Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional.


Week Twelve (part two)

"Has Dad talked to you yet?" Alexis asks as she approaches and stands beside Beckett, who's near the edge of the pool and enjoying the beautiful weather and warm optimism of young love suffusing the festivities.

"About?" Beckett temporizes, certain that Castle wouldn't have mentioned their upcoming talk with his daughter.

"I was hoping I could catch a ride back to the City with you," Alexis asks shyly. "I can't miss another day of school so I need to go back tonight and he's still a little paranoid about personal security. Paul's great," she clarifies quickly, "but I'd rather travel with you."

"Sure," Beckett answers happily, touched by Alexis' request. "That sounds like fun. When do you need to leave?"

"Not before you and Dad have your real talk," Alexis answers slyly. Chuckling at Beckett's sputtering, she bumps shoulders with the detective. "You didn't have time before the ceremony and it's pretty clear that you need some quiet time together. Just let me know if you need a distraction to slip away. Yelling 'Fire!' would probably be a bad idea with this crowd," she says with a look that's eerily reminiscent of her father's impish expression, "but I can think of something."

Calming herself down, Beckett cuts a look at the young woman while taking another drink of her iced coffee. "You know," she says in a low tone as she lowers the glass, "I used to think Castle was exaggerating with his stories about you taking care of him. Be gentle with me, please."

Laughing delightedly, Alexis misses the approach of an attractive brunette who can't help but smile in reply to the young woman's mirth.

"Ms. Castle?" the woman asks while extending a hand. "I'm Monica Costa," she explains with a smile. "Ben's wife. I wanted to introduce myself and thank you and your father for hosting."

"Pleased to meet you," Alexis answers with a radiant smile while Beckett notices her social poise and grace, recognizing bits of both Rick and Martha in evidence. "Please, call me Alexis. And we were happy to host. Tommy's great and I really like Shannon," she says as all three woman crane their necks to locate the new couple, finding them on the dance floor that's been set up near the beach access.

"Oh!" Alexis says as they turn back from the happy couple. "Ms. Costa, this is Kate Beckett, a friend of my father's."

Quirking an eyebrow, offers a hand and a secret smile. "'The Extraordinary KB,'" she says happily. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's Kate," Beckett answers, following her earlier sputtering with a blush now, and deciding it's best to leave the rest of that statement alone.

"So you've read Dad's books?" Alexis asks Monica while giving Beckett a furtive wink, providing cover.

"Many times," Monica laughs, "each and every one. It's probably the real reason Old Ben might not've been happy when he heard your father was joining his firehouse," she says to Alexis with a laugh and waggling eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Kate," she says while turning to Beckett. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. We can just chalk that one up to envy. Anyone in my book club would happily bump you off and take your place."

"So, Captain Costa wasn't a big fan of having Dad around?" Alexis follows up, surprised that she'd not heard this from her father.

Waving a hand, Monica dismisses any concern. "You've probably heard all about my Ben," she says, not realizing that both women recognize and admire the obvious affection Monica holds for her husband. "He can be a bit of a grouch, especially if you don't know how to read his 50 shades of gripe. But he's really a teddy bear."

This doesn't quite square with Beckett's recollection of the growling menace who blocked her path that terrible night when she watched Castle charge into a burning building, but she holds her tongue. Besides, she knows all too well that some people, often the ones she admires most, figure out a way to leave their suit of workplace armor behind so they can be a caring person at home. It's a skill she's starting to look forward to learning.

"And as for his thoughts about your father," Monica continues with a nod toward the two men over by the bar, "I expect he's making his pitch for an extended tour right now."


"Nice party," Costa says while nodding in the direction of the festivities. Since they're on the fringe of the action, his nod encompasses pretty much the whole affair – the pool, dance floor, beach, and catering tents. It's a setup that works remarkably well, allowing guests to circulate at their leisure while allowing a little slice of many of the things the Hamptons have to offer.

"They deserve it," Castle answers, eyes alighting on the happy couple. Tommy's managed to misplace the sling he should still be wearing, but he's probably too blissed out from the wedding to notice. And if he's happy, Shannon looks incandescent. No one felt the near end of their story as acutely as her, as she made apparent when she offered a toast to Castle after the Best Man's speech. There weren't many dry eyes after she described exactly how barren her life would've been had Castle not pulled Tommy from the flames. And the few holdouts fell when Shannon pulled Castle onto the dance floor after dancing with her father. But tears turned to laughter as Shannon's grandmother insisted on getting a piece of the action afterwards, reaching out and hauling Castle back onto the floor. She's still out there now, a 78-year old dynamo anxious to "shake it 'til I break it," currently putting Fred through the paces.

"Yeah," Costa grunts in reply. "But d'you mean Tommy and Shannon or the rest of the crew?"

"All of 'em," Caste replies with a smile as he scans the crowd, happy that he's managed to provide an opportunity to relax and cut loose.

"Owe you an apology," Costa says, standing at Castle's side where he, too, surveys the crowd. While surprised, Castle holds his tongue. His time working at the firehouse has taught him a bit about his Captain and he knows an interruption wouldn't be appreciated. Truth be told, Costa's personality resonates with Castle, who can easily imagine the narrative possibilities of the gruff authority figure of the firehouse. So, rather than speak, Castle just turns to Costa and raises an eyebrow.

"I was wrong, back when we met," Costa replies, still looking out across the pool. "Turns out you learned how to scratch your ass in far less than three months."

Delighting in being caught by surprise, Castle releases a rich laugh, noticing when it catches the attention of a small group including his daughter, Beckett, and a woman he's not yet met. "Naturally gifted," he replies, harkening back to Costa's comments from their first meeting.

But Costa doesn't laugh, he just nods along. "It's been good to have you around. You got a way with people – don't think the 'house's ever run as smooth as in the last few months. You're good for the boys and the gals like you, too."

"They're good people," Castle replies earnestly. "They make it easy."

"Don't necessarily agree with you there," Costa says as his eyes find a few of the problem children under his watch. "But maybe they've learned something while you've been around. Something other than poetry," he says, cutting a quick look at a smirking Castle. "Don't suppose we can get you to stay?"

With a sigh, Castle grits his teeth and admits to the death of this endeavor. "We both know the ride's over," he says sadly, catching Costa's slow nod in his peripheral vision as they continue to insist on being men by having a meaningful conversation without looking at each other. "If I was really Rick Rodgers, I'd be tempted to stay. I could be happy there," he says wistfully, thinking of the better moments of the last score of weeks. "But I'm not Rick Rodgers. I'm Rick Castle. And now that people know who I am, Sal won't let me do the job the right way. He'd keep pulling me out, separating me, and that'd only breed resentment and discontent. You don't need that," he offers quietly. "It's a hard enough job without that nonsense."

Costa duplicates Castle's sigh. "I should kick your ass, you know," he says gruffly. Having a pretty good idea what the rough threat really means, Castle hides the smile he feels blooming inside. "Back when I met you at the diner, I figured you were just some jackass who was gonna make my life more difficult. And I guess you have. Because you've made me realize that it's my boss who's the jackass making life more difficult, not you."

"It's not really his fault," Castle admits, knowing that his (in)famous reputation would probably disrupt his efforts whether Sal or someone else was the Commissioner. Really, he's been surprised that it hadn't become a problem at the 12th, which he attributes to Montgomery's leadership and the steadfast refusal of Beckett's team to dwell on his efforts or reputation outside of the precinct. "Still," he admits, "he could've been more relaxed about it."

"Damn right," Costa nods in agreement. "Well, I had to take my shot. And don't think this means I'm gonna go light on you for the next week and change."

"Of course not," Castle agrees. "And I'll still screw up."

"Damn right," Costa repeats himself. Castle thinks he can just discern the hint of a smile from Costa before Dave, his burly colleague, saunters over.

"Hey, Rick," Dave's deep voice rumbles. "Where's Tommy's car? We got a few decorations to send 'em off right but we can't find the damn thing."

Costa just shakes his head. "The car he'd be driving while his arm's in a sling and he's on painkillers?" he grouses.

"We made other arrangements," Castle offers, the friendly counterpoint to Costa's brusque reply. "You'll know when it arrives," he says while looking at his watch, "and I think you'll approve."


"Looks like Winnie wants a turn," Beckett says as she squeezes Castle's hand as they leave the dance floor.

"Do you mind?" he asks, and inside, Beckett rejoices. They haven't had their talk yet (though she's noticed Alexis keeping a vigilant eye on them), but spending time together, whether dancing or socializing with the wedding attendees, is helping them find their footing. Castle's fragile politeness has slipped more than a few times, revealing the man she remembers from before their estrangement.

"I've learned better than to antagonize your sister," Beckett replies with a smile. "Besides, I could use a little break. You danced me off my feet, Castle."

He manages to hold his tongue, but based on his expression they both know he withheld a highly suggestive riposte to her comment. Squeezing her hand and still smiling, he leans close to speak in a low tone. "Use my room," he suggests. "If you want to take a few minutes to relax or dodge Shannon's bionic-hipped grandmother."

"Thanks, Rick," she says, making use of his proximity and surprising him with a kiss on the cheek before tugging on his hand to deliver him to his sibling.

"He's worn me out," she exaggerates to Fred. "Maybe you can outdance him."

"I don't see why today would be different than any other," she says haughtily, smirking at Castle who's already puffing up at the challenge. Chuckling, Beckett transfers his hand to Fred and watches them walk to the dance floor before deciding to accept Castle's offer.

Castle's room offers a welcomed respite. As much fun as this afternoon's proven to be, meeting so many new people while trying to reconnect with Castle at the same time has been emotionally draining. Trust Castle to recognize it and offer her quiet place to recharge. Taking advantage of the private restroom, Beckett notices with a smile that he wasn't kidding about the size of his tub – it's nearly the size of the hot tub outside and opens daydream doors that she's determined to keep shut for now.

Instead, she slips out to the balcony, careful to move stealthily and avoid notice from below. From her vantage here above the party, she can see everything, including the dance floor. Castle's talking with the DJ, apparently making some requests. And the DJ's no fool – it sounds like he adjusts his playlist quickly. If Beckett's surprised by the switch from pop and ballroom music to country, she's even more shocked when the music draws a laughing crowd that forms around Castle and Fred. Taking a seat, Beckett pulls herself up to the railing of the balcony to watch the show.

And what a show it is. This is obviously not the first time Castle and Fred have danced together. As the more casual dancers around them fall away laughing, unable to match their moves or tempo, the adopted siblings laugh and cavort. Beckett's surprised to find that she's not jealous – Fred's interrogation made the nature of her interest in Castle perfectly clear. If anything, Beckett suspects that she owes Fred for helping Castle in the aftermath of their separation. She plays with this thought for a few minutes before she remembers Lanie's earlier request. Pulling out her phone, she records some of the festivities for her friend, including Castle and his sister dancing like maniacs. Then, with a smile, she pans the camera to make Lanie happy by catching some extraneous footage from around the pool.

Several minutes later, Beckett starts to wonder why she's removed herself. The activity below, and its host, seems to tug on her in an unfamiliar but welcomed way. So, she stows her phone and slips off the balcony and back into Castle's room. Before she pads downstairs, though, she takes a quick detour to his bed, where she sits down and pulls the Fleming book into her lap. Opening it carefully, she's happy to see her birthday card for him is still inside. The envelope is creased and abused despite the protective shell of the book, evidence that the card within has been extracted and reinserted many times. Feeling exceptionally foolish, she pulls out the card and leaves a kiss inside before stuffing it back inside with a blush. Embarrassed by her unwitnessed act of mushiness and blanching at how Lanie would react if she knew, Beckett hurries out of the room and to the kitchen in search of one more comfort before returning to Castle.

His coffee machine here is just as nice as the one in the loft, and she's glad she recalls his instructions from her stay there as she goes through the motions. While a neat glass of whiskey would be perfect, she needs to keep a clear head for their conversation and the drive home with Alexis. For the first time, it dawns on her that the ride home could be exceptionally uncomfortable if their talk doesn't go well.

"If I said you had a good body for a cop," Beckett's startled to hear someone say behind her, "would you hold it against me?"

Beckett chuckles in pure incredulity as she turns, noting that the speaker looks put out at her response. Apparently he wasn't going for humor.

"I haven't heard that line since before I had a driver's license," Beckett says, exaggerating slightly while shaking her head. "It hasn't improved with age," she says while rolling her eyes and turning back to Castle's Italian marvel. Her hands are occupied when she feels a hand on her upper arm, which was either effective planning by her creeper or dumb luck.

"I can do better," he promises while looking at her hopefully.

Spinning out of his grip and giving up her coffee as a lost cause, Beckett frees her hands so that she doesn't find herself at a disadvantage again. "I'm not interested," she says in as polite a tone as she can manage for a stranger who thought it was okay to touch her. "The party's out back. That's where you need to be."

"But the bedrooms are upstairs," the man says in reply. "That's where you need to be. With me."

"Not going to happen," Beckett says sternly, losing her patience. "It's time for you to leave."

"I been looking forward to meeting you," the man says, studying Beckett with glassy eyes that fail to disguise his prurient interest. "Been wondering what makes a hottie like you willing to be a backup screw. Trust me, baby, with me you'd always be number one."

It's been a while since Beckett last had to deal with such a reprehensible cockroach and she's a little out of practice. Reminding herself that it would be poor manners, and an uncomfortably abrupt end to the party, to incapacitate this jerk, she opts for a verbal assault that will make her lack of interest, and his lack of decency, apparent.

Unfortunately, he's misinterpreted the few seconds in which Beckett was rejecting the notion of inflicting bodily harm as uncertainty or vulnerability on her part and speaks again. "He's been nailing her for months, you know, blondie out there," he promises silkily. "When he wasn't off screwing his ex-wife. Why take a number for him when you can just take me right here?"

The sheer ridiculousness of this creep, of the notion that he thinks this kind of approach could lead to anything but a knee between the legs, astounds her. Has she been teleported back to high school, where fumbling pimple-faced boys convinced that three hairs constitute a mustache come up with any outrageous lie out of pure, desperate hope for any kind of female companionship?

"You know," she offers, surprising them both by responding conversationally, "I'm ashamed to admit there was a time when I might've let a comment like that shake my faith in Castle. Maybe dealing with you is some kind of karmic penance," she says with a quirk of her lips, amused at the concept. "But I don't feel doubt, or uncertainty. No," she says confidently while looking directly at him, "the only thing I'm feeling right now, aside from revulsion, is pity. Pity for a sad excuse who tries to make himself look better by dishonoring a good man."

Looking like he's been hit with a stone between the eyes, the man rocks back on his heels. But rather than leave with his tail between his legs, he lifts a finger to point accusingly at Beckett as his look of confusion clears. "You're just a groupie," he accuses. "Falling on your back for the big hotshot writer. You're nothing but a wh…"

"That's enough," barks Castle, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. "Your ride is here, Matt. As the lady said, it's time for you to leave."

"It's a party," Matt drawls, spinning to face Castle and adopting an obsequious smile, as if thinking that Castle somehow didn't hear the venom he was spewing. "And I ain't ready to leave yet."

"Whether you're ready or not," Castle growls, "I'm unwilling to extend my hospitality to you any longer."

"Not your party," Matt says petulantly. "You didn't get married," he says, then laughs at the thought.

"Shannon agrees with me," Castle replies easily. "As do the guests who heard your comments about other ladies, including my daughter, before you came slinking in here."

"Mister big man," Matt charges in response, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Mister rich boy with a bar and a beach house, mister hero to the bride. Is that your thing?" he asks, catching on a way to hit back at Castle. "You need to feel good by saving people? That's it, isn't it, why you're playing fireman? You probably set this whole thing up so you could come in and save the cop."

"Matty, you unbelievable idiot," Castle answers with a shake of his head, "Beckett is the absolute last person at this party who'd need to be rescued. In fact," he says musingly, warming to this topic, "the only life I probably saved here is yours."

"Yeah, right," Matt replies with a huff, though he seems to shrink a bit when neither Beckett nor Castle change expression. "So, that's it? You side with her after all we did for you?"

"Even if she were not completely in the right, I'd side with her," Castle agrees. "She's my partner," he says as if this explains everything.

"Firemen don't have partners," Matt replies accusingly.

"No, they don't," Castle agrees. "Guess I'm not a fireman," he says easily, surprising both Matt and Beckett.

"Paul?" Castle calls, waiting only seconds before the liveried driver from Castle's car service steps into the room behind him. "Here's how this works, Matt. I don't care if you go back to the hotel, back to the City, or somewhere else, but you're gone. Leave now, without a scene, and we chalk this up to drunken idiocy. But if you're not off my property in three minutes, I'll physically remove you in front of the whole crew," he promises, looking intrigued by the prospect. "Unless Beckett beats me to it."

Giving Castle the once-over, Matt either decides that he looks too big or too angry to try his luck, and that's without considering Paul or others from outside who'd likely lend a hand. Looking cornered, Matt grumbles dark imprecations that he's careful to leave below the range of audibility.

"One more thing," Castle adds to further clarify Matt's situation. "Paul was a damn fine Marine," Castle mentions casually as Paul straightens for inspection. "And the only thing he babies more than his car and his sidearm," Castle says pointedly as Paul unbuttons his coat to display a fearsome looking weapon, "is my daughter, about whom you've said some disgusting things. So, if I were you, I'd tread very carefully around him. Now," Castle says sternly, the reference to Matt's earlier comments stoking his anger again, "leave."

Literally surrounded and suspecting that he's unlikely to find any sympathetic colleagues at the party, Matt spins to stomp out, but finds he lacks the equilibrium for such a move. Stumbling, he's not even made it another step before Paul's hand clasps his bicep. Offended and humiliated, Matt tries and fails to pull his arm free. Only with Paul's obvious collaboration and release of his arm does Matt regain his freedom to stalk out of the house.

"Thanks, Paul," Castle says earnestly. "I owe you. Let me know how this turns out."

Paul offers a quick nod before moving quickly to keep an eye on Matt, leaving Beckett and Castle alone again.

"I'm really sorry about that, Kate," Castle apologizes as he steps to the counter to brew a cup of coffee for her. "Matt's been a bit passive-aggressive toward me, but I never would've expected anything like that."

"Not your fault," Beckett says as she watches Paul leave the house. "Besides, I know how to handle myself, as you said so eloquently."

Blushing, Castle nods. "I didn't mean to interfere and I know you could've taken care of him, but I wasn't going to listen to that. It's like I said earlier, I don't want to hear anyone talking you down."

"So, you heard it all, then?" Beckett asks, then continues to make it clear that she's not testing him and he shouldn't try to talk around her question, either. "The reference to it being 'time for him to leave' happened pretty early."

With his blush deepening a shade, Castle purses his lips to fight a smile. "'Karmic penance,' Beckett? Really?"

Sharing his blush, Beckett might feel a little embarrassed about her comment to Matt, but privately she's happy Castle overheard her. What she said was honest and might help them reconnect. "What can I say?" she asks with a shrug. "My partner," she pauses, giving him a look to let him know how much she appreciated his comments in that regard, "must've been a bad influence."

"First time I've been accused of that," he says glibly, clearly lying. "Seriously, though, are you okay?"

"I'm f…," Beckett starts to say before she cuts herself off, realizing that she's not fine. "No. You know what? I'm frustrated," she admits, leaning back into the counter to watch Castle attend to her needs, again without request or discussion. "It's been months, Rick, and every time we seem to have a chance to talk something interferes. A bomb. A request from your friend that forces you out of the precinct. A burning building. Royce's murder and investigation. A fireman who makes me wonder why it's cops who're called pigs. Why can't we catch a break?" she asks in exasperation.

"Do you remember our talk at the precinct about a month ago?" he asks, still working on her drink. "The one…"

"After the Temptation Lane case," Beckett picks up. "When you gave me the picture for which I never said thanks?"

"That was nothing," Castle waves her comment away with a hand. "Besides, I still haven't thanked you for my birthday gift," he reminds them both, then blushes. "Anyway," he says, returning to his point, "I said we were getting there, that things would just take some time. We're still moving, Kate. We have time. We'll get there," he says as he extends the coffee mug to her.

"But where?" Beckett asks earnestly as she covers his hand rather than accept the mug. She's keenly interested in his answer, his thoughts on what their future might hold. "Where are we go…"

Beckett stops speaking as the sound of a siren cuts through the late afternoon air.

"Oh, come on!" Beckett curses, incredulous that their efforts to talk are being disturbed again, right after she complained about interruptions! "Now what?!"

Chuckling, Castle turns to place the mug of coffee back on the counter. Offering an elbow instead, he aims them toward the back door. "Don't worry," he says lightly. "This one's on me and it isn't a disaster, just a short delay. It's time for Tommy and Shannon to leave the reception," he explains as he walks them out to the back patio where people are gathering to investigate the commotion.

Releasing Beckett's arm, Castle joins his captain and the two of them get everyone organized. Moving as a group around the house to the circular drive, they see an old-fashioned fire engine idling. It's a beautiful vehicle, gleaming and polished, clearly used for parades and events rather than the rigors of front-line firefighting.

Wary of leaving Beckett alone after what happened with Matt, Castle returns to her side quickly with Alexis and Fred in tow. They're just turning to watch the engine when Dave sidles up next to Castle.

"This what you planned?" he asks, his deep voice catching the attention of the whole group.

"Seemed appropriate," Cast answers with a smile and a nod. "Should look good in the photos, too," he says as they watch the young couple step up to the vehicle, the photographer and her assistant hovering around and snapping busily.

"What'd it cost you?" Dave says to Castle as the group watches Shannon slip into the cab, followed by a beaming Tommy.

"Nothing. Professional courtesy," Castle replies, pulling a snort from Dave, who shakes his head in disbelief.

"Sure," he answers, clearly not buying Castle's line. "Where were you when I got hitched?" he says as he watches Shannon crank the siren, smiling wide for her assembled friends and family.

"Sorry, Dave," Castle answers while waving at the engine as it starts to depart, "but you're not really my type."

With a laugh, Dave chucks Castle on the arm. Meant affectionately, it still knocks Castle sideways thanks to Dave's strength.

As the antique fire engine disappears from view, taking the young couple away to enjoy their first night as husband and wife, the wedding organizer steps forward and announces that the bus service will start shuttling people back to their hotels and will continue to do so until 10:00, after which cabs are available.

While most people drift back to the pool deck and dance floor, some start moving towards their cars or the executive bus, intent to get back to the City this evening. It reminds Beckett that she needs to be back at the precinct in the morning, and that she agreed to drive Alexis back to the loft where Martha awaits.

"Rick," she says quickly, pulling him aside before anyone else can catch his attention. "Are you up for a walk?"

As if her use of his first name wasn't enough of a clue about what she has in mind, Alexis' beaming smile and Fred's protective look certainly give the game away. She wonders briefly if Castle intended to hold their talk for the Remy's date, but she doesn't want to wait – he seems willing to talk today (maybe Lanie was right about the wedding atmosphere) and with her luck something else would come up to postpone their seemingly doomed outing for burgers and milkshakes. Unsure, too, about Castle's thoughts and whether he thinks her request is somehow motivated by the unfortunate scene in his kitchen, she holds her breath, and her smile, for his reply.

"I shouldn't," he answers, sounding like someone whose will is crumbling at the dessert buffet, "but let's get out of here," he says with a playful smile that she's missed for months. "Let me just ask Alexis and Fred to take over the hosting duties." With that explanation, he turns to the two ladies and engages in a quick conversation, getting ready nods. Both women offer him a kiss on the cheek, but Fred pulls him close to whisper into his ear. Her departing words take longer than Beckett would've expected, eventually making her fidget, but Castle seems no more closed off when he steps back to rejoin her.

"All set," he says with a smile as he walks back to Beckett. With his back to her, Castle can't see Fred use two fingers to point to her own eyes before bringing them together to point at Beckett, making her intent to watch Beckett carefully apparent (as if her earlier comments weren't a clear declaration).

Unaware of this extra level of protection, Castle sidles up next to Beckett and again offers her an elbow. It's very courtly, she thinks, but confusing, too. But whether he's signaling affection or polite manners, she's still happy to slip her arm through his. She's surprised when he guides them toward the front door to his house rather than around the back, since she'd assumed they'd walk on the beach. Perhaps they're heading back to the balcony, she thinks as he leads her to the stairs, but then he surprises her by leaving her there at the bottom.

"Be right back," he assures her before bounding up the stairs. He's back moments later, sweaters draped over his arm. Again, she shakes her head at his family's habit of taking care of people. He notices and gives her a questioning look, but she demurs with a smile and another shake of her head.

Yet again, he offers an elbow, and again Beckett slips into place at his side. "Ready?" he asks with some trepidation, prompting raised brows from her. "Whatever you do, don't stop walking," he warns her as they approach the back patio door that admits them to the pool deck.

The nature of his warning soon becomes apparent. With their linked arms and sweaters, it's obvious that they're cutting out for a while and Castle's coworkers don't let him slip away unannounced. Catcalls, whistles, and admonitions for Beckett to wake up or for Castle to stay away from a cop follow them as they slip away, some comments causing laughs and others blushes.

"Quiet group you got there," Beckett says with rosy cheeks, privately happy to finally be on the sand and away from others, especially Castle's colleagues.

"You have no idea," Castle sighs in reply, obviously happy himself to be away from the group, too. "Could you've imagined a place where I wasn't the talker in the group?"

"Now you're just messing with me," Beckett says as they walk to the water's edge, taking the opportunity to bump shoulders with him for the first time in a long while. It brings a sweet, reminiscent smile to her lips.

"Your house is beautiful, Rick," Beckett says as they move away from it, taking the opportunity to spin on the sand and see it from farther away. Then, reminding herself that time is pressing and reserve hasn't served her well, she decides to jump right into their conversation. "I wish I would've seen it last year."

Her admission causes a little stutter-step as Castle breaks stride to look at her. "So much for small talk," he says in a voice that mixes anxiety and humor. "We're just jumping in, then?"

"Please?" Beckett asks with wide eyes, making Castle wonder if any man could resist such an appeal. "Just one thing before we get started. Can I ask a favor?"

"Not if it involves a garden hose or a carwash," he grouses good-naturedly in reply, earning another shoulder bump.

"I'll talk to Tommy next time I need a garden hose," Beckett sasses in reply before growing serious. "Will you be patient with me?"

"What?" Castle replies in surprise. "You do know who I am, right? Not sure anyone at the precinct would characterize me as patient."

"Then they'd be wrong," she answers seriously. "It took me longer than I'd like to admit, but I'm starting to figure you out. Remember what I said in LA? I know you, Rick," Beckett repeats, happy with this unexpected chance to connect back to her declaration there. "You're a very patient man – you had to be to make it as long as you did before you had to leave. I just need a little bit of that patience for our talk in case I mess up. I'm trying here, Rick, but I can't afford another talk like we had when you told me you were leaving the precinct."

Castle remains quiet for a few strides, thinking back to that discussion that seems like years ago, rather than months. Beckett hadn't reacted well, often falling back on anger when surprised. But she tried again after she had some time to think, and he hardly acquitted himself well. "You too, right?" he asks quietly. "I wasn't exactly on my game in LA. I wasn't very polite, either."

"Hush," Beckett says gently, not wanting to start this conversation with apologies from Castle, especially when she considers his crimes in this regard to pale in comparison to hers. "So, we're on the same page, right? There's too much at stake here to let clumsy words tear us apart? If this conversation goes poorly we can try again?"

"Yes," Castle avows, quietly impressed by Beckett's approach. He'd prefer that she not run, but he's glad to see that she's taking steps to provide them with a net. Besides, she's not the only one who might botch things.

"Thank you," Beckett answers earnestly, squeezing the arm she's holding as an extra way to show her appreciation. Castle misunderstands the gesture, though, thinking she's cold.

"Sorry," he says, stopping in place and dropping his arm so that he can hold up the sweater he brought for her. Now that they've stopped, Beckett belatedly realizes that she is cold. While her sundress is fabulous, it's meant for very warm weather, and the wind off the water is starting to cut through her.

"Thanks, Castle," she says in appreciation as she slides her arms into the sleeves of the chunky, cable-knit sweater he brought for her. While he tugs a sweater over his head, Beckett snuggles into her sweater and pushes home the large, knotty buttons.

"Did you steal this from Winnie?" she asks as she draws in her arms to her chest to feel cozy.

"No," he laughs, tangled in his own sweater with his arms stuck over his head. Beckett laughs, too, stepping forward to help him navigate the sweater. She can't help but to think back to when she visited him in the hospital and is tempted to frame the same picture as his nurse, Brenda. It takes a few moments and a few laughs and grunts, but when he's finally sorted in his sweater, he huffs a "thank you" and extends an elbow to Beckett once again.

This time, though, Beckett takes the initiative. Rather than link her arm through his, she lets her hand skitter down his forearm until she clasps his hand. Caught by surprise, Castle walks a few steps while looking at her hand before finally lacing his fingers with hers and letting their hands fall to their sides.

"Alexis, then?" Beckett says, not breaking from the previous topic.

"No, it's yours, actually," he says with a self-conscious shrug. "It was your birthday present. I picked it up in Ireland on my last book tour there."

"Castle," she objects with a teasing tone, "you got me gummy bears and a cheesy card for my last birthday."

"No, that's what I gave you," he answers more seriously than she expected. "The sweater's what I got for you. But you came in that morning wearing the scarf Josh had given you and the sweater didn't feel right – it seemed like I was trying to one-up him," he explains with a shrug. "So, I left it in my bag and improvised while you were talking to Montgomery."

Well, she thinks, that explains the card. She doesn't remember it exactly (though she still has it at home and can check later tonight), but there was some pun about feeling 'sheepish' that makes a lot more sense for a gift of a wool sweater than it did for gummy bears (at least he didn't try to edit the card to say something about feeling 'beary sheepish'). What she does remember, though, is talking up her scarf in an attempt to make herself feel better about what she thought was a pretty disappointing and impersonal gift. She hadn't intended Castle to take notice, but obviously he did.

"Thank you," she says sincerely, squeezing his hand, "for being so considerate. Especially now that I understand exactly how much that might've bothered you."

Though it was obviously going to be a part of this discussion, Castle regrets that Josh came up so early. Gritting his teeth at the reminder, he simply nods in acknowledgment. Beckett's far too sharp to miss his reaction.

"I'm so sorry, Rick," she says in a low voice. "I've spent so much time thinking about what you said when you left the precinct, about hiding from you. About holding you off. About not being fair to you."

Her initial salvo launched, Beckett looks up at Castle, whose gaze seems locked on the horizon. The lack of a verbal response puts her on edge – the last time this happened was in LA and it signaled a big miscommunication. Worried that the same is happening here, she's trying to figure out how to prompt some discussion when he breaks his silence.

"I've spent a lot of time thinking about what you said in LA," Castle begins in a low tone, causing Beckett to lean close to hear him over the lapping of the water. "It wasn't comfortable," he complains with a huff. "First, you said some things that knocked me on my ass. Then, when I talked about it with her, Fred kicked me in the ass," he huffs again, then goes quiet in recollection. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I appreciate some of where you're coming from."

"Some?" Beckett asks, trying to get to the root of their trouble.

"Look," Castle says in some frustration, running his free hand through his hair. "I get that I was a jerk when we met. I was in a dark place and was doing anything – everything – to ignore it. So, as much as I wish things had gone differently, I'm not sure I can complain about Demming. I should've made my interest in you clear. To you, obviously," he says to clarify, "but also to him when he asked if we were together. Not to speak for you," he says hurriedly, free hand help up in a defensive position, "but to let him know he'd have competition. But I stepped away and I let my hurt feelings open the door for Gina. I'd have to a pretty big ass to blame you for that."

Surprised at his candor, Beckett's framing her response when he speaks again.

"And as much as I hate saying this," Castle admits with a sour look, "I can't really blame you for taking up with Josh while I was with Gina."

Shocked anew by how far he's gone, Beckett's happy that Castle's provided a theory she can refute. "You can, actually," Beckett disagrees. "Remember what you said on your balcony? That I was the brave one? I'm not, Rick," she says seriously. "If I was brave, I could've saved us both a lot of heartache, and maybe given us another year together, with a single sentence."

Castle looks at her in surprise. She can tell that he's trying to be noble, trying to help them get to the real issues that lie at the heart of their missteps and misunderstandings. But he's also curious. As much as he wants to move on, he wants to hear this sentence. He's probably also noticed her 'another' slip, too.

"How might things have played out differently," she asks, "if one year ago I would've pulled you aside and said 'I broke up with Demming so I could accept your invitation to the Hamptons?'"

Castle stops walking and looks at her in shock. "It this a hypothetical question, or…"

"It's an actual scenario," Beckett interrupts. "I'd planned on telling you at your party."

"Then why didn't you?" Castle asks in frustration, pulling his hand from her grasp. "A year ago! We could've…," he trails off, unwilling to articulate how things might've differed.

"Because I was afraid, Rick," she answers directly, trying to mask her hurt. She knew this conversation would be uncomfortable. How did Castle describe it earlier – 'messy, uncomfortable, and embarrassing'? He wasn't wrong. "Afraid that I'd fallen for the image, afraid that after fighting an attraction to you for more than a year I'd misunderstood your intent. You replaced me like that, Castle," she says with a snap of her fingers. "You asked me to go away with you and then suddenly your ex-wife is there in my place, without a blink from you. How would you feel?" she challenges. "How was I not supposed to feel replaceable?"

"But you were going away with Demming!" Castle's frustration erupts. "Was I just supposed to sit around and wait?"

"No," Beckett answers immediately. "But I don't think waiting through your going away party was asking too much. You brought her into my workplace! How the hell was I supposed to react to that? I work with detectives, Castle – they knew what I was about to do. And then she's there. It was absolutely humiliating," she confesses, her veneer of anger cracking to reveal the sorrow underneath. "I made myself a promise that day – I wouldn't fall for that trick again."

"It wasn't a trick," Castle offers from his heels, head spinning with this insight into what a disaster he'd unwittingly created last year.

"I know that now," Beckett offers quietly in reply, calming herself down. "I was starting to figure that out when you pulled me to your side and yanked all the wires out of the dirty bomb."

"So," he replies, thinking hard about he just heard her confess, "when you were with Josh and started to understand my interest in you…"

"It was like Demming all over again," she says with a sad nod. "Look, I know you don't like him. Truth be told, he's not high on my list right now, either," she says with a huff, looking away from Castle and out over the water. "But back then, Josh seemed like a perfectly nice guy, maybe someone I could see myself getting serious with. And then, just like with Demming, you pop up again. And again I have to choose between the certainty of something that might be okay and the promise of something with you. But this time I didn't risk turning him away only to be replaced again. I decided to keep my promise to myself."

Watching Castle's face reminds Beckett of a lesson from the Academy, one that hit far too close to home and helped cement the walls she used to hide her emotional vulnerability. The lecture discussed the Kübler-Ross model, better known as the five stages of grief. Ostensibly, the lesson was intended to help cadets identify when a potential witness or suspect was more likely to be aggressive; the hidden message was to schedule interrogations to coincide with an amenable grief stage. Just in this conversation, though, Castle's wreaked havoc with the model. He skipped right past denial to land on anger, and now he's skipped the bargaining stage and looks to be rounding into depression. That's not where she wants this conversation to go, so Beckett steps up to redirect the discussion.

"But here's the thing, Rick," she says as she gently reaches out for his hand again, waiting patiently while he considers her gesture before slowly, warily, extending his hand again. "I was starting to figure it out. Maybe I should've realized things sooner, but it seemed like every time we grew closer something else happened to push us apart. Until the one piece of evidence that opened my eyes," she says, looking down at his hand that she's holding in both of hers. "Well, that's not really true," she says with a huff as she looks up into his curious eyes. "I should say that it closed my eyes."

"The kiss?" he asks, catching on quickly enough that Beckett suspects he's been dwelling on it, too.

"The kiss," she confirms, blushing. "That wasn't cover, that wasn't a friendly kiss…," she trails off, recalling the feel of a kiss that nearly wiped their desperate mission from her mind. "That was… transcendent," she says in awed, embarrassed tone as her head falls again to hide her blush. Castle gives her hands a squeeze to show his appreciation, but keeps quiet in recognition of the moment.

"But it wasn't just the kiss," Beckett starts again in a low tone. "It was how you acted afterward. You didn't bray about it, didn't push me to follow it up. You were shy, maybe even embarrassed," she recalls, and now Castle's the one blushing and looking down. "You acted more like someone who tipped his hand and worried about showing his true feelings than a prowling lothario who took advantage of a situation and then tried to compromise me. Because we both know that you started that first kiss, but I'm the one who dove in for the second one."

"I'd convinced myself I imagined that," Castle confesses, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck. "Seemed too good to be true."

"So I really started thinking about what was going on between us, how I ended up with Josh. D'you remember when you tried to talk to me the weekend after the bomb, how I told you it could wait?" Beckett asks.

"I remember," he replies in a tight voice, though the tension is his hand confirmed his memory before he spoke.

"I did that to everyone that weekend," she says, rubbing his hand in an effort to soothe any latent resentment. "I shut the world out so I could just think about where I was and where I wanted to be. Who I was with and who I wanted to be with. And then I show up to work and you turned my world upside-down again," she complains, earning a huff from Castle. "Just when I was figuring out that I had an option, or maybe that I should pursue an option, you stepped away and told me to leave you alone."

"That's not what I said," Castle disagrees quietly, his calm tone of voice providing assurance that he's still engaged even if he sees things differently. "I said that you needed to pursue a single relationship, and you chose Josh."

"No," Beckett answers in an equally calm tone, though inflected with a little humor as she finds it maddeningly funny that they see the same event differently. "You didn't give me an option – you told me to make things work with Josh as you stepped away. I told you at the start of our talk that I didn't react well during that conversation and this is another example – you told me you'd cared but that you were leaving. You asked for time to get over me but it sounded like you already were."

"This is what's really bothering me," Castle offers in reply. "I left because a week earlier you'd told me you wanted things to work with Josh. What was I supposed to do? How else was I supposed to interpret that?"

Beckett pauses, taking the time to look at him, to reconnect with her eyes. They're finally here, finally at the root cause of their problems, and now's the time to make a final confession in the hopes of clearing the way forward.

"You weren't the only one who spent a lot of time thinking about our talk in LA," she offers. If Castle's put off that Beckett's meandering before answering his questions, he holds his tongue knowing that he often does the same thing. "You're also angry about how I treated you when I was with Demming, aren't you?"

"Yes," Castle answers quickly, almost proudly. Until he realizes that pride might've helped create this situation, as Fred had mentioned when he talked about this with her.

"You surprised me in LA," she pushes forward, before Castle interrupts.

"Tell me about it," he murmurs, prompting small smiles for them both.

"That's fair," Beckett acknowledges with a laugh. "But your explanation about Demming changed things. Your words were like a key, Castle – they unlocked a lot of secrets for me, and some embarrassment, too," she confesses with a blush. "All I knew back then was what Demming told me – that you said you didn't want me. That hurt, Rick, more than I wanted to admit. I know this is petty and small, but I wanted to hurt you back, show you that someone found me desirable even if you didn't. It was stupid and juvenile and it wasn't until Espo called me on it that I realized I was with him mostly to lash out at you. I'm sorry about that, Rick. You deserved better."

Though he's finding a strange kind of peace in her explanation, there's one element Castle can't quite accept. "Espo?!"

"Yeah," Beckett chuckles uncomfortably. "He kinda pulled me aside and asked me what the hell I was doing. It was a bit of a wake-up call, helped me make some decisions…"

"That I blew up by pouting and reconnecting with Gina," Castle interrupts. "Nice move, jackass," he says while fisting his free hand and rapping on his temple.

"I didn't know that Demming was lying… well, playing loose with the truth," she corrects while recalling Castle's description, "until LA. So, before then, especially when things with you and Gina didn't work out, I might've acted the same way again to feel better about being the one who got left behind. And when I felt like I was slipping, like I was more attracted to you than to Josh, I'd play up things with Josh to get you back, to remind myself to keep my heart safe."

Confession is supposed to be good for the soul, and Beckett's seen many people claim to feel lighter after signing their confessions. But she doesn't feel lighter, she feels… nervous. Nervous and anxious. And nauseous. Because this is it – everything's out there now, and if they can't get comfortable with what's passed between them before now, there's little hope of moving forward together. From Castle's pensive look, she'd guess that he realizes the import of this moment, too.

"I'm hoping we can move forward together, Rick," Beckett says quietly, grasping his hand. "We've made some mistakes but I'm hoping we can put those behind us. I'm sorry about how things have gone, how I've hurt you. Can you forgive me?"

Bringing his free hand to their clasp so that they're both holding on with both hands, Castle looks down and studies where they're connected before raising his eyes to meet her gaze.

"No," he says quietly, holding tight when she tries to pull away. "I'm sorry, Kate, but you're here with a writer and I'm going to have to challenge your word choice," he says with that infuriating smile that begs to be kissed or slapped off his face. "I'm not sure this is about forgiveness. I understand you. It's something I didn't expect but something I think is much stronger. Maybe even strong enough to build on," he says, loosening his grip on her hands so she can feel the gentle squeeze he offers.

"I understand why criminals do what they do, Castle," Beckett ripostes in a tone of exasperation, "It doesn't mean I want to start dating them."

Laughing, Castle gives her a beautiful smile while clasping her hands again. "Such a stickler for diction," he says with a roll of his eyes, laughing again at her look of indignation after his own little aside about word choice. "But a fair point. I guess what I mean is that I could see myself doing the same thing in your position. Flip the Demming situation," he suggests. "If I thought we were building toward being together and then I heard something that made me think you didn't care, I don't think I'd react very well," he posits with a sour face, not even liking this situation as a hypothetical. "So, by 'understanding' I guess I mean something deeper. Acceptance?"

"I'm not sure about that," Beckett answers, smiling but shaking her head. "You've accepted too much in your life, I think. You deserve more than just taking your lot."

"You know, only we could spar about how to characterize this feeling," Castle laughs. "Got a thesaurus handy?"

"I've pushed an author to the point of requesting a thesaurus?" Beckett asks in faux shock. "That can't bode well."

"I'll have you know that not only am I a best-selling author, but I'm the all-time Scrabble champion of the loft, too," he crows. "I hear you knocking my suggestions, Beckett," he challenges with a grin, "but I don't hear you offering any alternatives."

"Then I've got to question your memory as well as your vocabulary," she returns his serve, laughing at his look of mortal indignation. "I already told you my word in LA. It's a word I haven't used in a long, long time," she confesses, enjoying the sight of Castle's widening eyes. "But you didn't seem to want to hear it. Maybe something else?" she asks, holding her breath again.

"I wanted too badly to hear it," he confesses in a low, emphatic tone. "It surprised me. You surprised me. I'm sorry I didn't react well," he confesses. "It's been a very difficult couple of months, Kate," Castle confides as he raises her hands to his lips, "so I need to make sure I'm picking the right word. But I think you might be right," he finishes as he bestows a gentle kiss on each hand before pulling them over his heart.

Beckett tucks herself into his chest, holding tight to his hands and marveling at finding herself here. This morning, she was ditching work and driving like a bat out of hell to barge into his home in a blind panic and now she's tucked into him and feeling a peace she hasn't known for far more than a few months.

Then, like a buzzing fly, one thought starts to hover and distract her. Try as she might, she can't make it go away and can't ignore it. So, finally, with a huff and a stifled curse, she pushes herself away from Castle's chest so she can see his face.

"Love," she says clearly. "I was talking about love, Castle. I love you. You know that, right?"

"I heard you Beckett," he says with a sweet, dopey smile. "I might not know that yet, but I'm hoping I'll hear it enough to start believing it. And I'm hoping that I can get over myself soon so we can…"

Beckett muffles the rest of his comment with a finger to his lips. "I'm not clarifying to put you in a corner, Rick," she says as she pulls her finger away. "I just thought we might benefit from a little direct communication."

"Are we trying something new?" he asks with a quirked mouth, enjoying the humor of the situation but treading lightly.

"Yeah," Beckett agrees with a nod. "Toeing the line so your sister doesn't kick my ass is definitely new," she grouses, pulling a rich laugh out of Castle.

Castle agrees readily with a smile. "She's tougher than she looks. But she's just watching out for me," he offers affectionately.

"She's probably about to come looking for you now," Beckett replies, checking the time and cringing. "And she'd be right – we've been out here a long time, Rick. I need to grab Alexis and get back to the City," she says, tugging on his hand to get him moving again.

"I suppose you're right," Castle allows, falling into step beside her. "I need you to get back to work," he says, waiting for her raised brow to explain. "That way when I say…," he trails off as he stops and spins her to face him, "… 'Kate Beckett, will you please join me at the beach house,' sufficient leave time won't be a factor in your decision."

"We're going to try it again?" Beckett says with a delighted laugh. "Even after all the pain and confusion before now?"

"There's got to be a payoff for all that suffering, right?" Castle asks, laughing himself.

"I accept," Beckett says happily, unable to stop herself from wrapping Castle in a quick hug. Well, what was meant to be a quick hug until he holds on. "But we can't stay too long," Beckett says from the depth of his embrace. "You've got a college tour to attend and I need to save some vacation days for the winter."

"You taking me skiing, Beckett?" he rumbles in her ear. "Trying to get me all warm and toasty on a rug in front of the fireplace in a private, snow-bound chalet?"

The scene he paints is almost enough to distract her as her mind starts to skip down the lane of mountain-based fantasies, but she pulls herself back. One more bit of clearing to attend to before she starts the drive home. "That sounds wonderful, though I had something else in mind," she whispers into his neck, delighting in the little shudder her words provoke. "A dear friend set me up with a vacation to Florida and I was hoping I could talk him into accompanying me. Interested in vaporizing some old ghosts in the warm Florida sun?"


"I don't envy the hotel bartender," Alexis says as she waves in farewell to another group of wedding guests that weaved and stumbled onto the executive van service vehicle.

"Or anyone who has a fire tomorrow night," Fred agrees, shaking her head. "But speaking of departures, shouldn't you be on your way to the City? It's not like your dad's service to be late."

"I'm riding with Kate," Alexis explains while looking at her watch, "but, yeah, we really should be going. Time to see what they're up to?"

"Probably," Fred agrees, wondering about Castle's absence. "You want to check the house and I'll check out back?"

"Absolutely not," Alexis answers with a shudder. "If they're in the house, I'm not sure I want to find them."

"Fine," Fred answers, rolling her eyes. She very much doubts that Mr. No Timeline would jump into bed that quickly, but he is a man, so who knows? Still, probably better to stick together. "Let's protect your sensibilities and maybe your illusions by checking out back, first?"

"Thank you," Alexis answers with a laugh, leading Fred around the house to the pool deck. With many guests departed, it's easy to scan those who remain. While Alexis circles the pool, Fred heads toward the path to the beach.

"Go get Ben," she says a few moments later as she hears Alexis approach behind her. "We need that antique firetruck again."

"What?!" Alexis asks in alarm. "There's a fire?"

"No," Fred answers, stepping to the side to afford Alexis a clear view of Castle and Beckett enjoying a long kiss on the sand. "If you have any hopes of getting to the City tonight I think we're going to need a firehose to separate those two."


A/N: Greetings from Kake (by the ocean)! Taking advantage of a rogue wi-fi signal to post another chapter (got to keep that weekly feed going). It turns out that breaking Week Twelve into more than one chapter set a bad precedent, though, as we're still not done with it. The next chapter will get us there, though.

I've tried to reply to all reviews with the limited connectivity here, but my apologies if I missed anyone. If so, I'll get caught up on replies and reviews when I get home.