Ohne Musik wäre das Leben ein Irrtum.
(Without music, life would be a mistake.)
-Nietzsche

It was always this way, Kate thought: it always seemed like the minutes were crawling along so slowly toward concert time, but then the moment was upon you and it felt so sudden.

She was at the stage door again, her dress on, her hair and makeup perfect, her violin under her arm. The stage manager gave her a nod, and she walked onstage for the second time that day.

Kate often found that the second performance in a series made her more nervous than the first, especially if the first had gone well. Maybe it was the pressure she put on herself, or just a fatalistic superstition, but it usually seemed like she was braced for something to go wrong the second time around.

But that didn't happen tonight. For a change, she felt more confident instead of less, even after she got to her seat and discovered that the audience was bigger than it had been that afternoon. Having cleared the hurdle of singing onstage once (at the dress rehearsal) and twice (at the first concert), she felt entirely calm, ready to conquer it all over again.

And the second concert, if anything, went better than the first. Kate was fully in the music the entire time, immersed, both while playing her violin and while singing. When it came time for her to rise and move to the front of the stage, she was enraptured again by the powerful thrill of filling the performance hall with her voice.

And again, when it came time for Hallelujah, she felt the urge to sing along; she felt the melody buzzing in her throat while she was playing. A smile spread across her face, and even though she couldn't sing with her violin on her shoulder, she let her lips move to the rhythm of the words.

Before she knew it, they were playing through the Amen, and the concert was over, and she was still smiling.

Castle enjoyed the second concert enormously - much more so than the first. In retrospect, he realized that he had been more nervous the first time around than he'd let on, even to himself. But now, with one successful concert under his belt, his confidence was back and he was able to settle into his role.

The entire ensemble was in sync, playing beautifully throughout. And Beckett's singing captivated him all over again. Her performance was improving with each repetition, he thought; in the afternoon concert she had been brilliant, but now she was sublime - luminous - incandescent - Oh God, he thought fleetingly as he took the orchestra through the closing measures of Rejoice Greatly, he had better not let these superlatives out of his mouth in Beckett's presence; she would throttle him.

He remembered Beckett having said that the audience for the evening concert was usually better than the matinee audience, and that seemed to be true tonight. Although the afternoon audience had been sizeable and appreciative, the evening audience was even more so. The concert hall was completely full, and when the last notes rang out and Castle dropped his arms, the applause was thunderous. The audience continued clapping when Castle and the three soloists went off-stage, requiring them to come back on for a curtain call.

He smiled through the whole thing: a genuine smile of pleasure and satisfaction. And his cheer was infectious, bringing smiles to the faces of the chorus and orchestra also, as they stood basking in the audience's acclaim.

When he went offstage for the second time, even the stage manager and her assistant were smiling. Castle again exchanged handshakes and congratulations with the three soloists, and then, like before, he stood in his spot by the exit and greeted the chorus members as they filed off.

By the time the chorus had all come off the stage and the orchestra began to follow them, the rear corridors were already filling up with audience members eager to meet and greet. Castle was pulled away to hobnob with a couple of city councilors and a member of the orchestra's board of directors. He tried to keep one eye on the stage exit, in hopes of spotting Beckett when she emerged, but it was hopeless amid the mass of people.

This time, when Kate emerged from the backstage area, she didn't feel the same instinct to flee from the crowds that had gripped her after the first performance. She didn't need to go downstairs and hide until she had regained her composure; this time, she felt firmly in control. She was able to smile and nod and respond graciously to all the gushing well-wishers. The after-concert adrenaline had already kicked in, making her eyes a little brighter, her smile a little wider.

Then a familiar face swam toward her through the sea of chattering heads, and she reached out a hand, her eyes going wide with recognition.

"Roy!" she exclaimed.

"Kate!" called her mother's former voice teacher, Roy Montgomery, coming up to squeeze her hand and kiss her cheek. His wife trailed behind, smiling politely.

"My God, you were incredible," Roy said with feeling. "I got chills, Kate, honest-to-God chills. Your mother would be so proud."

"Thank you," she murmured, her chest swelling with painful pleasure. The praise meant so much, coming from this man. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for anything." Then Roy gripped both of her hands in his, and looked her in the eye. "Kate, is this a one-time thing, or are you coming back to it for real? Tell me."

"I..." She had to look away, blinking hard. "Honestly, I haven't been looking beyond these three concerts. I haven't thought about it." She was a little surprised to hear the words come out, but they were true, she realized. She hadn't thought about what was to come, after this.

"Well, you should start thinking about it," Roy urged. "And when you do, my door's open."

"Oh." She looked at him in surprise. "I thought you weren't teaching any more."

"Group lessons only, and advising," he nodded, "but for you? Kate, for you, my door is always open."

"Oh," she repeated, a little faintly. Here, in this corridor resounding with the happy voices of the mingling performers and audience, the vast weight of her possible futures suddenly pressed down on her.

"Think about it," Montgomery said again, and she mustered a smile, brushed cheeks again with him and his wife, and moved off into the crowd.

Castle spotted Beckett in the corridor, and noted that she seemed a lot more comfortable mingling and receiving compliments than she had earlier. Again he fought the urge to shove his way through the crowd and get to her. It was weird, he thought, how natural it felt for him to stand by her side after only having known her a few days.

The hallway was boisterous with the multitude of voices, and it seemed like every single person there wanted a turn chatting with Castle. He was used to it, and in fact he enjoyed it; but it was nevertheless a relief when the people began to drift away, the din slowly quieting as the corridors emptied out.

At last he found himself at the stairs, and descended, finding the locker-room area still somewhat crowded with performers in various states of dress. Many of them were clearly getting ready to go out for dinner - it was early yet for a Saturday night, if you were young and full of energy. Castle reflected on the fact that, in different circumstances, he himself might be planning to spend the next few hours in some loud club, dancing; or at a bar, drinking; or perhaps going to another late show.

But tonight his mind was on only one thing: Kate Beckett. He still hadn't figured out how to continue spending time with her after the concert series was over, but one step at a time. The first step was getting her to agree to go out with him tonight.

He went into his dressing room and changed back into his regular clothes, hanging the tuxedo up in the little closet. He retrieved his briefcase and coat, and went back out into the hall.

He felt awkward loitering outside the women's locker room, waiting for Beckett to come out. He wasn't even sure whether she was in there; he certainly hoped she hadn't just left without saying anything to him. She wouldn't do that, would she? He stood in the hallway, uncertain, debating the pros and cons of asking a passing woman to go into the locker room and look for Beckett.

He was spared that indignity by the appearance of Beckett herself, emerging from the locker room in her street clothes and coat, carrying her purse and violin case.

"Beckett," he said in relief, and she looked at him with a strange expression.

"Are you stalking me, Castle? That's creepy."

"I'm just standing here," he proclaimed innocently, and grinned a little when she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Right," she scoffed, but then the humor dropped away and she bit her lip, her eyes sliding aside.

"Listen, Castle," she said softly, "I just ... it's too many people up there." She waved a hand to indicate the hallways upstairs, and looked at him again, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "I've had enough of being stared at for today, you know?"

He frowned slightly, trying to understand. She didn't want to go out and be seen? She didn't want to be around a lot of people? But that didn't necessarily mean she didn't want to go out with him, did it? He decided to take a leap.

"No problem," he said. "But you still have to eat, right? Why don't you come to my place and I'll make dinner?"

Her eyes flew to his face, wide with surprise. "You cook?"

He snorted a short laugh. "Not much choice. Mother's food is terrible. Alexis and I would have starved to death if we'd relied on her."

"Oh." Beckett stared at him, apparently lost for words. He felt his heart sink; she was trying to figure out how to let him down gently. That was stupid, asking her to his place, offering to cook for her. He shouldn't have been so forward, so soon. He took a breath in, preparing himself for her rejection.

"That sounds nice," she said softly, and his heart leapt. Disbelief and excitement rushed through him.

"Really?" he managed, trying not to sound as surprised as he was. "I mean, uh ... are you, are you ready? To go?"

She pursed her lips, her eyes snapping anew, and he felt better. Beckett trying not to laugh at him was more like the way things were supposed to be.

"Yeah, Castle, I'm ready."

Kate felt lightheaded from nerves as she and Castle made their way to the front of Symphony Hall. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to agree to Castle's invitation, except that with the thrill of two successful concerts quickening her pulse, she hated the idea of going back to her quiet, empty apartment by herself while the night was still young.

In the locker room, listening to the other women of the orchestra and chorus chattering about the dinner dates or parties they were going to, Kate had been struck by an unpleasant sense of how boring she had allowed herself to become. What had happened to her? She was not even 30 yet, far too young to become the type who didn't know how to have fun.

She knew that Lanie and some of the others were planning to meet up with their boyfriends and other friends; it would likely just be dinner and drinks, nothing too wild - no one who was performing tomorrow would go out clubbing until all hours - but it would be fun, and they would be happy to have Kate invite herself along. She could do that. She could go out and enjoy herself with a crowd of friends, like a normal young woman.

Or, she could say yes to the man who had spent the whole week trying to get her to go out with him. The man whom she had already kissed several times, and whose hands she couldn't stop looking at when she was playing her violin and he was conducting.

She still had a lot of doubts and questions about Castle and the whole situation ... but after all, she did need to eat. And a quiet dinner at Castle's place might be the perfect compromise between not wanting to go out to a noisy restaurant and not wanting to go home alone.

Besides, she had to admit she was curious - about Castle's living space, and his cooking skills. About who Castle was when he was at home.

All of this flashed through her mind as they went through the front doors and down the wide steps to the sidewalk. Fueled by the adrenaline and the excitement of the day, she decided to put aside her worries for now and try to enjoy herself.

"Just remember, Castle," she said lightly as they waited for a cab, "if you give me food poisoning and I can't sing tomorrow, I will kill you."

"Your faith in my abilities is touching," he shot back, grinning. "Don't worry, Beckett. I guarantee you'll be ... satisfied." His voice dropped to a low register on the end of the sentence, and she shivered a little as the sound insinuated itself along her nerves, raising goosebumps across her whole body.

In the taxi, she half-expected Castle to invade her personal space, but he sat a respectful distance away and folded his hands in his lap, saying, "So, should we be worried that today's concerts went so well, it means tomorrow is doomed? Isn't there some kind of superstition about that?"

"Oh - probably," Kate shrugged, quirking a small smile. "I think it'll be fine, though, as long as everyone keeps the partying to a minimum tonight."

"Right," he nodded. "I guess things could be ugly if half the orchestra shows up hungover tomorrow."

"They won't, though," Kate said with confidence. "They're professionals."

"It wasn't my imagination, was it?" he asked, just a little timidly. "Both the concerts today were great. I mean, it felt that way to me."

"Me too," she admitted, suddenly grateful for the low lighting in the cab, masking the unaccountable flush of her cheeks. "It's not your imagination."

Castle's home turned out to be a loft in SoHo, with a huge lobby already lavishly decorated for the Christmas season, and a doorman who gave them a friendly nod on the way in. After a short elevator ride, they entered the loft, and Kate gazed around in amazement. It was huge, which she had expected, but aside from that it was nothing like what she might have imagined. Castle's furnishings were tasteful and understated, and the whole place felt homey, despite its size.

She was immediately drawn to the bank of windows at the back of the living room, and as soon as Castle had taken her coat, she went over to gaze down at the lights of the city.

"This is quite a view," she said, pulling her eyes away with difficulty, turning to find Castle standing a few feet away, watching her, looking a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, it's great for looking out at while hoping for inspiration to strike."

"I thought I was your inspiration," she said, intending only to needle him, but too late she realized how flirty it sounded.

"Oh, you are, Beckett, and in so many ways," he replied, his voice dropping low again as he took a step closer to her. Her skin prickled deliciously. The delirious buzz of the post-concert adrenaline made her feel free, reckless.

"Yeah, well, your inspiration might strike you sooner than you think," she retorted, her lips twisting mischievously. She turned halfway back toward the windows, looking out again, but her attention was still on Castle, the nearness of his body making hers tingle.

"I really liked that dress," he said softly. "Are you going to wear it again tomorrow?"

The question took her by surprise. "Yes," she said after taking a moment to process it. She turned to look at him again, and the heat in his eyes made her mouth go dry.

Castle shifted, inching still closer to her. His eyes were on her neck and collarbone, which her sweater left bare, though not as much so as the dress.

"I noticed," he said, lifting a hand, "that you don't have that mark on your neck that a lot of violinists have."

His finger landed on her throat and traced a path downward, across her wildly thumping pulse point, into the dip of her clavicle, then back up again, running across the part of her neck where her violin rested when she played. She shuddered deeply, paralyzed against the window frame, staring up at him. She knew he could see the way her skin reddened, the flush creeping up her neck as his eyes followed his finger.

"Why is that?" he asked huskily, still gazing at her neck.

She took a shaky breath and said quietly, "Not everyone gets it. It depends on skin type and-" Her breath hitched in her throat when his finger changed course again, stroking lightly over the spot. "...the padding you use on your chin-rest," she finished hoarsely.

"Hmm," Castle murmured, still watching his finger as it circled the tender skin of her neck. "It looks like a hickey. That's what they call it, don't they? Violinist's hickey?"

"Some people call it that," she confirmed shakily.

Abruptly Castle leaned down and pressed his mouth to the spot. Kate gasped, her hands going to his shoulders to steady herself as his arms came around her back. His mouth was open on her skin, wet and hot, his tongue lightly stroking, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching her. Arousal flooded her body and she clung to him like an anchor.

"I could give you a hickey here and no one would know that it wasn't from your violin," he rumbled against her skin, the vibrations of his voice making her shudder. Then his tongue was back, sweeping a path along her neck, and she trembled in his arms. Oh God, she had to get herself back under control. She could not let him make a visible mark there, no matter how good it felt - not if she was going to perform tomorrow with her neck bare.

"No one would know? Only everyone who saw me today," she managed, and Castle paused, lifting his head to look at her face.

"Oh. You think so?"

She huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, Castle, I know so." Her eyes were on his lips, and she was that close to surging up into him for a kiss, when he pulled back and straightened up, letting go of her.

"Right! Okay, well, I better get started on dinner."

He moved away toward the kitchen, leaving her standing there breathless, her whole body tingling.