A/N: Hi, everyone! I've had a few different Castle stories going around in my head for a few months now. This is the second one I've gotten down onto paper, but the first one I've actually published. I hope you enjoy it! Critiques are always welcome, and as a disclaimer: Castle is owned by ABC.

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The bright May sun shone through Captain Roy Montgomery's fourth floor office windows, casting warm beams across the room and causing the dust particles to glow as they floated lazily through the rays of light. It was only mid-morning, but the heat coming from the windows had already cooked the room. Deciding he was finally too hot, Montgomery stopped index-finger-tapping his email to the Commissioner and stood from his desk. Walking past a pair of standard-issue cabinets full of files, a ficus plant and a framed picture of Barack Obama – a personal reminder of what black men can achieve – he opened his office door it in an attempt to let the air circulate.

Killing two birds with one stone, Montgomery used the opportunity to survey his officers and detectives. Standing in the doorway, Montgomery cast a quick, sharp eye around the buzzing floor, inspecting his knights like a king would from the throne. Most people sat at their desks, either talking on the phone, typing at their computer, or filling out paperwork. Or a combination of the three. Some he could see were in the break room discussing matters over coffee, and others still were walking with file folders under their arms. They all looked busy. Efficient. Exactly what he liked to see.

Finished his scan, Montgomery was about to return to his desk and email when he heard someone sneeze. Loudly. Curious, he followed the sounds of "bless you"s to Detective Kate Beckett, who was sitting at her desk about twenty feet away. She was reaching for a Kleenex from the box next to her computer monitor with one hand and rubbing her sinuses with the other.

"Feeling all right, Detective?" the captain called over.

Beckett raised her head and smiled at her superior. "Yes, Sir. Just a bit of delayed hay fever. I'm fine."

"Good. Just make sure to double-check the label if you end up popping a pill. Can't have you falling asleep during a shoot-out."

"Not to worry, Sir, I don't plan on participating in one of those today," Beckett answered, meaningfully glancing at the neat stacks of files set around her desk.

Smiling in understanding at each other, Beckett gave Montgomery a quick nod before blowing her nose and returning to the document she'd be working on. The captain suspected his lead homicide detective was only about a quarter of the way through the final reports for the Zach Lenzi case she and her team had closed just yesterday. She'd be doing paperwork all day today. And most of tomorrow, from the looks of it.

Montgomery continued to watch Beckett, the way a proud father watches his daughter. He noted how sharp and professional she looked in her navy suitjacket. How confidently and intelligently she tackled the work in front of her. She made smart decisions, didn't crumble under pressure, and was a natural leader. Simply put, Beckett was the best detective he had. The best New York had.

Apparently sensing that she was still being watched, Beckett raised her head and gave the captain an expectant look.

"Sir?" she asked, as if anticipating that he had more to say.

"Keep up the good work, Detective."

She nodded, slightly confused but grateful for the compliment. "Thank you, sir."

As she looked back down at her paperwork, a tendril of the detective's long, wavy brown hair slipped from her collarbone, only to be pulled behind her ear a moment later. And as Montgomery stalled for just a few seconds longer, he wondered for the hundredth time why she'd decided to grow her hair out. She'd had a cropped cut a few years ago, and it made her seem a little more like one of the guys. Knowing how hard the detective worked to be accepted by her male colleges, her captain couldn't imagine why she seemed perfectly happy with a hairstyle that was decidedly more feminine.

No, that wasn't true. He had his suspicions. Well, just one, actually. And that suspicion was coming from the break room towards her carrying two mugs of steaming coffee. A man.

But not just any man. Best-selling mystery novelist, Rick Castle.

As if on cue, Castle caught Montgomery's eye and shot him a quirky grin and quick nod before reaching his destination. After setting down one of the mugs next to Beckett's computer monitor, he lowered himself into his usual spot – the chair next to her desk – and brought his own mug to his lips.

Montgomery couldn't help letting out a short chuckle as he turned from the writer's Armani suit-clad back and returned to his own desk. Richard freaking Castle. If years ago someone had told the captain that by 2011 he'd have a world-famous, rich-as-sin, alien-abduction-spinning author following his best detective around like a lost puppy...a lovesick lost puppy that finished her sentences...he would have raised an eyebrow and asked if he'd also be getting a third eye. A third eye that shot lasers.

And yet – somehow – it worked. They worked. Montgomery never would have imagined that someone as organized, controlled, and procedural as Beckett would have ever found Castle – between the wise-cracks, sexual innuendos and general immaturity – anything more than a liability and complete annoyance. Meanwhile, Montgomery himself only originally allowed the writer to hang around in order to make him and the rest of the NYPD look good. But here they were, three years later, with Castle a respected part of the 12th precinct and Beckett working with someone she admittedly relied on and considered her partner.

And they were good. No. Separately, they were good. Together, they were unstoppable. Cracking casing with lightning speed...pulling confessions from suspects without breaking a sweat...finding answers in places no one else would even think to look. Sure, Castle was still a thorn in Montgomery's side from time to time, and the Beckett-Castle knockdown dragouts were things of legend at the 12th, but put them on the case and they would close it. Period.

Yet what truly amazed the senior officer as well as the rest of the officers and detectives they worked with – not to mention a handful of suspects – was that despite these masterful skills of detection both obviously possessed, neither Castle nor Beckett seemed to realize how each felt about the other.

Granted, they were poker-face pros, but Montgomery was no fool. No amount of practice would have been able to completely hide the look of heartbreak he'd seen on Beckett's face when Castle had walked away with his ex two summers ago. She'd been a professional about it, Montgomery was proud of her for that, but when Castle had stumbled back into their lives just a few months later it took some serious restraint not to put them both in a room and order them to come clean with each other. It had been so obvious that she was hurting and yet so clear that he was determined to win back the right to sit in the chair next to her desk. Determined to win back a place in her heart.

But Montgomery had a policy: he didn't talk to his people about their personal issues unless it was interfering with their job. And since being able to compartmentalize was part of a cop's job description, there had never been a problem. Luckily, things had worked themselves out, the case had been solved, and everything had returned to its previous normal.

Then Josh had shown up.

Montgomery remembered it well. He had just helped Detectives Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito pull a prank on Castle and Beckett. All five of them had been sharing a laugh when a male voice had interrupted the good-humour. It was no secret that Beckett didn't share, so no one could claim to actually be surprised when a leather-clad man with a dangerous smile and too much good-looks had walked through the door. While Beckett had gone to collect her things, Castle had launched into a soft interrogation; even going so far as to get right in Josh's face with his questions. And as Beckett and Josh had walked away with their arms around each other, it had been perfectly clear to Montgomery what the writer had been feeling: like someone had stolen his girl right out from under him.

Shaking his head, Montgomery sat in his chair and stared at the blinking cursor in front of him. Yes, those two were something else, all right. And while it certainly wasn't his place – or style – to interfere, deep down, if he was being truly honest with himself, there was a small part of him that was itching to sit them both down and say; News flash, people. You're in love with each other.

One day they'd figure it out.

Pushing the romantic drama from his mind, Montgomery was just about to hunker down and finish his damn email when the desk phone rang.

"Jesus, can't a man get any work done around here?" he muttered to the ficus plant.

He picked up the receiver.

"Montgomery."

"Roy, it's Charlie. I've got some bad news," a somber male voice replied. Immediately, Montgomery sat a little straighter in his chair. Captain Charles Dizemann was known behind his back as "Dice" thanks to a reputation of taking chances in difficult situations. He oversaw the 9th precinct and had been a friend of Montgomery's for decades.

"Good news or bad, Charlie, just give it to me straight."

Challenge issued, Dizemann didn't hold back. And what Montgomery heard next left him speechless.

The email would have to wait.