmly on Eastern time so she was awake even though the clock said it was only 4:51 a.m.

After a few minutes, Kate gave up on the futile attempt to fall back asleep. Her mind was already awake and she was almost never able to fall back asleep once she'd woken up in the mornings anyway.

Castle was spooned up behind her, his arm slung possessively around her waist. Moving slowly so as not to disturb him, Kate inched around in the circle of his embrace until she could see his face. There was just enough gray pre-dawn light filtering past the drawn curtains to make him visible and for a few minutes, Kate indulged in watching him sleep. Creepy staring, she heard his teasing voice in her head.

Such a cliché, Kate, watching your beloved sleep, a voice in her head commented dryly. Kate felt a little sheepish about it and so she didn't often let herself study Castle like this—also because she knew that he would smirk and tease her rather unmercifully if he caught her at it, as he had once or twice—but this morning, well, it was ridiculously early and they hadn't had much sleep so she thought she was safe from the prospect of Castle waking. And after the last night, she was still feeling uncharacteristically soft, tender, about as far removed from her usual no-nonsense Detective Beckett self as she could be. She knew it was going to be another day of compartmentalizing, of shoving her grief over Royce aside so she could work, but for now, for these few minutes, she didn't have to be Detective Beckett, could just be Kate. Castle's Kate.

His face was half-smashed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted, as he slept soundly. Kate smiled to herself. He was drooling a little and it made him look even younger, more vulnerable, than he usually did when he slept. His hair was an unkempt mess, his face bristly and disheveled with morning stubble.

Oh, this man, this dear, generous man. Her dear, generous man. His words from last night returned to her, replaying in her mind. It occurred to her that no less than him, she was the one who was amazed by the depths of his heart, amazed and humbled by the unstinting generosity of his love.

She heard Royce's voice in her head. It's clear that you and Castle have something real. Yes, she knew they did. There were times she felt as if her love for Castle—and his for her—was the only real, solid truth of her entire life, the one thing she could depend on. Just as he was here for her now, had dropped everything to fly across the country with her on no notice, insisted on it even though she knew she could never have asked him to do such a thing for the sake of a man he'd only met once, a man to whom he'd owed nothing—and if that weren't enough, the man she'd loved before him.

He's not doing this for Royce, Kate, he's doing it for you, a voice inside her head reminded her.

On the thought—the reminder of Royce, Kate felt some of her Beckett-ness return with a renewed sense of determination. They didn't have much time to solve this case and after how angry Captain Montgomery had been, Kate didn't feel like testing his forbearance by staying out here for any longer than necessary. They might be able to get this one day's grace with the excuse of needing to wait for the long flight back and the time difference but anything beyond today would be asking for trouble. She would stay out here as long as she needed to, of course, but the sooner she could solve this case and return to the City, the better. She didn't want to be suspended after all.

She carefully edged out from under Castle's arm, practically holding her breath so she wouldn't disturb him. (Not that he would complain or blame her but just because she was awake by 5 a.m. was no reason for him to do so.) He twitched and mumbled her name but then he slept on and Kate let out the breath she'd been holding.

She used the shower in the other bedroom to avoid waking Castle. They might not need the extra bed but it occurred to her that having the other bedroom was proving surprisingly useful, all things considered.

The front room of the suite had a standard coffee machine and she made a pot of coffee once she was dressed before deciding she might as well be productive and try to use this time to get to the bottom of the heist.

One phone call later, she even had a white board to work on. (She was impressed. So this was what service was like at the really high-end hotels.)

Castle emerged from the bedroom a little before 7:30 and she felt her heart soften at the sight of him, looking rather like a large, rumpled teddy bear in the hotel robe he had shrugged into.

"Morning, Castle."

He blinked in some surprise at the whiteboard. "Wow. Did you pack a murder board?"

She smirked. "Yes, Castle, my bag can magically expand to fit a white board," she quipped sarcastically. "I'm like Mary Poppins."

"'Practically perfect in every way?' I knew that already."

She had to laugh but couldn't quite help her flush. "Flattery, Castle. You of all people know I'm far from being perfect."

He grinned at her. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think the fact that you once dressed up like Gene Simmons for Halloween makes you pretty close to the perfect woman."

"That's your criteria for the perfect woman?" she laughed.

He shrugged. "Well, it's not the only thing on the list but it's one of them."

She rolled her eyes at this piece of inanity but didn't resist as he perched on the arm of the sofa and then tugged her in to sit next to him, leaning over to kiss her hair and then nuzzle her ear. "Mm, morning, gorgeous," he murmured.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Do you want to hear what I've figured out about the heist from Kelvin North America?"

He heaved a put-upon sigh but loosened his arm from around her waist. "Yes, of course, go ahead."

She patted his hand resting on her waist and then started to walk him through her thought process, loving the way he caught on so quickly. They did work together well. He made her a better cop. (He made her a better person.)


Castle had barely taken his hot, dark gaze off her from the moment she'd stepped out of the pool; she'd been conscious of it even as she acted as bait to lure Ganz into giving something up, the awareness that Castle was watching making it easier to use all the seductive wiles at her disposal even if Castle wasn't the ostensible target of said wiles.

And it had worked, at least insofar as it had distracted Ganz for just long enough to allow Castle to take a picture of his recent call list—even though she still smarted at being called green by Ganz. Green! She hadn't been legitimately 'green' at any time in the last 7 years!

Even after she had pulled on an oversized t-shirt over the swimsuit (courtesy of Maurice at the hotel and Kate had felt rather like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she'd asked Maurice to send up a selection of swimsuits for her to choose from), Castle's expression hadn't changed. Had made her feel as if the shirt was entirely transparent or nonexistent for the way his eyes were practically burning her through it. But then again, to Castle, it might as well have been transparent, for all intents and purposes, since he knew exactly what her body looked like beneath the shirt and the swimsuit.

Kate attempted to stave off her buzzing awareness of Castle's gaze and all that it promised—she had a job to do. They were in the middle of a case. They didn't have time to be distracted. And she was perfectly capable of resisting Castle. Really, she was!

She hurried into the suite, aware that there were goose bumps on her bare legs. The pareo might cover her legs to an extent but it didn't provide warmth. And it might be plenty warm outside but the hotel interior was well air-conditioned and after the dip in the pool, with her hair still wet, she was more easily chilled, not helped by the fact that the t-shirt was not made for warmth of any sort.

She heard the suite door close and then Castle caught her wrist and tugged her back into his arms, kissing her hard and forcefully. She tried—she did—to resist but her arms went up around his neck of their own volition as she arched against him.

His hands made quick work of undoing the knot on the pareo and then slid under her shirt and broke off the kiss only to lift the shirt up over her head, discarding it on the floor, and then he paused to give her body in the swimsuit a long, thorough once-over.

"Castle…"

She wasn't sure whether she meant to voice a protest or encouragement but either way, the words were lost as he kissed her again and by the time his lips moved on down the line of her chin and the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of hot, damp kisses, she was finding it hard to remember why she should resist.

Her head fell back on a breathless moan, allowing him greater access. And ooh, she needed to—ooh god—call the Detective—her fuzzy brain couldn't quite remember the other detective's name at the moment.

His so-talented hands slid up her back, taking full advantage of every patch of bare skin left bare by the cut-outs on the suit. His lips found the pulse point in her neck and he paused there to kiss and suck lightly and then graze the sensitive skin ever so lightly with his teeth and she cried out.

She became fuzzily aware that his hands had lifted to the neck of the suit, swiftly tugging undone the knot of the halter top and she felt the suit immediately sag away from her body and then fall away entirely, helped along by his hands.

With the last remnants of coherence she could muster, she tried frantically to remember why they really shouldn't do this now. "Castle," she gasped, biting back another moan at another caress of his knowledgeable hands, "oh—we need… we need to call that detective," she panted.

"This first," he grunted against her skin.

Her legs parted involuntarily at the slide of his hand between them—oh god.

"This first," she agreed on a breathless gasp. And gave up the futile attempt to resist him as she pulled him into the shower with her.


In spite of the unplanned (but oh so good) interlude in the shower, they managed to get Ganz at the drop-off point for the stolen haul of bullets from Kelvin North America.

She had her gun trained at Ganz's head and a mental image of Royce's body with the fatal hole in his forehead flashed through her mind. She wanted to kill Ganz, wanted to put a bullet through his brain the same way he had with Royce. It played through her mind—the tightening of her finger on the trigger, the shot, Ganz falling dead. Poetic justice, to kill Ganz the same way he had killed Royce.

She hesitated, feeling the insidious tug of temptation, of vengeance. Let justice be done—justice for Royce.

But then she heard a voice cut through the strange buzzing in her head—his voice. "Kate!"

And her head cleared, her finger loosening on the trigger. "Russell Ganz, you are under arrest for the murder of Michael Royce."

She remembered who and what she was. She was Detective Kate Beckett. And Richard Castle believed in her.

She turned away from Ganz as the LA cops swarmed up, checking the safety on her gun before tucking it into the waistband of her jeans.

Castle fell into step beside her. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his hand briefly touching her back in as much of a caress as he would give her when there were so many people around them.

She turned to him, managing a faint but real smile for him. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered softly. She was now—thanks to him.

He returned her smile and together, they walked along the sand until they could make their way back onto the pier.

Detective Seeger had driven them over in his squad car. This wasn't the time for the convertible. They waited for him beside the car since he was obviously going to be delayed with directing the uniforms and making arrangements for Ganz to get sent to the hospital to deal with the bullet in his leg while his arrest was processed.

"You did it, Beckett," Castle said finally.

She nudged his arm lightly with hers and gave him a sideways smile. "We did it, Castle."

"We did it," he repeated.

"With the boys' help," she added somewhat belatedly.

"Oh, hey, speaking of the boys, shouldn't you call them up, let them know it's over?"

"You're right, I should."

By the time she had finished giving Espo a brief run-down of what had happened, Seeger had returned.

They needed to go to Seeger's precinct to give an official statement before Seeger drove them back to the hotel.

Back in the suite, they talked briefly with Seeger to coordinate the cooperation between the NYPD and LAPD going forward to bring the cases against Maniss and Ganz, respectively. Listening to Seeger, Kate was rather grudgingly aware of a growing respect for his brisk competence and could tell from Castle's expression that he thought the same thing, as evidenced by the fact that before leaving, Castle once again pressed Seeger to take one of the complimentary robes and succeeded this time. (Only Castle.)

Castle had booked tickets on a red-eye flight back to New York while she had been giving her official statement at the station so they needed to leave the hotel soon after Seeger did.

"How close did you come? With Ganz?" Castle asked, breaking the silence as they finished packing up their bags.

She paused. "Close enough," she answered briefly. Closer than she ever had before. Only to be stopped by the sound of her name being called by a good man, this good man who believed in her so.

"You did the right thing. He would be proud of you." And the expression on his face added, I'm proud of you too.

She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. I'm as proud of you now as I ever was. She managed a somewhat shaky smile as she picked up her bag. "Let's go home, Castle."

They were seated in first class for the flight back (of course). He was so good to her, and his generosity was the least of it.

She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, getting his attention. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. I don't think I could have done this without you." Which was true and she wasn't even talking about the real help he'd given her to solve the case.

He gave her a faint smile, although his eyes were serious. "Yes, you could have, but you wouldn't have had as much fun."

"That sounds like the story of our lives," she responded with somewhat forced lightness.

He smirked a little. "Yeah, it kind of does, doesn't it?"

"Royce wrote in his letter that he could see that we had something real," she told him before she'd consciously realized she was going to do so.

Surprise flared in his eyes before his expression softened. "Something real," he repeated.

She smiled softly into his eyes as she cupped his cheek with her hand, her thumb lightly tracing his lower lip. "And he was right."

His eyes crinkled a little at the corners in the beginnings of a smile. "I knew that already."

Smug, adorable man. She opened her mouth to respond but was overtaken by a yawn before she could.

Castle huffed a soft laugh and slid his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her in until she was leaning against him, her head resting against his shoulder. "Get some sleep, Kate. You were up early this morning and it's been a long day."

She shifted, resettling against him more comfortably. "Mm'kay," she murmured equably because he was, of course, right that she was tired. "You sleep too."

"I will."

He rested his head against hers as she reached up to tug his arm more firmly around her shoulders. She felt him relax on a sigh and let her eyes close.

She would need to make funeral arrangements for Royce, she reflected rather muzzily, since she knew he had no real family. She would worry about it later, tomorrow.

And whatever else, she had Castle to help her. So she would be fine. She had Castle; she wasn't alone.

On the thought, she slid into sleep as the plane carried them homeward.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: I plead guilty to the fact that the little insert involving the swimsuit scene is entirely gratuitous and serves no purpose whatsoever to advance Castle and Beckett's relationship. Um, sorry?

I hope this chapter, with the new version of the couch scene and Royce's letter, satisfied.

As always, thank you to all readers and reviewers, especially to the guests whom I can't thank directly.