The show last night left me very little to play with. I usually grab unended storylines that I want to wrap up but they really wrapped up Mike and Beckett's storyline so well. And ugh, I knew he was the guy who had broken her heart! :'( Castle shoulda shot that foo!

Dedicated to my aunt Carla and that one glamor shot she got done...

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

There was an odd feeling about being up to his waist in dirt surrounded by the dead in a cemetery at midnight with Katherine Beckett sitting on the grass beside him shining the spotlight. Rick Castle stabbed the shovel into the dirt and leaned on it, "Alright, I've been in your apartment, I spent the night wandering around your apartment and I never once saw a Harley."

She chuckled and tossed a clod of dirt at him, "I kept it upstate at my Dad's until after the explosion. It's sitting right by my door because the apartment doesn't have a gated lot to keep stuff on and I wasn't going to pay to keep it somewhere."

"Will you take me for a ride sometime?" He asked, turning over another pile of dirt and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"No."

His lower lip jutted out, "Will you at least straddle it while I take a picture?"

"Remember that I still have my piece on me, Castle."

"I will give you three pictures of me that I won't let Alexis see for one of you on the Harley." He tried to barter with her but knew that it would be to no avail.

"I really have no desire to see your drunk ass naked." She picked at an invisible thread on her pants so he wouldn't see her poker face fail her.

"Alright, but that also means you won't get to see the night I dressed up as Greg Brady."

"You'd of sold me if you had gone as Marcia."

"Oh," He glared at her, "so, you're only into drag queens?"

"Oh yeah," She rolled her eyes, "you in a skin tight seventies dress that would make Liberace say "whoa, no one's that gay" is just the kind of thing that gets me all hot and bothered."

"Well, Halloween is just around the corner."

Kate sighed and leaned back on the palms of her hands, "I'll make you a deal, Castle, you find this treasure and turn it over to the owners without a single fuss, I will give you one of those pictures of me and my bike so long as it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"Deal," He extended his hand, "but that tight leather you mentioned earlier better be involved or I'm emailing it to Ryan and Esposito."

"Deal."

–

Morning came far too soon and muscles he didn't recall having ached deep within his core. His phone was vibrating like an epileptic on his night stand and he reached for it while wiping the sleep from his eyes. It was a text from Beckett saying, "A deal's a deal." with an attached photo.

Suddenly awake and with the glee of a seven year old on Christmas morning, he eagerly opened the attachment and waited for the picture to overtake his screen. The picture was a picture of a picture, darkened and not at all clear but clear enough that he nearly fell off his bed at the sight that lay before him.

The picture had been taken in one of those nineties photography studios that took glamor shots of women in dimly lit hotel boardrooms. His eyes started at the leather five inch heel boots and trailed up the tight leather pants that clung to her legs and cut off just below her bellybutton. Her deep red camisole started just above the dark blue butterfly he never knew she had on her hip bone and was partially covered with her leather bomber jacket. The eighteen year old Katherine Beckett was straddling the motorcycle, flipping off the camera man and her straight hair was a mess of riotous curls that hadn't been brushed in a month of Sundays. Blinking multiple times, he couldn't believe his eyes. That was Beckett before she was Beckett.