AN: Hey guys, so this one took me a lot longer than I thought it would. Honestly, I was writing this end scene for Moments and I felt like I had to change the ending, but it was a lot more difficult than I was expecting. I don't do a lot of season 2 for this fic because it just feels too early in their relationship for me, but I tried to make this one as believable as possible.

If you've already read the Overkill chapter in Moments, you can skip to the first cut of this one because I used the first part is the same.

This chapter's kind of long, with a lot of lead-up (Do you like the longer ones, or should I stick to the shorter ones the first few I did? Review and let me know.)

I really hope you guys like this one (like I do for all of them), but let me know either way!

Rick really did just want to congratulate his partner. The lesser parts of him also wanted to make sure she heard the congratulations from him and not Demming, but he'd convinced himself he wasn't going to make this a competition anymore. He was a better man than that, right?

Well, he was now. Beckett had see to that, even if it had been unwittingly. She was a person, capable of making her own decisions, not a prize to be won. If she chose Demming, then he'd do what he needed to deal.

As he walked around the corner, he ran through what he wanted to say. No matter what, Beckett was likely to laugh and tell him he was being corny, that it was a group effort. But then she would hide a smile from him and he would know that, no matter what she said, she liked to be appreciated for her work. That hidden smile was everything to him.

When he spotted her, his lips started to curve into a smile of their own. Then he saw she was holding someone's hand and his heart dropped. He stopped dead in his tracks when the hand turned into Demming.

And she was smiling, actual smiling that she didn't feel the need to hide, as Demming leaned in and kissed her. His hand, the one not holding hers, was at her hip, making Rick's heart pump painfully in his chest.

The amount of times he'd imagined placing his hand exactly where Demming's was... He didn't even want to think about it. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that Demming was kissing Beckett.

He really wanted to look away. His sanity most likely depended on him looking away, but the tragedy of the whole scene playing out in front of him was too mesmerizing, too heartbreaking not to watch.

It had been a given to him, in the beginning, that Beckett would eventually fall in love with him. Okay, so definitely not a given, and maybe he hadn't really been thinking about love. Rick had been arrogant then; he'd just expected that it would go his way, that something would happen between Beckett and him.

Even though he'd gotten to know her, to want more than just a fling with her, that assumption that he would be her next... (what, love interest?), had never really subsided. And beyond that, he knew that he was falling hard for Beckett, in a way that gave him more than just goose bumps and chills, more than the restless nights trying to make Nikki forgive Rook.

Sorenson had been annoying; this was downright painful.

But he couldn't stand there and stare forever, so he forced himself to look away. This was her choice. Demming was her choice. Hadn't he just told himself that he would respect that?

He didn't want to, that was for sure. He wanted to drag her into the break room and show her all the ways he could fight for her, but he was better than that. It was one thing to battle against Demming about the case, another to throw a wrench into something that Beckett obviously wanted.

So instead he walked into the break room alone; there was no reason either Beckett or Demming needed to know he'd witnessed what had just happened. He couldn't help looking out the window though; he was a glutton for punishment.

He watched as she walked away from Demming, fingers at her lips, smiling wider than ever. Why couldn't he put that smile on her face? What was so different between Demming and him? That was a question of which he did not want to investigate the answer.

And then she caught his eye.

Crap. He was found out. Not only would Beckett twist his ear for this, she was likely to really do him some damage. Of course she'd already done plenty, but he was trying not to think about it when she was watching him.

In all honesty, he might welcome it; physical pain would be a nice distraction right now.

He busied himself at the coffee machine just as she reached the doorway. She was still smiling, so she couldn't be too mad. Of course that might just be the after effects of kissing Demming.

"Castle?" He looked up, trying to seem like his heart hadn't just been ripped out of his chest. Wow, pain made him really cliché. "What're you still doing here?"

"What was the question? Was it a question? He hadn't really heard exactly what she'd said.

"Hey, I was just about to leave myself." That made absolutely no sense. And it didn't even answer the question she asked, which he was only now deciphering. Why would he be making coffee if he were about to leave? "Good job solving the case."

That was what he had been so excited to tell her, hadn't it? Somehow it didn't feel as good as he'd hoped.

There was a split second where Beckett just looked at him, and Rick was sure that she knew. But then she smiled again.

It wasn't the smile she gave Rick; it was Demming's smile, the yes-go-ahead-and-kiss-me-in-the-precinct-hallway smile. Was that bitter? Yeah, that was bitter.

Rick didn't have time to rebuke himself about the bitterness yet; it would have to come later.

"Yeah well, we make a good team." For once, Rick wished she would just stop smiling. It would be a lot easier that way.

"Yeah." He managed a small smile back at her, knowing that was what she wanted, what she expected from him. It was probably the fakest smile he'd ever given her. "Good night." He wasn't going to last if this conversation went on much longer.

"Thanks, night." She turned to go and gave him a little half wave. She waved. It was so adorable, and it just shattered his heart completely.

Somehow, he maintained his smile until she turned around. After that all he could think about was one question: Who did she mean when she said "we make a good team," she and Rick, she and Demming, or all three of them together?

He was pretty sure he didn't want the answer.

It was five minutes before Rick pulled his eyes away from where Beckett had disappeared around a corner and put down the coffee cup he'd been holding. His knuckles ached. He must have been gripping it more tightly than he'd realized.

He hadn't said goodbye to the boys; he didn't want to risk the chance he'd run into Beckett again. Now he was sitting at his desk wondering what, if anything, he could have done differently to make this not be his reality.

Well, first of all, he could have not acted like an arrogant ass when he first met Beckett. That would definitely have helped him. And then there was looking into her mother's case.

But had that really been a detriment to their relationship in the long run? Yes, he'd caused her immeasurable heartache by dredging the whole thing up, and then forcing her to kill her only lead. For both of which he had no way of explaining how sorry he was. But he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow all of that had strengthened their bond, not weakened it.

Of course none of that really mattered anymore; she was with Demming, and Rick had sworn to himself that he would let her be happy with him.

He put his head in his hands. He was so tempted to retrieve the bottle of scotch currently sitting on his kitchen counter, but he knew being drunk wouldn't really help. It would only make him angrier.

Angry was not the emotion he wanted to feel right now. Best-case scenario, he'd be happy, but that wasn't really an option, so miserable came in a distant second. It was an odd thing, wanting to feel miserable. If he was miserable, then he knew what he was feeling was real. This thing with Beckett wasn't just a fling to him, not anymore.

Selfishly, he hoped that wasn't the case for Beckett and Demming.

Rick really didn't want to be this person, wishing for other people's unhappiness. He wanted nothing but a life full of joy for Beckett, but the problem was that he wanted to be the man to give her that life.

And why shouldn't he be?

It was a stupid question to ask himself, even worse because he already knew the answer. There were so many reasons why Rick would not be that guy, the biggest of all being that Beckett didn't trust him. Sure, she trusted him with her back at work, trusted him to build theory with her, and even to be at her side when she finally found who hired Dick Coonan. She trusted his loyalty.

What she didn't trust was him. She still expected to see him walking around with women draping off him. She expected him to not go for a "real" woman. She still expected him to get bored of her eventually.

Okay, so maybe he didn't really believe she actually consciously thought that. But sometimes he could see it in the way she looked at him, the way she'd roll her eyes at him, the way she was always so quick to say there was nothing going on between them, and the way she reacted to that damn blurb in the paper.

Rick knew there was no quick way of showing Beckett that he was worth her trust. The only way to make her believe he'd stick around was to actually do it. But he couldn't get the image of her with that damn smile on her face out of his mind. Waiting a few more years to gain her trust just wasn't fast enough.

He needed her to understand now.

It was a stupid idea. A really, really stupid idea. Quite possibly his stupidest.

But he was at her door now and there was no turning back. Well, he could just not knock and go home, but he would hate himself if he did that. Therefore, there was not turning back.

All he had to do was knock.

Now.

Before the sun came up.

Before she finally found another apartment and moved out of this sublet.

Nnnnnnow!

Damn it NOW!

Rick heard footsteps down the hall and knew that if he wanted to avoid looking like a stalker, he really needed to just knock on the damn door already.

So he did.

He heard nothing as he waited; half hoping she wasn't even home. Of course then he had to wonder where she would be, and the image that conjured made him wince.

Then he heard the lock click, and the door was opening and there she was, gorgeous face free of makeup and instead painted with almost comical confusion.

This was such a stupid idea.

"Castle? What are you doing here?"

"Uh." What was he doing again? It was so hard to remember now that she was standing in front of him. "Do... Beckett do you have a minute?"

Yes, this was going so well.

"Do I have a minute?" She looked at him like she was seconds away from slamming the door in his face. He couldn't decide whether he'd prefer that or not.

Rick grinned at her to break the tension of the moment, but it was so awkward it only added to it. But then her face softened into a slight smile. The smile she reserved only for him. And damn it if he didn't want to kiss it right off of her.

"Fine, you can come in." Her voice was resigned, like she was only doing this to appease him, but her eyes were lit up. She was amused, probably wondering what he could possibly have to talk to her about that couldn't wait until morning, but definitely wanting to see what had him so worked up.

"But, Castle, if this is some stupid Q & A bit for your next novel, so help me, I will twist your ear clean off your head."

Beckett reached her hand towards his ear as he passed her, but there was no real heat in her voice. Rick flinched away from her out of instinct anyway.

"No, this isn't about the books." Not anymore.

As he walked into her living room, he took the opportunity to glance around. Anything to put off thinking about how to start this conversation. Planning to come here and tell Beckett how he felt was easy; actually figuring out how to do so was far more difficult.

Rick draped his coat over the back of the couch before slowly circling around it. Her apartment was mostly bare, it seems she really wasn't planning on staying very long. He half wished she would let him help her find a place, but he knew that would never happen.

He also wished she would decide living with him was an even better option. But of course that was a delusion that, if voiced allowed, would have her sending him to psychiatric evaluation.

"Beckett can I... can we... can we talk?" Why did this have to be the moment he lost the ability to communicate? Maybe he should have just written her a letter. No, that was far too romantic and cliché for Beckett. Plus he wasn't sure she wouldn't just try to ignore it altogether in favor of the maintaining the status quo. He didn't think he would survive that.

"Uh, sure?" Why did that sound like a question? She was still standing by the door, confusion and caution mixing on her face. This didn't bode very well for him; he'd only just got here and already he'd put her on the defensive.

He really wished he could know what was going on in her head.

"I just... do you think we could... can we just sit for a minute?" He waved a hand at the couch and it seemed to reanimate her a little.

She nodded and moved to seat herself next to him. He still couldn't tell what she was thinking, but he could see tiny droplets of fear clouding in her eyes. What did she think he was going to say?

What was he going to say?

Rick knew what he wanted to say, but there was a fine line between what might convince her to give him a chance, and what would only anger and scare her. He wasn't exactly sure where that line was.

Beckett was looking at him expectantly; he had to say something.

"I want to upset your applecart." What the hell? Where did that come from?

It was the first words that he could think. He hadn't even been thinking about that conversation. Oh, jeez this was bad.

"Was that-was that a euphemism or something?"

Oh, no. This was so bad. Did she not even remember saying that to him? He'd thought that conversation about Balthazar Wolf might have meant something more, at least he had at the time.

Of course, she hadn't really used that expression kindly, had she?

"No! No of course it's not. This is not going the way I hoped." He ran a hand down his face, trying to find the words, any words that could possibly explain what it was he was trying to say. "I didn't mean to say that; it wasn't what I meant. What I'm trying to say is that-"

"Oh." She sat back, her hand flying to her mouth as recognition sparked in her eyes. As shut off as he thought she was when she'd sat down, it was worse now. "I wondered if you saw. Castle if this is about Tom, if this is about you being jealous or insecure..."

She trailed off and he watched as her she pulled her eyes up to his. It was actually painful, seeing just how uncomfortable she was. It almost made him want to take it back, to tell her it was just jealousy, that he simply didn't want to share his partner with someone else.

That wasn't the truth though, and he'd known that for a while now.

"No, this has nothing to do with Demming." She gave him the look that always sends ice through his veins. "Okay fine, so maybe it has a little to do with Demming, but it isn't jealousy. I'll admit it is a little about insecurity because I care about you, a lot, and it's terrifying."

"The fact that you care about me terrifies you?" She didn't understand, but at least she was trying to. Her brow was knight in concentration, her eyes closed, her fingers pressing against her forehead. It was exactly the way she looked when she was trying to figure out a particularly hard case, trying to fit all of the clues together, searching for the piece that made all the puzzle pieces make sense.

Was he just a puzzle to her? No. He knew better than to think that. This was her process. And her process was one of the things that had inspired and fascinated him from the beginning.

"Yes, it terrifies me. You terrify me, in the best way possible. You terrify me because, aside from Alexis, you are all I can think about. Every night I lay in bed go back and forth between desperately trying to understand you just a little bit more and planning what I'm going to wear the next time you call me with a body drop. Every morning I stand in line for coffee praying they make your latte perfectly, because I know if they do you'll take that first sip and your eyes will close and your lips curl up just so and... and I'm rambling."

Rick was staring at his hands; he couldn't bear to meet her eyes, not when he knew there was a strong likelihood he'd find pity there.

"What are you asking for, Rick?" Beckett's voice was soft; there was no trace of the barbed wire he'd become accustomed to hearing anytime he overstepped.

Hope flickered in his chest at her use of his first name. He never thought his own name would mean so much to him, but with her it did.

Rick so badly wanted to say I want everything, all of you, especially the parts you try so hard to hide, but he knew that was too much, too fast.

"I want a chance, Kate." Now he was staring at her hands, which she'd placed in her lap, instead of his own. They were trembling, not enough to really be noticeable, but Rick could see it.

"I know you're with Demming now, and I won't be the guy that gives you an ultimatum; I won't make this a competition. I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to. All I'm asking for is a chance, a chance to show you I'm not the person I was when I met you." He took a deep breath, laid a cautious hand on hers, and looked up at her. "Please, give me a chance to prove I'm trying to be a better man. I don't need you to drop everything and fall into my arms; I think we both know that will never happen. I just want to you think about it. Just don't write me off yet."

That was it; he had nothing else to say. Well, he had a million little things to say, things that he would tell her to try to convince her. But he didn't want to convince her; he wanted her to decide for herself.

She held eye contact with him for a few seconds and he could see her mind working. He'd startled her when he'd touched her, but she hadn't moved away. That was a good sign right?

"Firstly, I'm not with Demming, not in a serious capacity at least. Secondly, and listen good Castle because I won't say this again," she grabbed hold of his jaw when he looked away, gently pulling his eyes back to hers. "I will try thinking about it, about you. Honestly," her hand moved from his jaw to his neck, softly and almost absentmindedly caressing the hair at his nape, "I think I already was."

Rick wanted to kiss her. Could he kiss her? Did she want him to kiss her?

She blinked and the moment diffused itself. Beckett removed her hand from his neck, swallowed hard.

"Would you like, do you want to get something to eat?" Rick could tell the invitation was genuine, but he also saw her defenses return. She was closing herself off again and imposing his company on her would only make things worse.

"No." He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself off her couch, staring at the floor. "I mean, I'd love to, but I think we both need some time. I should go home."

Beckett looked up at him and smiled just slightly, telling him he was right. She needed to process all of it. Time was something he was willing to give. He gingerly ran his fingers along the length of her bicep, forcing himself to look her in the eyes before he spoke again.

"Thank you."

At that he dropped his hand, gathered his coat, and walked towards the door. Maybe this hadn't been going as badly as he'd thought.

"Wait." He heard her voice as he reached for the door handle.

He turned to see her walking towards him, a fire in her eyes that he recognized. It was the same fire he saw every time they built a theory together. He loved that fire.

When she reached him, her hands came up to cup his cheeks. His body went haywire at her touch. Icy adrenaline flooded his every cell because holy crap was she going to...? The ice melted to lava as he saw the determination on her face. She was.

Her lips met his and his brain burst into a million tiny fireworks. The kiss was chaste, more soft sensuality than wild passion, but Rick didn't care. He was kissing Kate Beckett.

No, Kate Beckett was kissing him, and nothing else mattered.

Rick brought his hands to rest at her waist. He wanted nothing more than to pull her body tight to his, but that wasn't what this was about. He would let Beckett have control here too.

Her fingers slowly wove their way into his hair, but before Rick was anywhere near ready, he felt her pulling away.

Opening his eyes, he saw her smiling. It still wasn't the way she smiled at Demming, but Rick thought maybe it was better. This smile was close to the one she hid from him, except it was a little brighter. It was a smile he knew he'd spend eternity trying to coax out of her, if only she let him.

"Just giving myself more to think about." Rick watched the words form on her lips before bringing his eyes back to hers once again.

She was smiling there too.

AN2: Was it good? Too long? Too OOC? Please review and tell me your thoughts.