After the events of 47 Seconds and The Limey, Castle and Beckett wake to find themselves handcuffed to each other in a dark room. Will they be able to set their differences aside? A two-part exploration into what could have happened if Cuffed took place after The Limey.

Characters are not mine. Any mistakes are. Please note that this fic is rated M; this chapter is not, but the next is.

There's no taking back what we've got
Too strong, we've had each other's back for too long
There's no breaking up this time
And you know it's okay, I came to my senses
Letting go of my defenses
There's no way I'm giving up this time

All In – Lifehouse

She wakes slowly, an unfamiliar mattress at her back and a body under her cheek. A warm, firm body. Her eyes open, and she feels fingers lightly stroking her back, so she trails her eyes up to see—

Oh shit.

She's wide awake now, cranes her head to take in her surroundings. There isn't much to see; the room is completely dark, save for a stream of light coming from above. So she turns her focus on the still-asleep figure to her left, and pokes his chest.

His very firm chest that she tries not to admit is very nice to sleep on.

"Castle," she stage-whispers, desperate for him to wake up, but unsure what – or who – a louder voice may attract. She tries to take back her left arm, which is pinned under his head, but his arm follows.

That's when she sees the handcuffs.

Double shit.

She pokes him again, follows with a hard shove against his shoulder. "Castle." Louder, more insistent.

Finally he stirs, blue eyes hazy, and when he sees her, his lips curl in a crooked smile that she tries to ignore. "Kate," he says softly, his voice laced with sleep and adoration. "Hey."

She ignores the fluttering in her stomach at the sound of her name off his tongue. God, she could wake up to that forever. Not the time, genius. She sits up as far as she can, and he's forced to follow, as usual. "Castle, wake up." She shakes her left arm, and he turns to see their attached wrists. "Did you do this?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "We're handcuffed. Kinky."

Somehow she's not surprised that this is his reaction. He's probably woken up like this dozens, maybe hundreds of times. Most recently with his stupid blonde flight attendant, probably. She scoffs at him. "Typical."

He sits up completely and squints at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." She looks around again, hoping that after sitting up she can see more.

She's sorely disappointed.

But she's also confused. Where are they? How long were they out? What was going on? And why the hell did her back sting?

She shifts so her back is to him. "Castle, lift my shirt. There's something that hurts."

She hears his breathing stutter and she tilts her head back so she's glaring at him from the corner of her eye. "I don't remember anything beyond waking up this morning, or whenever it was, so I'm relatively sure I was drugged, which means you would have been too. So can you please just be an adult and check for a needle mark?"

He glares at the back of her head. First she strings him along for the better part of a year, then she shatters his heart into a million tiny pieces, and now she wants him to lift her shirt? He takes a deep breath and slowly does, as requested. He sees the angry puncture wound, inflamed and relatively fresh. He touches it; he can't help it, needs to feel her skin…it might be the only chance he gets.

"You're right, you have a needle mark." He lets his hand caress the skin around the wound, his fingers curving around her waist. He tries to ignore the goosebumps that erupt under his touch.

She feels her breath catch in her throat. So not the time, Kate. "Castle." Her voice is firmer than it should be, and he complies, dropping her shirt. She hears him mutter something that sounds like "fucking tease" and she turns to face him as much as their position lets her. "You wanna repeat that?" she snaps.

"Not important."

"Are you always this cranky when you wake up?"

He meets her gaze with a glare of his own. "Let's just figure out how to get out of here."

They manage to stand without toppling over, but she goes right back down to the mattress when he takes a large step away from her. She scrambles back up almost immediately and shoves him with her free hand. "Jesus, Castle, what the hell was that?"

"I think I see a chain that could be attached to a light bulb. Was going to turn it on, if that's okay with you." He doesn't even bother to try and keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She lifts their chained left hands and shakes them in front of his face. "Did you forget about this? Or are you really that desperate to get away from me?"

"Fine." He sweeps his free arm in a wide arc around the room. "Where would you like to go, boss?"

The way he spits out that last word stops her in her tracks. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Like hell it's nothing." She moves so she's inches in front of him, their left hands dangling awkwardly between them, her right fist on her waist. "You've been cold and distant for weeks. Is this some kind of messed up male PMS, or did I do something to piss you off?"

"You really don't know, do you?" He scoffs. "Whatever. It doesn't matter." He turns away from her and moves towards the corner of the room. There is a light bulb dangling from the ceiling; their argument is forgotten when he switches it on and their focus shifts to the large freezer in the middle of the room.

She hears a gasp and vaguely registers that it comes from her. "What the hell have we gotten into?"

It's not until a few hours later, after they've been rescued from the tiger, that she corners him in the ambulance where he's being checked by a paramedic. They'd agreed to remain civil once they realized how much danger they were in, but as soon as they're out of the room he's back to ignoring her.

Her wrist is bandaged first, and she practically sprints to his ambulance and blocks the door as he moves to leave. "Don't."

His knees involuntarily buckle and he plops back down on the gurney at the commanding tone of her voice. "Excuse me?" he fires back.

She steps into the ambulance, shuts the doors behind her. "Cut the bullshit, Castle. You've managed to be mean and sarcastic every chance you can get, and I'm sick of it. We're not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong?" He can't help but laugh. They've just escaped being eaten by a freaking tiger and she's worried that he's a little rude? "Excuse me if I'm not the Jolly Green Giant when I have a close encounter with a very hungry tiger."

"No, Castle." She pushes him back down when he tries to escape again. "I'm not just talking about today. It's been weeks of this shit. What the hell did I do to make you act like this?"

"What did you—" He shakes his head. "Bobby Lopez, Beckett."

"Who?"

"Bobby Lopez. The bombing. Remember? I heard you, Kate. You told him you remember your shooting." He crosses his arms, eyes boring into hers. "Every second of it."

Kate's heart plummets from her chest. Oh God. "Castle, that's not – God, that's what this is about? Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs. "I figured I'd get over you. Finish this Nikki book, and then be done. You obviously don't give a shit about me, so I'm done pretending to care."

She shakes her head. She can't believe what she's hearing – he thinks she doesn't care? Doesn't he know she does, what she's doing to be ready for him, be the woman he deserves?

She sees the hurt in his eyes and it hits her.

He has no idea.

Because she's never told him, never come right out and said anything. Sure, they'd had that conversation on the swings, but that was months ago. And it was vague. She'd thought he'd understood, then. Obviously he thought she was over him.

She's frozen, torn between crying and spilling her guts, slapping him for making stupid assumptions, and kissing him senseless. She goes for option 3.

Before he can react she's gripping the side of his face, pulling him towards her, and her lips meet his in an echo of their kiss in the alley. Except this one isn't undercover, this one isn't fake. The moment her tongue seeks permission that he grants, he knows.

This one's real.

They paw at each other frantically, blood boiling with arousal and the heat of the closed ambulance. She finally breaks away when he reaches for the hem of her shirt.

"Wait," she pants, reluctantly. "Not here. Not now." She can't stop the moan when his lips ghost over her jaw and to her neck. "Castle, we need to talk about this."

He nudges the collar of her turtleneck aside with his chin. "So talk," he murmurs against her skin.

"No." She manages to shove him away and scoots back to the other side of the ambulance. "Not here." She bites her lip. "Come home with me. Let me explain. I want to explain."

He looks down at the tentative hand reaching towards him. Smiling, he takes it and laces their fingers together. "Okay. But no tigers."

She grins as she pulls him outside. "And next time we're in cuffs, we use my padded ones."