Another year I've had with you.

We've grown together beyond all we've been through.

This season holds a place in me

Where there is always room to make new memories

~Kathy Troccoli, Only Always

December 19, 2011

She texted him a picture of the coffee cup she'd put on the corner of her desk nearest his empty chair. The accompanying message consisted of only symbols – no words – but they say a picture is worth 1000. In this case, it was more like 100.

100-1

Castle swiped his thumb over his phone and smiled at the numbers and the image that stared back at him. "Tell her she owes me like 100 coffees…" His own words echoed through his memory, and he wondered at the small thrill that ricocheted around the borders of his heart. It was just coffee, he told himself. Just coffee for her partner. Just like all the coffees he'd brought to his partner over the last four years. Except – those hadn't been just coffees. Those had been a way of – at first – staking a spot in her life that would leave a void if he were absent. A way of making sure she wanted to keep him around. And then, over the past year or so (especially after that conversation on the swings), each coffee had been a way of saying that he was willing to keep things status quo until she was ready to take a step past the way things were toward the way things could be between them.

100-1

He read the text again. Maybe her coffee wasn't just coffee either. Maybe it was her way of saying that she was ready – or nearly ready – to make peace with her scars (the physical and the emotional). Ready to explore the possibility of a relationship with him that completed the close friendship they'd developed over time. Ready to share her heart, her life, her body, her bed with him – the man who loved her more than he ever thought it was possible to love someone.

Then again, he told himself, it could just be coffee.

Glancing at the two cups of steaming beverages that he was balancing in a one-armed hold, he debated his next move for half-a-second (if that) and tossed them in the nearby trash can on the street. What was the cost of two coffees when something priceless lay just within his reach?

Rick entered the bullpen and spotted her immediately – her long hair swept into the bun he hated (only because it made his fingers itch all day with the urge to set the curls free), a thin green sweater and burnt orange scarf combination that beautifully magnified her eyes and skin, her black jeans that she must have poured herself into, and those incredibly high-heeled boots that peeked out below the denim and lifted her to his height. She was hunched over her telephone, her brow furrowed as she talked, but when her gaze met his, she seemed to light up with a smile.

"Dude – if you're going to stand there and just stare at her, could you at least move out of the way so the rest of us can do our jobs?"

He turned – startled – at Esposito's friendly ribbing and shrugged sheepishly, his coat rustling across his shoulders. "Sorry. Was it that obvious?"

The detective grinned and cocked an eyebrow incredulously. "Except for that little bit of drool on your chin, I suppose I could be wrong. I see you don't have coffee. Maybe you're trying to figure out a way to sneak to the break room and whip up a batch before she sees you?"

"Already saw him," Kate appeared suddenly beside them, holding out the cup of coffee for Castle. "And I brought the coffee today, Espo."

Rick took the offered takeout mug and saw the unmistakable pink flush that dusted her cheeks. His heart thudded in his chest. This wasn't just coffee. This was a fragment broken off her wall. Allowing his fingers to brush hers, he trapped them there beneath his touch for a pair of seconds – just long enough to send her a silent acknowledgment that he understood. She stepped away, pleasantly flustered, and shot a glare at Esposito who quickly masked the knowing smirk from his face.

"I finally got in touch with the police in Nazareth, Texas," she brought him up to speed as they crossed the room toward the elevator he'd just exited. Her coat was slung over her arm, and she leaned against the wall to face him as they waited for the car to respond to the button she'd pushed. "Turns out the sheriff is Mary's uncle."

At Castle's arched brow, she took a sip of her coffee and grinned. "I told you it was a small town." The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. Kate let her shoulder jostle lightly into Rick's, not bothering to move further away, content to just be in his space. She knew he would notice, and the small lift to his lips told her that he had – but he said nothing, simply sipped his drink and waited for her to continue updating him on the case.

"Anyway, he's going to notify both sets of parents. He said that he didn't know of any enemies, didn't know why they would be here in New York. He did say that his sister – Mary's mother – had told him she was worried about some harassing phone calls that Mary and Joseph had been getting. He looked into it – but didn't turn up any leads. And neither of them would tell him what had been going on, just told him they would take care of it." She shrugged sadly as they exited the building and made their way toward her vehicle. "There wasn't much he could do if they didn't want his help."

"So we're sort-of back to square one?"

Kate bit her lip but shook her head as they slid into the car. "Not really. He was able to give me a name – an old roommate of Joseph's – that lives here in Manhattan. They were best friends all through school. Thought we could go check him out, see if he can shed any light on their deaths or even just why they were here."

He took another drink from the cup in his hand and watched out the window as busy street scenes passed by his vision. "There's got to be something – someone – who knows what happened."

"Oh, there's someone who knows what happened," Kate assured him grimly. "And a little baby that saw it all."