Author's Note: The first of two chapters revolving around "A Rose for Ever After."

Then Came Love

Chapter 52

Kate wasn't jealous. She wasn't.

She trusted Castle and she knew he cared about her and would never cheat on her. She knew that.

So she wasn't jealous, not at all, even if it was apparent that Castle still cared about Kyra from the way he had said Kyra's name–worse, the way he'd looked at Kyra, as if… She felt something twist in her chest as it occurred to her that the way Castle was looking at Kyra now was very like the way he usually looked at her, the way it seemed as if the rest of the world had temporarily ceased to exist except for her–and now Kyra. It occurred to Kate that she hadn't seen that before, not from the outside at least, the way Castle's attention was usually focused on her. Oh, he had his distracted moments, usually when he had an idea about a case or about his writing, but that sort of abstraction was different than this. It was like going from being in the spotlight to suddenly not, being relegated to the shadows. It hadn't happened before, having the warmth and admiration of Castle's focus directed at another woman. Sensing that Castle had momentarily forgotten she was even there.

And she didn't like it.

Didn't like the way Castle hadn't even looked at her as he'd blurted out, "She was the one that got away," before he'd blinked and only then glanced at Kate to meet her eyes and added hurriedly, "Until I met you, of course."

She managed a faint smile at that although to her, the expression felt more like a rictus. Not because she doubted him or his sincerity–she didn't–she remembered very well, would never forget, the look in his eyes, his tone, as he'd told her just last week at the Hamptons that she was his "one that got away" but for all that, it didn't feel good to be a seeming afterthought either.

Anymore than she liked the inevitable comparison it set up between her and Kyra.

Not that she was jealous or doubted Castle. Because she didn't.

She just… didn't like it either. Which wasn't the same thing. It wasn't jealousy, she told herself virtuously, it was because she didn't like feeling so… petty.

Yes, that was it. After all, it wasn't as if she had any reason to be jealous of Kyra. Kyra was engaged to another man and Kate was the one who was with Castle now. Kyra might be his past but she, Kate, was his present.

And more importantly, she was a professional and had a job to do, a case to solve. (And if it occurred to her that the sooner she solved this case, the sooner Kyra would be married, well, that had nothing to do with anything. She was always motivated to solve a case.)

So she serenely (with very determined serenity) batted back Lanie's not-at-all veiled prying with the statement that she trusted Castle and Kyra was ancient history anyway and returned to the case, her spirits lifting a little with Ryan's helpful recollection of the drug dealer's name who had called Sophie Ronson.

Only to have to desperately clutch at her Detective Beckett facade and all her hardwon confidence in Castle and in their relationship when the elevator door opened and she was faced with Kyra.

She should have taken the stairs, the absurd thought darted into her mind, except in her current condition, with the occasional moments of dizziness she felt when she moved too quickly, she didn't feel very safe taking the stairs.

Anyway, she wasn't going to chicken out of a simple elevator ride alone with Castle's ex-girlfriend (and his other 'one that got away,' a niggling voice in her mind inserted).

"Your dress is lovely," she blurted out, managing a smile. It was, at least, the truth, the dress making Kyra look positively dainty and tiny and so slender.

Kyra's smile was immediate and bright. "Oh, thank you. It's Kate, right?"

Kate returned the smile as she confirmed her name.

"I feel like I know you already from the Nikki Heat book. I still read all of Rick's books."

It was stupid and Kate knew it but even so, she couldn't help the little twist of something inside her at the easy, natural way Kyra called Castle by his first name. (Stupid, what else should Kyra call Castle but his name? The rest of the world used first names; it was only cops who tended to go by surnames all the time. It wasn't as if Kate herself could not call Castle by his first name; she could. Just as Castle called her Kate, in tender moments. Damn it, that thought had not been as reassuring as she'd hoped.)

"Oh, well, most of the book is a product of Castle's overactive imagination," she made her usual disclaimer, trying for a little laugh that didn't quite make it.

Kyra gave a quiet laugh. "It's so funny that you call him that, Castle. When I knew him, he was just Rick, fresh off his first bestseller."

It occurred to her that Kyra was another woman who liked Castle for himself, because Kyra had known Castle–loved him?—before he had become the Richard Castle.

"Oh, and congratulations, Kate, on the baby," Kyra added with a politely vague gesture that just hinted at Kate's stomach.

Kate smiled, more sincerely this time. "Thank you." And afterwards, Kate told herself it was entirely natural that she added, "it's Castle's." Had nothing to do with, oh, claiming Castle or anything like that but really, what could be more natural than responding to congratulations on her pregnancy than by identifying the baby's father, right?

Kate almost wished that Kyra's reaction showed anything approaching a hint of disappointment or self-consciousness or something but no, Kyra, if anything, appeared to almost light up with so much genuine pleasure that Kate felt promptly abashed. "Oh, that's wonderful! I wondered, after reading the Nikki Heat book, if you and Rick were a couple but I had no idea just how much of a couple you two are! I bet Rick is a great dad too, isn't he, to his daughter?"

"Alexis," Kate supplied, "and yes, he is a great dad already."

Kyra reached out and placed a hand on Kate's arm, leaning in companionably. "I always thought Rick would be a good dad. He liked kids, even back then. Most college guys don't know what to do with kids but Rick, he'd see babies in restaurants and places like that, and he'd play peek-a-boo with them and make silly faces just to make them laugh."

Kate had to laugh even as she felt an odd little lowering of her spirits. That did sound familiar and so very like Castle. Kyra really did know him, still cared about him. "He still does."

Kyra laughed too. "I bet he does. Oh, I am happy for you and for Rick, of course. I'll have to congratulate him too."

The elevator stopped at Kyra's floor and she briefly squeezed Kate's arm again. "You know, Rick only dedicates his books to people he really cares about. I'm really happy to have met you, Kate, in spite of the circumstances."

"Me too," Kate managed. "Well, I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

"Of course," Kyra agreed and stepped out of the elevator with an easy grace in her beautiful dress that made Kate feel a strange twinge inside her.

The elevator door slid closed again but Kate couldn't help but remember Kyra's last smile, the way she'd looked, her whole manner. Kyra was so… nice. Pretty and petite and so sweetly feminine in a way that made Kate feel something like an ungainly giant by comparison, a prickly ungainly giant. Oh, Kate knew she was attractive, although she rarely thought about her looks, since she worked in a profession where her looks tended to be a drawback rather than an asset, but even so, she never felt all that comfortable with women who were, like Kyra, so pretty and petite, so… soft. And right now, it was made even worse by the fact that Kyra was not only tiny, height-wise, but so slender whereas Kate no longer had a waist to speak of and was starting to feel as if she were waddling rather than walking as it was.

She was pregnant, not clumsy, as Castle himself had told her–but the thought of Castle was less comforting than it normally was.

She was being silly, she told herself. Entirely overreacting to the coincidence of this case involving the wedding of Castle's ex-girlfriend. There was nothing to be worried about. She trusted Castle and she even liked Kyra, from what little she knew of her.

She wasn't worried and she wasn't jealous and everything was fine.


When had she stopped feeling comfortable in her own apartment, Kate wondered irritably the next evening.

She shifted her weight on her couch, which had seemingly been stuffed with rocks or something, and then glowered at the couch for good measure, which had no effect whatsoever and did not improve her mood. She pounded a fist on one of the cushions on her couch, which marginally helped for about a second, but that didn't last. At another time, she might have just gone out to run but of course, that wasn't a possibility in her current condition and anyway, she might be a little restless but she was also tired.

She had put on her TV to provide some background noise (she didn't know when her apartment had started to seem too quiet when it was just her in it–she liked her quiet, damn it) but that hadn't helped. She had finally settled on a rerun of an old Temptation Lane episode, hoping that watching the show would bring back her usual sense of comfort.

It didn't.

She just… missed her mom. She tipped her head against the back of her couch, shutting her eyes against the stupid tears. This might be the part of pregnancy she hated the most, she thought, how easily the tears seemed to come, her tenuous control over her emotions. It just seemed to strike at the very heart of her personality, who she was, and she really hated the sense that she'd lost control over her own emotions.

She missed her mom, wanted to talk to her mom–but the thought of her mom, of the sense of comfort she usually found in watching Temptation Lane only brought her thoughts back to what she'd been trying very hard not to dwell on–Castle. Or rather, the lack of Castle.

Castle, who was the person who somehow managed to make the hurt of missing her mom less.

Castle, who was almost certainly mad at her right now. Castle–who very well might be wishing he was free and single so he could go back to Kyra.

She might tell herself she was being absurd, ridiculous, but her insecurities, her fears, seemed to gnaw at her nonetheless.

Oh god, how had it come to this? It had only been a week ago that they had been in the Hamptons and she had felt so happy, so hopeful, so… confident in their relationship.

But a week ago, she hadn't really known about Kyra, beyond the bare mention of her name. She had guessed even then that Kyra was important to Castle and she thought, irrationally, that maybe she should have guessed that the mention of Kyra was like an omen–oh, she was being absurd and she knew it but that didn't help her mood.

It would have been so much easier if she could have disliked Kyra but the entire problem was that Kyra wasn't dislikable. No, Kyra was almost too perfect. Petite and pretty and sweet and sincere and real, in a way neither Meredith nor Gina were. Kyra, who wasn't prickly and wounded and haunted by murder.

Kyra, who also liked Castle for himself and who Castle still very clearly had feelings for, although Kate wasn't sure how much of those feelings were due to nostalgia and how much were the real, romantic feelings he might have never really lost. (Did he–could he–still love Kyra? She didn't want to think it, tried not to wonder, but the doubt ate at her.)

At the very least, she knew Castle was still protective of Kyra, the sort of active protectiveness she'd only ever seen when it came to Alexis. The sort of protectiveness and loyalty and trust that meant Castle still cared.

She inwardly flinched as her earlier argument with Castle over Kyra played out again in her mind, his questioning her over letting Greg go, her challenging Castle over why he wasn't also spinning out a theory of Kyra's possible guilt the way he normally would because it was possible. Not that she wanted Kyra to be the killer if only because she couldn't stand the thought of what it would do to Castle if Kyra turned out to be guilty but she didn't have the luxury of investigating a case based on her preferences of who the killer might be.

"Kyra did not kill Sophie! I'm telling you, I know Kyra and she's simply not capable of murder!"

His unquestioning faith in Kyra, even after all these years, seemed to lash at Kate, scrape against her raw insecurities no matter how she tried to hide or deny them. "You aren't even trying to be objective about this! You of all people ought to know by now that just about anyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances. And the fact that you and Kyra used to sleep together isn't proof of her innocence!"

The moment the last sentence had left her lips she realized she'd made a mistake, gone too far. She shouldn't have gotten so personal.

His eyes flared, faint white lines of anger appearing around his lips, and for the first time since she'd known him, it occurred to her that he looked almost dangerous–not to her, not like that–but in general, with his height, his size. "And suspecting Kyra of murder because she used to be my girlfriend is beneath you," he'd said, his voice low, controlled, deadly. And then he simply stalked away. Left her without a word for the first time in her memory.

And she belatedly realized that she was standing in the middle of the precinct and could not do anything stupid like cry, forced herself to return to her desk and her job, trying desperately to pretend that her ears weren't almost ringing with Castle's retort, the awful silence of his absence.

She had finished up what she could on the case and returned to her own apartment to have a late dinner, trying to tell herself she was fine and more importantly, that she and Castle would be fine. But it was becoming harder and harder to convince herself of that.

Made all the worse because she couldn't help but think that this might be a sign that Castle would be better off if he were to get back together with Kyra. Pretty, sweet Kyra, who seemed to be everything Kate herself was not.

And Castle and Kyra had been together for almost three years. That was… about as long as his marriage to Gina, not that much shorter than his marriage to Meredith.

It was certainly much longer than any relationship Kate had ever been in. And it was obvious that whatever Castle and Kyra had once been to each other, the feelings were not all gone. The bristling antagonism Castle had displayed towards Greg–Kate wasn't quite so lost in her own emotions–oh fine, her jealousy–not to realize that at least some of Castle's attitude towards Greg had to do with the suspicion of infidelity. After what Meredith had done to him, there was no way Castle would not react strongly to the idea that anyone would have cheated on Kyra, regardless of Castle's feelings for Kyra. Kate just wished she knew how much of Castle's attitude towards Greg was due to the Meredith factor and how much was just about Castle's lingering, unresolved feelings for Kyra.

And if Greg turned out to be guilty–which certainly seemed probable–then Castle would be perfectly placed to step in and comfort Kyra, be there for her. And if this turned out to be a second chance for them–god, what a story it would be. Kate felt another sharp pang at the thought, such a Castle-like thought.

Almost three years–while Kate and Castle had only actually been together for two months. Such a paltry amount of time, put like that. How was Kate supposed to compete with that kind of history?

Kyra was–she guessed–Castle's first real love. And while she tried to tell herself she was being fanciful and irrational, she couldn't entirely silence the niggling voice of her doubts, her fears, that maybe she, Kate, might actually be… Castle's second choice, the consolation prize or something.

Yes, she was having Castle's baby but as she'd insisted to Lanie from the beginning, she wasn't going to get into–or stay in–a relationship only because of the baby. Kate had seen too much not to know that staying in a relationship only for a child didn't work.

And if Castle wanted to be with Kyra–Kate steeled herself–she wasn't the type to beg or plead or cling to him. She and Castle didn't need to be in a romantic relationship for the baby; she did trust that Castle would be an involved father to the Sprout, no matter what. They could just go back to what she was initially planning, to have this baby on her own and be in touch with Castle for the baby's sake. People did it all the time, shared custody of a child without being involved romantically. (She tried very hard not to think about how it would feel, to try to go back to simply being friends with Castle, to have to see him, knowing he was with Kyra.)

And hadn't she always thought, feared, that all this might be too good to last? That Richard Castle, a man who could be with any woman he wanted, would want to be with her, with her issues and her defenses, the darkness in her life?

People left–it was a fact of life, one she'd learned early on, whether it be through death or drowning in the bottle or the end of her training or a promotion in another city. And she was left alone–well, with the baby, now. But she could–and would–manage as she always did.

At least, she hadn't taken any concrete steps to leave her apartment yet and her apartment did have an extra room, her office of sorts, but that could be changed, turned into a nursery since she didn't really need a home office. And if the whole idea–her entire apartment, for that matter–suddenly seemed… bleak, well, she would just have to get over it, that was all. She'd liked her apartment just fine a few months ago. She could adjust.

A knock on her door–a familiar knock–had her startling sharply and her heart seemed to plummet into the pit of her stomach. It was Castle but he wasn't using his key. Was knocking, again, as if he were some delivery boy or just a friend, the way Lanie knocked when she came over.

Kate ran her hands over her face, getting as firm a grip on her composure as she could. She could be calm and controlled. (And somehow it was only then that she realized just how much she'd lowered her defenses around Castle in these last few weeks because it was hard, felt almost unnatural, to be once again trying to don a mask when he was around.)

She let out her breath, steeling herself as she opened her door.

She didn't have time to greet him, had barely registered that his expression looked off somehow, a little nervous, maybe even… guilty before he blurted out, without preamble, "I just saw Kyra."

Oh. Oh god. She didn't think she liked this, didn't like the expression on his face, didn't like his tone, didn't like what he'd just said. She knew–she knew–Castle wouldn't cheat and she didn't think Kyra would either but that didn't mean he hadn't been tempted, hadn't realized that maybe he did want to be with Kyra. Maybe this was it then, the equivalent of a Dear Jane letter, except in person. Oh god. She couldn't cry, refused to cry.

She hid behind work, clutched at it because that was easier. "Castle, you can't just go around meeting with suspects on your own."

"Kyra's not–" he burst out before he abruptly stopped before going on, with obviously forced calm, "I didn't come here to argue with you."

"I don't want to argue with you either but I have a job to do and you meeting with possible suspects on your own could complicate things. Remember Scarlett Price. Not," she added hurriedly as his eyes flashed, "that I think Kyra is anything like Scarlett. I'm just saying, we don't really know what might happen in the case. Once the case is over and Kyra is cleared from suspicion, you can see her all you like."

He stared at her, a faint frown forming between his brows. "Nothing happened with Kyra; we hugged, that's all. And nothing is going to happen with me and Kyra."

"I didn't say anything did. I just… well, it's obvious that you still care about her." Damn it, she hadn't meant to get into this.

Something she couldn't read flashed across his expression. "And you think–do you really think I'm that fickle, that just because I run into an old ex, I'm going to forget about you? I'm sorry I met with Kyra, that was not the best judgment on my part, but she was hurting and confused and she needed a friend, someone who's not part of the wedding, to talk to."

She steeled herself. "I get it, I mean, you were together for such a long time. Of course you still care about her–"

"Yes, I still care about her but not like that! For god's sake, Kyra and I were over almost 20 years ago and however much I cared about her then, what does it matter because now I'm in love with you!"

He broke off, his eyes momentarily widening, while her heart, her lungs, everything inside her seemed to have forgotten how to function. He was–had he just… She choked a little. "You–what?"

His expression softened and he took an abrupt step closer. "I'm in love with you," he repeated quietly and oh god, with so much certainty she now wondered a little hysterically if her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. His lips curved faintly. "Didn't you know that? I didn't think I was being that subtle about it."

"I–you never said it," was all she managed to say, inanely.

He gave a half-laugh that was only distantly humorous. "I've been in love with you for months now. What was I supposed to say, 'hey, Beckett, I know you just barely let me back into the precinct and if it weren't for the baby, you probably never wanted to see me again, but by the way, I'm in love with you'?"

It was amazing–or maybe not–but a little gurgle of laughter escaped her at the absurdity of his question. Oh, oh god, he loved her–had loved her for months!

This was not at all what she'd been expecting him to say, the opposite of what she'd been fearing, dreading, these past few hours and the abruptness of it was making her almost dizzy with the revolution her emotions had undergone in the span of minutes. She couldn't talk, couldn't think really, certainly not of words, but she found she could move and she did, almost throwing herself at him, burying her face in his shoulder.

His arms closed around her and she released a shuddering sigh, feeling the knot of tension and unhappiness and hurt and, yes, jealousy that had taken up residence in her chest for what felt like days now finally dissolving.

He was in love with her. And she thought she might be in love with him too–this had to be love, didn't it? She'd certainly never felt this way about a man before, not Will, not even Royce. It was… a little thrilling and a lot terrifying, made her feel as if she were standing at the edge of a cliff. Because with love came the possibility of pain–so much pain–and she'd tried so hard to protect herself against that kind of devastation, built up walls and scaffolding and tried never to let anyone get too close.

But then she'd met Castle, who had disrupted her well-ordered life, her well-ordered emotions, with his provocative teasing that tugged at her and his cleverness that challenged her, kept her on her toes. And then there was the baby, whose mere existence had shaken all her defenses. And every day of the past weeks, months, that she'd spent with Castle had seemed to be chipping away at her walls, one brick at a time.

But as ever, putting into words what she felt most deeply didn't seem possible, her throat closing over the words she hadn't said to anyone but her dad in all the years since her mom's death.

All she could do was lift her face and kiss him, hoping her lips, the press of her body, could communicate what she couldn't put into words.

It was a long few minutes before they finally broke apart and resettled themselves on her couch, now miraculously restored to comfort as Kate leaned back against Castle, his arm draped over her, her hands holding onto his.

She could feel the steady, reassuring rhythm of his breathing against her, felt him resting his cheek against her hair. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, at the precinct, about Kyra," she found herself saying. She could think of Kyra with equanimity now. Because Castle loved her and she trusted him and he wouldn't say the words if he didn't mean them. And he was right, he had shown her over and over again over the last couple weeks how deep, how serious, his feelings for her were. She had allowed her fears to get the better of her, in her initial flare of jealousy over Kyra.

He stilled for a moment and then sighed a little. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have accused you of suspecting her just because she used to be my girlfriend. I know you wouldn't do that."

"I don't want her to be guilty but I can't work a case based on what I want to be true."

"I know you can't. And you're right, I am biased about this case."

She returned his admission with one of her own. "I liked Kyra. Like her," she corrected herself. "And I can see why you do too."

She sensed rather than saw his slight smile. "She said the same thing about you."

She turned her head to look at him. "You talked about me with her?"

"Of course," he answered, as if she'd asked him something as obvious as whether the earth revolved around the sun. "I told her that you're the best cop in the city and if anyone can find out what happened to Sophie, it's you and knowing you, you'll solve it in a couple days so she won't need to be left in limbo for too long. And Kyra said she can easily believe that and that she's happy for me, for us."

Warmth coiled around her heart. It occurred to her that at least part of the reason his unquestioning faith in Kyra had wounded her was because she'd never heard him express such unwavering faith in anyone aside from herself or Alexis before. His belief in her was precious and seeing him extend that same level of belief to another woman had hurt. "I hope you didn't try to make another bet over the case like you did with the boys that time," she managed to tease.

He laughed softly. "I knew I forgot to do something," he joked.

She smiled and shifted, turning to press a quick kiss to his chin, the closest spot she could reach, before settling back against him.

"Did you really think I'd want to get back together with Kyra?"

"No–maybe–I don't know. I guess I just… got scared. You and Kyra were together for such a long time and Kyra seems so perfect."

"Kyra's great but do you know what I realized just now when I met her?"

She knew Castle too well to think he was actually going to criticize Kyra; he was too loyal, too gallant, for that. Witness the way he'd even tried to defend Meredith, who deserved criticism if anyone did. "No, what?"

"She's not tall enough," he responded with mock solemnity.

She huffed a laugh. "Clearly a terrible flaw," she deadpanned.

"It's the strangest thing but I met this woman a few months ago and somehow she became the standard by which I compare every other woman and no one else will do now."

"A woman, huh?" she managed to say through the stupid tightening of her throat, the wild fluttering in her chest.

"Yeah, she's tall, brilliant, carries the weight of the world on her shoulders and thinks she can leap tall buildings in a single bound, but still manages to laugh at some of my jokes."

"She sounds like a handful," she choked out.

He pretended to sigh. "She is. She drives me crazy sometimes but I wouldn't have it any other way."

She turned to face him, managing a somewhat wobbly smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way either."

He smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her, softly, tenderly, and she melted into his kiss as always and thought fuzzily that he really had ruined her for anyone else. Couldn't imagine even wanting to kiss anyone else ever again.

She broke off the kiss with a little gasp as she felt the increasingly-familiar (and yet still somehow surprising) sensation in her stomach. "Oh, she moved." She met Castle's eyes. "I guess she's happy."

Castle curved his warm hand over her stomach. "Of course she's happy. But Sprout, maybe you could try not to kick your mommy when daddy's kissing her?"

She swatted at him, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. "Castle! Not in front of the baby!"

He continued to address her stomach. "Mommy's pretending to be annoyed with me right now, Sprout, but don't worry, she's really not."

"Ignore him, baby. Daddy's talking nonsense. He does that a lot."

Castle looked up at her, his eyes bright and even a little shiny. "Listen to us, Kate. We're Mommy and Daddy."

He sounded almost awed and it occurred to her belatedly that this sort of (silly) conversation, talking to the baby, was something he might not have been able to do with Meredith and baby Alexis when she'd been in the womb. If Meredith hadn't been excited about having Alexis, she couldn't imagine that Meredith would have indulged Castle much by letting him talk to her stomach.

"Yeah, we are," she agreed quietly. "Mommy and Daddy are both right here with you, Sprout." She smoothed a hand over the curve of her stomach.

"Kate." Her name was all he said before he kissed her as if he were trying to convey all he felt in his kiss. Kissed her hard enough and long enough that the kiss only ended when the need for more oxygen became undeniable.

Afterwards, she resettled herself back against him as she regained her breath. They were quiet for a few minutes as she idly played with the fingers of his hand. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"

She hesitated but finally asked cautiously, "Will you tell me what happened between you and Kyra?" She couldn't help but wonder, because Kyra was so different from either Meredith or Gina. She couldn't quite see what would have made Castle and Kyra break up, especially as it was obvious that neither of them harbored any negative feelings for the other, still cared quite a bit.

He stiffened for a moment, withdrawing from her a little not in any physical sense but emotionally, somehow, as if a curtain had dropped hiding his feelings, if that made any sense. She didn't even know how she knew it; she just sensed it.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me," she backtracked.

"No," he contradicted. "You do have a right to ask." He paused and then went on, "We met in college, like I told you. I'd graduated, was working on my third book, and she was a junior and got accepted to spend the spring semester abroad in London. I thought–well, I assumed that it would be okay. She'd only be gone a few months and while it was harder to keep in touch back then, there were still phone calls and letters. But then she told me that she thought it was a good chance to take a break, said that she needed some space." He paused and then finished, with brittle composure, "I never heard from her or saw her again until I walked into that hotel room the other day."

Oh. She inwardly winced. No wonder, then, that Castle had been so utterly stunned, so distracted, at meeting Kyra again. And she could understand too his attitude towards Kyra now, why he'd been so quick to seek her out. Nostalgia could be a powerful thing and even more than that, Kyra, or more specifically the way their relationship had ended, without a definite break, had been a story without a real ending, and Kate of all people knew the fascination that unresolved questions had for Castle. He'd never gotten any real closure over the end of their relationship and for Castle, that sort of unresolved issue exerted its own fascination. He was a storyteller; he appreciated a story's arc with a beginning, middle, and an end so for a relationship, especially one that had meant as much to him as Kyra had, to not have a clear ending would have bothered him.

"I'm sorry."

She could even be rather glad that this case had come up, that Castle had been able to see Kyra again. At least, as long as Greg didn't turn out to be the killer–because Castle would not easily get over seeing Kyra's heartbreak if that turned out to be true. But now, she thought, Castle could get closure over his relationship with Kyra, for good.

And it occurred to her too that maybe this was the difference between herself and Kyra, where Castle was concerned. Because, whether due to his youth or any other reason, Castle had let Kyra go without a fight all those years ago. But with her, he hadn't been willing to let her go so easily, had still been planning to try again. Oh god, he really did love her…

He sighed a little, his hand grasping hers. "I won't say it didn't hurt; it did, broke my heart," he admitted candidly. "But looking back on it, I don't regret it because if I hadn't been so hurt, my mother might not have decided to try to get me out of my funk by introducing me to Meredith and then I wouldn't have Alexis and Alexis is the best thing that's ever happened to me." He paused and then repeated, more slowly, "I don't regret it, wouldn't change a thing. Because everything that's happened, the painful and the wonderful things, they've all led me here, to you, and there's nowhere else I would rather be than here with you."

She turned and kissed him and this time, the kisses escalated, led to touches, and then they were stumbling into her bedroom, their clothes being hastily discarded before they fell onto her bed. And it was just them, skin against skin, with all the passion that had always existed between them sweeping them up until they burned up into bliss together.

Afterwards, she fit herself snugly into the curve of his body, loving the solid warmth of his body against her, surrounding her. All the emotions of the day caught up to her, exhaustion crashing over her, pulling her into sleep.

"You can stay?" she roused herself just enough to ask.

"Mm hmm. My mother's home with Alexis."

"Mm, good," she mumbled.

She was only vaguely aware of a soft kiss dropped onto the curve of her neck behind her ear, his half-slurred murmur, "Love you. Always."

The words slid into her dreams and in her dreams, she knew she loved him.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: I hope I'm forgiven now for the way the last chapter ended.