A/N: Some of you demanded it, so I have listened. As of about midway down this chapter, we're going to start switching back and forth between Kate and Castle's perspectives, and will probably continue to do so for the rest of the story, as her point of view becomes more relevant to the plot. MASSIVE THANK YOU to everyone for your wonderful, kind support of both me and this story.

Special thanks to Jo (honeyandvodka), Katherine (The-KLF), and CB (blueorchid96) for giving me a triple beta between you, and for being the most amazing support team and cheerleaders ever!

"Exactly how long have you been having an affair with Amanda Hartwell, Castle?" she demanded.

Castle's mouth dropped open.

She was glaring at him, arms crossed, tapping the whiteboard marker against her bicep.

Hot as hell.

"Woah! Beckett, we have no reason to think-" Ryan began, but she silenced him with a look, before turning her ire back on Castle.

"It's exactly your style, isn't it? A pretty young thing crosses your path right after a break up, so you take her out and make her feel like a princess, but ask her to keep things on the down low. Bet you were already considering breaking up with her anyway, right? After all, she was just your rebound girl. Or did you fall in love with her, too? Is that what this is about?" she demanded.

Beckett, the master investigator, was on the hunt, and in spite of his complete innocence in the matter, he found his defenses rising.

"Would you listen to yourself?" he demanded when he could finally get a word in. "She's young enough to be my daughter! No! I was most certainly not having an affair with Amanda. I only met her today!"

"You heard what Sierra said," Beckett pushed. "How many hotshot authors does Black Pawn have who have just been through a break up?"

Something in her eyes flickered, and he recognized her uncertainty. He had no idea whether she had moved on or not, but if she had, the idea was like a sucker punch to the gut. If their positions were reversed, he'd be climbing out of his skin with jealousy.

The fact that she was hiding it all behind her badge, though, and throwing completely unfounded accusations around in front of the whole bullpen... he felt his temper rise.

"Obviously more than one. It wasn't me," he replied through gritted teeth.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Good. Then you won't mind us going through your phone records, computer, and financials to prove it," she said.

"Beckett..." Ryan tried again, but both of them ignored him, too busy glaring at each other.

"Fine," he snapped. "Ryan can give me a ride home now and pick up my laptop. There won't be anything there, because I only met Amanda today."

"Great," she replied, sounding anything but happy. "It's just about time to call it a day anyway. Ryan? Drive Mr. Castle back to his loft and search his phone and computer for evidence he was having an affair with our victim, please?" she instructed, still practically nose-to-nose with Castle.

Ryan sighed, turning to collect his things from his desk. "Come on, man. Let's get you home."

Castle nodded, stepping away regretfully, hating that he had to leave with her thinking the accusations were true, even for a moment longer. "Follow the evidence, Beckett. I'm not your guy."

"No, but were you hers?" she fired back. Ryan reappeared, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to the elevators before either of them could say another word.

His last view of Beckett from the elevator saw her leaning against her desk, Esposito beside her. He could have sworn he heard Espo ask her "You don't really think it's him, do you?"

Then the doors closed.

The ride to the loft was silent most of the way. Castle sat staring out his window, exhausted from the events of the day, and the emotional whiplash he'd been through.

He had spent the afternoon with Kate.

That very fact made his soul sing. He felt like he was breathing real air for the first time in weeks. His mind had been busy all afternoon, cataloging the thousand little things about her he had missed during their time apart.

He was still completely smitten with her. Always would be.

Then there was the murder. It was all so shocking, and even though being around the team and helping with the investigation- such as he had been allowed to do- helped him to distance himself that little bit and process what had happened, the truth remained that he had all but seen someone die today, and that was going to take a toll, no matter how many times he witnessed it.

Finally, there was the argument with Kate at the end of the day. The idea that she could believe her accusations made him sick to his stomach. Of course she would think he would move on. She knew that had been his pattern in the past.

What she didn't seem to understand, though, was that there was no moving on from her.

She was it for him, whether she wanted him or not.

He sighed as he wrestled with his thoughts, barely registering that they were only a few blocks away from his building.

"You okay, man?" Ryan asked casually, navigating his way through the traffic. Castle glanced over at him in surprise.

"To be honest, I don't know. I do know that I didn't do what Beckett is accusing me of," he replied. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I think, deep down, she does, too. But these past couple of months haven't been easy on her, you know," Ryan reminded him gently.

Castle sighed as Ryan pulled the car into a parking space. "I know. What she seems to forget, though, is that it hasn't exactly been easy on me, either. She's the one who broke up with me, and I still don't know why."

The loft was blessedly free of redheads when they got upstairs, and Castle led Ryan through to his study. The Detective hovered as Castle went about packing his laptop into its travel case.

"You know you're actually under no obligation to do this, right? It's not like she has a warrant," Ryan reminded him, ever the loyal friend.

Castle didn't so much as pause his movements. "I don't care about warrants, or even the investigation, really. I mean, I do, but... I care about her opinion, and if this is going to set her mind at rest about me, I'm not going to stand in the way of it."

He finished zipping up the case and handed it to Ryan, who hesitated before securing it over his shoulder.

"You sure, man?" Ryan asked.

Castle nodded. "I'll be honest- I'd rather you go through it that the tech guys- can I request that, since you don't have a warrant? If you find anything suspicious, pass it on, by all means. And feel free to check my phone records, financials- anything. I have nothing to hide. You're wasting your time though."

"I know, bro. Still, I appreciate that you're willing to let us look. Tell you what, I'll work on this tonight and tomorrow morning, and maybe you could swing by the Twelfth around lunch to pick it up? Or, you know, to come in for questioning?" Ryan gave a self-depreciating grin at that last part, and Castle nodded, knowing his friend had to do his job.

"You guys all still have the same Remy's orders?" he asked casually, and Ryan's smile morphed into something more genuine.

"Beckett's taken to ordering extra pickle lately, but apart from that, it's all the same as ever," he replied, finally taking the laptop case.

Castle nodded. "Got it. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He walked his friend to the door, shutting it behind him with a sigh.

After endless hotel rooms it was good to be home, but the loft was unusually quiet without his mother or daughter around. His habit these past weeks had been to write in moments like this, and allow himself to be carried away by the gentle lullaby of his fingers on the keyboard, but that was impossible tonight, seeing as he'd just handed his laptop over to the police in a gesture of good will in their investigation.

He opted for a shower, and an early night.

Heading through to his room, he stripped off the clothes Kate had supplied him with, tossing them into the corner of the room to be laundered later.

They didn't smell like her. He'd checked already when he put them on.

He cranked on the shower, brushing his teeth as he waited for it to heat up, then stepped under the high pressure spray, losing himself to the rhythm of the water pounding heavily across his skin. He had no idea how long he stayed in there- too long, probably- but it was such a relief to wash the day away.

Eventually, though, he washed himself and turned off the faucet, grabbing a huge, fluffy, navy blue towel to dry himself off with. Wrapping it around his waist, he headed back out to the bedroom, looking through his dresser for boxers, sweats, and a t-shirt.

A key sounded in the front door as he dressed, the voices of his mother and daughter chattering away happily doing much to soothe his heart and bring a smile to his face. Swanky hotel rooms and private planes were all very well, but it was his family that truly made everything worthwhile, and two of the three women he loved most had just arrived home.

He headed out to greet them once he was dressed, and immediately set about making the three of them hot chocolate, smiling as he listened to them gossip about their day.

It was only once they all had mugs in hand that he gave them the cliff notes of his afternoon. He didn't really want their sympathy, but he knew they had a right to know. They both gasped when they heard about the murder, then exchanged knowing looks when he mentioned Beckett, becoming concerned only as he neared the end of his narrative.

He was interrupted before he could quite finish, though, by the sound of his phone echoing through the open shelves to his office, still on his desk where he'd placed it when packing up his computer for Ryan. Excusing himself from his family, he dashed across the loft, managing to answer it before it went through to voice mail.

"Castle," he greeted, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, man, it's Ryan. Listen, I've been going through your computer, and I did find something. The good news is, it clears your name." Ryan's voice always sounded a little tinny over the phone.

Castle's eyebrows shot up. "That's... good," he replied hesitantly.

Ryan barely waited for his response, all but talking over him. "The bad news is... dude, I'm going to have to give copies to Kate."

"What did you find?" Castle asked, his mind drawing a complete blank at what could possibly be on his computer.

Ryan cleared his throat. "You seemed to be keeping a... well, a journal, of sorts... it was all in a folder labeled 'Dear Kate'?" he explained awkwardly. "Thing is, it's all time stamped and dated, and is clear evidence that you weren't involved, so, uh, I have to give copies to Beckett, as she's the lead investigator."

Castle swayed slightly as he gripped the phone, blood rushing to his cheeks, wave after wave of humiliation washing over him.

"Ryan..." he began, and something of his mortification must have shown in his voice, because Ryan interrupted gently.

"I'm sorry, man. You know I have to. The job comes first. I just thought I should give you a heads up- seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do."

Castle was close to panicking. "I'll come in. First thing tomorrow. I'll come in and explain!"

"Castle- no, man, don't even t-" Ryan said quickly, but Castle spoke over him.

"I'll be in first thing tomorrow. See you then," he said, then ended the call as fast as he could, ignoring Ryan's protests.

He sank down into his desk chair, expelling a long breath as he leaned back to look up at the ceiling.

His letters.

All his words.

His deepest thoughts and feelings since the breakup, every one of them laid bare. His rants, his questions, his heart, all poured out on paper, to be submitted in a bland manila file and used as evidence in a case.

To be read by her.

He cast his mind back over some of the things he had written. He had said so many things in anger, in bewilderment, in lust, and she was going to read them all.

For a case.

He had to get there first, had to explain that what she was going to see was raw and uncensored, a glimpse into the wreck that he had been as he worked through their break up. He had to calmly and succinctly inform her that, while the underlying love was still there and always would be, he was stronger now after all these weeks apart.

He couldn't stand the thought of her pitying him.

He did the math in his head. Beckett was usually in by around 7:30, and the boys a little after that, so if he tried to be there at 7:15, hopefully he would beat them to it.

Standing, he paced around his office, working on his speech, practicing saying the words, muttering to himself like a mad man.

It had to be right.

He only had one shot at this, or Beckett would read it all and never look him in the eye again.

He mentally argued his case, writing and rewriting his words, trying to phrase everything perfectly. It was only when Alexis knocked on the door jamb that he came crashing down to earth.

"You okay, Dad?" she asked, eyes sweeping his disheveled state.

He stood gaping at her for a long moment, then his shoulders slumped. "I don't know. I have to go in early tomorrow, though, to explain something," he said, his voice weary and defeated to his own ears. His daughter pushed away from the door frame and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.

"Whatever it is, it'll be ok, Dad. They know you there. They'll listen. You'll see," she promised, sighing as he hugged her back.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "Thanks, Pumpkin. You're right, of course. You going to bed now?"

"Yeah, it's getting pretty late. You should, too, if you want an early start in the morning," she added, going up on her toes so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "G'night, Dad."

"Night, Pumpkin." He watched her rejoin his mother, the pair of them chatting as they went up the stairs. He made a quick round of checking light switches and locks, then headed to bed himself.

It was a restless night, and when his phone alarm went off bright and far too early the next morning, he knew already it was going to be a hellish day. He forced himself to get up, though, and to get moving. He flew through his morning routine and headed out, stopping short when he reached the lobby and saw that it was raining.

Finding a cab was going to be impossible.

Sure enough, it was. When he did finally snag one, the traffic was gridlocked, and even though he should have easily made it to the precinct with time to spare, in the end he was a good half an hour late.

He didn't even have time to stop for coffee. He would make her one once he was there, but right now, he just had to explain.

The elevator took forever, and when it finally opened on Homicide, he got exactly one and a half steps out before a bulky form stepped in his way.

"Bro, what're you doing?" Esposito's voice held just the right note of menace to catch Castle's attention.

"I need to explain to Kate-" Castle began, but Esposito grabbed him by the arm and shoved him up against the wall beside the elevator, covering Castle's mouth with his hand.

"Yeah, Ryan said you might do something stupid before he got to hand things over to Beckett. He also asked me to make you don't interrupt 'til she's finished reading what he's found, so here's how things are going down. If you look over my shoulder right now, you'll notice Ryan is, as we speak, giving Beckett the printouts. Now, Beckett doesn't know you're here, so as soon as she sits down at her desk, you and I are going to head to the break room quickly, quietly, and without making any kind of eye contact. You will remain there until one of us tells you that you're free to come out. Either that, or you're getting on this elevator and never setting foot in this building again. Those are your options. Do I make myself clear?"

Castle hesitated, then nodded, and Esposito released him, still giving him a hard stare. Castle watched helplessly as Ryan finished his explanation, handing the dreaded manila folder over to Beckett, who seemed to be almost unwilling to take it.

"Uh... Beckett?"

She happened to be standing by the murder board when Ryan approached her hesitantly, an ordinary file stuffed with paper in his hand. She was still looking over things and getting herself settled in. Maybe a cup of tea might settle things down.

"Mmm?" She needed to get Espo to follow up on the receptionist- if Sierra had been right yesterday, Lauren might know more about what was going on.

"I found something on Castle's computer," Ryan spoke through her thoughts, and her head jerked up to look at him.

She hoped he didn't notice how much her hands were shaking.

Oh, God.

"The good news is, it puts Castle in the clear."

She closed her eyes, shoulders drooping in relief. Ryan smiled at her sympathetically.

"And the bad news?" she asked quietly.

"There is none. Not really. He'd been keeping a kind of a journal, and it's all timestamped thanks to the wonders of modern technology. He's not our guy," he said firmly, making no move to hand the folder over.

"Do I get to see this wonderful evidence for myself?" she asked, a little impatiently, but Ryan stood his ground.

"Are you sure you want to? It gets really personal, Beckett," his tone was gentle, like he was breaking bad news to a victim's family.

The feeling of dread returned, making her stomach roll uneasily. She forced herself to stand up a little straighter, a little taller. She could do this.

"If that's his alibi, Ryan, I can't just take your word for it. You know that."

He sighed, and nodded. "I figured you'd say that. They're all addressed to you anyway," he said cryptically, holding out the file to her. She reached out to take it, but he held onto it for just a moment longer. "Take the time to read these, Kate. I'm going to get onto the security company and find out why those tapes are taking so long. Want Espo to follow up on the receptionist?"

She smiled at the brotherly concern in his gaze and nodded, grateful for both of her boys. Ryan released the files, and she sat down at her desk, pondering the plain manila file in front of her.

Castle watched as she finally moved to sit in her chair, and felt Esposito tug on his arm, steering him firmly toward the break room.

Once he was firmly deposited inside, Esposito gave him a final 'I'm watching you' gesture and headed back to his desk.

Castle slumped on a bar stool, chin in hand, watching Kate through the glass.

She was still staring at the folder, eying it up almost as if she was afraid of it, which was ridiculous, of course, because Detective Beckett wasn't scared of anything. Her hand trembled visibly, though, when she reached forward to open the file, so maybe it really was true.

It didn't make any sense, though.

Didn't stop his foolish heart from hoping.

Her face paled visibly as she began reading, and his heart just about gave out.

He needed coffee.

Badly.

They're all addressed to you anyway.

What the hell did that even mean?

Unless...

Unless she'd been wrong all summer. All this time.

Her stomach lurched, but she breathed through it, resisting the urge to run for the bathroom.

A few deep breaths later, she opened the file with trembling fingers, and began to read.

He went about the motions of making himself a cup of coffee, trying hard to concentrate on what he was doing rather than staring out at his ex-girlfriend reading page after page of his bruised heart.

He nearly scalded himself when she surreptitiously reached a long, slender finger up to swipe away a tear. It should have given him hope, but all he really wanted to do was run out there and wrap his arms around her, cradling her until all the pain and hurt went away.

A bit difficult when he was the cause of her hurt.

No wonder she didn't really want him near her.

She seemed to rally after that, though, straightening her shoulders and soldiering on, poker face firmly in place.

Castle's words had always managed to completely suck her in, making her oblivious to the rest of the world.

It was only when she realized she had tears running down her face in the middle of the bullpen that she forced herself to firmly put on her poker face.

There was so much anguish in his letters. So much hurt, so much frustration.

So much love.

Reading his version of events, his frustration at not being able to articulate to her what he wanted out of their relationship, only to have her pull away suddenly- she had known at the time that it would hurt him, but seeing just how wrong she had been about his silence made her want to beat her head against the desk.

Stupid.

She'd been so stupid.

Of course he'd been scared of saying too much, too soon.

And of course she had done what she had always done- played her cards so closely to her chest that he'd honestly had no idea why she was suddenly pushing the issue.

And now she needed to tell him the truth.

Her only hope was that, according to these letters, he still loved her just as constantly as he ever had.

Her actions had seemed so right in the moment. She had been so sure, and so stupidly stubborn about interpreting his actions that she hadn't seen his heart. And regardless of how scared she'd been about... her situation... and no matter how much, initially, at least, he'd been in the wrong, she could see clearly for the first time that he would have every reason to be very, very angry with her once he knew.

She couldn't stop reading, her heart breaking over the words on the pages before her. Some letters held so much anger, others despair, and more than one left her shifting in her seat and her face glowing as he described the physical manifestations of their love. His entire summer was spread before her, written in black and white- so much pain and brokenness; so much love.

She ached for him, longed to wrap her arms around him and apologize and explain, and then never, ever let him go. She had been foolish, taking matters into her own hands, cutting him out of decisions that were not hers alone, all because she thought he didn't care.

The evidence of his overwhelmed her, making her want to turn somersaults right there in the bull pen, making her want to lock herself in her bedroom and weep. She cast her mind back over the bitter loneliness of her own summer, imagining him all the while to have moved on, to have been overjoyed by his freedom.

She had been so wrong.

He sipped his coffee slowly, the caffeine zipping through his veins, setting him on edge. It had been so long since he'd tasted coffee, and the effect on him was almost instantaneous. He kept drinking it, though, watching as even behind her mask, emotions played out across her eyes. Anyone who didn't know her as well as he did wouldn't be able to tell, but he knew. He could see she was hurting. He could see the way her skin flushed and paled alternately, depending on what she was reading. He could see the regret etched across her face. He hoped it was for their time apart, and not for allowing him close to her to begin with.

Kate wasn't up to his level at speed reading, but she was no snail either, and Castle was midway through his second coffee already- he needed something to keep his hands occupied or his heart would have him stumbling out there and risking the wrath of Ryan and Esposito.

When she reached the end, she had to take several deep breaths before she could so much as lift her eyes. She needed to read them over again, perhaps in the safety of her apartment, where she'd be free sob over them properly away from the fishbowl of the bullpen. With a glass of wine. And ice cream.

What better way to reread the proof that you've thrown away the best thing that ever happened to you than a full blown pity party?

She tucked the file away in her bag, and rose unsteadily to her feet. She needed to get away from here, from all the prying eyes. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched, and the last thing she needed was to fuel the gossip mill even further.

The bathroom. One of the advantages of working in a male-dominated field was that the ladies' bathroom was almost always blissfully empty, and today was no exception. Slipping into the very last stall, she locked the door firmly, and only then allowed the tears to fall.

When she turned over the last page, seeing there was nothing more there, she carefully tucked the file into her messenger bag, stood, and slipped over to the ladies room by the elevator.

Within seconds, Esposito was looming in the doorway, giving him a nod that he correctly interpreted as being free to exit. Castle quickly emptied his mug and set about making a new one when he remembered she was drinking tea now, and, come to think of it, he hadn't had coffee in months and any more might send him bouncing off the walls.

Instead, he prepared two mugs of hot water, and when he reached her empty desk, he risked pulling two of her teabags out and resting them in the mugs to steep. It wasn't quite the proper way to do it, but he didn't want to risk further banishment, so he hoped it was okay.

Then he settled himself into his chair by her desk and waited.

She stopped short several feet from her desk, not at all expecting him to be there. He looked nervous, sipping cautiously at his mug, an equally steaming one placed just so on her desk.

Her heart turned inside out on itself, stopping and then thumping at triple speed.

She had missed him with every breath this summer, and to see him sitting next to her desk so unexpectedly...

He was so handsome.

She had devoured the article about him on book tour, the one with the pictures of him playing volleyball on the beach in Hawaii. She had wondered at the time just how much photoshop they had used, but seeing him now, she wondered if he had needed any. He was trim and tan and so hot her mouth dried out just looking at him.

And she was pale and sleep deprived and her weight was doing odd things, none of it flattering.

Yet his letters clearly stated that he still loved her, no matter what.

She almost shrank from the thought, so undeserving of this beautiful, beautiful man she had wronged so completely.

He startled to his feet when he saw her, blindly placing his mug on the desk, his eyes so full of love and yearning she had to look away. His hands were fisted at his sides as if to stop himself from reaching for her.

If only.

"Kate! Hey! I know you said to stay away, but Ryan told me he was going to show you the things I wrote over the summer and I just wanted to come and apologize and explain before you completely hate me even more than you probably already do," he babbled adorably, running one hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

Her fingers itched to reach out and set it straight.

A couple of uniforms were hanging around, clearly paying more attention to the scene unfolding before them than their actual work, and she shot glares around until they were no longer the central focus of the room. Crossing to her desk, she sat down, scooting her chair as close to his as her desk would allow.

He sat tentatively, watching her every movement, those big blue eyes so hopeful.

She spoke quietly, her words for him and him alone. "There's so much I need to say to you, Castle. Now is not the time or place, not in the middle of a case, but," she took a deep breath, meeting his eyes unwillingly. For him, she could do this. She needed to make things right. "I'm so sorry, Castle. For so many things."

His eyes softened, the panic receding in an instant. "Me, too," he replied softly. She smiled at him shyly.

"Can we talk, later? After the case, maybe? Or even tonight? Somewhere there isn't an audience, and maybe I can... explain?" she asked, nibbling on the corner of her lip as she waited for him to respond.

His eyes darted down to her mouth, setting her insides ablaze, before moving back up to meet her eyes.

"Anything, Kate," he breathed.

She nodded, heart thumping, throat dry.

This evening. She could wait until then.

She just needed to solve this damn case first.

Thoughts?