Feeling the need to write again. Who needs sleep anyway... ;-) (Bet my co-workers will tell me I do, when they see me tomorrow ;-))

It's a rather short one-shot.

It really made my day to see how many people read my first Castle story and even more how many reviewed and showed their appreciation by putting me on alert or on their favorite author/story list. Thanks go out to each and every one of you!

All that's left is for me to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, Hanukkah or other holiday I'm not familiar with and, as I'm not sure I'll post something else before then, a Happy New Year!

NOTE: SPOILER for "3x13 Knockdown", THAT picture.

Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.

She was staring at the murder board.

On it was a single picture.

She had been staring at it for hours, studying it. She had no idea who had taken it, or why they had felt the need to send it to her. She was glad they had, though.

It was the perfect reminder of the perfect moment.

The picture showed two people.

A man and a woman.

Both were dressed in dark clothing.

He was taller than her, even her high heels were no match for him.

They were standing next to a parked car. On the street, or on another parking space, one could not tell from the angle the picture was taken.

It was night.

The street seemed deserted, but obviously, there had been someone with a camera present. Not that the people in the picture would have noticed. Had noticed.

He was tenderly, yet slightly demanding, holding her left cheek with his right hand, while pulling her close at the waist with his left.

She was holding up her hands in mid-air as if unsure of what to do.

His lips were pressed firmly on hers, his posture showing certain nonchalance, as if he belonged there.

Her lips were accepting his, but not quite answering the kiss. Yet.

Had the picture been taken seconds later, it would have showed a whole different scene.

The woman would have been kissing him back fiercely, hands roaming over his body, welcoming his hands, roaming over hers. Through her hair.

Her left leg hooking behind his right one, trying to get closer.

His hands, reaching for the buttons on her coat.

Her hands helping him with the unbuttoning.

His hands sneaking under her coat, around her body, pulling her even closer.

Never once coming up for air.

It had felt good.

Amazing.

Her sorrow about the case forgotten. The guy who'd ordered her mother's murder not even occupying her unconscious mind.

Just pleasure.

Emotion.

Love.

Wow. Love?

And this was why she was still sitting here. Staring. It *had* felt good. Better than anything she had ever felt. And the thing was, he made her feel like that every day. Without even trying. So why was she still with Josh? And why was he still with Gina? Maybe the photographer had meant to show them something. To make them realize they belonged together. But how had they known when and where this would happen? *That* it would happen? Had they followed them around? As a detective, she hadn't once felt eyes on her.

And thus she sat and stared some more.

Secretly glad someone was watching out for her, and not really caring who it was.

...

(Should we tell her it was us?)

So, how's *that*for a twist? ;-) Hope you liked it! Please review :) I appreciate it :)