FOUR

Kate stepped out of the elevator on the penthouse floor of Richard Castle's building and paused before moving an inch further. She let out a huffed breath, dropped her chin to her chest, and turned one hundred and eighty degrees so she faced the elevator. She picked up her foot, determined to turn around that time after four previous failed attempts, but could not bring herself to do so; the curiosity was just too strong.

Damn that Richard Castle for being so…Richard-Castle-y. He'd burrowed under her skin in all the best and terrible ways until he'd become part of her; a part she no longer wished to ignore even though, god help her, it could very well break her heart in the process. She'd come that far and she couldn't turn back, even if turning away might have been the easier thing to do.

Richard Castle…of all the people in the world, it had to be Richard Castle.

Ever since she was a child Kate Beckett disliked Elites, though she had no valid reason for doing so. As lawyers at a prestigious firm, her parents worked with many men and women who had chosen to have Elite children. As they had chosen not to do so, the Becketts often felt as though they were ostracized by their coworkers. Overhearing these stories Kate began to dislike the Elites for being, well, elite, though she had never actually met one.

Kate did not officially meet an Elite until her freshmen orientation weekend at Stanford, when she was placed in a tour group with a five-foot-eleven, platinum-blonde, blue eyed girl appropriately named Angel. Though Angel was not as snooty or standoffish as initially expected, Kate remained skeptical, even when she ended up living on a floor with two different Elite girls during her first semester. Her opinion of Elites was almost beginning to melt when her mother was murdered and everything changed.

Of course there was no way for her to know if Elites were directly responsible for her mother's murder—odds were they were not. However, technological advancements similar to those that allowed Elites to exist were the ones that had determined through computer programs and algorithms that her mother's case would end up being an unsolvable one, and thus a human detective was never brought in; it was simply filed a way. These new crime solving robots were meant to aid in efficiency and save the city—and thus its citizens—money. That may have been true, but computers were bound by their programming. They did not have instincts or hunches to follow. Kate firmly believed that had a human—a police detective—been put in charge of the case it would have been solved, which was why she decided to move back to Manhattan and pursue a career in law enforcement.

Despite the fact that being a police officer was one of the most difficult career choices she could have made, Kate never regretted her decision. Yes, she was looked down upon by many of her peers for doing a menial job mostly done by automation, but she knew she was making a difference with every arrest she made. As long as she could prevent families from suffering the same fate as hers, she was doing the right thing, so she moved her way up the ranks and proudly accepted her detective's badge.

Other than the rare occasions on which they were victims, Kate did not encounter many Elites through her work. Now and then she interviewed one as a suspect (and that almost never ended well) but for the most part she existed around Normals like herself and she would have been just fine living out the rest of her days that way.

Then, Richard Castle walked into her life and nothing made sense anymore. She suspected she would always remember the exact moment her captain informed her that the writer intended to shadow her for "research." She had never been so horrified! Not only did she have to see and interact with a narcissistic Elite again, but she had to see him every day? She feared it would be torture.

Once the initial irritation wore off, Kate had to begrudgingly admit to being somewhat fascinated with her new partner, especially once she found out he was one of the First Gens she'd learned about in school. Within just two weeks she'd had more interaction with him than she had with all other Elites in her entire life combined, but she was still determined not to like him simply because of his status. Well, that, and because he was annoying, particularly when he made her heart flutter and her skin flush—but it wasn't as though she actually liked him; she was having the physiological response her body was designed to have when she viewed his symmetrical face, winning smile, and sparkling eyes. One of the core designs of Elites was that they were as aesthetically pleasing as possible and thus her attraction to him was simply an unfortunate side effect of biology—or so she tried to tell herself.

Not too long passed before Kate realized that Castle was unlike any human—Elite or Normal—that she had ever met before. He didn't fit the standard pattern of Elites, barely mentioning his status at all and seeming embarrassed when it was brought up. He was kind and sweet, and though he could be arrogant at times, he was also one of the most genuine people she'd ever met. Had she not known he was an Elite, she would never had realized, which had her second guessing all her preconceived notions and prejudices against the lab-generated group.

Two years into their partnership Kate genuinely called him a friend and knew he was someone she could trust one hundred percent, especially after he carried her battered and injured body safely away from a situation that could have easily killed them both. After that, they moved easily from being work-friends to friend-friends and, though she was terrified to admit it, maybe even more.

Over the prior year, Kate and her author partner had spoken for hours on end each week—and not just under the guise of research for the books he wrote about a character inspired by her; they really talked—about life, about society, about their families and pasts. She looked forward to those chats over drinks and meals she shared with his family, but had always tried to keep herself at arm's distance from him, though she did not always feel successful.

In Kate's mind, a clear line existed between them. He was an Elite. He had two Elite wives before they met. He had an Elite daughter. She would never be part of the Elite world, so having feelings for him other than friendship would mean only setting herself up for the heartbreak she vowed to avoid after the death of her mother.

Still, as much as she told herself to stay away, something beyond her control kept dragging her back towards Richard Castle, which was why she stood in the hallway outside his apartment door daring herself to grab on to the handle, turn it, and step inside.

God, she was a moron to have made it that far; she should have just taken the subway back to her place after she finished filling out the piles of paperwork that would get her a new vehicle. What did she honestly expect to happen if she went inside that night? Richard Castle would never want her—not for the long term. At best they would have a one night affair and go back to being platonic partners, side-by-side in her (new) squad car. Or would they even make it that far? Maybe they'd drift apart after breaking the intimacy barrier, but maybe that was a good thing. She could get him out of her system—stop him from entering her persistent thoughts and dreams—and then they'd both move on. Yes, maybe that was for the best.

Taking in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to calm her humming heartrate, Kate turned the door handle and found no resistance. She stepped inside, shrugged off her coat, hung it up and then shut the door behind her. She'd been to the Castle residence enough time to be familiar with the layout, so when she did not see her partner in the kitchen, she assumed he'd be in his office procrastinating instead of writing.

She walked across the sitting area to the gap in the bookshelves that led to his office, spotting him behind his desk still wearing the navy blue NYPD hoodie. Surprisingly, he was tapping away at his laptop keyboard. When she saw his tongue dart out and skirt across his upper lip she sucked in a deep breath, instantly remembering the moment hours earlier when he'd done the same to her lip.

God, when he kissed her she'd forgotten how to breathe. Every past moment she'd convinced herself that she didn't have feelings for him evaporated and she knew with full certainly she'd never wanted him more. The pressure of his lips against hers, his hand grabbing at the base of her neck and his strong torso beneath her fingertips… It had taken every last ounce of her self-control not to drag him into one of the shower stalls and—no. No. She had to keep her head clear for the moment. She could still change her mind.

"Hey."

The writer startled at her soft voice, gazed up and smiled. "Hey. You made it."

"Ah, yeah." She stepped into his office and folded her arms over her stomach so she could cup the opposite elbow with her hands. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all; just jotting down notes. I, ah, wasn't sure if you'd take my invitation."

"Neither was I…I still don't know if I should be here." She confessed with a slight shrug.

He stood from behind his desk and began walking towards her. "Then let me convince you. Would you like a drink first?"

She gazed up into his ever-darkening eyes and swallowed involuntarily. No, alcohol was not something she wanted to add to this situation. She was certain if she felt even remotely tipsy she'd give in to her deepest desires and let him ravish her the whole night long. "No, thank you."

"Okay." He smiled, skimmed his hands down each of her arms until his rested against her elbows as well. His eyes trailed down her body and then back again and he said, "You look a little nervous. You've had sex before, right?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from him scolding, "Castle!" with a groan. She knew he didn't seriously believe her to be a virgin, but of course he'd make a joke in that moment; it was just his style.

"Hey." His voice husked into her ear as he nudged her low back towards a darkened doorway on her right. "I'm just trying to get you to relax." He moved ahead of her and crossed into the dark space with ease. A moment later it was illuminated by the low-light of a bedside lamp and she was able to see his very inviting looking king-sized bed before her. Castle said nothing as he removed decorative throw-pillows, dumped them carelessly to the floor, and then peeled back the duvet and top sheet, revealing a space just large enough to slip inside.

"Sheets are clean; I promise."

She felt her shoulders relax slightly at the sight of his smile. "I wasn't worried about that." She confessed as she approached. "I just… have you ever been with a non-Elite before?" Maybe he was used to women with perfectly symmetrical breasts, flat stomachs, and a complete absence of body hair; maybe he would be the one to change his mind so she didn't have to.

He shook his head disapprovingly. "You're making yourself sound like a different species."

"We might as well be," she muttered beneath her breath, for some days it truly did feel that way.

"No, Kate; we're all the same," he said with such confidence it made her want to believe him. He reached out his hand, pulled her towards the bed and nudged her forward until she sat in the exposed space. Brushing his thumb against her cheek he smiled down at her. "And, to answer your question: of course I have."

As Kate scooted back further on the bed to allow room for her companion, she thought to herself that she had never made love to an Elite, but she also decided that was not something the writer needed to know especially after his decree that they were all the same.

A moment later he joined her, put his arm around her waist, and pulled her in for a kiss. The moment she felt the searing heat from his mouth over hers she knew for certain her decision to go to his apartment that night had actually been made hours earlier when they first kissed, for one moment between them would never be enough; one night wouldn't be enough, though it may have been all they had. That kiss was not the fervent, intense on like their first, but tentative, slow and sweet. The kiss made her body hum for more, but as his hands began to caress her hips and skim beneath her shirt on their way towards her breasts, uncertainty crept into her mind once more. "Castle…are you sure you want this?"

He gazed down at her incredulously. "You're kidding me?"

Her hand landed in the center of his chest and she shook her head. "I know you want to…celebrate the fact that we got out of the car alive, but what if people find out…"

"You going to call Page Six and tell them tomorrow?"

"Obviously not."

"Then stop worrying about things that won't happen and just…live in the moment, okay?"

Without waiting for her response he kissed her again and leaned against her until she reclined on the bed, her head landing on the corner of one of his pillows. She tried to clear her mind as his large hand splayed across her breast and his lips skimmed her jawline, but it was hard for her not to think about how much she might regret their decision to make love. Granted, it did become easier the more he kissed her and touched her and—god, how had they waited so long to do this?

Kate cupped her hands around the writer's jaw and smiled over at him for a moment, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip. He was so beautiful, especially being that close to him, touching him. In that moment she forgot that his strong jaw and perfectly rounded lips were lab-created and focused instead on the devotion that poured from his gaze, and his quiet praises of her beauty and other wonderful qualities in between kisses.

Several minutes later she was naked from the waist-up and was finally beginning to undress him while kissing and nipping at the smooth skin on his neck. As he was one of the elites without facial hair, he never had any stubble or a five o'clock shadow, which she found somewhat fascinating since she had never been around such a man. She continued to kiss his neck while unzipping his hoodie and skimming her hands across his chest which, conversely, did have a small amount of hair. She chuckled to herself at how bizarre and opposing the composition of Elites could be at times.

When she pulled back to help push the hoodie off, Kate gasped at the sight of the skin on his shoulders and upper back. Instead of being almost glowing and smooth like that on his face and the back of his hands, it was evenly peppered with freckles and sunspots. Though she'd never been intimate with one, Kate had seen naked Elites before, both in text books and on the rare occasion they were homicide victims she was visiting in the morgue. All of them had flawless, porcelain smooth skin unmarred with any discoloration. How strange.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and gauzed up at him, feeling rather guilty for gaping at him. "Nothing's wrong. You just have freckles…"

He shrugged. "I have a beach house; I'm in the sun a lot."

Her brow wrinkled. "But Elites don't get freckles…right?"

"I'm a First Gen," he said as though this alone were explanation enough.

She leaned away, somewhat taken off-guard by his mechanical-seeming answer. "I—I didn't realize you were that different. What else? I mean, are there a lot of differences?"

He shrugged and brushed some hair away from her shoulder so he could lean down and kiss it. "Not a lot, mostly things you wouldn't notice. Oh, except I only have seven toes."

"What?!"

He lifted his head and smirked at her. "Kidding."

Kate rolled her eyes and gave his arm a shove. Instead of reacting with another joke, he gave a sad sort of shrug and said, "Nothing's supposed to be different about me, Kate; I'm just like them only…less perfect."

His comment made her heart sink down into her chest as she truly believed there was no such thing as being perfect. Oh, yes, the Elites liked to think they were, but in reality perfect was just an illusion—a perception. Were the Elites perfect because their skin was smooth and had no flaws like freckles or moles? Perhaps, but not in Kate's view. It made them all seem plastic and almost doll-like. She found it creepy, but Castle's freckles made him real—human, which was absolutely not the same as being imperfect.

Kate lifted her head, grazed her lips over his cheek and whispered in his ear, "Not to me," before pulling his body down on top of her so they could become lost in each other.

A/N: As many of you have realized, I was inspired to write this in part after someone explained the premise of the movie Gattaca to me, though I have never actually seen the film :)