Castle knocks on her door Saturday around lunch time, giving her plenty of time to sleep in before she's forced to deal with him.

He listens closely for her footsteps, hears her approach the door. And then - nothing.

Yeah, he was afraid of that — that she'd just ignore him once she looked through the peephole and saw who was behind the knock. But she can't shake him that easily.

He waits another brief moment and knocks again, louder this time. "Beckett, I know you're in there. You're a loud walker." He burrows down a little into the scarf wrapped around his neck, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. Her building is freezing.

Kate swings the door open, her mouth set in a firm, indignant line. "I do not walk loudly." She crosses her arms over her chest, looking adorably angry in an oversized sweatshirt, a pair of leggings, and a thick pair of knit socks. Her hair is scraped back into a messy bun, a few strands falling along the curve of her jaw.

Despite her countenance, the sight warms his insides, flickering like a candle.

"Then how did I know you were home?" he challenges.

"Esposito told you."

"He did mention that last night," he admits. At the roll of her eyes, he adds, "But I did hear you approach the door."

"What do you want, Castle?"

"I need your help."

She drops her hands, all traces of her defensive posture gone now as her forehead wrinkles in concern. "Is everything okay? Is Alexis - "

"She's fine," he interjects hastily as the guilt creeps in. "It's about Nikki."

"As in Heat?"

He winces. "Yeah."

"Jesus Castle, I thought something was really wrong." She exhales in relief. "Don't do that."

"Please, Beckett," he whines. "I'm having trouble with her and the murder in my third book, and since you won't let me shadow you anymore…"

A flash of guilt briefly dances across her face. "You've written how many bestsellers? More than 2 dozen? You don't need my help."

He shakes his head. "I'm stuck, and Gina is breathing down my neck."

"I'll bet she is," Beckett mutters under her breath, cocking her hip against the door. But he hears it.

Oh. Wait. She thinks -

And she's jealous. Well, this is interesting.

He cocks his head, a little amused. "Gina and I aren't together, you know."

Her hazel eyes flicker in surprise, but she shutters it away on a shrug. "Makes no difference to me."

Mmm-hmm. Yeah, right. He could call her on it, ask her what happened between her and Demming last spring, but that's a surefire way to make sure she slams the door in his face and never talks to him again.

And she might be irritated with him right now, but at least she's speaking to him.

"Please, Beckett? Just an hour and then I'll be out of your hair."

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I doubt that, but fine."

He suppresses a full-watt grin and his cheeks hurt with the effort. "Are you going to let me in now?"

She steps aside. "Just for a minute so I can change. If we're doing this, I want brunch."

"Sold."

They walk a few blocks to one of her favorite diners that he knows she frequents. The coffee is perfect, the food always hits the spot, and it's never too crowded — even at noon on a Saturday.

They settle into a booth and Castle watches as she shrugs out of a tan wool trench coat that he doesn't remember seeing before. He wonders if it's new, along with the chunky knit sweater that's wrapped around her. It might be his new favorite — loose enough in the neckline that sometimes when she jostles her arm, it slips down and reveals the perfectly delicate skin of her shoulder.

"Still got that staring thing down, I see," she grumbles, interrupting his musings. He snaps his gaze up, but she's already moved on, looking down at the laminated menu in her hand, biting her lip as she ponders her choices.

The waitress comes by and Kate puts in a coffee order along with eggs, bacon, and a side of fresh fruit. Castle skipped breakfast this morning — having slept most of it away after getting in late from his night at the Old Haunt — so he's starving. He orders coffee, a short stack of pancakes, eggs, toast, and fruit.

When the waitress shuffles away, Beckett's looking at him in slight amusement, eyebrow raised.

"I got a late start today and skipped breakfast," he explains.

"Late night?" she asks.

"Yeah. Mother and Alexis were out last night so I played cards with some of my poker buddies after I ran into you. I just got back into town earlier this week, so we spent a few hours catching up," he explains.

She nods absently and another apology is about to fall reflexively off his lips when the waitress returns with their coffees.

"Thank you," Castle says graciously, shooting the server a small smile before she shuffles away.

The silence stretches on between them for a few moments, Kate filling the quiet with the fidget of her fingers along a row of sugar packets, her brow furrowed in thought.

"So, Ryan seems like he's doing well," Castle hedges carefully.

He follows the line of Kate's neck as she swallows with some effort, her fingers curling around the handle of her coffee mug. "Yeah," she manages, grief shining in her eyes. He's silent, waits for her as she takes a long sip of her coffee. When her cup meets the table again, she clears her throat. "It was pretty touch and go for awhile."

"They never found him, did they?"

"Tyson?" she laughs hollowly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "No, we never found him. I'm sure he'll turn up again with more blood on his hands."

"Beckett, it's not your faul - "

"Castle," Beckett interrupts him. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, I really do." She bites down on her lip, eyes shiny. "But I can't do this. I don't want to talk about it."

"I wish I had been there," he blurts out stupidly.

"So you could've gotten hurt, too?" she chokes on it, shaking her head furiously. "Please don't say that."

"You care about what happens to me, Beckett?" he asks, forcing a bit of teasing into his tone. But it comes out a little too high to play it off purely as a joke.

The look she gives him, full of something he can't quite place (regret? longing?), makes his heart thud painfully in his chest.

And then she clears it all away with the twitch of her lips. "Of course I care about you, Castle," she says, rolling her eyes as if he's said the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't be an idiot."

If that's true then why won't you let me come back to the precinct? he wants to ask.

But he lets it go (for now), can see that she needs something else to talk about for awhile. Their food arrives minutes later and he starts diving into the working plot of the third Nikki Heat book.

If Castle's being honest, he doesn't really need any help with the story — not the kind he's asked for, anyway. He has been having a hard time nailing the story down, that part's true, but only because this is the longest they've been apart since he started writing Nikki. He misses his muse, misses the woman he brought coffee for every morning. What he wouldn't give to bounce theory off her again.

What he wouldn't give for her period, but one step at a time.

She's eager as she listens to him weave the story, her eyes sparking with rapt interest in between bites of pancake doused in syrup. He leaves out key plot points about the case for her to help fill in, feeling like a bit of an ass as he does it, but it's the most she's looked like herself since he first saw her again a few nights ago. The relief he feels is palpable.

It's clear that she's struggling, but his Beckett is still in there somewhere — he just needs to figure out how to help her.

He pays for their breakfast when she excuses herself to use the restroom. When she returns to find the check gone, she narrows her eyes at him, but he just shakes his head.

"I dragged you out here, Beckett. Just let me get it."

A reluctant smile tugs at her mouth. "Okay. Thanks, Castle."

If it wouldn't annoy the shit out of her, he thinks he could skip the entire way back to her apartment.

As they approach the door to her place, his stomach twists itself into a dozen little knots. He needs to see her again, desperate to figure out how to worm his way back into her life beyond one Saturday lunch.

As she fishes out her keys, he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat to keep them from fidgeting. "So I'm having my annual Christmas party in two weeks. Friday night. Espo and Lanie are coming. I think LT too, maybe a few other guys from the precinct. You should come."

She hesitates, her gaze flicking up to his briefly before falling down to the keys in her hand. "Maybe."

But he can read the discomfort that's settled over her body. He's pretty sure she's lying, has no intention of coming, but is growing tired of letting him down so she couches it in a "maybe."

"Are you punishing me, Beckett?"

She flinches, looking wounded as she meets his eyes. "No, Castle."

"Because I meant it when I said I was sorry - "

"I know. I - " she breaks off on a sigh. "I'm not mad at you. Not really."

He frowns, confused. "But last night, you - "

"I know what I said last night. I was hurt when I didn't hear from you, but I'm not angry anymore." She smashes her lips together, a tight line across her mouth. "It's just easier to deal with."

"Easier than what, Kate?"

"Everything else," she scrapes out, frustrated. "Our partnership, our friendship. What happened this summer - "

"What about this summer?" he pushes, his heart thrashing furiously now in his chest. He's been dying to ask ever since Esposito told him that she broke up with Demming.

"What happened with Ryan," she finishes brokenly, ignoring his interruption.

"How does Ryan getting shot have anything to do with us, Kate?" he asks, edgy as he steps closer to her.

"There is no us," she says tightly, backing away from his body. She spins around, shoves her key into the lock with a force that jars his teeth.

"There could be if you'd let there be."

Her spine stiffens at his words and she stops for the briefest of moments. He wills her to turn around, just turn around Beckett, and then she does, but shit, there are tears in her eyes now and her mouth is twisting in fury -

"No, there can't be," she spits out. "You're a distraction, Castle. Ryan got shot because I was distracted and I'll be damned if I let that happen again."

"What are you saying? You were distracted because of me?" She doesn't answer, just lets out an empty, watery laugh but that's all the response he needs.

"Make me understand this, Beckett. How could I have been a distraction when I was gone when this whole thing went down?"

"That's exactly how," she croaks.

And then she's shoving her door open, slamming it behind her without another word.

He sighs, exhausted, mind spinning as he lets his forehead fall to the door.

Well. That could've gone better.

I hope you guys aren't getting impatient (yet). I tend to pace these two too quickly so I'm trying to slow down a bit. Beckett's outburst at the end of this was going to be much more confessional with *feelings everywhere* but my beta and I just felt like they weren't ready yet.

Thanks for your feedback!

x,

Liv