Castle wasn't usually the kind of guy who sat and stewed over a particular matter for very long. Most of the time, he did things without thinking first; which, if anyone asked Beckett, was the most annoying thing about her shadow.

Not this time.

Josh's parting words, so carelessly delivered, echoed around in his mind, haunting him. Part of him was slightly ticked off at the insinuation that he had just been granted permission by the guy to make a move on his partner. The other part of him was just plain confused. Oh, he wasn't stupid enough to believe that what Josh had told him had been anything but the truth. Personal feelings aside, he was a good person and the man had seemed sincere enough. In fact, his own observations of his partner over the last few weeks corroborated his story. Beckett was once again unattached.

So the million dollar question was this: why did Beckett seem so insistent on keeping her break up a secret from him?

He would have understood if she'd kept it from him for a few days, hell, a few weeks even, but according to Josh, they'd been over for a while, and that hinted that the relationship had ended more than just a few weeks ago. Before Forbidden Planet, before 'one-writer-girl', before everything had felt so uncomfortably right. He'd felt so guilty on all those occasions, thinking that he'd been inadvertently encroaching on someone else's girl – oh, Beckett would so kill him if she knew he was thinking of her as if she were some kind of property …

His home office was relatively silent save for the soft echoes of classical music playing in the background. The cursor on his computer screen blinked mockingly at him, the document he had opened still shamelessly blank. Inspiration didn't come as easily when one was busy trying to figure out said inspiration.

Castle's mind wandered into dangerous territory then, his imagination going into overdrive as he started thinking of every possible reason Beckett may have had to hide her break up from him. It was inevitable; his mind wasn't used to pondering quietly, instead it thrived on construction. He constructed situations, events, circumstances – and in this particular instance, excuses.

Maybe she had someone else in her life (already? Surely not.).

She felt ashamed of her breakup (but when has Beckett been ashamed of anything?).

She was afraid of what he might do when he found out (hm).

Oh.

Damn.

One of the reasons why his books had sold so well according to some reviewer on the New York Times, was because it seemed like Richard Castle had the ability to delve into a murderer's mind, into the depths of darkness and be one with the characters in his novels. Castle usually chalked it up to the immense amount of research that usually went into the creation of his characters, but after that many years, he had skilfully mastered the art of 'being one' with his characters that sometimes, he just couldn't help it.

So he got into the mind of one Detective Kate Beckett. The theory building began.

Say Beckett tells him about the breakup, and he comforts her the way an understanding friend would. Beckett may suspect that this particular understanding friend had harboured feelings for her for so long that he might have seen that moment of vulnerability as a chance to make his move. Move in on Beckett, take her off the market, whatever. And … and … say Beckett obviously isn't interested in him, because God only knew how many times she'd turned down his not so subtle advances. Again and again and again.

So to avoid such an ugly and awkward confrontation, Beckett decides to be quiet about the break up, allowing him to believe she was still attached and therefore, by extension, off limits. She gets to continue with her life with no complications, no unwanted romantic advances and he would be none the wiser.

Oh, the realisation hurt. Badly.

If it had been a theory he'd hashed up for a murder, Beckett would have scoffed at him and called it 'thin' and full of 'assumptions' and 'conjecture' that had no place in a murder investigation.

But this wasn't a murder investigation, and the possibility that his make believe scenario could very well be the truth sent a dull ache throbbing through his system. He honestly thought they were past the point for secrets and lies. After everything they had been through, Castle thought she would have had a higher opinion of him than that of some callous lovesick playboy.

Maybe the idea of him asking her out was that repulsive.

Maybe she did just think of him as a professional partner.

He clenched his eyes shut as memories of 'always', and 'one-writer-girl' and the wide smile she'd rewarded him with after he gave her the signed Temptation Lane cast photo replayed in his mind's eye. Everything she'd done lately had led him to believe that at the very least, she cared a little about him. Oh, he was so confused.

They'd nearly frozen to death in each other's arms, nearly died again standing in front of a bomb . . .

He remembered that particular evening too vividly, making his way home to the empty loft, his eyes burning with the image of Beckett wrapped up in Doctor Motorcycle Boy's arms as the elevator doors closed in front of him. He'd gotten so blind drunk that night that the next morning when they arrived home, both his mother and Alexis had found him curled up in front of his bookcase in day-old clothes, unshaved with a mess of broken glass scattered all around him.

Later that morning, a little more cleaned up and suffering a mild headache, he clutched a very frightened Alexis to his chest, whispering nonsensical words into her hair and a silent agreement was made never to talk about that incident ever again.

They'd gone through so much within those few days.

Castle sighed and pushed the lid of his laptop down. He knew he wasn't going to get any writing done that night. He could call her, he supposed, talk it out rationally like two adults. But it was late, and frankly he didn't think he was in the right state of mind to do anything rationally.

Then again, maybe he was being a little childish about all of this. After all, Beckett had always made her private life her own business.

Still, he felt a dark cloud looming in the hypothetical horizon of his relationship with Beckett, and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Richard Castle was not fond of dark clouds. At all.