Oh my. Now I've gone and done it. A Christmas story.

If I owned them they wouldn't be tearing down walls, they'd be building a love shack.

One step forward, two steps back. The seemingly endless dance Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett were swaying to. It was the night before Christmas and the precinct was stifling. Hot, dry, recycled air blasted his face and there was a quiet hum in the air. Ancient heating pipes occasionally clanged. Richard castle didn't quite know what he was doing there. The precinct was quiet, hell the city was quiet. A winter storm had reduced the NYPD to a skeleton crew and anyone with an ounce of sanity was holed up in their apartment enjoying their families. Essential personnel only. And yet here he was, staring blankly at the wall, counting chips in the bricks. Kate Beckett wasn't essential. At least not to the NYPD today. She'd quietly become as essential to himself as air. There had been no new murders, the team had successfully closed two the previous day. Her ever present pile of paperwork was at an acceptable level, midway to the top of the cheap office organizer. They should be out celebrating. Or at least curled up in front of a roaring fire with a mug of cocoa and some cheesy Christmas movie playing.

"..Kate", he sighed.

"Castle. No." she replied, not looking away from the computer monitor. Back.

Richard ground his teeth together and balled his hands into a fist. He was mad. And getting angrier by the minute. Why must this woman be so difficult? They had been making progress. Agonizingly slow, halted progress. But progress nonetheless. She had slowly been opening up to him. Allowing him to catch glimpses of her radiant smile when he cracked his lame jokes. Touching his arm gently during conversations. Sending exquisite tingles up and down his spine. She'd all but thanked him for waiting for her a month earlier, after her PTSD had surfaced. Resisting the urge to pull her into a hug and take her far away from the station had been an effort of monumental proportion on his part. Only a firm warning and a knowing pat on the back from Esposito had stopped him. Special Forces trumped Writer in the experience rankings and in the end he had been grateful for his friend's assistance. Forward. And then there was the bank. She was going to kiss him that day. It was written all over her face. Plain as day. As the sky is blue and the grass green. He'd seen in her eyes all she couldn't..wouldn't tell him; and that smile..that smile had constricted his heart and stolen his breath. Forward. His mother had chosen that moment to voice her objections to still being bound. He could have killed her if he hadn't been so happy she was alive. A flash of awareness had clouded Kate's eyes, and the moment was gone. Back. Back. Back.

And so now it was Christmas. Usually, his favorite time of the year. New York came alive at Christmas time. People were a little less likely to jostle you out of the way on the sidewalk and a little more likely to hold open a door for you. The streets wafted with the smell of pine and roasting chestnuts. The tinkle of bells and the cries of 'Santas' collecting for various charities filled the air. The exorbitant amount of money he was paid for his work allowed him to go overboard without the usual derision that being blessed with great wealth usually afforded him. He decorated his apartment indulgently and spoiled his daughter rotten. A few days earlier though, the mood had changed. The detective had become quiet, sullen. The smiles had stopped and the touches had become distant. She was not only emotionally but physically drawing herself away. Her hands lingered longer but the intention had shifted. Her eyes moistened and the corners of her mouth dropped. Kate was packing herself away in a box and wrapping it in a neat little bow of self-flagellation. And Richard was mad. Irrationally so. He knew it wasn't fair to her, was fairly certain that her mother was heavy on her mind and heart and that he should be supportive. He knew this but how much was his own heart supposed to take? Four years he had been chipping away at her carefully placed walls. Four years. Foxtrotting in only to be tangoed right back out. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair, staring at a bland brick wall while the woman he loved quietly completed unnecessary paperwork during the early eve of Christmas. Hiding. Behind a wall of her own making.

His gaze shifted to the window. A light snow was still falling, keeping the landscape a fluffy white instead of the slushy gray it would all too soon become. The city lights twinkled against the brilliant backdrop and Richard Castle closed his eyes and quietly waited. For his daughter's angry text. For his mother's sympathetic yet stern call. For mercy. Absolution. For Kate.