Author's note: After completing "The Closing of the Year" a few days ago, I feel like I need a short break from lengthy serialised stories – but not from writing.

I'll return to "Thaw" and "Vacation" in due course, when inspiration strikes. For now, I wanted to wash away the stress of the day with a self-contained, brief story. It's set at the usual time: somewhere vaguely around season 4, before they get together, but a while after the events at the funeral.

They were always so damned close to opening up to each other. It could have happened at any point. All it would have taken was a realisation, a decision, a few gestures, and of course some words – almost certainly from Kate. No trauma, no brush with mortality, and no ultimatums.

Everything could change in a single evening.

And, you know, amongst all the countless billions of parallel universes out there, each with its own set of possibilities, there's at least one where that's exactly what happened.

I've seen it myself, and I know the way back there, if you're interested in coming along for the ride. Oh, you are? Then step right this way.

The way I remember it, it was a Friday, around 5 PM…

The bullpen was buzzing with activity, and more than one face wore a satisfied smile. The case had dragged on for a week, but it was finally over.

Beckett glanced at her father's watch, and saw that it was almost 5 PM. She stretched, hearing her neck crack, then she put her signature on the final page of the report, and closed the case folder.

Done, she thought, sighing with relief.

She stood up, enjoying being able to stretch her legs again after more than two hours of uninterrupted paperwork, then she quickly crossed to Gates's office to deliver the completed report. The captain was on the phone, and gestured for Beckett to just leave the report on her desk.

Gates covered the mouthpiece of the phone for long enough to say "Good work, Detective – we'll see you on Monday," and Beckett nodded, then she stepped back out of the office and closed the door behind her.

"Freedom?" Ryan asked, from his position seated on the edge of his own desk, and Beckett grinned.

"Until Monday morning," she replied.

"Good enough for me," Ryan replied, immediately starting to gather his belongings. "Jenny said she'd have dinner waiting, so I'm going to head out."

"Enjoy," Beckett said. "And good work, Ryan."

He smiled at her, then picked up his suit jacket and pulled it on over his waistcoat.

She turned her attention to his partner, who was lounging in his own desk chair nearby.

"What about you, Esposito? Got any big plans?"

The other man smirked, then got to his feet. "I've always got plans, boss," he said. "And they're for me to know about."

She rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself. Just make sure you're back here in one piece after the weekend."

Esposito shrugged, with the smirk still on his face. "I'll do what I can," he replied, then he slung his leather jacket over his shoulder, and the two men walked towards the elevator, bickering good-naturedly with each other.

Beckett watched them go, feeling a familiar sense of both pride and affection. They were excellent detectives, fiercely loyal friends, and she thought of them as brothers too.

My boys.

Right on cue, another feeling chased through her; similar in tone, but different in character. Affection was part of it, and so was absolute trust. Anticipation, and hope. But there was also an edge of anxiety, and an awareness of how all-consuming this feeling was.

She took a measured breath, then glanced over towards the murder board where she knew he'd be.

Castle stood in front of the board, a faint smile on his face as he methodically erased the timeline. It was a ritual, and one that Beckett usually reserved for herself, but on rare occasions he managed to convince her to let him do it instead.

At those times, he realised why she was so fond of the task: it was cleansing, and cathartic. The wiping away of another small but unpleasant chapter in the long life of this city, and the opening up of a blank canvas for the next mystery. There was a powerful sense of renewal about it.

He was in no hurry to finish. Ryan and Esposito had left only moments ago to enjoy their weekends, and he knew that Beckett was still around, at least for now, but she'd be leaving soon too.

His smile faltered slightly.

The weekend stretched out before him. Martha was visiting her sister, and Alexis was going to a friend's house tonight and wouldn't be home until tomorrow afternoon. He had the loft to himself, and no particular plans.

He turned to scan the bullpen, and his eyes found Beckett immediately. She was standing not far from Ryan's unoccupied desk, arms folded, and she was looking at him. He gave her a smile, but she only tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. He held eye contact for a moment before returning to the task at hand.

Castle, she thought.

She watched him from across the room. His blazer currently hung on the back of his chair beside her desk. The sleeves of his cobalt silk shirt were haphazardly rolled up to his elbows, and tufts of hair on the back of his head were standing up, from where he'd run his fingers through it absent-mindedly.

Her lips curled into the barest trace of a smile.

Bestselling author.

Millionaire.

New York's – … sixth, was it? – most eligible bachelor.

Father.

Son.

Her shadow.

Her goofy sidekick.

Her partner.

Her best friend.

She watched as he wiped the last part of the board clean with a flourish and then stood back to admire his handiwork, his fists on his hips. Warmth chased through her again.

He had no idea that she had continued seeing Dr. Burke, long after her physical wounds had healed. He certainly had no idea that, for months now, the main topic of discussion at those sessions was no longer her shooting, or her mother's case, but him.

It's been a long road, she thought, instinctively reaching up to run her fingertips along the fine silver chain that hung around her neck.

Hour after hour in the quiet, comfortable office. Mostly speaking, sometimes listening, and sometimes – most significantly – sitting in silence, thinking deeply about the path her life had steered her onto.

Burke guided her more often to questions than to answers, but she had learned early on that it was the questions that mattered. Answers could come later; the important thing was to know that she needed to look for them.

And she had. During the therapy sessions, and as she lay in bed at night before sleep claimed her, and in odd moments during the day, when she'd glance over at him while she drove, or while she worked at her desk, or while he made yet another two cups of coffee, unasked, and carried them carefully over to her.

Slowly, the list of questions became a list of answers – and a wall began to silently come down.

She knew she'd made a huge amount of progress, and not just because Dr. Burke had told her so. She could feel it, because for the first time in her adult life, she understood that her mother's case didn't have to define her existence.

There's more to life than our quests, Kate, Burke had said, in his quiet and solemn but encouraging voice. There are other goals.

He'd helped her understand that, little by little, over the past few years, a new set of possibilities had crept into her life – and that she didn't have to lose anything if she wanted to pursue them.

In fact, she stood to gain more than she'd ever considered.

She'd had this feeling more and more often lately. Butterflies and fireworks; ice and flame. It was a when feeling, not if. And that was most certainly progress.

Beckett watched as Castle turned and walked over to her desk, unrolling his shirt sleeves as he went.

Burke had helped her understand that she depended on him, and that it wasn't a weakness: it was a strength. A sign that she was moving forward. That she was–

Almost ready, she thought, her pulse quickening ever so slightly.

A year ago, it was a fantasy that she rarely allowed herself to even acknowledge. Now, it was so easy to imagine.

How they'd find their way into it. How he'd be taken aback at first, then hopeful, then overcome. How he'd dive in, and carry her along with him, keeping her afloat. How he'd wrap her up in the magnitude of his feelings for her. How he'd never let a day go by without telling her.

I love you, Kate.

She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. Months had passed, and she had spent so many hours – so many days and nights – replaying his words over and over again in her mind.

First thing in the morning, as she blinked in the light of the new day streaming in around the edges of the blinds on her bedroom window.

Last thing at night, as she switched off her bedside lamp and finally allowed her body to relax.

Whenever the elevator doors opened, and the sound of footsteps echoed along the hallway leading to the bullpen, then the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee reached her.

Whenever she saw him with his daughter, looking at the girl with such unshielded adoration, protectiveness, and pride.

Whenever she glanced up from her desk, and saw him looking at her, just for a moment, before he averted his eyes.

She sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. It said 5:04 PM.

The weekend starts here, she thought, but somehow she felt less enthusiasm than she expected to.

Beckett walked slowly over towards her desk, where Castle was just putting on his blazer.

"Another triumph for the forces of justice," he said, and she raised an eyebrow.

"The real triumph is getting out of here in time for dinner," she replied, and he nodded, with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Got any plans?" he asked, and she smiled widely.

"Couch, takeout, wine, and TV," she said, the anticipation evident in her voice. "And I can't wait to get these shoes off."

He gave a small laugh. "Sounds pretty good."

She was about to ask if his heels were bothering him too, when she saw a brief flash of an expression she knew well. It flitted across his face and then was gone just as quickly.

His second-guessing face. His backing-down face.

His maybe-I-shouldn't face.

She'd seen it more times than she could count during the last few months, and she'd been grateful for it at first; grateful for the reprieve, and the space, and the patience. Lately, though, she'd begun to wish he wouldn't hold back.

Her sharp mind put the pieces together easily. A Friday night, they were off duty over the weekend, and he'd asked what her plans were.

He doesn't want to go home yet, she thought – but that wasn't quite it. The truth was similar, but subtly different.

He doesn't want to… say goodnight to me yet.

He had dropped his gaze, a gentle smile still on his face, and he was picking an invisible thread on the sleeve of his blazer.

"So what about you, Castle?" she asked quickly. "Up to much tonight?"

He met her eyes again, and shrugged.

"Nothing, really," he said. "Alexis is at a friend's house, and mother is away for the weekend. I've got the place to myself. Probably have a couch and takeout night too."

And you were going to ask if I wanted to do something, she thought. Maybe drinks at the Old Haunt, or dinner at Remy's, or something else.

But he wouldn't do that now, because he knew she was looking forward to relaxing in her own apartment. He wouldn't ask. He wouldn't push.

Just the end of another week. Just another night where they would both dance neatly around each other, all politeness and unacknowledged subtext, then withdraw. And it would all begin again on Monday morning.

There's more to life than our quests, Kate.

In the days to come, she would often think back to this moment, wondering what exactly had made her speak. She would replay it again and again, never finding a definitive answer. Eventually, she would decide that maybe there wasn't any particular trigger. Maybe, it was just time.

She glanced over at the clock again; it said 5:06 PM now. Only two minutes had passed, though it could just as easily have been twenty.

As good a time as any, she thought.

"No point in us both sitting home alone," she said. "If you want, you could… come over."

She shifted position slightly as she watched him look at her in surprise for a moment, then a delighted smile sprung onto his face which he tried – and failed – to suppress.

"Uh… I mean, I don't want to intrude – if you're tired," he began, and she raised a slender eyebrow at him. He hurriedly continued. "But that'd be great. I'd like that."

She nodded; the gesture clearly saying Then it's settled.

Castle blinked and stood there for a moment, then he scooped her coat up from the back of her chair, and held it up by the shoulders. She stepped over and slid her arms into it.

It was another of their little rituals: the other book-end to her day. Coffee in the morning, and being helped into her coat at night.

Her work day started and finished with him.

She'd never quite thought of it that way before, and she hesitated for a moment before collecting her purse from her desk.

Behind her, Castle had already pulled his own coat on, and was standing with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, a carefree smile once again on his face.

She looked over at him, and he gestured in the general direction of the elevator.

"Ladies first," he said, ever the gentleman.

This feels normal, she thought. It feels… right.

She just nodded, giving him a small smile, and they both walked out of the bullpen together.