A/N 1: Hi guys! I want to thank you all again for your support of this story. I say it every time, but every time I'm blown away by how much you're enjoying this fic, and I hope you continue to do so. Here's Chapter 6, enjoy!

Anything you recognize, from characters to some dialogue is not mine.

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Chapter 6

Castle jolted from a short catnap at the ping of his phone. He'd been sitting at his desk trying to write, but thoughts of Beckett kept interfering. She seemed to want to work this out, she seemed to be happy to work with him at the party, she seemed to be grateful for his help. But then he pictured her in the hospital saying, 'there's some things that are better not being remembered' and then at the precinct, 'I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it.' Jesus, would the real Katherine Beckett please stand up?

He'd fallen into the doze while surfing the web, searching for inspiration. Neither Nikki nor Rook were cooperating, (gee, wonder why?) so he was looking for something – anything – to write about, to the point of developing a new character, whether it be as a side character for Nikki Heat or even a lead for another book – series or standalone.

He had also texted her while surfing, just before falling asleep, realizing that they were still good together even with everything. But he just couldn't let go of her lie.

I know the case isn't finished, but helping at the party made me realize we need to resolve this sooner rather than later. 'We' seem to still be there, which I'm not sure I understand since I'm still angry. No, I'm beyond angry. I'm pissed. You lied, Kate...

No, shit. Damn it, he didn't want to get all worked up yet. He knew he would when they saw each other, but if the argument started this way, they'd probably never even meet. She'd get mad and refuse to talk, then he'd get even angrier. He backspaced and started again.

No, wait. I didn't want to discuss this on the phone, I certainly don't want to discuss it by text. It's after midnight on Sunday morning. So, tonight or tomorrow? What time should I be at your place? No more waiting, Beckett.

– C

That was better. Or as 'better' as it was going to get. Castle hoped his admission of still being angry wouldn't make her run, even though he'd toned it down. He wasn't expecting her to answer soon – it was late, and he assumed she was still working.

So when he jerked awake from the sound of a text coming in, it surprised him. Whether pleasantly or not, he wasn't sure. He lifted the phone. The text was from Kate.

I'm glad you think 'we're' still there. I want 'us' to still be there. So, since it's now after 2:00 on Sunday morning, and I'm not on call, how about tonight, 7:30? I'll make you my mom's famous lasagna. I'm not – but at the same time I am looking forward to this conversation, and I agree it's time to pull out all the stops. I hope I'll see you tonight.

Good. He hadn't scared her off. And Kate said tonight and not tomorrow, specifically mentioning she wasn't on call. Dispatch wouldn't be calling. So that could be promising... or not. Placating to 'keep' him? Or placating to brush him off? God, when had he turned into such a cynic?

Rick saved what little he'd written, shut down his laptop and trudged to bed. He didn't think he'd sleep well, but he would need all of his wits about him tonight. He saw the bottle of ZzzQuil in the cabinet while brushing his teeth and debated taking a swig. Did he want the grogginess and fog of the medication? Or just the grogginess of lack of sleep? Neither sounded appealing, but plain grogginess was better than brain fog, so he decided against it.

He shut the cabinet after putting his toothbrush away and went to climb in his bed where he stared at the ceiling for an hour before finally dropping off.

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Kate woke early after a restless night's sleep.

It frustrated her because she really needed to be alert tonight, and tossing and turning all night was not exactly conducive to that.

But... she had to get up. Ugh.

She decided she needed to clean before Castle came over tonight, she was cooking and it wouldn't do to have Rick see her latest Styrofoam temple in the fridge. Even though she'd been good the last couple of weeks, stocking up on some groceries, it was still easier to pick up Chinese on the way home from work, hence the temple.

So again, she told herself, she had to get up. And once again, ugh. She hated getting up early on her day off. She never slept in too late, but she did enjoy being lazy once in awhile.

At least she could smell coffee. Fortunately, the coffee maker worked last night. She'd bought a programmable machine after she moved into her new place, but half the time it didn't turn on at the time she set. Kate still hadn't figured out if it was user error or something mechanically wrong. Meh, it worked for the most part, it wasn't worth replacing, though a certain writer might disagree. If she wanted the really good stuff, she'd have Castle make it at the precinct.

Except that he'd left the precinct.

Castle...

She had to figure out a way to broach the subject of her lie after dinner. She wanted to give him something real of herself and her mother, so even if the rest of the evening didn't work out, he at least had that from her.

Of course, that also meant she needed to find something to talk about during dinner. And there was the rub. Kate hated small talk generally, because she thought she was bad at it. And though Castle had been to enough book signings to be good at it, she knew he wouldn't be in the mood.

But nothing would happen if she didn't get her ass out of bed.

She groaned as she dragged herself from under the blankets and into the shower. Hopefully the hot water would wake her up enough to stumble out for coffee, which – if she was being optimistic – would wake her up enough to get out the door. It was a necessary evil, but God, she hated grocery shopping. She'd get her fridge cleaned out before heading out. She was as bad as Castle sometimes. Procrastinating something she didn't want to do, even when it was in her best interest to get it done. At least she only did that with personal stuff, not work... Maybe her paperwork, though. She grinned cynically to herself at the thought and headed to the bathroom.

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While she might not say grocery shopping is a joy, Kate conceded it was mind numbing when she needed it to be. And she needed the monotony of walking up and down the aisles to distract her from the upcoming conversation.

Onion, tomatoes, Italian sausage. Hmmm... Hot or mild? Hot. The spicier the better, as her mom always said. Wait, does Castle like hot and spicy?

Maybe she should text him...Or Alexis. Hmmm...

She stopped in the middle of the aisle thinking.

"Ahem!"

Kate jumped at the irritated voice behind her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, yanking her cart to the side.

The woman huffed and passed Kate, muttering something along the lines of "Get out of the goddamn way."

Kate rolled her eyes at the woman's rudeness and went back to her list, deciding to grab both kinds of sausage when she reached the meat department, forgoing the text. Maybe tamping down the spicy in the food would also tamp down other kinds of heat.

No, there would be no texting, especially to Alexis. While they had seemed to reach a détente of sorts at the party, Kate didn't want to push it – especially before she talked to the girls' father. And no to texting Castle either. She felt like it would be better if she didn't have contact with him before tonight.

Anyway... She needed cheeses – except Parmesan. Mushrooms, eggs, all the fresh stuff. Since Kate had been forcing herself to stock up on groceries the past couple of weeks, she already had lasagna noodles and the aforementioned Parmesan. She smirked at the thought of Castle making the noodles himself, but there was no time for that tonight, even if she had a pasta maker – which she didn't.

Mind numbing maybe, but it kept her from overthinking everything else. She glanced at her watch. Shit. She needed to get home and started on the food. Checking her cart to make sure she had everything, Kate rushed through the checkout and drove home.

Once inside her apartment, Kate immediately began cooking, not even unloading her bags, just pulling out the ingredients as she needed them.

She had a rough moment or two as she always did as she was putting this dish together. She and Johanna had made it every second Sunday in the month. She suddenly realized that was today.

The need to scramble to get ready notwithstanding, Kate had to sit for a moment. It didn't happen as often as it used to, but there were still times when her mother's loss was felt keenly.

And now was one of those times.

When she mentioned these spells of melancholy to Dr. Burke, he advised her to let the feelings happen whenever she could. Yes, sometimes she couldn't or didn't want to break down – on a case or in public, for example. But allowing her feelings to flow over her gave them validation.

"Your mother died when you were young, and in a horrible way," he had expressed. "It's all right to grieve, Kate. There's no time limit on mourning. You have learned to live with it, but there will be times it all comes back. And getting it out does not make you weak."

So Kate let the pain wash over her and cried her hurt and loss.

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Rick was back at his desk, once again trying to write. The night's sleep had been more refreshing than he'd thought it would be, 6 hours and a long hot shower had done wonders. He was glad he'd forgone the ZzzQuil.

He was still blocked for something new, so he went back and read through what he had written, tweaking a word or phrase here and there. He didn't like doing that often, preferring to wait until Gina had read the rough draft and made suggestions. They were disastrous personally, but professionally, he couldn't ask for a better editor.

Sometimes though, editing himself helped get the creative juices flowing – at least somewhat. It worked again this time and by the time he reached the place he'd gotten stuck; he was able to fall into the story again. It wasn't great – at least at the beginning, Gina might have a field day revising this section, but at least Nikki and Rook were telling him what they were thinking again.

And then he found The Zone. That elusive place where his characters fully came to life, took him out for coffee and told their stories to him. It could be dangerous if Martha or Alexis spoke to him while he was in The Zone, he recalled a reference to the Incredible Hulk that made no sense until his mother explained it to him.

Fortunately, Alexis was up and out the door meeting friends for breakfast, and Hurricane Martha hadn't returned home from whatever party she'd attended last night so Rick was alone with no one to interrupt.

By the time he came up for air, he was bleary eyed and confused as to where and when he was. That Rip van Winkle feeling was ultimately satisfying, because it meant he'd written something good, even with the rocky start. He looked at the time on his computer and shot from his chair – looking at his phone in case Beckett had called or texted, wondering where he was. He relaxed a little when he realized he still had plenty of time to get ready for their meeting. He quickly saved his work, then ran to the bathroom for a quick shower.

This was in no way a "date," but it felt wrong to not be presentable. Kate was trying – for whatever that was worth – and Rick had to try as well.

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The cry was cathartic, as it always was, even though it left Kate empty and worn out. She looked up at the half put together lasagna and for a split-second thought about canceling tonight. Then she resolutely stood and began her work again.

No, she needed this confrontation; both of them did. Granted, she would prefer Castle not know she had spent 15 minutes crying her heart out in mourning, but she'd slather on the concealer if need be after bathing.

Kate put the finishing touches on their dinner and popped it in the oven. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she decided not to take the bath she'd been hoping to have. Showering would get the job done well enough. She wouldn't need to particularly rush, but there was no time for a soak in the tub.

Besides, even if the conversation went spectacularly well, there was no way she and Castle would jump straight into bed. They'd waited too long, worked too hard, hurt each other too deeply to just give in to primal urges. She wasn't going to worry about stubbly legs even if she didn't want him to see the tear tracks on her cheeks.

While in the shower, Kate's thoughts inevitably turned to the case, specifically that code. What was it? W – something. She'd brought a few files home, she'd check it out after she finished getting ready, and maybe Castle might have some ideas... If he didn't storm out after her explanation of why she lied about remembering his 'I love you'.

Ugh. What was she going to say to Castle? She had some thoughts, but they were in such a jumble she wasn't sure she'd ever get them into a coherent state.

Maybe she should write them down? Or was that lame? It would look stupid to read to Castle off a script. It also wouldn't do to just hand him the pages and just have him read it. He'd walk out for sure, and she wouldn't blame him. But... Just to get things in order? Calm her mind? Kate wasn't a world famous, best-selling author, but Rick had told her more than once that writing helped to calm him. Even when he was writing fiction, not his feelings.

Of course, with Nikki, he was writing his feelings about her, and Kate knew it – along with everybody else who knew them.

Okay, first she'll work out what she wants to say to Castle, even though it will probably get changed completely once they start the dialogue. Then, pull open the casefile she brought home and see if she can't work out that code. It would be relaxing. And maybe Castle would consent to give his insights into the matter once he got here.

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Castle jumped at the sight of his mother sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee. She must have come in while he was showering.

"Good afternoon, Mother," he snarked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Nice to see you got home all right."

Martha waved him off.

"As if you've never come home in the wee hours of the afternoon, Richard," she teased right back.

Rick grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured his own cup of coffee. Turning back to his mother, he noticed she was eyeing him shrewdly.

"What's that look for, Mother?"

"You look nice," she answered. "Getting ready for a date?"

Castle tensed. She knew he'd been waiting for Beckett to be 'ready', whatever that meant, and he hadn't been dating anyone.

"No, not a date, Mother," he replied. "But I will be joining Beckett for a lasagna dinner tonight. It's time to hash everything out."

"Everything?" Martha asked, raising her own eyebrow. "Well, if you're going to do that, there are two things you should bring to this dinner."

"And what is it that I should bring, Mother?"

"A nice Pinot Noir to pair with the lasagna, and..." she paused and looked at him directly. "All the information you have on Katherine's mother's case."

"Mother, what makes you think..." Rick began.

"Don't go there, Richard. Not with me." Martha was stern. She didn't get this way very often and Castle had learned that when she did, it was prudent to listen. Flighty as she almost preferred to be, Martha Rodgers could be decidedly wise. "I've seen you plot your books on that big screen in your office, and I've seen you trying to work out Beckett's case there as well."

"I've always known you to be a bit of a snoop, Mother," Rick said stiffly. "But that file is private. I never thought you would get into my computers like that."

"I didn't, Richard, and you know I wouldn't do that." Martha was a bit insulted. "But you are aware that your office is blocked only by open bookcases, and you are not as stealthy as you may believe."

Castle had the good grace to look chastened.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I – I do know that."

Martha nodded, mollified.

"I am serious about giving that information to Katherine." She took a sip of her coffee. "And the wine," she added as an afterthought.

"Mother, if I tell her about that, she'll go running straight into the abyss. I can't do that."

"'Straight into the abyss?' You're getting as dramatic as I am," Martha was amused, then grew serious again. "I'm having a bit of déjà vu here, Richard. I'm positive we've had a similar conversation before. You have information that could lead to the person behind her mother's murder. How dare you keep that from her?"

"It'll be like she's on a runaway train with greased rails under the wheels," Rick answered in a hollow voice. "And I'll have been the one who greased those rails if I give her the whole story."

"She heard you tell her you loved her at the cemetery," Martha sighed. "And she claimed she didn't remember it although apparently she did. You have a right to be angry and to confront her about that. But don't you realize that keeping that file from her is a lie as well?"

"How is that a lie, Mother? Rick asked in exasperation. "She doesn't know it exists. Kate has never asked if I had any info about that. I haven't looked her straight in the eye and said I didn't have anything." How the hell did his mother channel his 'Mimny' conscience?

"A lie by omission is still a lie, Richard." Martha stood and moved to the stairs. "Of course, I can't force you to tell her what you have. But don't you think you might be a little hypocritical being so angry about her lying to you, when you've been doing the same yourself?"

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A/N 2: What did you think? Last set-up chapter before the big talk! :)