Martha looked out at the early sun shining on the sea, and smiled. With any luck Richard would have finished working his magic on Kate, and she'd be agreeing to come back to New York on a permanent basis.

In all honesty, which was something she didn't admit to all that often, she wasn't quite sure how she felt about her son's relationship – he was, after all, her son, and she didn't want to see him hurt again. Still, as a woman she admired Kate, her drive to succeed echoing Martha's own when she was that age. Of course, by then she'd already had Richard, and the likelihood of her name up in light above a Broadway hit was vanishingly small, but she had thrown that same passion into her academy, and she still held out hopes one day of being thanked in an Oscar acceptance speech. Even reflected glory was still glory. Not that she'd be anything but gracious.

She smiled again, the breeze catching at the ends of the pink and green scarf holding her red hair in place, and suddenly shivered, the smile fading. Now why should that happen? All she was thinking about was Katherine and Richard, and how he was so much happier with her in his life. Not the happiness he'd got with his literary earnings, either, but deep down contentment. For that she should be giving thanks, and instead she had an almost overwhelming urge to call him, to make sure he was okay.

"Martha. Ready?"

She looked up towards the man waiting at the end of the dock, the rope of the small launch in his hand, ready to take her out to spend the day on his yacht.

"Coming!" she called, and banished the concerns. Besides, she could always call Richard later, when she got back.

Alexis sat on the lid of her suitcase and finally managed to snap the catches shut. She grinned. Maybe she'd overdone it on the souvenirs, but she knew her dad would appreciate the handmade poncho, just as much as he had appreciated her very first gift to him, made during her first week in kindergarten and carried very carefully home. She knew it was still in his desk, a felt pocket that now contained the pen he'd used to write In A Hail Of Bullets, and he'd value the poncho just as much.

She'd bought Kate a small clay pot of an oil that was said to keep the wearer young forever – whatever, it smelled nice. And that was just for starters.

She laughed, glad to be going home the next day.

Standing up carefully, just in case the bag exploded and tossed everything in a multi-colour mushroom cloud, Alexis wondered if Kate was going to say yes. And how did she feel about taking on a step-daughter? It wasn't likely she was going to call the older woman 'mother' – she already had one of those, who was even now cutting swathes through the Parisian Left Bank.

In a way Alexis was glad Kate and Dad's relationship hadn't been … no, she still didn't want to think about them having sex, so she would stick with them not being so close earlier on. If she'd had to fight Kate for time with him, she'd have ended up being full of resentment. As it was, there were times when his playing cop had taken him away, although maybe it was good experience for going to college. But no matter what, he was always going to be her dad, always there at the end of a phone, ready to give occasionally dodgy advice on everything from clothes to her love life.

"Alexis?"

It was Pat, one of the other teenagers working at the camp.

"Hey." She smiled.

"You look lost in thought."

"I suppose I was."

"I almost hate interrupting."

"I was just thinking about my Dad."

"Ah." Pat had been a confidante, something about her round, gentle face that encouraged trust. "Looking forward to going home?"

"Mmn."

"Me too." Pat chuckled. "Only some of us are going into town to make a day of it."

Alexis glanced down at her bag. "I don't think I can fit anything else in."

"Then you can advise. Tell me not to buy that embroidered vest I've had my eye on."

"I might just encourage you."

"I don't need encouragement."

The two friends laughed then put their arms around each other, stepping out into the early sunshine, the heat already making them perspire.

It was hot in the container, the sun finally high enough to fully hit one of the metal sides, and making both of them sweat. Or maybe it wasn't the heat, just the tension.

Rick licked dry lips, tasting salt, and steadied his hand holding the small torch Kate had given him, aiming it directly into the mess of wires.

How did she do it? Facing down murderers, serial killers, bombers … yet she still looked calm. Maybe she wasn't, of course. If her stomach was anything like his it would be rolling and jumping. For once he was glad he'd missed breakfast.

He had no idea what to do. Holding the torch was all very well, but he couldn't help feeling she'd given it to him for something to do. Now the lights had been switched on, she didn't really need it. Not that he was going to stick his hand in, not this time. Before, that time with the dirty bomb, he'd pulled the wires in that last second as an act of desperation. He'd been lucky, so very lucky, but he knew better than rely on that kind of luck again. It might not be saving a city, but still a lot of lives. Did it even matter how many? One or thousands?

She was running deft fingers along the wires, checking where they led from and to.

She touched him like that, her nails barely grazing her skin, yet setting fire to his nerve endings. She could grab and scratch too, but her delicacy always amazed him.

No. Stop that. Don't think about sex. Although, why not? If these were his last moments on earth next to the woman he loved, maybe they should be about passion, desire, need and ultimate satisfaction.

She picked up the pliers.

"Kate?"

"Yes?"

"You did the course on bomb disposal, didn't you? You're not just … winging it, are you?"

She almost smiled. "I took the course."

"And you passed it, right?"

There was just a moment's hesitation that he wished he hadn't heard. "Of course."

"You're lying to me, aren't you?"

"You want the truth right now?"

"No. Honestly, no."

She looked into his eyes. "Hold the torch steady."

He swallowed. "Will do."

For a moment she didn't move, then leaned forward quickly and pressed her lips to his. "For luck."

"Luck," he agreed.

She went back to the wires, carefully sliding the cutters either side of a black wire. "Here goes."

He had to close his eyes, not wanting to see the flash, feel the cold heat of infinite oblivion burning through his skin, nerves, tendons, fragmenting his bones into ash.

Then … snick.

For a lifetime he didn't move, couldn't get his muscles to work.

"Rick. Open your eyes."

It took all his willpower, but when he finally looked she was still there, smiling slightly at him. "Is it …"

"Safe. Ish. I wouldn't recommend moving it."

"So you did it."

"It was a simple circuit."

"So you giving me a heart attack by waiting until the last minute was just for effect?" His voice went almost supersonic.

"No." She reached out and cupped his cheek. "I wasn't sure. It could have been a decoy, or a trip."

"You mean it could still blow?"

"No. I think it's safe. The timer's stopped. But like I said, probably best not to move it, in case there's an anti-tamper device."

"Good idea." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Can we get out of here now?"

"I think that can be arranged."

Bomb Disposal weren't exactly complimentary, but even Captain Mahoney understood she hadn't had another option, seeing as they didn't arrive until two minutes after the countdown would have stopped.

"But you try anything like that again …" He shook his head.

"Believe me," Kate said, "I don't intend to get within spitting distance of a bomb ever again."

"As if I haven't heard that before." Still muttering under his breath Mahoney walked back into the scrapyard to supervise his men dismantling and removing the RDX.

Rick pulled Kate around into his arms, looking into her eyes. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"Not tired after our disturbed night?"

"Not really. A bit wired, if you want to know the truth." She snuggled a little closer.

"Please don't use words like that."

"Like what?"

"Wired."

She laughed, the vibration transferring to his chest. "Okay."

"Then how about breakfast?" His stomach rumbled on cue.

"I could eat." Then her cellphone rang.

"Let it go to voicemail," he advised.

"I'd better see." She manoeuvred enough to take the phone from her pocket. "It's Forsyth."

"Definitely don't answer."

"I'd better." Disentangling herself from his embrace, she flicked answer. "Beckett." She listened for a moment, then grimaced, mostly for Rick's benefit. "Can't it wait?" Again, listening. "Fine. I'll be there." She hung up.

"What does he want?"

"To chew me out."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"No." She put her hand, palm outward, onto the centre of his chest. "Go home. Wait for me there."

"Kate –"

"It'll probably take a while. And you can make us something to eat."

"Then a shower and bed." He waggled his eyebrows and managed to make the words suggestive.

She pushed gently. "We'll see."

He leaned in for a quick kiss, then groaned slightly. "Is that all I get?"

"For now." She pushed again.

"Fine. I'm going." He thrust his hands into his pockets and wandered nonchalantly towards the street to try and find a cab, his car currently being part of a crime scene.

Kate watched his fine backside stroll off before she sighed and turned away, knowing she had to attempt to cadge a lift herself in one of the black and whites.

Forsyth wasn't exactly in the best of moods. His usual stoicism was replaced with an eye twitch and a throbbing vein in his temple. Kate was half-inclined to suggest he make a visit to his doctor to check for high blood pressure, but decided against it. He was just as likely to have an attack of apoplexy if she did.

"You're not a police officer any longer!" They were in Interrogation at the precinct, probably a deliberate choice by Forsyth to try and intimidate her, and indeed he was standing while she sat behind the table. "You're a Federal Agent, and this means your priorities have to change."

"The bigger picture."

"Exactly. In fact, your conduct throughout this entire incidence could be construed at the least insubordinate, and at the worst possibly criminal."

Kate sat back. "We got the bad guys."

"And who's to say we couldn't have used them to get to others?"

"Feydeau gave you the names of his customers, and Hanover wasn't even a terrorist. He was a thief and a murderer."

"He might not have been!"

"He's also in custody. When he's released from hospital I'm sure the NYPD would let you interrogate him. They could probably even supply the thumb screws."

"This is exactly what I mean. This sort of inappropriate humour has no place in a Federal investigation."

"Maybe it should. Maybe we should laugh at ourselves."

Forsyth glared at her, then shook his head. "This will all have to go in my report."

"Fine." Kate stood up. "You do that." She walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, sorry, haven't you finished?" She didn't wait for him to answer, just walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.

He jerked to the doorway. "You'll be accompanying me back to Washington this afternoon," he said firmly.

She didn't even turn around. "Fine."

The door slammed shut.

Outside in the bull pen, Ryan was standing by his desk. "Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"He's an asshole."

"That seems to be a popular opinion." Kate looked around. "Where's Javi?"

"Still at the hospital, waiting to talk to Hanover."

"He drew the short straw?"

"Rock beat scissors."

Kate chuckled. "So you're starting the paperwork?"

"That I am." He nodded behind her. "There's a telephone message on your desk."

"It's not my desk."

"You keep saying that …" Ryan wandered towards the break room and a coffee.

Kate smiled and picked up the slip.

He was waiting outside a private room, peering through the vertical window slats in a trying not to be furtive sort of way.

Kate walked up to him. "Sir."

Colonel Andrew Gault turned. "Miss Beckett."

"I think you can call me Kate."

"Then I'm Andrew."

She thought for a moment. "I don't know if that's appropriate."

His eyes narrowed at her odd inflection on the last word, but didn't comment. Instead he said, "You got my message."

"I did. But why did you leave it at the precinct?"

"How else could I get hold of you?"

She exhaled heavily, hearing other subtext. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on Alexis."

It threw her for just a second. "I keep forgetting that's her name."

"I suppose she's been Maggie longer." He shook his head. "But she'll always be Alexis. The little girl who couldn't sleep at night if she didn't have Rodney Rabbit by her side."

"Rodney Rabbit, eh?"

"Just don't tell her I told you." He glanced back into the room again where James Congreve was sitting by the bed, holding his wife's hand. "They're letting her out this afternoon."

"You make it sound like prison."

"It probably is to her. She always did hate hospitals." He walked away towards the nurses station, and Kate followed him.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.

He stopped. "I wanted to tell you I've taken Feydeau into custody."

Kate's eyes widened. "What? How? Forsyth promised him –"

"I don't care what that prick promised. I can charge Feydeau with aiding terrorism, which is just as good as being a terrorist. He won't see daylight for a long time."

"Guantanamo Bay?"

"If I can manage it."

"Even though it's supposed to be closed?"

His smiled was sly, conspiratorial. "You just go on believing that."

"I wish I'd been there."

Gault laughed. "It wiped that smile off his face, that's for sure."

"Thanks."

"Hey, he tried to kill my daughter. We might not be speaking, but we're still blood."

"They did kill Carol Flanagan," Kate pointed out.

"Who?"

"The woman who started all this. Maggie's stalker."

"God, yes, I'd forgotten." He looked guilty. "How bad does that make me?"

"It makes you human. She got lost in the concerns about explosives."

"Except you didn't lose sight of her, did you?"

Kate shrugged. "The bigger picture. That's what Forsyth talks about. But the little pictures are just as important. The little lives that make a difference."

He smiled. "I think that writer has rubbed off on you."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

"A compliment. And you know you're a cop, don't you?"

Another opening she wasn't about to go down. Instead she said, "Why don't you go in? See Maggie?"

She could tell by his expression that he knew she was changing the subject.

"No, I don't think so."

"You know you're an ass, don't you?"

He laughed. "Miss Beckett, if I were twenty years younger …"

"If I were twenty years older, I might let you."

"No. You've got Castle."

"I do. And he'll be glad about Feydeau, as much as I am."

"Are you going home to him now?"

"No. I'm on a flight to Washington in ninety minutes."

"I'm heading to the airport myself. Want to share a cab? You can tell me some of your wilder exploits."

"Colonel Gault, I'm sure yours are far more hair-raising."

"Then we'll swap." He crooked his elbow. "Shall we?"

"Why not?"

Kate gazed out of the window at the Washington Monument, wondering why it only felt like yesterday that she had stood there before. Nothing seemed to have changed – the sky was still blue, the noble edifices still polished, the grass still green. The last made her wonder whether someone came out and spray painted it occasionally, but decided that was far too Castle to be true. More likely there were hidden sprinklers that switched on at night to keep everything lush.

Her thoughts drifted to her partner. He hadn't been too happy when she called to tell him she'd been summoned back to Washington.

"You're on vacation – can they do that?"

"Apparently."

"Tell them no."

"I can't."

"Kate, I …"

"It's my job."

"I know, but …"

He was trying so hard not to push her, to do as he promised and leave the decision to her, and she could envisage the look on his face – half little boy who was being threatened with the removal of his favourite toy, and half grown man resigned to the situation. Admittedly, the petulant eight-year-old was probably winning. But the truth was she'd already made her decision, for better or worse.

"Agent Beckett?" Assistant Attorney General Freedman was standing in the open doorway.

"Sir." She smiled.

"You'd better come in." He waited for her to go first, then followed and closed the door after him. The soft click of the latch engaging sounded very final.

He walked past her to his desk, and Kate tried hard not to remember Rick's parting words: "Imagine him naked." She was going to get him back for that.

Freedman sat down, saying, "I've just read Agent Forsyth's report on the incident."

Incident? That was an understatement. "That was fast, sir."

"He's not exactly complimentary about you."

"Really, sir?"

"Really. Any idea why?"

"No, sir."

"This pre-emptive respectful attitude is welcome, but won't help your cause, Agent Beckett."

"No, sir."

Freedman sat back and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. "I have to admit, Forsyth is a … hard person to get along with. He's good at his job but lacks imagination. Something you seem to have in excess." He sighed, just a faint susurration of breath. "I wouldn't have put you together if I'd had a choice, but he was close and available. That doesn't, however, diminish his view of you. Do you have any comments?"

"Yes, sir." She took her nice, bright, shiny and above all new badge from her pocket and laid it gently on the table. "I resign, sir."

It would have been gratifying if he'd looked surprised, but instead he merely said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir." Kate took a deep breath. "Forsyth is right – I find it too hard to see the bigger picture. I'm too good at concentrating on the victims, on their rights to go on living, and when that's taken away I want to see justice done."

He smiled faintly, little more than a twitch of his lips. "Did you rehearse that?"

"A little," she admitted, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. "Did I put the emphasis in the right places?"

"Oh, I think so."

"Sir, the truth is I'm not ready. I don't want you to think this is because of what Forsyth wrote, that I'm rolling over – I'm not. I'd already made my decision. I'm extremely grateful for the opportunity, and perhaps in a few years … Right now I just want to put killers behind bars."

"Too many compromises, huh? Like Feydeau?"

"Exactly like Feydeau."

"He's still going to jail."

"No thanks to us."

Freedman gazed at her, the silence stretching as he studied her, and Kate wondered what he saw. Then, when it seemed something had to snap or she'd scream, he reached out and, as delicately as she'd put it down, picked up her badge. "You're right," he said. "You're not ready." He opened a drawer and put the badge inside, sliding it slowly closed, as if giving her a chance to change her mind. "But when you are it will be waiting."

"Thank you, sir." The relief and gratitude was almost too much.

"Now what? What are you going to do?" Freedman asked, although the look on his face suggested he knew.

"Go back to the NYPD. If they'll have me." She hadn't yet figured out how to accomplish this.

Freedman finally cracked a smile, even showing teeth. "That, perhaps, I can help you with." He reached for the phone.

"You have friends in high places." Captain Gates raised her eyebrows. "I've even had the Mayor on the line."

"Yes, sir." Kate didn't quite stand at attention, but almost.

"The powers that be are inclined to take your … break as a sabbatical."

"That's good of them."

Gates sighed, and in a mirror image of Freedman's actions, slid open a desk drawer and took out a badge and gun. "I suppose at least our arrest rates will go back up." She handed them over.

"I hope so." Kate looked at her badge then slipped it into place. Somehow she felt dressed again, complete.

"And if you're offered something else?" Gates wanted to know.

"I think I can promise I won't be leaving again, not until I become Captain myself."

Gates slid on her glasses. "The way you solve murders, that might not be too long."

Kate smiled. "No, sir."

"One last thing, if you're back, does this mean I have to put up with Mr Castle again?"

"I'm afraid so."

"God help us." She picked up her pen. "Just remember you both have to keep it professional in the office."

"We'll try." Kate walked out of the office and straight into the happy grins of Ryan and Esposito.

"Welcome home," Ryan said, enveloping her in a hug, closely followed by his partner.

"Thanks, guys."

"We've got your desk ready for you," Esposito said.

"Good news travels fast."

"Light speed," Ryan agreed. "We've even got your mug out of storage."

She looked at her old desk where the mug did, indeed, have pride of place, next to a space for her elephants and jelly bean bowl. "Looking forward to it."

"We'll let you get settled in," Ryan said, nudging his other half. "Coffee?"

"Please."

"Great." The two men walked towards the break room, bickering over who would make it.

The phone on her desk rang and Kate sat down, automatically adjusting the seat height. "Beckett."

"Hey." Rick's voice.

"Hey."

"So … are you back?"

"I am."

"It's over?"

"Yes."

"You're staying?"

"Yes."

"So I don't have to buy that place in DC?"

"No, you don't."

"Only it had a hot tub …"

She had to smile. "I'm sure you can get something put in at the loft."

"Maybe on the roof …"

"Great. Bubbles and exhaust fumes."

He laughed. "Champagne and me."

She joined in for a moment, then asked, "What about Maggie? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. The doc said her pregnancy wasn't threatened, and let her out of the hospital. She and James have gone back to their place."

"Do you mind?"

"Mind what? Them going home?"

She could imagine the look of slight confusion on his face, those little lines between his expressive eyebrows. "She's your best friend, Rick."

"Yes, she is. But like you said, I can have more than one."

Now he was smiling, she knew that. "So I'm your best friend too?"

"And lover. And partner. And fiancée?"

"Let's take this one step at a time, okay?"

He muttered something under his breath, but said, "Okay. Whatever you want."

"Hey, I was thinking, why don't we have my Dad over for dinner next week?"

"Good change of subject. And sure, of course. Why?"

"I don't know. Just that I don't seem to have seen much of him lately."

"Well, Alexis will be back by then, and my mother will be around. How about we take them all out to Antonelli's?"

"I'd like to cook for him."

Now the smile would be slow, warm, seductive. "If that's what you want, sure. Will we have some good news to tell him?"

"Small steps, Castle. Small steps."

"Fine. Just so long as we're not standing still."

"Definitely not that." She heard him sigh mightily, knowing he was exaggerating it just so she would.

"Okay. When will you be home?"

"Very soon."

"I'll get that champagne on ice."

"Roses too?"

"Of course."

"Rick?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now hurry, before my motor goes into overdrive."

She laughed and hung up.

At the loft she paused outside the door, remembering the last time, when she came back from DC with a badge. Different badge, same person. He was waiting then, and he was waiting now. Only something had changed, and it wasn't just that she was back to stay.

She took the ring from her pocket and looked at it, wishing she hadn't told Castle that it was handcuffs. It hurt him, and while it was true she'd felt like that, she knew now that he hadn't meant it that way at all. He really would have followed her to Washington, being there whenever she needed him.

Besides, it was a beautiful ring. And until she said I do that's all it was. Still …

With a smile she slipped it onto her finger and went inside.

A.N.: So that's it! I am about 100% positive that this isn't how AWM intends things to play out, but it was fun making it work! If you have read this and enjoyed it, I would love to hear your comments. And if you have, thank you so much!