Kate leaves what she hopes will be her last therapy session a little after seven. It's early December and the city is dressed in its Christmas finest. Despite pairing her dark wool winter coat with a cheery red scarf, Kate isn't feeling very jolly. She's heading up an investigation that has been dragging on for two months now with very little progress. It's a particularly horrible case: so far three pregnant women have been murdered. The only bright spot is that the babies were saved because the murderer calls 911 and summons help. Still, three families have been hit with tragedy and loss and three children will never know their mothers. Capt. "Iron" Gates has been steadily applying more pressure on Kate and her team and demanding almost hourly updates. Kate misses Roy's mentoring and good advice now more than ever. He would have brought her into his office, handed her his flask, told her she was the best detective he'd ever trained, and told her to go out and solve the damn case. His unshakeable confidence in her abilities helped her focus and solve a case even when it seemed unsolvable. She has no one to be that calm, guiding influence for her now. Well, no one but Castle.

Castle.

Kate allows herself a small smile. He's had her back every moment. When the first awful murdered woman was found he was there, quietly encouraging her and keeping her steady when she felt herself flailing. He's developed a sixth sense regarding her moods and knows when to keep everything serious and when to lift her spirits with a bad pun or a little flirting. Aside from a gentle touch on her hand or shoulder, Castle's not touched her. She doesn't know whether to curse this or be thankful. She craves him now like chocolate, like a drowning woman needs air, but when he does touch her—even the most casual touch—it sets off fireworks in her body and she jerks away from him, worried that he will feel them. She thought just maybe, maybe, with some distance from her shooting and hours of therapy, she could approach her mother's investigation with a fresh eye. And maybe give the relationship with Castle a chance to grow. But now with these homicides—the press is calling them the "mommy murders"—she's had little time to invest in solving her shooting and finding the "dragon," much less try to build a relationship with Castle. So now, a month from Christmas, Kate is feeling anything but Christmas-y even though she is surrounded by music and shoppers and decorations hanging from lamp posts.

Kate gets into her car and battles traffic all the way to her father's apartment. Ever since her shooting, he's been more insistent at having regular "father/daughter" visits. Kate is fine with this except that he's more interested in her social life now. Specifically, her social life as it relates to Richard Castle. Kate sighs. Castle. He's everywhere and has everyone on his side, including her father.

"Hi, Dad," Kate says to him when he opens the door and she gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. Jim Beckett eyes his daughter critically as she walks past him into his apartment. She's still too thin, he thinks. She never regained the weight she lost while recovering from her wounds and this latest case hasn't helped.

"I made a lot of spaghetti and your favorite sauce," he says to her. "The bread is from Panetti's."

"Oh, my favorite bakery," Kate says. Carbs have always been her weak spot, but she's blessed with long legs and a fast metabolism and doesn't worry about gaining weight.

"There's lots of food, Katie. I want you to eat up and take home some leftovers. You're much too thin." Kate bites her lip. She doesn't want to argue with her father. Instead she gathers plates from the cupboard and sets the table while he stirs the sauce and pulls the bread from the oven.

"Warmed up and slightly toasty, just as you like it," he says. They sit down to eat and for a moment the conversation is kept to the topic of the food. Kate—for the first time in a long while—is genuinely hungry and savors the meal, reaching for her third slice of bread. Jim is pleased when she scoops more spaghetti onto her plate.

"Katie, I'll make spaghetti for you more often if you promise to eat like this every time." She laughs. "Dad, I'd be the size of a house if I ate like this every time, and then you'd be worried about my health for the opposite reason."

"Well, I just know that I'm happy to see you enjoying a meal for once. I know Rick would be pleased too. He thinks you aren't eating enough and when you do, it's Chinese take-out."

Kate carefully lays her fork on her plate and tries not to give in to the surge of annoyance she immediately feels.

"Dad, are you and Castle having discussions about me?"

"Oh, Katie, don't get all upset. I call him every once in awhile. I like him."

"Uh huh. And I'm sure my name never comes up."

Jim sighs. His daughter has always been very private about her personal life, but before her shooting she talked enough about Rick for him to realize that, boyfriend or no, she cared very much for him. But since the shooting she's been tight-lipped about him and her break-up with Josh. He didn't even know about that until he called Josh to invite them both to dinner and Josh coldly informed him that his daughter apparently prefers writers over cardiac surgeons.

"Rick's a good man. He cares about you. I don't understand why you have such a problem with that."

Kate presses a hand against her forehead. "Dad, I really don't want to discuss this. Not right now. I just—" she flaps her hand in the air, unable to complete her thought. The room is silent for a few minutes then Kate takes a deep breath and starts again.

"I know, Dad. I do. I know…I know how he feels about me. It's just—" Again, she stutters to a halt. Jim watches her with concern. He likes Rick Castle, much more than he'd ever liked that handsome hulk of a doctor. He trusts Rick to take care of his little girl and he would like, more than ever, for her to settle down with someone who will take care of her for once. She's been alone too long, carried the baggage of her mother's murder too long, and he wants her to be happy.

"Katie." Jim takes his daughter's hand. "Honey, I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you. I just think you need to give yourself a chance to be happy."

Kate doesn't say anything. She is overwhelmed by a tide of love for her father and trying not to succumb to the tears in her eyes. She fails as she feels wetness on her cheeks. Her father's face is blurred through her tears as she turns to face him.

"Sometimes I don't think I was meant to be happy."