"I, Kate, take you Rick….." She knows it's all going to hell the moment the R forms on her mouth rather than the J that belongs to the man standing across from her.

It's a little like a train wreck, the very sort of thing that's so awful and yet so absurdly riveting that you can't look away as the monstrous engine curves away from the track and goes careening down a hillside. Heavy cars flung about like a pile of children's toys, discarded at the hand of a careless pair of lips.

The imagery that fills Kate's mind is nothing compared to the gasps and murmurs from the couple hundred assembled guests inside the ballroom. Josh's prominence at Bellevue, the popularity of the Davidson family and their upper crust social status, had demanded something ostentatious for the oldest's sons marriage.

Kate Beckett never wanted a wedding at The Plaza; had never wanted a hundred and sixty relative strangers watching her get married. But now they re here, giggling and judging her slip of the tongue that makes her blush bright red, stuttering with each exhale of air that impossibly makes her dress feel as if its growing tighter around her ribcage.

"Josh!" Kate says, loud enough that it rings through the room, nerves rattling from the purse of the J to the slight hiss of the H. "I meant Josh!"

Even the officiant, a elderly man that Kate took a liking too when she met him early that morning, looks a little skeptical but he gives her a kind smile when she sneaks a glance at him, nervous laughter escaping in a hollow sounding chuckle.

"I really didn't meant to say that," she clarifies with a tight smile, able to see her future in-laws with a skeptical, baleful glance her way. Not that it really has an effect on her, not when her fiance's eyes are hard with anger and frustration rolls off him in a wave. Kate can't look at it, so she turns her body to face the crowd, intending on giving some sort of grin that indicates she's delirious from happiness; has been the victim of a honest mistake.

But it's not. Speaking another man's name at the altar is maybe the first honest thing she's said since Josh Davidson slid an enormous diamond ring on her finger and kissed her with an excitement Kate convinced herself would come in time.

Her look at the crowd is costly, nerves fraying in the instant she picks him out in the crowd. Even sitting near the back, his eyes are impossibly blue, hair perfectly rumpled, wearing an easy smile that she's so missed in the intervening months since Richard Castle wished her well on her impending marriage and bid a quiet end to their partnership.

Despite herself, despite standing on a heavily decorated platform in an enormous white dress, Kate smiles back, heat slicing across a room full of people. It's indefinable, and in that moment she knows she's been so very, very stupid.

Why did she run from the man who has only ever made her happy and been her support to stay with one who spends months in other countries and just doesn't challenge her in all the ways that matter?

Their officiant is now talking, quietly coaxing Kate into reciting her vows. For richer or poorer, for better or worse. A list of phrases she's had memorized for months.

But she can't say them. Not today, not to Josh.

"For better or….actually, I'm sorry," Kate halts her own rout performance, nerves rattling around with the apologetic smile that stretches at her mouth, "I can't do this."

"….Kate?"

Her prospective groom is now the one looking nervous, going pale with surprise as she reaches up to tug the veil from the top of her hair. When it falls behind her she's already taken a couple steps towards the aisle."You don't want to marry someone who has doubts on if we belong together, and I've had them for a long time. I was just too stubborn to do anything about it," Kate takes the time to step back towards Josh, planting a kiss at his cheek, "Go find someone who will make you happy, Josh. Someone who will love you the way you should be. That girl isn't me."

She doesn't look back on her way up the aisle, focused on the exit and the freedom that waits on the other side. And it means she misses the stunned groom taking a seat on the top stair, the way his father shouts at her and his mother rushes to hug her son. There's no eye roll at the high five that Ryan and Esposito give one another in their seats, or the smile on her father's face when Kate pushes open the doors and stumbles into the lobby.

She definitely misses the maid of honor's outburst towards a writer who stands on his feet in the middle of the guests, eyes hungry as they stare at the empty space where a runaway bride used to be.

"Richard Castle, are you gonna go after her or not?" Lanie asks, hands still somehow on her hips though she's juggling two bouquets of flowers.

He doesn't have to be asked twice, charging through the row of New York City's high society to give chase.

By the time Rick has stumbled through, climbed across, and hastily apologized to the ten or so wedding guests placed between him and the aisle he's out of breath with the effort and the adrenaline that's demanding he go harder, move faster, and find the woman who just left her fiance at the altar minutes after speaking his name.

Holy shit, Kate Beckett said his name in her wedding vows.

The realization sizzles through him like a lightning strike, prompting a ridiculous sounding laugh to pop out of his mouth as he busts through the double doors. The concierge is already on the other side, disgruntled expression and disapproving body language that only grows when Rick sees the flash of white organza disappear around the corner that leads to the elevators.

"BECKETT!" He notices the stares (some amused, some disapproving like the concierge, and others simply questioning why a man is screaming in the lobby of perhaps the nicest hotel in the city) but Rick can't be bothered. He tears across the lobby like a man possessed, dodging a bellhop pushing a loaded down luggage cart and almost toppling an elderly lady being escorted behind it.

Behind him he can hear the shouts of alarm, the footfalls of what he suspects are security guards giving chase to stop him from terrorizing the interior of the place and scandalizing the guests.

Rick pushes himself to move that much faster, balancing himself with a hand at the wall while he rounds the corner where he suspects she's headed, grunting at the way his left knee protests the slide of his shoes across the slick floor. He's sure he'll pay for that tomorrow, maybe even later tonight but it doesn't stop him. Not when he can see her, ivory material shining even without the glittering, delicate belt that spans her waist or the elaborate jewelry that he'd almost bet was a wedding present.

"Kate!" She's already onto the elevator when he's managed enough breath to call out, freezing in place with wide eyes that only grow with surprise as her head turns. He doesn't stop running, drinking in the sight of a woman he hasn't laid eyes on for three hundred and forty-seven days.

Rick's glimpse is fleeting, the doors sliding closed before either of them can react. It makes him sag in defeat, kick at the door in a way that makes his toe hurt and serves to aggravate the stitch in his side from sprinting the length of a hotel lobby.

After this, he's definitely working out more. Rick makes that decision as his eyes track the numbers above the door, finger stabbing at the button that will deliver him his own ride.

He's given her up twice, allowed Kate Beckett to slip through his fingers and into relative happiness with another man, but he's never come close to getting over her.

He has no intention of losing her a third time.

The elevator deposits him onto the 18th floor that's almost jarring in its stillness. The abrupt change is enough to convince Rick that he needs a deep breath for clarity; to still the racing of his heart as he counts to ten.

It's all for nothing when he opens his eyes, that driving beat kicking back against his ribcage when presented with Kate Beckett's soft smile as she leans against the wall in her own silent observation.

She's as gorgeous as he remembers, hair a touch lighter with caramel highlights that make her skin glow and her eyes seem even more green than Rick can conjure in his memory. She takes his breath away, which is quite an accomplishment since he's still yet to regain control of his lungs after his lobby-long career as a track star.

"Kate," Rick whispers her name like a prayer, blue eyes bright with happiness at the knowledge that she waited for him. It mixes with the memory of the soft, assuring way she'd said his name in the ballroom, the roll of the R and the kick of the K forever imprinted in his mind. It's the first time she's ever said his first name with something that sounded like love and he's never going to forget it.

He can't. Even if it all goes to hell, he'll go to his grave cherishing that one declaration from her.

"I love you." She states it softly, eyes shining with the acceptance of someone who has long since come to the conclusion of the inevitable. There's no anxiety on her face, no jittering nerves that make her fingers twitch and her breath escape in sharp little bursts. She's calm and peaceful; serene with the barest impression of joy dancing in the way the deep green of her eyes is sparkling, the rosebud color of her lips teasing him with a smile. "I love you and I'm a complete idiot for running from that."

Her bare honesty makes him laugh in the same instant that it makes him brave, filling Rick with the courage he needs to take a step forward. Whatever else she's about to say gets lost, dissolving into nothing but the sure stroke of his mouth against hers. Their kiss is as demanding and passionate as it is sweet, apology and relief decorating every caress of their lips, the slick slide of her tongue or the gentle brush of her fingers against his face.

"Kate, Kate, Kate…." Rick can't help but chant her name when they break apart, broad hands cradling her face so he has free reign to drop tiny pecks against her skin. On her forehead, the tip of her nose, both eyes, and again on her lips as she draws her arms around his waist.

Insurance he can't get away, Rick thinks. Not that he plans on going anywhere.

The third time in his life that he gets to kiss Kate Beckett is lazy, an exploration that begins merely because he can't deny himself the opportunity to taste her again, to learn exactly what it is that makes her exhale in pleasure, for her fingers to curl against the edges of his suit jacket.

The second time in his life that he tells Kate that he loves her is after their third kiss, whispered as he slides one wayward curl of hair behind her ear, "I've loved you for a very long time, actually."

And he's sure there's no greater joy than watching the smile break across her face, lips again seeking his for another slow kiss, "I know, Castle. I know."