Set Season 3 - AU, assume everything up to Knockdown has happened before Christmas.

It's not his fault.

She keeps repeating this every half hour.

He had promised pre-Christmas Eve plans for them, in light of the fact they were both scheduled to work both the 24th and 25th, but of course the emergency room called her doctor boyfriend and beckoned him to cover this "eve-eve" shift.

A hero in the operating room and out in the world. That's what they all call him here at the hospital. It's great when they're all gathered around, tossing compliments at him like kindling to stoke the flames, but she's heard it all before at their parties and gatherings. To be so lucky.

It's hard to feel that lucky after the tenth cancelled plan.

And it's not like Beckett didn't want this. She chose it. Josh, he serves her...needs. Although, tonight she questions that her needs are to spend the evening in a doctor's lounge, alone, kicking back coffees in hopes of staying conscious until they can get out of here.

This is nothing new.

She'll justify it all night if she has to.

After a few hours with neither sight of nor word from Josh, she decides to venture off to the cafeteria, somewhat easier to do now despite the hospital's uptick in traffic flow. The winter season typically puts a strain on the staff, but for the moment, all is unusually tame.

"The Christmas spirit has descended upon us," one of the nurses joked, in response to Beckett questioning the peace in passerby.

The spirit of Christmas, huh.

What does that even mean?

With every successive step, roaming the halls becomes just as uneventful as sitting in the lounge. One turn of her heel will send her back, but she's determined for something to settle her stomach. Following a sign, she drifts toward the children's ward peeking out just down the hall. When the doors open a nurse spots her, one she's familiar with – and who seems to be familiar with her too.

"Aren't you Dr. Davidson's gal?" the man says.

A meek smile forms in reply to buy her time, shuffling her thoughts together to form the right words. "Yeah-yes. Hi, I'm Kate. Kate Beckett."

"You're Kate Beckett? The real Nikki Heat?"

Her gaze falls for the floor, lips flattened into a fuller smile as she nods in understanding. "You're a fan of Mr. Castle," she begins, cocking her head, "or Dr. Davidson talks too much about me?"

"Oh no, neither," the nurse answers, "I haven't read his works yet. We've just got good rapport, and he's mentioned you a few times. Josh, we don't catch each other too often. Not enough for that kind of conversation. Anyway, I'm Neil. If you need anything just let me know–"

"–I'm just looking for the cafeteria, but thanks," Beckett cuts in, with a stiff nod in gratitude for the offer.

"You can pass through the ward here," Neil says as he scans his card to open the door. More words appear to sit on his tongue, but she disregards it as she nods her thank you and goes on her way, holding onto the few he's already said.

He's mentioned you.

What is Castle doing making small talk about her, let alone at a hospital?

The thought ringing far too crisply in her mind, she wanders off again to find her way, setting it aside until she can get something to snack on, and hopefully a better cup of coffee than the last few she's had.

In slow strides she passes each room, glancing through the glass doors to see kids with their parents, some without, some preoccupied with toys or other patients.

Christmas colors accent this wing well, thoroughly scattered inside and out of the rooms, but she can't seem to shake the fact that she stands before a department dedicated to healing the sick. The young sick. Her heart falters at the worn metal, the dullest shades of blue, the white sheets discolored by gray, and all the other clinical colors in the hospital pallette.

Making her way through she reaches one of the last rooms in the wing, a few feet from around the corner when she hears a faint, but frustrated voice.

"I can't get it!"

The sliding door is cracked just enough to let the tiny squeals escape and echo through the expanse of the hallway. When she closes in on the conversation, another voice follows, slow and smooth, clearer in her head as she reaches the corner wall.

No. That's not him.

The detective does her best to stay hidden, as if on a stakeout. She leans against the wall and cranes her neck, desperate to observe the man and young girl inside.

Head bowed, the man beams at the fragile little lady in his arms, the strength in his hand supporting her back as they sway back and forth. Relying on his physical presence alone, with absent shoes and rolled up sleeves, she could easily regard him a someone else. But the spirit in his step speaks to her, sure of his identity before getting a glimpse of his face.

"Castle," she mutters, shaking her head with a stubborn grin she tries not to wear.

His red shirt seems intentionally festive, dressy with the black slacks she's always liked on him. It's such a contrast against the young girl, wrapped up in the hospital gown without much else except for the purple scarf – one that possesses a familiar elegance as it conceals what is most probably a bare head, and the longer she stares, the faster it registers that she's played a part in finding it.

When Castle had asked for help, she just assumed it would be for Alexis or Martha.

"Like that," he encourages, cutting through her thoughts. "See? You just gotta relax, sweetie. Don't think about your steps too much."

Castle and the girl sway back and forth, mirroring each other, but there's a strain in his forearm from keeping her upright as it flexes. Still, he keeps going. Their steps align and he catches the child's spin in, the both of them laughing when she almost loses her balance. Once they've circled twice, Beckett hears the little voice again asking for the music.

"Oh shoot, my phone died," he says fast, tapping at the buttons on his cell. "Let me charge it and we'll get the music after."

"Aww," the girl pouts.

Don't.

"We can make our own music, huh?" he offers, jaw slackened, lips twisting in puzzlement, probably over what to sing.

It's stupid. Don't.

She steadies, well, tries to despite her violent leg shaking, the bravery simultaneously building in her chest. Castle starts a tune but it's not the right one for dancing.

Do not–

"–Fly me to the moon," she bursts, sliding the door open as she takes a stride through. Both dancers plant their attention on her, but she manages a grin at both sets of eyes, following a nod of confidence to get them going again while she provides the music. "Let me play among the stars–"

Propping herself up against the doorway, she lets the melody and lyrics spill between her lips, a note of glee weaving in the rest from the smile she continues to wear for this performance.

Castle has always been graceful, gentle in the way he dances, his moves - a rare exception for how he moves about on regular occasions. But there's some element to him now that speaks so foreign to her.

And it keeps this newfound bravery in her heart alive. When Beckett's last note sustains, the dance number ends with a dip, a laugh breaking out on the tiny, upside down face that regards her. She gives some applause, entering the room completely, beaming as she looks from him to the child.

"That was amazing," Castle manages through his panting, setting the child back on her feet.

"I would have to say the same," she says, narrowing her attention on the girl.

"Jo," he starts, "I'd like you to meet Detective Beckett. Beckett, Jo."

Jo extends her hand, the brilliant blue in her irises cutting into slivers, pupils widened in raw shock. She giggles, bouncing in place as she continues to gape. "Detective Beckett, oh my gosh. Mr. Castle said you were pretty but–" The words just don't seem to follow, but she tries, clearing her throat to give time to pace herself. "My real name is Josephine, but I like Jo."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Jo," Beckett replies as they shake hands. The grip isn't as tight as she anticipates, but the effort lives in the slate irises opposite her hazel. Fierce, yet calm.

Castle sets his hands atop Jo's shoulders and guides her back into bed, reconnecting all the mess of cords where they belong before he pulls up a chair for Beckett next to his. "How long had you been watching?" he asks.

"Not very long," she says, taking her seat. "From what I saw though, you both were excellent."

"Really?" Jo's glowing. "You think so?"

"Oh yeah," Beckett enthuses. "Seems like you knew your steps better than Castle sometimes. Maybe most of the time."

"Oh Detective," he says, plopping back down in his seat. "Couldn't it be that the music was a little offbeat here and there?"

"Oh sure. Blame it on the musician," she says, rolling her eyes. It's playful, teasing when she adds a wink for Jo who proceeds to giggle behind her hands.

"She's a big fan of Sinatra, so good choice," he says, "so I guess we can pardon you for whatever grave errors you made."

"Hey, she did lovely!" Jo protests. Beckett cocks a brow at him when he flick a look her way, as the child's arms fold across her chest. "You always talk nice about her, what happened?"

The air turns stiff faster than he can get a word out, but Beckett jumps in, saving his explanation for another time. "He's my partner. We do things like that all the time."

"Yeah, he said you saved him a buncha times," Jo says, suppressing a smile. Beckett does too. "He says you're a real superhero!"

She keeps her focus on the child, but she turns to get some vantage of him, spotting his wince as he shifts in his seat. "Did he now?"

"Yeah, he did!" It's almost accusatory, even in her meek voice. "He always tells me stories about you, how smart you are, and that you always get the bad guy."

"Well, not always," Beckett says lowering her head. "But I do the best I can. We do."

"Because you're partners, right?"

She turns to gauge his reaction but his hand shields his eyes, elbow propped on the armrest as he rubs his lids in clear embarrassment, but the curve in her lips conveys her joy.

"Yeah," she drawls, "because we're partners."

"Is he a good partner?" Jo asks through a giggle. Smart kid. It's like she knows she's asked the golden question.

Eyeing Castle first, who's still hiding behind his hand, Beckett folds her arms on the bed before the words drip out, her whisper like a weak faucet. "He didn't tell you did he?"

"No, what?" The gasp Jo makes, it's sharp enough to kill. It almost does. Beckett laughs, leers at her partner as she leans in towards Jo to cup her hand around her voice, speaking just for their ears.

Just the girls' secret.

"He's a superhero. Just a little different than me, but he saved me and others too. That's what makes him such a good partner. That's what makes us a great team."

The last case resurfaces when her mind visualizes an example. He's learned to dance with her demons, waiting to kill any of them if he has to. She can see Lockwood again, with Castle atop him throwing his fists down, knocking the lights out.

And then…

The kiss.

She leans back in her seat as she lets go of the memory, ensuring she doesn't relive it for too long.

"Jo," another nurse enters, coating the name with command. "I know you're excited for our Christmas tomorrow, but you need to be sleeping soon kiddo."

"Ten more minutes?" she begs, seeking out Castle and Beckett for support, but they both stand up before the bargaining begins.

"She's right," Castle says grabbing his charging phone. While he slips his shoes back on, he fashions together some holiday logic. "Because if you don't sleep now, Santa will have to wait to come. He's dropping by early remember?"

"He is?" Jo straightens up, still as she waits for more info.

"Yeah! Me and the Big Guy are close, I asked him over for you guys. He can't make it to the party, but he promised the gifts would be here." She's bouncing now, alive with gratitude as thank you drops from her lips over and over. He bends down to hug her in response, his body trapping her in such security that she shuts her lids, tucking her face in his neck.

"When will I see you?" she asks once he lets go.

"Sooner than you think, sweetie," he answers, edging towards the door with Beckett as they bid Jo goodbye.

"Have a Merry Christmas," Beckett adds, waving.

"You too, Detective Beckett." Jo exchanges one last smile as they exit the room.

Beckett catches his labored steps as they walk down the hall. After a moment, he brings up her presence here. "What happened to the getaway with Josh?"

"Plans fell through. They needed him. So, we're here," she says, adding a laugh that leaves her lips as a scoff instead. "No Christmas prep with your mom and Alexis?"

"They took tonight to be with their boys," he says. "So I picked up another day here." They turn a corner down the corridor, and that's when she understands where he's leading to. "You gonna be here a while?"

She grins. "Long enough to grab some coffee."

"Marley!" Castle calls out with a wave as he and Beckett enter the cafeteria. The curly brunette in an apron lifts her head, hands flopping flat onto the counter as her red mouth purses at the sight before her.

"Richard Castle, why didn't you tell me you were stoppin' by?" With one hand on hip, she strikes an all too obvious playful pose for him, winking any chance she gets. "Didn't expect to see you again until next year. Nice of you to drop by and bring us some of the Castle charm. Is that my gift for Christmas?" The gum between her teeth pops through the Boston accent coating her words.

"If you'd like," he says, returning her tone. Beckett snorts in reflex, discreet enough that only Castle notices in a side glance.

"Visiting Jo and the others?" Marley asks.

"Yeah, doing my rounds, dropping off stuff." He approaches the counter, but Beckett keeps back, maintaining enough distance just to observe as they carry on their conversation.

Marley is gorgeous, no doubt. Dark hair, stunning golden brown eyes. Decent physique.

And Beckett hates the voice inside betting that they probably already slept together.

"This is Kate Beckett by the way," he says, the notes in his voice as he utters her name tearing her out of her musings. "She's my partner."

"She is? I thought I saw her with Dr. Davidson a couple times–"

"No, he is my boyfriend, yeah," she answers, stumbling over her words as she finishes. "Castle means-he-we're-cop, cop partner."

"Oh I see," Marley answers, understanding hanging a smirk on her lips. "So, Santa Castle, you come just to see me or to grab food?" she says, squinting a little too...alluringly. He flashes that devilish smile and she volleys one right back.

Beckett can't stop sizing her up.

"Santa Castle? Santa Castle. Huh." He turns to Beckett, but she figures the look she's wearing answers him once his face straightens and returns to Marley. "Food, uh, dinner actually."

"We just turned off the stove. You gotta settle for what's already out."

"Oh come on. You know I love the way you cook my usual."

Marley sighs, rolling her eyes before ending on a glare. God, it's like bad foreplay. "You really doin' this to me, Rick?"

"Please? Make it two?" he says, but he turns back to his partner, waiting for a reaction. "Unless you wanted something else–"

"Oh just coffee, Castle, I'm fine," Beckett says, concealing her distaste for the exchange.

He raises a skeptical brow. "Did you eat?"

"Not yet," she struggles with a shifty grin, but just as she goes to stop him he nods at Marley to process the order. He hands the money over, but Beckett continues to persist. "Castle I–"

"Think of it as my Christmas gift to you, a good-non-take-out-dinner."

"I'll bring it, just go ahead and grab a seat," Marley says, swinging the kitchen door open.

They walk through the array of tables, passing people with courtesy smile-and-nods to offer oas they head towards the window side for a booth. Outside the snow blankets every bit of darkness, but these seats are privy to the best view of the decorated trees in the courtyard, dressed up in soft blue lights.

At first glance, they remind her of his eyes.

"You're really making her cook for us?" Beckett nags as she sheds her jacket.

He only nods first. "She kinda owes me," he assures her, the both of them sliding into the booth. The word choice arches her brow, but he extinguishes the insinuation fast once he meets her gaze. "Not like that. And what we're eating doesn't require any fancy work on the stove."

"She seems-" she starts and stops, letting the words slip away in doubt that she has the right to make the judgment.

"What?" He laughs, but the curiosity lines the furrow in his brows.

"She's...I don't know, fond of you."

"And? Is that a problem?" A pause settles in.

Answer.

Answer him.

"I-I just-"

"What?" he presses, tilting his head. It's a tease.

Answer faster.

"It's just commonplace tonight. I don't know."

"Marley and–" he starts, then cuts himself off, narrowing his sight over her. He's cautious, but clearly implicating.

"Jo. Jo!" she clarifies, chest fuller as her eyes shut.

"Oh," he says, some kind of energy deflating in him.

A moment in recovery pries open her lids again to continue. "I mean, she's adorable. And you two seem to bond well."

"I've always liked her. She reminds me a little bit of Alexis at that age. Only nine, already keeping secrets."

"Secrets?"

"Earlier. Your girl talk."

"Oh," she mouths, lips tight. "That was nothing."

"One visit and you're already snatching away my dancing partner. I'm hurt, Kate."

The guilt trip only paints a smile on her face.

"We were talkin' about you actually," she says, propping her elbows on the table as her folded hands supports her chin.

"And you're not gonna tell me," he quips, leaning a little more towards her.

Her face straightens, almost all the way except for her lips. "There is a strict girl code to be enforced and followed." A moment suspends as they just laugh, each staccato note rich in joy. She waits for the music to fade for her next question, preparing herself for whatever reply she gets."What's she doing here?"

The answer in his stare resembles nothing she's used to. He's never worn grief as dark as this.

"Lymphoma," he mutters. "It's hasn't been easy, but they're managing it as best they can. Her parents - their jobs keep 'em away a lot to pay for the bills."

The sadness shrouding his usual glow plucks a chord deep inside her chest, shoulders slumping, sympathy swelling in her heart. "No other family to help them out?"

"Complicated family ties," he mumbles, uncertainty muffled between the words. His hands fold when he props his elbows on the table, arms lifting them to rest under his chin as he continues to muse on. "I've helped in the ways I can, in the ways they've let me, but even then I don't think it's enough."

"Your presence is plenty, Castle." She just stares, studying him in this torture.

"You ever feel like you're not doing enough?" he poses, curiosity carving into his face.

"Well apparently I'm a superhero, so I might be doin' more than my fair share," she kids. It steals a grin from him, but it's also fleeting, disappears with the hang of his head. So she follows up a real answer, letting a pause revert the tone back to a clean slate before she speaks. "Yeah. All the time."

A few minutes pass in this way, their eyes never meeting until Marley arrives with dinner.

"Merry Christmas," she says setting the plates and coffee down, along with this wildly pink drink. "And Happy New Year, Rick, if I don't get to see you before." She leaves a wink behind, hips knocking side to side in every stride, and Beckett can't help but snort again once she disappears. Castle's too preoccupied with their dinner to notice.

"Patty melt and coffee?"

"I know that stigma about hospital food but this," he says, wafting in the meat fumes, "this is one of the best I've ever eaten. It goes with this shake. So good. Try it."

"I'm okay, Castle, just go ahead. Enjoy."

"I won't be able to until I know you've tried it. It's strawberry, how can you say no?"

Before she can deny him he's raising the styrofoam cup to her face, offering the first sip. Lips parting, they quiver a bit in reluctance before taking hold of the straw, and the shake glides up and spills onto her tongue, Castle on standby waiting for the moment.

"Oh my God," she finally says, eyes wide as she covers her mouth. It sits in her cheeks, slow to go down as she relishes the flavor bursting inside. Once she lets go of the drink, her eyes lift to his that are thinned in glee.

"Now you see why I always get this when I'm here."

She processes the thought, but it's not the comment itself – it's the implication, in his words and everything else she's witnessed thus far.

He's come here enough that the staff knows him, the patients. He even has a usual.

Richard Castle will never cease to stun her.

"Do I sense some snobbing for our meal?" he continues, grabbing for half his sandwich.

"No, not at all," she says, reaching for her coffee. "How often do you come here?"

"A safe amount so that they don't get tired of me," he jokes. She attempts to uphold this mood, even as her brain strives to make sense of the noise in her head.

"How come I was never given that luxury?" she says, a smirk and raised brows prevailing on her face as she looks over the rim of her coffee.

"You guys don't need me around. You also had no choice," he says in a beat, proceeding to chomp into his food.

"Just didn't peg you as the type to do this." She takes a sip of her drink as he sets the food down and wipes his hands, that blue light in his irises starting to hide.

"Ouch," he says through a smirk and the bite he's tucked inside his cheek. That's when she cuts in to correct herself, rips the rim of her coffee from her lips and sets the cup back down.

"Not like that. I'm not saying you're incapable of good deeds. I just...didn't think much about it I guess."

"You serve New York in your way, I serve it in mine. It's something I'm good at, you know. I'm good at having fun. And these kids, they need that."

And that's why you need him.

He returns to his meal without pause, but she gazes after him, hooked on his every word, and it doesn't occur to eat until he looks up and goes for his coffee.

"I guess it helps that you are a kid," she says smirking, bowing her head to finally attend to her hunger.

From there Castle takes on their talk. Without much say, she just listens. Wrapped up, taken to ride, he tells her the stories of his visits, what he's seen, what he's dealt with in visiting the children – all the medical disasters, the deaths, the miracles – it's a tell-all. She'll ask the occasional question every now and again, but he commandeers this conversation well.

He's got her hooked.

But an hour in, a phone call hoses her down out of it, the caller obvious to them both.

"Don't worry, I'll leave you to that," Castle says first. It's immediate, as if an apology read across her expression before she could say it. "It's getting bad out there, so I should be getting home."

Standing up her arms fall to her sides, reluctant to form an embrace, feeling out the next move. He seems to understand where she's coming from, so he steps forward, braver as he reigns her in. She returns it with some regret.

This shouldn't end here, like this.

"Have a good Christmas," he says, letting her go. He doesn't wait for a response, but she mutters it with reservation.

"Yeah. You too." She takes a moment before he turns around to mutter to herself. "Merry Christmas."

Leaving the cafeteria, watching him split ways with her, she slips into rumination over the last couple hours.

Honestly?

It's the most fun she's had all day.

But as she heads to Josh's wing, she can't shake her time with Castle. Before she can even delve into its roots, the why's of this feeling squatting in her chest, Josh cuts to heart of his call.

Nothing good.

"This is taking a little longer," he explains, "and I don't want you waiting up for me until I can get cut loose. I won't be relieved until after this, granted Geller comes in-"

"It's-it's fine, just go. Do your–" she pauses, getting in a sigh. "Your life-saving thing."

"I'm sorry," he says.

She wants to be mad. She really does, because the remorse clings to his voice.

But how can she ask him to apologize for this?

Making her way into the lobby, the glass walls display the winter wonderland that the snow has made. Not a single color outside the hospital seems to exist, a blizzard consuming everything in its sights.

"They don't recommend leaving," a voice says from the coffee stand next to her. The frustration that has hardened inside releases its grip when Castle turns to greet her, offering the coffee in his hand. "Looks like we're both stuck here for the night."