A/N: Just a little shameless self promotion - the excerpt that Rick is reading is from my story Maelstrom. There's very little context and it is unimportant in every way but I just thought I'd mention it in case anyone thought 'hey what story is that?'.

Thank you so much for all the love so far, I really appreciate your reviews. I've been so slack with responding to them, I'm so sorry.

I'm getting to the end of what I've had prepared, so updates might slow down a little bit as I flesh out the details.

Anyways, enjoy!

The simple task of unlocking the door seemed near impossible right now. The key slipped long the brass, circling where it needed to slot in, again and again. She was too tired for this and she silently cursed herself for not staying with Rick.

She was warm and felt safe when she was wrapped in his arms, her head on his chest listening to the steady beating of his heart.

But the second he drifted off to sleep, it felt too real.

She didn't know this man. The level of familiarity, comfort and trust she felt when she was with him was... wrong. So very unlike her. After a very short internal battle she had decided it was too much, too fast. So she carefully removed herself from his embrace, got dressed and scrawled her number on the back of the hotel concierge calling card before tucking it into his jacket pocket. She wasn't sure why - insecurity, self sabotage or maybe just a classic case of being an absolute fool - but she pulled the card out and tore it into pieces.

Another thing to silently curse herself for.

The key finally slid into the lock and she pushed her body against the wooden door to open it. She pawed at her dress, desperate to be rid of it, and discarded it on the floor on her fumbling journey to the couch. She grabbed the old t-shirt she'd been sleeping in and pulled it on before flopping down onto the couch and haphazardly pulled the blanket over herself.

She closed her eyes - just for a moment - but when she opened them again the sun was streaming through the window and Lanie was crouched down by her side, wafting the aromas of a fresh cup of coffee her way.

"Morning, sleepy head," her friend greeted softly.

She propped herself up on her elbow and scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to rid herself of this exhausted haze.

Her head pounded and she groaned as she pressed her fingers to her temples. She hadn't been hungover in years; and right now she remembered very clearly why she didn't drink that much anymore. Gone were the days of bouncing back.

"Aspirin?" Esposito asked, making his presence known.

He walked over to them, held out his hand and offered two round pills.

"Thanks," she croaked. With one hand she reached for the pills, her coffee with the other.

"So?" Lanie urged once Kate had swallowed the painkillers.

Despite her best attempts, Kate couldn't stop her smile as the memories of last night resurfaced. A warmth filled her chest and she felt the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

"You know what? I really don't need to be here for this," Esposito commented.

He stepped closer to Lanie, dropped a kiss to the top of her head and walked toward the front door.

"Enjoy your girl talk," he called over his shoulder.

"Love you." Lanie blew a kiss his way.

Esposito's eyes flickered to Kate, then back to his girlfriend, and Kate knew it was a silent warning; a pre-emptive don't you dare say a word.

He 'caught' Lanie's kiss, tucked it away in his pocket and then sent her two in return.

Kate lifted her hand to hide her smile. She had to fight the oh-so-strong urge to tease him mercilessly; the way he had (for years) ridiculed Ryan's softer, more romantic side. She wouldn't, though. Not when it was her best friend on the receiving end of these small moments. Honestly, she was glad the tough-as-nails detective had this side to him, and had found someone he could share it with.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Kate looked at her friend still kneeling before her.

"You two are adorable," she gushed.

"Uh-uh, we're not talking about me." Lanie placed her hands over Kate's knee and leant her chin on them, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. "Tell me everything!"

By the time Monday rolled around, she had made peace with the fact that she had screwed up.

Keeping Lanie's drunken (and completely inaccurate) summary of Serendipity in mind - they're left with nothing but fond memories of that great night and nothing ruins it - she was able to not dwell on it too much.

She stepped off the elevator and entered the bullpen. Ryan and Esposito were already there, sitting at Esposito's desk, which wasn't anything unusual. What caught her attention, however, was the fact that several other detectives and officers were gathered around them.

Ryan looked up, smiling when he noticed her. He tapped Espo's arm to get his attention.

"What have I told you guys about watching X-rated movies at work?" she joked as she unloaded her belongings at her desk.

"Check it out, guys," Esposito said cheerily to the group surrounding him. "It's Little Miss Page Six."

She looked at him, confused. "It's who?"

The smug smirks on the boys' faces dropped in an instant, causing her stomach to knot anxiously.

"You haven't seen it?" Ryan asked quietly, erring on the side of caution.

"Seen what?"

"Abort mission," Esposito blurted, causing the small crowd to scatter in every direction.

She rushed over to see what they were looking at.

"What the hell?"

She stood, slack-jawed, as she stared at the image on the screen: her and Rick walking to his car, his arm around her waist and a smile on both of their faces. She might have thought it was a sweet image, if it weren't for the invasiveness of it all.

"Best-selling novelist, Richard Castle, pictured leaving popular Manhattan club Illusions with a mystery woman..." Her voice trailed off as she continued to scan the article.

Never, not in a million years, did she think that she would have to worry about her private life being published for the world to read.

The boys sat awkwardly as she read, knowing this probably wasn't going to end well for them but it was far too late for them to try and sneak away.

She cursed under her breath and stormed to the break room. She had no plan; once there she just stood in the centre of the room, staring at the wall with her hands on her hips. She didn't know how to feel in the moment. There was an odd sense of violation and shame. The image was innocent enough and the article itself talked more about the nightclub than Rick... but she knew where they were headed, the things that took place afterward.

She didn't want to think about how many people that she actually knew would see it. Evidently, it was already making the rounds here at work.

"It's not as bad as it seems."

She turned around to glare at Esposito.

"People think it's kinda cool that you're friends with a celebrity," he explained.

"We already explained that you guys go way back," Ryan assured her. "We were just going to give you hell for finding yourself in the spotlight, seeing as you're such a private person."

"Don't worry, Beckett. No one is thinking you're an actual human being with human desires," Espo teased.

"Oh, ha ha." She swatted his arm, but a wave of relief washed over her. "Thanks guys."

She really did appreciate the little family that they had become over the years.

"I knew that I knew him," she said, unprompted. The boys looked at her curiously. "There was something so familiar... I can't believe I didn't figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Ryan asked.

"My mom loved his books," she admitted with a smile. "Small world, right?"

Esposito took another step closer and lowered his voice. "Lanie said you were kinda bummed about not exchanging numbers with Writer Boy."

She rolled her eyes. "I really wish you guys wouldn't talk about m-"

"Shh," he interrupted. "I'm tryin' to do something nice."

He passed her a folded Post-It note, offering no explanation.

She unfolded it, read the name he had scrawled.

"The Oxford Comma?"

"It's a little bookstore in Brooklyn," Esposito clarified. "He's there for a signing right now."

"He watched as she shut it down. It was amazing, really, how easily she could compartmentalise. How, with a simple flick of a switch, she could block out any and all emotion. Terrifying, but amazing. Just moments ago she was frantic, searching his body for bullet wounds despite his assurance that he was fine. And seconds later, she was recounting the series of events that had led them to that moment to NYPD officers, as professionally as she would any other case. But this wasn't any other case. This was personal. And now that she had turned it off, shut it down, he was more anxious than ever."

Usually his fans listened in silence as he read from his upcoming novel: aside from the sound of his own voice, the room would be so still you could hear a pin drop. But right now, that wasn't the case. He could hear the whispers of the crowd, the soft murmurs throwing him off as he read.

His eyes lifted from the page and scanned the faces before him, but the eyes of his adoring fans were no longer on him.

He followed the crowd, searching for whatever it was that had pulled their focus until he found the source of disruption.

Kate stood at the back of the crowd, her eyes on him.

On Sunday morning, when he had woken up to an empty bed and no notes from her, he had assumed that he would most likely never see her again. It had hurt; to think that the connection between them had been something he had imagined. But here she was: she had gone to the effort of tracking him down and coming to this reading. It was exactly the reassurance he needed, the confirmation that he hadn't imagined anything.

With a smile on his face, he continued to read.

"He had given his account of events, so now he was just waiting on her. He wanted to take her home, let her rest, force her if he had to. But he knew it was futile. He could see that familiar fire in her eyes. She was on the hunt, she had her perp's scent and she wouldn't rest until this was over."

He continued to the end of the chapter, adding a little extra flare... just for her.

It's not that he thought he had to impress her or anything but - assuming that this was her introduction to his work - he wanted to make a lasting impression.

Once done, he made his way through the crowd; shaking hands, signing books and answering questions. He had to mentally push aside that persistent little voice in his head that was practically begging him to make a beeline for her and ignore everyone else. He couldn't do that - these were his fans and without them he wouldn't have the career he loved - but when the crowd finally thinned out and she was nowhere to be found, he couldn't help the disappointment that settled heavy in his chest.

He walked out of the store with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low.

"Hey, you," she called from behind him.

He stopped and turned, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey! I didn't expect to see you here. To what do I owe this surprise?"

She smiled and shrugged. "I was in the area," she said nonchalantly.

But something told him that wasn't the full truth.

"You can admit it," he said with a smirk. "You wanted to see me again."

His gaze dropped to her mouth, where her lower lip caught between her teeth as she considered her next move.

"Okay," she confessed. "I wanted to see you again."

He couldn't stop the resulting victorious puff of his chest.

"I wanted to kick your ass for not giving me a heads up that my drunken stumble to your car might end up as news," she added.

Her tone was playful, but slightly forced.

"I'm so sorry about that." He grimaced. "If it helps: the general consensus is that you are way out of my league."

She smiled, shifted her eyes to the side and hummed as if deep in thought. "Yeah, helps a little."

"Richard!"

The smile dropped from his face, his proudly puffed chest collapsing as he exhaled heavily.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mumbled under his breath before turning toward the woman beckoning him.

"Yes, Gina?"

She checked her watch and then met his eyes with a fierce assertiveness.

"Three-thirty," she reminded him.

"I haven't forgotten."

The woman's stare darted to Kate and then back to him.

"Don't be late," she warned before walking in the opposite direction.

He slowly turned back to Kate, who was looking rather amused.

"Bossy and disapproving? She another ex-wife?" she joked.

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out.

Kate's smile dropped and she looked over to the woman still striding down the street. "Seriously?"

"I'm a hopeless romantic!" he defended. "When I fall, I fall hard."

She brought her attention back to him. "Yeah, I'm noticing. Exactly how many ex-wives do you have?"

"Just the two!"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, dubiously. "Anything else I should know?"

"I'm happy to discuss over a coffee, if you have a little time?"