Apologies for how long this chapter has taken to appear, but life has been a bit hectic of late. Apologies to theputz913 especially for not getting these two to their dinner yet. I have written and rewritten the dinner and I am still not happy with it. So rather than drag anything out any longer, I am posting this with a promise to post the dinner as a separate chapter as soon as it is ready.

There is some Chinese language used here, thanks to various internet free translations and Firefly/Serenity. I haven't put in the translations because this is from Beckett's point of view and she cannot speak Chinese - and the gist of the little that appears is all that is needed to follow what is going on.

I have posted this without Beta, so all mistakes are mine. Please let me know if you see anything unforgivable that I should edit.

Onwards!

Chapter

Outside the Twelfth the evening had taken the city within its cooling grasp, and a light breeze laced with an uncomfortable chill was now flowing along the street, bank to bank between the rows of buildings. With a shiver, Kate zipped closed the last inch of her black leather coat, bringing the metal tab snug against the knotted scarf at her throat. She pushed both hands into her jacket pockets and hunched her shoulders. Better. Behind her, arriving a step later after pausing to greet yet another face he knew, this time from Traffic, Castle was stepping out into the night. She watched him shiver and hunch into his own coat, turning up his collar.

Not fifteen minutes earlier, her partner had lumbered into the bullpen, crooked arms laden with straining white plastic bags, and cheeks pinked between aging bruises from an effortful journey through the cold evening air. As she added the final words to her report, her eyes gritty and heavy, she had slowly begun to register his progress across the bull pen. She watched him as he stopped to talk to some of the late shift Detectives and admin staff. More than a few marked their interaction with the writer with a strange stiffness and a new awkward brevity she had not seen before. Castle breezed through it all though, as usual, with his best buddy grin and smooth banter, but Kate felt a disquiet rise up from within as she looked on. They knew, of course, about his hearing. The entire Precinct, whether they were hooked into celebrity news or not, had heard by now and it would seem that more than a few people did not know how to handle the revelation. Even some of those who had been trading small talk with Castle for months before the news broke seemed to be at a loss. She winced as a young Uni fumbled through an exchange with her partner, seemingly caught uncomfortably between awe of his celebrity and some sort of confused pity. But, despite Castle's evident attempts to reassure him, the young man continued on to fumble himself into a blush and then disappeared down the corridor to Records with a convenient stack of case files. She bit down on her lip, irritated and pained on Castle's behalf, but knowing that male pride dictated that she could not overtly interfere. For now, anyway... Until she could no longer stand it, and was able to corner those offending colleagues when Castle was not around.

Her partner finally reached them, and once the boys were done with their feeding frenzy, she had called him over and he came quickly as he usually did. Eager and ready. Those awkward conversations had already clearly been cast aside as he sank down into his chair with a relieved huff. Before she could say another word, however, she was pinned in the bright beam of his total attention: prompting her for news on the girl and ready to hear what had happened after she had sent him home. There was so much to tell him, but despite the post-victory high she was so strung out on spent adrenalin, harsh fluoro lighting and screen glare from her lap top, insufficient caffeine and so many long hours spent in hot pursuit of this case, that she found herself answering his questions with an unintentional terseness; stripped down to the essentials. As usual he was not deterred. Instead, his expression took on a familiar glee that told her that he was going to pester her for those missing details immediately until she was ready to explode. She was abruptly taken with how right that was. The image of him in his chair, so utterly openly pleased and keen despite his own fatigue, his blue eyes gleaming with a deep felt delight and the promise of imminent pestering. It transformed him wholly back into the partner she had been missing for days.

She wondered if he knew just how he appeared when he was on the scent of a mystery. It was just so – so - unguarded. And now that she knew he was usually working that glib public persona, moments like these when he entirely forgot himself were probably when she had been unknowingly seeing him. For months. Right there in front of her. All that time. So she was going to blame this deadly cocktail of revelation, fatigue and post-case high, for what happened next.

"We – we make a good team." He had stumbled into that statement, tripping over his own words. And she was so caught up in that heady mix that had the instinctive shield she held up against the world unconsciously lowered, that she had fallen into her own candid, spontaneous:

"We do."

We do. She hadn't meant to let that out. She never let that sort of sentiment out. At least, never without making him work for it; not without having a quick exit ready to escape the moment. But then - we do. It just slipped out.

And she didn't take it back.

She didn't even attempt to.

And he had looked so damn surprised. Speechless, even. Then his expression changed and he was asking her to dinner and looking at her, right at her. That open look of his had layered into something ... else. Something intimate and, oh god, tenuous and wistful, but also suddenly determined. Born of the whole new understanding that had blossomed between them, that was clear in his eyes. The huge dimensions of it radiating out from him like an oncoming tsunami were frankly overpowering, and she suddenly wanted to run away and hide. But instead, thanks to Lanie refusing to let her, they were here in the street, about to have dinner. Together. Alone.

She cocked her head up at him, covering for herself with a purse of her lips and an irritated hurry-up poised on her lips. He didn't see her. Instead, he was looking around the steps and the broad sweep of the street, lingering over a cluster of people far off in the distance. For all the world he appeared as if he was just taking in the night, except for how she could see in his eyes that he was surreptitiously and methodically picking apart the entire scene; searching with an expression too serious to be hunting even for paparazzi. Alert for him she knew that now: that illusive murderous figure in the forest. The one that never had come to his City, and probably never had been going to. And yet, her partner was still looking for him, keeping his solitary watch. It bit into her, the story it told of an unending aloneness that had nothing to do with his hearing, and that she would never have thought to associate with the effervescent Richard Castle. There was a novel in there; in the burden of always being apart, alone even in a company.

That was something else they had in common.

Her mother's murder had forever separated her and her father from the rest of their world; from the life they knew to the one that they had to learn to live with. They both struggled with it and her father eventually imploded with grief, sinking into drunkenness, and she had become set further adrift from what had been. Alone on a dark and cruel sea. That final separation had felt so much like another death that she had put up a shield between herself and everything else, a wall that was impenetrable and fierce and immune to further loss; and she went on. Alone. And went too far alone, trying to solve her mother's murder, to bring back what had been taken so violently, to restore first her father and then the world. Even if it was going to be, as it clearly was in the end, the death of her. Her therapist had given her the ability to articulate it as clearly as that. He had supplied those crucial words. At first she just simply did not believe them, but time and repetition and another crisis that lead to threatened disciplinary action from her Captain eventually showed her their truth. She was thankful for those words now; thankful that someone had stopped her downward spiral when she could not. But, while those words had made the now easier to live in they had not brought back her father, nor her world. Nor brought justice for her mother. She was still alone. Even in company.

She suddenly couldn't stand it.

Not tonight.

Tonight should be about celebrating a victory. A solved case. The return of a stolen child. A family reunited. The bad guys on the back foot. It should be about the telling of a great story to her partner and seeing him light up with the hearing of it.

It should be about something shared.

"So, where are we going?" she said as she attempted to interrupt his anxious search and her own discomfort with a companionable nudge. As if her words or her touch could put the brakes on decades of fear and habit – for either of them. Yet still she found herself trying. For herself, and now him.

"Uh?" He took a moment to incline his head towards her when his gaze refused to part with the street until he had satisfied himself. "Uh, oh. Where are we going? It's not far," he told her, suddenly rising to her question, lightness back in his eyes as he read her inquisitive, impatient expression. "It's good, I promise. Wonderful ambiance. Quiet. Fantastic food. Wine. Beer if you prefer. And coffee. All the tools I need to pry those case details out of you, Detective."

Detective...? Not Beckett? She noted the title he had used for her; the absence of his usual flirtations or innuendo laden teasing. So, maybe she wasn't the only one feeling a little skittish tonight.

"And no burgers," she warned him, softening the statement with a mock glare.

"No burgers," he repeated, flashing her an answering smirk. "Though, uh, I do need to make a stop on the way. Won't take long."

Skittishness settled Kate and Castle walked, side by side, away from the Twelfth. They slipped into the loose collections of people along the sidewalk, blending into the swirl of the city's dayshift as they all headed out into the city looking for a drink, an evening meal; something to book-end the day before the long trip home.

Despite the height difference, they fell into step with one another without conscious thought as they wended their way to Castle's mystery destination. Kate glanced down, watching his expensive leather loafers and her own black biker boots, striking the pavement in time with one another as had been their inexplicable custom almost from day one. It was such an ingrained habit, it was impossible to tell if it was him shortening his stride, or she lengthening hers that always brought them to this intuitively shared space. Maybe it was both.

They walked on for a minute when Kate suddenly felt more than saw, a movement beside her and watched Castle fish his cell from his pocket and peer at it. He huffed a laugh. His face creased in sudden delight as he typed his reply, his pace slowing as he did so. She followed his lead and reined in her stride.

"OK, Castle," Kate declared, feeling her own face creasing with a frown of amusement and curiosity. She stepped closer as they walked and, so she could avoid removing her hand from her pocket, she batted at his flank with her elbow for the second time that evening. He looked at her. "What gives? You've been getting messages and frowning, or laughing, all day!"

"Uh, it's Alexis," he replied easily, turning the cell so that she could see the messages on the small screen.

AC: "To a father growing old –"

RC: "-nothing is dearer than a daughter." Euripides.

"I kinda had that one coming," he said as she read. "It's a way to keep in touch. We use quotes that we both know. One sends the first half and the other completes it."

"And," she nodded, looking up at him to let him see her reply," a correct completion is the 'ok' signal?"

"Precisely!" he replied, sounding out of proportion-pleased with her insight. "If it is incorrect, or there is no reply or no message prompt, I know she needs me."

"Clever," Kate said, and meant it. And it was, even if the reason for having this code at all was just - Wait – "Euripides? Ancient Greek playwrights, Castle? I never had you pinned as a reader of classics?"

"You know Euripides?" Now her partner just sounded astonished. And so utterly, utterly thrilled with her. For the sake of pride, she hoped she hadn't sounded the same over his revelation that he also knew of Euripides.

"I read a little. In college," she responded, trying not to laugh at his wide-eyed astonishment. She watched him suddenly swallow.

"Well, Detective, you just keep on unfolding like a flower." He managed to say after a long moment, a seriousness in his tone that made her feel skittish once again, and she reactively searched out the safer ground that was found within an eye roll. "I have to confess though: that one is on Alexis," he said, suddenly jovial again (was she that transparent?), "she's taking some extra credit classes this semester and reading some of the classics. Shakespeare, The Greeks, and others. She liked that particular quote." She felt him looking at her, a smile back in his voice. "But you, my dear Detective, are just full of surprises. You are by far the most fascinating muse I have ever had the good fortune to be stimulated by. Ow! I meant to say inspired by! Inspired by! Apples! Apples, apples, apples!" She released her sudden pinch on his arm and he rubbed at the spot. "Owowow!" He tried again, comically hard, for wounded though she hadn't grabbed him that hard. He flapped his injured wing at her, pouting, and she hooked her hands into the crook of the offended limb pulling it close, trapping him there. She kept him captive, her fingers finding channels of warmth in the creases of rough fabric at his elbow, in the press of his arm against her side.

"Quit while you are ahead, Castle," she admonished him as she shook her head, "it's getting cold out here and you promised me dinner." After a few strides, she realized that she still had hold of him. She froze, and began to pull back when she felt him resist and instead press her grasping hands further into his side, into the warmth of his coat. The movement was subtle and tentative, but determined. She risked a glance upwards and saw him only in profile as he continued to look ahead, as if nothing was happening between them. As she was contemplating what to do, the fingers of his casted hand made sudden fleeting contact with the back of one of her hands; she felt the passing brush of his skin and the hard edge of the molded cast. The message, the entreaty in his uncharacteristic diffidence, was clear and unambiguous: please stay. But he wasn't going to try to force it, nor draw attention from passersby, oh how well he knew her, and she could leave go of him and pull back. She could let him go. She should let him go.

She didn't.

Until she realized where they were going...

"Hey!" Kate demanded, slithering her hands free from his coat. She was pretty damn sure she had been clear that in no way was the evening to include burgers – and certainly not Harry Xiao's!

"What?" Her partner somehow had the temerity to look baffled, and a little bereft as he stood there holding out his abandoned arm as if she was still hanging onto it. Then he shook his head. "Oh, no, no. No, it's ok. This is the stop I told you about. Come on, it won't take long." Before she could say another thing she was watching her partner duck into a familiar Alleyway. Deep within its recess, an equally familiar fluorescent light flickered, beckoning unwary, hungry travelers.

Damn.

For the second time in her life Kate entered Harry's dubious eatery. And as was his habit, Castle held the door for her as she entered, as though he was trying to channel Cary Grant or Gregory Peck. And as usual she let him; indulged him, she told herself. She was immediately plunged into a fog of humidity, flavored in equal parts with old grease, fried onions, decaying plastic and industrial cleaning products. She tried not to breathe in too deeply. Unlike Castle, who had slipped into the small seating area alongside her and was heartily inhaling the fumes with a beatific smile.

Inside the windowless shop (empty of customers at the moment – how surprising...), there was seating for ten on plastic molded chairs, in faded pastel pinks and blues, around three linoleum topped tables spaced out along the walls. Upon each table was a napkin dispenser stuffed full of neat white sheets, alongside a small red cylindrical container from which poked plastic chop sticks, spoons, forks and knives. And behind the tables, below the wide board that listed Mr Xiao's unique burger creations by number and picture, an unmanned counter top with its cash register, small black board and stubby white chalk, and a large fat golden toad biting down on a bronze coin. The stone amphibian stared out at the tables and front door through glaring red eyes, as if commanding customers to enter and make a purchase. As he approached the counter, Castle reached out his splinted hand and gingerly patted the squat little statue on its head with his fingertips. Then -

"Nǐn hǎo! Diàn zhǔ!" He roared with no warning whatsoever. Kate jumped, her hand darting to her firearm.

"Damnit, Castle!" she hissed at him, which was useless, but anger and a racing heart made forget that he wouldn't hear her. And he was oblivious, staring into a doorway behind the counter - from where, Kate now registered, there came the typical sounds of an active kitchen, and the distinctive, reedy jingle of music being squeezed and distorted through old radio speakers. Alongside the noise, an intensely greasy, meaty smell was also floating their way.

"Chū lái! Zhè shì -" she almost cringed as her partner went on to send another, much longer, rant into the kitchen. The clanking and banging suddenly ceased. In the silence, the tinny music cut their air like a scream.

"Castle -" Kate started again, grabbing his arm, but was this time was annoyingly shushed by a wave of her partner's hand, and an oblivious grin. She watched him turn back to the doorway and take in a breath for another turn imitating a parade sergeant when the top of a white cap, tufted at the edges with scruffy black hair, slowly appeared around the doorjamb, quickly followed by a pair of wide staring eyes.

"Ta Ma De, Uncle! You hundan!" A thin aproned young man, the owner of the scruffy hair and hat, suddenly spilled out from around the doorway, his expression shifting rapidly from fright to chagrin. He pulled the rumpled white cap from his head and wiped it over his shining face. "Kao! You gotta stop pulling that truancy cop go-se."

"I'll stop when you stop bunking off school to flip burgers, Darcy! Which from your reaction just now you are still guilty of doing. And what sort of language is that to use in front of a lady?"

"Wha- Oh shi- I mean, sorry. Oh, hey I remember you!" The young man rambled staring at Kate, his cheeks flushing with teenage self-consciousness. "I mean – uh." His skin took on a deeper shade of pink as his eyes involuntarily tracked downward, then shot back to her face with a startled, mortified blink. She remembered him too from her one and only previous visit. "Ooooh! She's... She's with you, Uncle?" There was the beginning of awe in the young man's eyes now, a glimmer of it through the embarrassment. Oh brother...

"Er," Castle looked a bit mortified himself as he glanced in her direction. She could virtually see the inappropriate comment that he had been about to make as he registered the young man's admiration and instinct demanded a confirmation. To his credit, however, he bit the words back. "We're sort of with – each other – right now. Tonight. Here. Sort of. Ah-hem. Let me introduce –"

"Hey, what happened to your face, Uncle?" The boy suddenly refocused on Castle.

"Huh?"

"Your face. Uncle. What happened?" The boy repeated the words, more clearly this time, breaking up the sentence into chunks. He added a circular movement of his hand around his own face.

"Ah. Oh, you mean this?" Castle, shamefully obvious about his happiness at escaping the previous question, made a show of dismissively waving his unstrapped hand at his bruises. "All in the line of duty, defending this our fair city against the criminal underbelly. It sometimes carries serious personal risk, but –"

"Ā. Rick!" Another man, an aged image of Darcy, suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was sporting the same cold wind-swept look that Kate and Castle were modelling. "Wǒ yǐwéi wǒ tīng dàole shēngyīn!" He smiled as he came to the counter, then looked horrified as he evidently saw the state of Castle's face. But, a beat later he saw Kate and his face broke into a huge smile. "Ah, ah. This is the good news, isn't it?" He switched into English, his accent a strangely pleasing blend of something like Castle's native diction and his own Chinese heritage. He hurried around the counter top, momentarily disappearing behind a higher division board, then reappearing beside them.

"No, Uncle-" Castle suddenly spluttered, his face turning a similar shade of red to the teenager not moments ago. "I – Ow!" Her partner suddenly yelped as the older man poked him in the arm.

"Have you forgotten your manners: introduce me! Introduce me! Dong ma!"

"Uh, Uncle Harry, Darcy, I would like to introduce you to Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD. Beckett, this is my dear friend: Mr Harry Xiao. He is the owner of this fine establishment. And his son, Darcy, that you have already met of course."

"A Detective? Ah, this is good. You will be able to keep this one in line. He is a good boy, but he can be quite naughty; quite a handful. He doesn't listen and he is in need of some discipline, someone to tell him no, but I think that is no trouble for you. A police Detective! This is very very good. Very respectable. Yes. Yes." Harry Xiao beamed giddily, his eyes shrewdly assessing, as they shook hands and the penny dropped for Kate: he thought he was being introduced to Castle's girlfriend or maybe even his fiancé! And Castle's eyes were round with mortification. Their eyes met over Harry's salt and pepper head and, as the man went on and on oblivious, she glared: say something to your friend! "I told him: don't give up, Rick. That is what I said to him all the time: don't give up! He must remarry, and not just for the sake of his daughter, but for himself! It is not good to be alone in this world. He must find someone to pass his days with and his fortune: a good person, a good match. And so she will also be good for Alexis! He doesn't have to try to have the one without the other! He has made his money, he is a man of substance, a good good man, and so I keep saying to him that we can all see it – he is ready! Yes. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." Oh my god, he did not just quote Pride and Prejudice at her! "And so it is. Ah! A Detective! I have to phone my wife -"

CASTLE! NOW!

For a second, the writer looked utterly stuck. Caught between two equally daunting prospects. But then he snapped out of his stupor and gently, but firmly, grasped Harry's arm.

"Uh, Uncle... Detective Beckett is my muse."

"As it should be. It's the sign of a good match, Rick. And I knew it the moment I saw her: she has your number!" He had his cell phone in his hand. "Darcy – tea for our guests!" And the boy ducked back into the kitchen. He grinned at Castle again, then Kate: "You will have handsome babies! And pretty ones too. Lots and lots of fat handsome pretty babies! Ha ha!" He held the phone up to his ear.

"No, no! Oh god - No, please don't call Aunty!"

"Mr Xiao," Kate interrupted, gently, politely but resolved to do Castle's dirty work as he floundered, hopelessly.

"Call me Harry, please!" The elder Xiao politely lowered the phone and gave her his full attention.

"Harry. I am sorry. There has been a misunderstanding," she pursed her lips at her partner, "Castle and I are not married. We are not engaged, we -"

"Oooooh." The old man regarded them both critically, then nodded slowly as if slowly weighing her words, even her herself, against some personal standard. He shrugged. "Well, these are modern times. This is America! Who am I to judge if the baby making comes before or after the ring? Rick is no stranger to -"

"Oh god, ha ha ha," Beckett blinked as her partner just let out something that sounded like an hysterical giggle. From the mouth of an eight year old girl. "Oh, is that the time? Oh, Uncle, I am so sorry the tea will have to wait until another evening."

"Ā?" Harry stared, taken off guard and slipping back into his first language. And Castle looked just so damn pathetic...

"Yes, I am very sorry Harry," Kate spoke up. "It was lovely to meet you, but Cas – Rick, is right, we can't stay tonight. It seems a - a colleague has just got himself into some serious trouble and is in need of some help before he digs himself into hole he can't climb out of." She looked pointedly at Castle.

"Oh, I see," Harry said, clearly not seeing at all. Castle, however, did. And looked suitably rattled.

"Yes, ah," Castle said, "but I wanted to come in to see you before we had to –"

"- go to the rescue," Kate finished, before Castle could say or do anything else. "Which we have to do. I am very sorry Harry, this is very rude of us, but duty calls and Rick will make it up to you, very soon. I promise."

"Ah, I see. Well," Harry still looked thrown, but he nodded after a moment. "Well, you must go and do your duty. Duty comes first. Yes, yes, we will meet again."

And they were outside again, the warm fog that followed from the shop slivering apart between cold spears of air channeling through the alleyway. Castle let out a long breath. Kate pulled her coat shut. The sounds of the city seemed loud and pressing. Somewhere nearby a siren howled.

"That didn't really go like I was -"

"Nope."

"Never speak of it again?"

"Never."

"Right. Dinner?"

"Dinner."

END CHAPTER

The next chapter has their dinner - and more - I promise.

Love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. I have been unhappy with it. Hope it works.