BURNING FLAMES OR PARADISE
CHAPTER TEN
CLEAN

You're still all over me
Like a wine-stained dress
I can't wear anymore


NOVEMBER 2008

She woke with a start, groaning as the morning sun shone directly in her eyes. Her head was pounding, mouth dry, and as she ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth, flashes of the previous night came rushing back. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Storming from the precinct after her case had been stolen by the FBI. Ignoring the calls of her name by her teammates and captain. Wandering without direction. Finding herself at a bar with a name she vaguely remembered as The Old something.

Seeing Rick's picture on the wall.

It was the picture that pushed her over the edge and had her ordering scotch after scotch in an effort to forget.

But then the familiar FBI agent had sat next to her, the cocky, square-jawed bastard that had undermined her, and she put his drinks on her tab in an effort to save some of her pride.

He wasn't as smooth as Rick, not with his words nor his hands. But he'd filled a void, at least for a little while.

Kate shifted her gaze to the man beside her, managed to slide out from the covers without him stirring. She padded into the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for any noise, but when all remained silent, she let out the breath she was holding on a long sigh.

Not that Will waking up at that moment would have been disastrous, but if he'd been in the mood for another round, she would have needed to think fast. And her head was pounding too much for that.

He wasn't bad, per se.

He just wasn't Rick.

Kate swore under her breath and pressed her forehead against the door, tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall as her ex invaded her thoughts.

They hadn't spoken since he'd left her apartment a month prior, not even through a proxy. He'd apparently visited the precinct to say good-bye, but she'd been at a crime scene and missed him. Part of her wondered if his timing had been intentional. She was fairly certain her favorite pair of sweats was at his loft - probably in his bedroom - but she couldn't bring herself to reach out to Martha to retrieve them.

Kate quickly relieved herself and brushed her teeth, tried to make as much noise as possible to wake Will once she began feeling more like herself. She clinched her robe tight around her waist; she had no interest in having more sex with him. So she'd make coffee, wake him up, and send him on his way. And aside from working on the case he'd taken over, she wouldn't have to see him again.

Except that she did see him again.

He was in her bed again the following night, a couple times a week after that. It was Will who she called on Thanksgiving and Christmas after finishing her shifts, Will's bed that she lay in when 2008 turned into 2009.

But nine days after the new year, as she stood in the snow in front of the grey tombstone, her thoughts drifted to another man. A man 3,000 miles away, across an ocean. She'd been keeping tabs on him to the best of her ability, through the tabloids and an old NYU classmate stationed at Scotland Yard who she now owed multiple favors.

If she'd had a contact at MI-6, she would have used it.

"I miss him," she confessed into the wind, her words disappearing into the frigid air. "I miss everything about him. He can be a self-centered jackass, but God, I wish he was here." She swiped fallen tears from her cheeks. "I fucked up, Mom. Things were going so well, then I had to blow up at him, all because he wanted me to go with him." She ran her gloved fingers through her hair and wished, not for the first time, that she'd remembered a hat.

"I was so stupid."

Call him.

Her head snapped up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, but as wind gusted around her, she shook her head and told herself it was her imagination. "I can't call him," she said out loud. "It's too late."

Her knees gave out, and she collapsed at her mother's grave, let all the grief and sorrow of the previous ten years flow through her and fall into the snow.

After her mom had been killed, and it had been dismissed by the detectives investigating it, she'd decided that she would have to get answers herself. So she'd given up on her lawyer dream. And she was happy, despite the occasional regret at what could have been. She was a great detective, successful and well-respected by her peers, and her intelligence and determination brought justice and closure to a lot of families.

But still, that justice and closure evaded her and her father. And for that, she couldn't forgive herself.

Finally, with fingers shaking from grief and the cold, she pulled out her phone to call him. But as soon as she found his name she cursed and put the phone back in her pocket.

She needed to let him move on.


The first six months of their time in London were mostly uneventful for Rick and Alexis. Despite moving after the school term had already begun, Alexis had little trouble assimilating, and quickly made friends and caught up on the curriculum. Rick couldn't have been more proud.

He, on the other hand, was having a more difficult time.

Although everyone he'd met had been polite and welcome, MI-6 didn't open their doors to him like the NYPD had. He was able to interview some agents and employees, had been allowed to sit in on a few non-sensitive meetings. But the idea of shadowing someone full-time wasn't going to happen. So, instead of on-the-job research, he spent most of his time staring at files with heavily blacked out reports.

He understood why, considering what MI-6 dealt with on a daily basis. But he was lying to himself if he said he didn't miss the thrill of being on the scene, pounding the pavement alongside the people he was writing about.

He managed to keep himself busy for several weeks, first with settling into their new home, then preparing for the holidays and a two week visit from his mother. But his mind often wandered to the smart, beautiful detective he'd fallen in love with.

One night he jerked awake from a vivid dream, and after he untangled himself from the sheets he grabbed for his phone, swore under his breath when he realized the date.

January 9.

His thumb hovered over her number. It was the middle of the night, so for Kate it was still the 8th, but in a few short hours it would be ten years since her mother's murder.

He should call her.

After a few long seconds, he sighed and turned the phone off. It wasn't the right time. Not then. If the conversation went poorly, it could send her spiraling back into work, down the rabbit holes she'd once been so fond of…

He couldn't live with himself if that happened.

Instead, he took the proverbial page from Kate's book and poured himself into his own non-proverbial work. He crafted a Bond story worthy of a movie, involving corrupt diplomats, a North Korean nuclear threat, and a thrilling helicopter chase in the Pyrenees mountains.

It took him just two months to draft the initial manuscript, two more months for edits and re-writes, and by the end of June, there was discussion of moving up the intended fall release to late summer.

Although he'd never written at the Patterson-type pace before, Rick was already hard at work on the next book when the first was released in August. It was almost immediately optioned for a movie, and he had high hopes for a trilogy. If anything, the book's success let him keep his mind off of Kate.

Sometimes.

He saw her everywhere. Every time he saw a tall, slim brunette, he had to look twice. Every sightseeing tour he and Alexis did he wondered if Kate would like it. He knew about her college semester in Kiev, but he wasn't sure if she'd made it to London.

He wanted her to visit him, wanted to show her around. The cafe where he went to write when his apartment walls closed in. The cottage where he and Alexis had stayed in the country. The majesty of Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey.

He finally caved in September, and sent her a postcard. It wasn't anything fancy, a fun card referencing Sherlock Holmes, but he jotted a quip about London's best detective versus the NYPD's, and a short "Thinking of you."

The next two weeks were torture. He was surly, annoyed, less than productive, and Alexis called him out frequently.

"You don't have to take it out on me," she snapped at him one afternoon in late September. "I'm not the one who dumped their girlfriend before leaving. Or the one moping every minute of the day."

"I'm not-"

"You're moping," she interrupted before he could protest. "You've been putting on a happy face when you need to, but you're moping, Dad. She might not answer, and you have to be okay with that. You sent it, now the ball's in her court."

Rick pulled her into a bear hug. "How did you get so smart?"

For the first time in months, Rick fell asleep without Kate on his mind.

The next morning he had a new text from a familiar number.

Thanks for the postcard.


OCTOBER 2009

This was crazy. This was absolutely, certifiably, crazy. Conduct unbecoming of an NYPD detective, let alone one on the fast track to rise through the ranks.

People like her didn't do what she was doing. They didn't just take a last-minute long weekend and fly seven hours, across an ocean, on a whim. They didn't interrupt their life to spend two days with someone they hadn't seen, hadn't even spoken to, in almost a year.

Especially not when their last in person interaction had been filled with anger and ended in heartbreak

Despite how their relationship had ended, the arrival of Rick's postcard had been a pleasant surprise. She did miss him, but when the card had arrived, their last argument rushed back into her mind. She waited several days, thinking about how to respond, if she even should. It was Lanie that had finally told her to stop overthinking it and just thank the man.

So she had.

She hadn't expected her phone to ring, or for them to slip back into comfortable conversation. They'd kept it simple, him asking about her cases, her asking how the next book was coming, congratulating him on the success of the first.

When he invited her to London for a long weekend, she barely hesitated before accepting.

It wasn't until she was walking through Heathrow, through customs to the international arrival gate, that she started second-guessing herself.

They'd agreed to start slow. Reconnect as friends, no expectation for anything more. They needed to get to know each other again, to wade into the pool. Diving back in would end in heartache, they both knew.

But goddamn, she wanted to run into his arms as soon as she saw him.

"Kate, over here!"

She chuckled at the sight of him, looking slightly unkempt, hair flopped onto his forehead and several days' worth of stubble on his cheeks. He was waving enthusiastically, and despite her doubt she grinned, his obvious joy contagious.

"Hi," she said as soon as she was in front of him, and she set her bag down as she sized him up.

He'd lost a little weight, not that he had a lot of extra bulk to begin with, but he looked good. His jeans fit him well, and he was wearing a plain sweater and sport coat. The hair and scruff gave him a devil-may-care feel, and when he pulled her into a hug, she couldn't help but notice the increased definition in his shoulders.

"I'm glad you came," Rick said as he pulled away, gave her sides a squeeze. "You look pretty good for just getting off a long flight. I'm impressed."

Kate laughed. "Oh, I stopped at a bathroom and freshened up a little. I slept for most of the flight." She followed him outside, lifted a brow at the limousine he approached. "Really, Castle?"

Rick shrugged. "Only the best for you. Come on. There's a lot to see and not much time to see it."

They didn't talk much during the ride into the city. He asked her about her cases, and explained what they were seeing, landmarks and neighborhoods. He lived right in the city, just across the Thames from the MI-6 headquarters. Alexis was in school, he explained when they arrived at his three bedroom loft, but she'd get home shortly after them.

"Well, here we are. Are you hungry?" Rick asked as he opened the apartment door.

Kate followed him inside. "Not really - oh," she gasped, taking in the apartment. His loft in New York was impressive, but it paled in comparison to this. This had an old, estate feel, with impressive crown moulding, floor-to-ceiling windows, and dark hardwood floors. She could see the London Eye and what she knew to be the Parliament Building, and she barely managed to slip off her shoes before being drawn to the window.

"Castle, this place is amazing," she breathed, turning around to face him.

He shrugged. "I lucked out. Black Pawn was going to sublet a flat, but this place was super cheap. The owner needed the cash, so I bought it. He was apparently some kind of executive back home, lost a ton of money when his company failed. His loss, my gain."

"Yeah, I'll say." Kate shook her head in amusement at Castle's good fortune, then managed to pull her attention from the view. "Do you mind if I take a shower? I feel gross from traveling."

"Of course."

True to his promise when they were discussing her trip, he had supplied toiletries, so Kate had only needed to pack the bare minimum. When she stepped into the shower and noticed the bottles lined up on a shelf, she smiled.

He bought her regular shampoo.

He remembered her shampoo.

Goddamn, she'd missed him. He was thoughtful and selfless, remembered details that most men in her life hadn't even noticed in the first place. She still didn't appreciate his insinuation months before that she should just pause her career to follow him to London, but hindsight had made her realize that his intentions had been good.

But it still hurt.

As nice as the bathroom was, she moved quickly, dressed in fresh jeans and a loose sweater. Some light makeup, a hair tie around her wrist just in case, and she emerged feeling like a new woman.

"Better?" Castle asked when she found him in the kitchen, handing her a glass of wine.

"So much better." Kate followed him to the living room, where they sat on the couch. She tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment when he opted to sit on the opposite side instead of right next to her, and instead she curled her legs on the couch, tucked her toes between the cushions.

They were silent as they sipped their wine, the air thick with tension, the conversations they needed to have floating between them.

"So how's the second book coming?"

"Ah." Her question seemed to take Rick by surprise, and he took a long pull from his wine glass before answering. "Uh, it's going well. I've turned in an outline, so it's just going through a vetting process. I've started writing the draft, though; I don't think there will be any major changes that could affect the story as a whole."

"What's it like shadowing a spy?" she teased, her lips quirking. "Or would you have to kill me if you told me?"

Kate couldn't quite read the look he gave her. His mouth smiled, but it was his professional smile, the one that didn't quite reach his eyes. Forced. Resigned.

"What's wrong?" she asked, setting her glass down and resting her elbows on her knees.

Rick shook his head. "Nothing. My research has been great. Really interesting stuff."

"Bullshit. I know you're not chasing terrorists through the streets, but I also know it's not fine. What, are they all assholes? They're forcing you to drink tea instead of coffee?" She nudged his thigh with her foot. "Spill."

Before Rick could talk his door opened, and they turned their heads to see Alexis come in.

"Dad, I'm home," the redhead called out, and when she turned her head to her approaching dad, she kicked off her shoes and gave him a quick hug.

Rick smoothed his hand over the back of her head. "Hi, pumpkin. How was school?"

"Good." Alexis turned her gaze to Kate, who had followed Rick up from the couch. "Hi, Kate. Good flight?"

Kate shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, suddenly nervous. She had no idea what Rick told his daughter about their breakup, so she didn't know how Alexis would act around her. "Yeah, it was fine. How are you doing?"

"Fine." Alexis gave her a look she couldn't read - a skill inherited from her father, no doubt - and shifted her book bag higher on her shoulder. "I'm going to change. Do you guys have a plan for tonight?"

"We haven't talked about it. Why, do you have an idea?"

"Yep. Be right back."

Kate raised her eyebrows towards Rick when he looked back at her. "This doesn't let you off the hook," she warned him. "We'll revisit this conversation later."

The rest of the afternoon and evening went by in a blur. Rick and Alexis took her to the London Eye, where she marvelled at the view of the city from high in the air - and her hosts at the lack of rain despite it being autumn.

"Are you hungry?" Rick asked once they were back on land.

Kate's stomach growled before she could answer, and she felt her cheeks flush. "I am, actually," she admitted.

"I know just the place," Alexis said, walking a few steps ahead of them. "If you don't mind casual," she added with a glance back.

Kate chuckled. "Casual is just fine."

She and Rick stayed side-by-side as they followed his daughter, and although her fingers itched to reach for his hand, she shoved her hands in her coat pockets instead. "Do you have any idea where we're going?" she asked, just loud enough for Rick could hear.

Rick chuckled. "Not a clue."

After eating way too many fish 'n' chips, the three of them walked in the direction of the flat for several blocks before taking a taxi the rest of the way. It was late, so Alexis bid them goodnight, even surprised Kate with a brief hug. And although Kate was tired as well, she accepted the glass of amber liquid - brandy, she discovered upon taking a sip - and joined Rick on the couch once again.

"Dinner was great, thank you," Kate said after a short silence.

Rick sipped at his own drink. "Of course."

"So," Kate started, shifting to face him, "our conversation earlier. You were about to tell me why your time with MI-6 isn't what you thought it would be."

Rick drained his glass and turned to face her, their knees almost touching. "I dunno, it's just…" He paused and sighed. "I didn't expect to be running around arresting people. But I guess I hoped for more than just reading censored files in a cold basement all day. They let me sit in on meetings every once in a while, but there's so much confidential stuff that I don't get all the ins and outs of the job. Not like when I was shadowing you."

"I see." Kate picked at the fabric of her jeans, eyes dropping to her knee before lifting to meet his gaze. "Do you regret it?"

Rick opened his mouth, then hesitated and closed it. "I don't know," he admitted. He threw a glance in the direction of Alexis's room. "I'm glad I've been able to give Alexis this experience. I wouldn't change that for anything. But I sometimes feel like I don't need to research anymore. I could probably write the other two books with what I have now."

"Why don't you come home?" She knew the answer before Rick even opened his mouth.

"I can't uproot her in the middle of the school year, not again. She was a great sport coming here. But I won't do it again."

Kate smiled and placed her hand on his knee. "You're a great dad. I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

Rick covered her hand with his and squeezed. "Thanks. She was excited to see you, you know. At first, last year after we-" At her nod, he continued. "She was upset, not going to lie about that. But I guess I got mopey, so she actually encouraged me to send that postcard."

"No kidding?"

"No." Rick shook his head and smiled. "It was also her idea to ask you to visit."

Kate started to grin, but it turned into a yawn that she tried to cover with her hand. "I'm glad she suggested it. If you'll excuse me-"

Rick stood when she did. "You must be exhausted."

Kate blinked at him, her eyelids heavy. "I am." She hesitated, then lifted to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Rick."

Rick gripped her elbows to keep her steady and he brushed his thumbs along her sleeves. "Good night."