Author's Note: I'm back and without further ado, here's the next chapter, the first of two chapters set during 2x3 "Inventing the Girl."

Then Came Love

Chapter 7

Kate surveyed the contents of her fridge apathetically. Her fridge and her cupboards were, at least, reasonably full now that she knew she had to eat better and not subsist solely on takeout but what she hadn't quite realized was how exhausted she would be after a long day—and a dispiriting case—and how little she would feel like actually cooking a healthy meal.

She was tired. She wasn't sure how much of it was due to the pregnancy—apparently, growing another life inside her took a lot of energy—and how much of it was from the lack of caffeine and probably most of all, stress. Not just the usual stress of work but now, she was tense because of her body's unpredictable behavior—the random bouts of nausea she felt, the different smells that triggered it. Today, Wyatt Monroe's cologne had made her stomach turn, not helped by Wyatt's equally-nauseating character, and she'd needed to breathe through her mouth to get through the interrogation. And then, she was tense too from hiding her condition and from wondering if or when any of her co-workers—the boys, for example, might start to notice something. Especially because she was not at all close to being ready to tell Captain Montgomery or the boys or anyone else at work about her condition.

So yes, she was tired. And the Jenna McBoyd case was turning out to be a difficult one to deal with because she'd been so totally alone and so victimized, even before her murder. Kate supposed she'd been protected from much of the worst parts of the modeling industry due to her youth during her brief modeling stint since she'd still been a minor at the time. But even so, Jenna McBoyd seemed to have suffered only the worst parts of the industry in her all-too-short life. Blithely written off by Teddy Farrow for all his words of caring, stalked and terrorized by Will James, drugged and betrayed by her so-called best friend Sierra, harassed and assaulted and quite possibly murdered by Wyatt Monroe.

She sighed and grimaced and pondered being rather lame and having breakfast for dinner, as it were, some toast and yogurt and maybe a salad, none of which would take much energy to make.

But just as she was wondering, she heard a knock on her door and started. Who could it possibly be? She felt a little jolt of nervousness that it might be Lanie, the only person who occasionally stopped by unannounced. Admittedly, Lanie didn't usually stop by when she knew they were in the middle of a case but still.

She looked through the peephole and her stupid, unruly heart gave an unbidden leap. It was Castle. She didn't know how or why she could be so… pleased to see him after spending most of the day with him up until just a couple hours ago and yet she was.

It was a little surprising—and somehow not—how easily and how quickly it had once again become normal to be working alongside Castle again. As irritated as she'd been with him for having the nerve to bet on a murder in his first case since she'd officially allowed him to return to the precinct—although in hindsight, she was a little ashamed of allowing her own competitiveness to override her better judgment and getting pulled in to the bet—but one side effect had been that it had pushed her and Castle into working together, against the boys, and the teamwork had made it seem like the most natural thing in the world for Castle to be at the precinct again, until it almost seemed as if he'd never been gone.

She controlled her expression, keeping it bland, as she opened her door. "Castle," she greeted, proud of herself for sounding so calm. "What are you doing here? Did you have an idea about the case?" Although she realized the moment she asked that if that were the case, he would have just called. And he was carrying a couple plastic bags and held a to-go cup in one hand.

He gave her a small smile and she noted peripherally that his stance was slightly crooked, leaning to the left, his head tilted. "Hey, Beckett. Hope it's okay that I drop by like this but I, well, I have something to give you and I brought you some food."

Oh. He had brought her dinner? The idea was ridiculously touching but she pushed the emotion aside. "I am capable of feeding myself, you know," she told him dryly to try to hide the emotion.

"I have no doubt of that but," he hesitated and it occurred to her that he was less comfortable than he initially appeared, "you seemed a little tired earlier so I thought I could at least save you the trouble of making dinner."

He'd excused himself the moment Wyatt Monroe's interrogation was over, saying he had something to take care of, but that had been to make dinner for her, as well as, she assumed, his family? It was… sweet. And that was a word she'd never thought to use to describe Castle before.

She stepped back. "Oh, thanks. Come in, then."

He did and she belatedly realized that this was the first time Castle was setting foot inside her apartment since… That Night. Oh. She fought back a blush, tried not to automatically look at the spot where it had happened.

Instead, she bustled into her kitchen, taking out plates and silverware.

He set the plastic bags on the counter and pushed the to-go cup gently towards her. "This is peppermint tea. I thought it might help. And I brought you this." He reached into one of the plastic bags and handed her a flat white box, which she opened to reveal a copy of Heat Wave.

He was giving her an advance copy of Heat Wave—just like he had Amy, the Cosmo reporter, as she now knew after reading the article. She sternly bit back a smile. "Are you sure this isn't just a gift for your own ego, Castle?" she needled.

He only smirked at her. "Why can't a gift benefit both of us, a distraction for you and an ego boost for me?"

"Who says it'll end up being an ego boost? Maybe I'll think the book is terrible," she shot back just to tease him. She might never admit it to him but she wasn't sure he could write a truly terrible book; even his worst books had still been passably decent mysteries.

He gave a theatrical shudder and clapped a hand to his chest. "It wounds me that you would even suggest the possibility of such a thing, Beckett."

She sternly suppressed the laugh that threatened. Ridiculous man. "I'm sure you'll survive. Now, what did you bring me for dinner, bread and water?" she quipped.

"Oh, ye of little faith." He made a face at her before he started setting out and opening multiple pieces of tupperware.

Kate blinked at the food on display, what he had brought over. Oh. Oh, damn. He really had made this for her. Grilled chicken, rice, green beans, and a kale and spinach salad. It was the salad that did it. She felt the absurd, ridiculous prick of tears at the back of her eyes. She could not believe she was getting so emotional over a salad—oh damn—but she was. The whole meal but the salad especially was one geared for pregnant women. She tried to quell her emotion, told herself he was just doing his duty for the baby since the folic acid in the salad was for the baby's development rather than her own health, but it didn't seem to make a difference to her unruly emotions.

She blinked and swallowed back the lump of emotion, clearing her throat a little. "This looks… good. Do you want to stay and have some?" A part of her couldn't believe she was doing this, inviting Castle to share dinner with her in her apartment, but after he had gone to such trouble, she couldn't not and, politeness aside, she found she rather liked the idea of it, surprising herself.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I had dinner with my mother before coming here," he demurred.

"At least, stay for a drink or something. I don't want to just kick you out immediately. I can make you coffee or, I mean, you can actually drink alcohol. I don't mind." And now she was practically babbling.

His lips quirked with faint amusement "Thanks. I can't stay for long but I'll have some tea."

She made tea for him while he insisted on plating her dinner and it was only a couple minutes before she and Castle were both sitting down at her dining table. It was such a cozy, domestic thing and she felt a fleeting sense of unreality. If anyone had told her even a day ago that she would be sitting down to a home-cooked dinner with Castle in her apartment, she would never have believed it but here she was. And perhaps more surprisingly, it didn't even feel that strange.

"You had dinner with Alexis and Martha?" she asked, rather inanely, as she started to eat, realizing after two bites just how hungry she was.

"Alexis is out at a study group meeting with friends so I only had dinner with my mother, actually. It's partly why I can't stay long. I don't want to leave my mother alone for too long because she's in mourning."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, sorry for Martha's loss. Who was it?" she asked with quick sympathy.

To her surprise, a smile flashed across Castle's face. "No one. My mother's mourning the death of her career, as she put it."

That answer surprised a quick laugh out of her that she quickly cut off. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh. What happened?"

Castle lifted a shoulder into a half-shrug, allowing himself a small smile. "It's okay. I might laugh too, except my mother would kill me." He sobered. "My mother auditioned for a Broadway play and was more excited at the prospect of it than I'd seen her in a couple years."

She winced slightly. "But she didn't get the part?"

He made a rueful face. "It was worse than that, really. Not only did she not get the lead part she wanted, they offered her a different part, the role of the 'crazy granny,' who dies in Act One. Off stage."

Kate winced again. "Ouch."

"Yeah, 'ouch' is right. Needless to say, my mother turned the offer down and since then, she's been moping."

Kate couldn't quite picture the vivacious Martha moping but she supposed it was understandable. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." He sighed briefly, looking more troubled than she had ever seen him look, especially where Martha was concerned. Castle's relationship with Martha always seemed based on sarcasm and needling, rather than actual warmth, but it was clear now that appearances were misleading in this too. This was, again, the real Castle, not the celebrity persona, the man who cared so much about his daughter and his mother too. "My mother puts on a good show, quite literally, acts tough but she's more vulnerable than she appears and she really had her hopes up about this play."

"It must be tough."

"Yeah, it hasn't been a good couple of days for her." He blinked and then added with the beginnings of his usual smirk, "Anyway, that's why I don't want to leave her alone for too long. In her current mood, she's likely to drink all my most expensive alcohol if I'm not there to stand guard and then who knows what kind of trouble she might cause."

He was doing it again, deflecting, downplaying a glimpse of sincerity with a joke. It really did seem to be a habit with him. It was a little late now; she'd seen and heard more than enough to know that Castle was quite as caring a son as she already knew he was a father. For all his faults, he was very good to his family, which would include the baby she was carrying, and that was something she appreciated.

She opened her lips to tell him to stop pretending—or something like that—but before she could, his phone rang and he excused himself, standing up to take the call.

She continued to eat while she listened, perforce, to his half of the phone call, with more attention than she normally would have except the name caught her attention.

"Rina, hi, thanks for returning my call."

Rina—the model Rina, the one who'd babysat for Alexis? He'd called her? She vividly remembered the way Rina had given him her number but once she'd found out Rina had been Alexis's babysitter, she'd been sure that put Rina off limits. Castle wasn't that kind of man. She'd been sure of that. Had she been wrong about him?

"I was talking to Alexis—"

He'd been talking to Alexis. Okay, so this couldn't be for a date. She relaxed a little. Not that she cared if Castle dated but it was only that Rina was too young and, well, she'd been Alexis's babysitter.

"—and she was saying it's been a while since she last watched High School Musical so naturally, I thought of you," he chuckled briefly. "See, I haven't forgotten. So, what do you think, are you up for a movie night?"

Kate relaxed further, hiding a smile as a little seed of warmth took root in her chest. He was setting up a movie night for Alexis? That was sweet too.

"She was thinking of tomorrow night. It's short notice, I know, but Alexis has plans this weekend already." He paused, listening to whatever Rina was saying. "Of course, I understand. Well, you can check and get back to me."

He laughed at something Rina said and Kate felt a flash of something like jealousy—no, no, it wasn't jealousy, it could not be jealousy. She refused to feel jealous over Castle; she didn't care if he was dating other woman or enjoying other women's company—she didn't!—and anyway, he was certainly not about to date Rina. He was only setting up a movie date for Alexis with an old friend of hers. That was all. So why should she care if Rina had made Castle laugh? He was a silly, cheerful sort of guy; he must laugh frequently. Not so much around her or at the precinct but murder wasn't funny and his own attempts at wisecracks weren't appropriate.

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you later. Have a good night, Rina."

He ended the call and sat down again. "Sorry about that. That was Rina."

A smirk tugged on her lips as she flicked her eyebrows at him teasingly. "I heard. I can picture you as a High School Musical fan."

He gave a quick laugh and she felt a ridiculous little thrill. See, she could make him laugh too. (Why did she care?) "I'm not, although I admit I got to know it pretty much by heart because Alexis went through a phase where it was her favorite movie and so I must have watched it with her at least a dozen times." He paused and added more seriously, "And Alexis watched it whenever Rina babysat her too."

"Does Alexis know you're setting up a movie night for her?"

"I did talk to Alexis about it so yes, she knows, but really, it's because I keep thinking about Jenna McBoyd and what happened to her."

She sobered too and sighed a little. "I know what you mean; it's been bothering me too."

"It's tragic. Jenna was so young and so alone, even with her husband, because neither of them knew what they were getting into and they had no one to turn to for help. I can't do anything about the modeling industry but I do know Rina so I thought I could at least help her, let her know that if she needs it, she has someone looking out for her."

Oh. Wow. He really was a nice man, a kind man, a better man than she'd really thought. And a man she was finding it increasingly hard not to like. Oh fine, yes, she did like him. As a friend, that was all.

"That's nice of you."

"Try not to sound so shocked about it," he joked, a smirk tugging on his lips.

She returned his smirk. "Yeah, well, I'm so used to you acting like a 10-year-old."

"Excuse me, I do not act like a 10-year-old!" he huffed. "I think I act like a 12 or 13-year-old, at least," he added with mock pomposity.

She laughed. How could she not like someone who could make her laugh like this? "Maybe on your good days," she quipped.

He laughed again. "Touché, Detective."

They grinned at each other in a moment of camaraderie and she felt another tug of dangerous attraction that was all the more dangerous and powerful because it wasn't only about the physical but was also about the fact that she… enjoyed his company. She was the one to glance away, looking back down at her plate, taking the last few bites of her dinner. No, she couldn't do this, couldn't let herself like him more.

He cleared his throat a little. "You helped Jenna, just by arresting Wyatt Monroe, but I thought I could at least do a little bit to help too."

She grimaced, pushing her plate away. She had finished eating but even so, the mention of Wyatt Monroe would have killed her appetite. "I did arrest him, but I'm not sure he did it."

He frowned. "I know he insisted he didn't kill her but they all say that. And clearly, he's not exactly a trustworthy character."

She made a face. "I know, he's a scumbag. I should be happy to lock him up and throw away the key." She hated the thought that she was working to essentially find evidence to exonerate someone like Wyatt Monroe, who didn't deserve it.

"But you're not sure. And you don't do that, you don't settle for the easy answer."

She looked up at him. "No, I don't. Jenna McBoyd deserves justice and justice is catching the one who actually killed her. And I don't like the fact that we found Jenna's body right outside his building and her shoes in his apartment."

"He could just be stupid. Criminals often are," he offered but his voice lacked conviction.

"Maybe, but Wyatt Monroe is a predator and predatory men like him aren't usually that stupid, not when it comes to self-protection. He's selfish so self-preservation would be his main goal. He could have forgotten the shoes; they were out of sight anyway but if he did kill her in a public place right outside his building, why didn't he move her body, put it somewhere that wouldn't point directly at him?" She shook her head. "No, the story doesn't make sense."

He shot her a faint smirk and she belatedly realized what she'd said, the way she'd phrased it. Damn, she had been spending too much time with Castle.

"You're right. He's sleazy but he didn't seem that stupid."

"Exactly," she agreed. "So I talked to Jenna's husband, asked him about her cell phone, and he said her cell phone didn't have a recording app."

"But Wyatt Monroe said she was recording him."

She nodded, allowing herself a brief curve of her lips, feeling the little lift of her spirits, in spite of the subject matter, at this connection, being able to talk about a case like this. (Since when was Castle so easy to talk to?) "She must have gotten a new phone just to make the recording so first thing tomorrow, I'm going to have unis start checking with phone stores in the area. And with her looks, she's bound to be recognized and remembered if anyone sold her a phone in the last couple days, especially because she would have made sure to ask if it would record."

"Good thinking."

"Thanks, I try," she returned dryly but the tone was softened by the small smile she couldn't help.

He grimaced. "Although I hate the idea that it might mean Wyatt Monroe gets to go free. It's bad enough that Sierra is going to get away with all she did."

"Yeah, well, I'm a homicide detective; I can't arrest people just for being creeps."

A brief smile lightened his expression. "Too bad but you do more than enough just catching killers. Anyway, I should probably get going. I want to make sure I'm back before Alexis gets home."

"Oh, right." She felt an unaccountable, irrational lowering of her spirits that he was leaving and forced herself not to think about it, pushing herself to her feet.

He stood up as well and started putting the now-empty Tupperware back into a bag. "Oh, I almost forgot. I brought dessert too, some oatmeal cookies." He retrieved a last small box which she hadn't noticed and handed it to her. "I just bought these on my way over."

"Oh, thanks. I do like oatmeal cookies." She sounded calm enough but she was aware of a surge of emotion in her chest. The salad might have been more for the baby but the cookie was not—oh damn, he was making it so hard to resist him. She had to resist him, that was all.

He shrugged back into his jacket and she tried not to notice how broad his shoulders were, quickly averting her gaze, and hurrying ahead of him to open her door. It had been easy, comfortable, just chatting while she ate but now, some awkwardness had returned.

"Thanks for dinner, Castle," she blurted out. "It really hit the spot." It had been just what she'd needed. Was probably the first time in years that she'd felt so… cared for, that anyone had provided what she needed.

"No thanks necessary. I figure it's the least I can do."

She met his eyes and caught a flicker of real emotion across his face, his eyes soft. And not for the first time, she noticed how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were. He just looked so… strong, so… dependable. She suddenly wondered, insanely, what it would be like to be able to rest against his broad chest, lean on him…

She wanted to hug him. The realization, the thought, shocked her. No, no, she couldn't do this, couldn't let herself get so close to him again. Couldn't touch him again.

It was just the coziness of his visit so far, she told herself, of eating a home-cooked meal with him there. It had made it seem almost like when Lanie came over and she occasionally saw Lanie off with a hug too. That was all it would have been, a purely platonic hug between friends.

Yes, of course it would have been platonic. It had to be because she had already decided she and Castle were going to have a completely platonic relationship from now on. Completely.

She almost jerked back, clearing her throat a little, hoping desperately that he hadn't noticed or realized. "Yes, well, thanks anyway. I didn't know you could cook so well."

He shrugged a little. "I'm not exactly a chef but I taught myself when Alexis came along."

He'd taught himself for his daughter. And now he had another baby coming along, she thought, inwardly reeling all over again.

"Well, let's hope we manage to really close Jenna's case tomorrow," she interjected, falling back on the safe subject of work.

He blinked. "Right. Well, see you tomorrow, Beckett."

"Night, Castle. And thanks again."

And then he was gone and she tried to dismiss the way her apartment suddenly seemed a little colder, lonelier, as if she'd somehow become accustomed to having company around during just his brief visit. It was ridiculous, anyway; she liked her alone time.

But as she ate an oatmeal cookie and started to read Heat Wave, she was conscious of a lingering warmth in her chest because of him, his thoughtfulness.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: As always, thank you to all readers and reviewers, especially the guests whom I can't thank directly.