Kate follows him into the empty conference room, her head down and her heart in her throat and her eyes burning so badly she has to blink every other second to keep the sting of salt under control.

Castle holds the door for her, but she is the one to press her back to the frame once it is closed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest to force the stupid muscle in her chest from falling apart. Mere hours ago they had woken together in her bed, showered in her bathroom, balanced against the window to keep from collapsing over the edge of the claw foot tub as they had made use of the extra time beneath the heated spray. He had left first, as always, smeared a kiss to her mouth on the way out of her front door, but standing here now with his words echoing in her head... mornings in her wrinkled sheets and sex in her shower seem like another lifetime.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" she whispers the words that greeted her upon arrival at the Twelfth half an hour ago.

Three months. Three months of his touch and his taste and the guidance he has provided her with as a superior officer. Three months of feeling something other than remorse, of feeling something good, beautiful, and right for the first time in too long. And now he's taking it all away?

"Montgomery knows."

Her head tips back against the door, her vision blurred but trained on the ceiling. "How?"

"Someone must have seen something, reported it, I don't know - I... he called me into his office this morning, told me he would process the suspension as quietly as possible-"

"No," she rasps, pushing off of the door to meet him in the middle of the room, coiling her fingers around his biceps. "Not because of me, don't-"

"Shh, this isn't your fault." The contradicting mixture of heartbreak and resignation staining his eyes scares her, has the cage of her ribs collapsing in on her lungs, her heart, shutting her down from the inside out. She is not needy, far from dependent, never has been, but fuck if she doesn't need him in her life, in her bed and in her heart.

He can't abandon her too.

"It's mine," Castle continues, cupping her shoulders in his palms, smoothing his thumbs over the starched material of her uniform. "You're a rookie, Kate. And I was supposed to be helping you and instead I-"

"Shut up," she hisses, digging her nails into his arms. "Don't you dare treat me like some mistake, like some vulnerable little girl-"

"I never called you a mistake," her argues, just as fierce, that terrifying look of resign giving way to the passion she knows so well. "It wasn't a mistake, we could never... but I know how much this job means to you, how much you need it and how hard you work for it. I put that in jeopardy."

"And I didn't do the same?" she challenges, because yes, this job may mean the world to her, may have been her lifeline in the beginning of all this, but his holds the same value. Castle's eyes flicker down and she sees her chance to get through to him, to show him the truth. "Being a cop is important to me, solving my mom's case... it's been the single thing to drive me since she was murdered, Rick."

He nods, his hands dropping from her shoulders, but she snags them on their descent to his sides, draws them in until his knuckles press hard against her abdomen.

"But you're important too," Kate breathes, thumbs sweeping back and forth over the veins running like rivers atop his hands. "And I've - I can't give this up. Not when you're the only good thing I have left."

Her training officer is being suspended because of her, but that doesn't stop him from lifting his hands to her face, cradling her cheeks in his palms as he kisses her, hard and affirming, just what she needs.

When she met him, she was drowning, and that hasn't changed, but having him... it's like having a life preserver amidst the sea.

"We'll figure it out," he promises her, swearing the words into the seal of her lips. "I don't know how, but I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, Beckett."

The wall of panic in her chest dissipates, dissolving and leaking out of her as the sigh of relief rushes from her mouth into his. She is under no delusions that this will be easy, but she is beginning to believe that the hardest things in life are the things most worth doing. And she likes to believe her mother would be proud of that.

Kate strips the padded, fingerless gloves from her hands as she walks down the hallway, flexes her fingers to alleviate the tension lacing along the thin bones, and bends to retrieve her key from the inside of her shoe. She had finished the last of her paperwork only a few minutes past five, had clocked out shortly after, but had been craving a workout, to feel the burn in her muscles and the sweat dripping down the taut planes of her skin. The week had been busy, four homicides, digging through dumpsters every morning with Esposito and their newest addition to the homicide department, Ryan, and Beckett had hardly been allowed the opportunity to squeeze in a good workout.

Her body was thoroughly decompressed now, aching after an hour of sparring with the precinct's punching bag and deciding to run the two miles home with her bag slung over her shoulder. She'd have to ask Rick to work out the kinks in her muscles later tonight.

Beckett's lips curl, grinning like an idiot in his hallway. He knew the job, knew the physical toll it took, and he was always more than willing to use those talented hands to soothe every inch of her, to work out every knot of tension, replacing it with an entirely new, far more welcome kind more often than not.

Kate swipes a sweaty strand of hair back from her forehead and lifts her key to his door, but before she can insert it into the lock, the door is flying open, and Richard Castle is sweeping her into his arms, spinning her around in the middle of his doorway.

"Rick," she huffs out on a laugh, still trying to catch her breath, clutching his shoulders with her aching fingers, dropping her gloves and the light messenger bag midway through the twirling. "What's going on?"

Castle puts her down, catching his own breath, and she wants to tease him about being an old man, but his eyes are shining so brilliant and blue, his smile so wide, and oh... oh, she hopes-

"They're going to publish it," he whispers, confirming it, and she thinks the smile that claims her lips may even rival his. "Gina said it's good and that Black Pawn loves it so much, they're already considering offering me a three book deal."

"Castle," she breathes, her fingers rising to press to her lips, trying to contain the untamable and ever widening stretch of her mouth, but she's just so proud of him. So proud, she can't help lifting on the toes of her sneakers to smear her smile to his.

Rick hums in approval, his arms slithering around her body, hands sliding beneath her drenched t-shirt to coast up and down her sweat slicked skin.

"Stop," she chuckles, nipping at that upturned bottom lip. "I'm all sweaty and gross."

"Hot," he mumbles, tracing the material of the sports bra clinging to her back. "Both literally and figuratively."

Kate rolls her eyes, steals one last kiss from his mouth. "I'm so proud of you, Rick," she murmurs, withdrawing from his lips to caress his cheek with her hands, brushing her thumbs along the crinkling lines at the corners of his eyes, the evidence of his happiness.

His cheeks heat beneath her palms, his grin turning bashful, and she laughs softly at him for it. He had been so nervous to start writing again, especially after she had learned of his reason for giving up on the passion in the first place, but after resigning from his work at the Twelfth, he had taken it up again, claiming that it would remain nothing more than a hobby to occupy his time until he found a new line of work to pursue.

That had been a year ago.

"I'm proud of you too, Detective Beckett. Grateful as well."

"Not a detective yet," she hushes him, but the pride in his eyes doesn't dim. Never. He's always so proud of her. Grateful to her for 'inspiring' him and being the muse for his newest protagonist, Nikki Heat.

She still hates the name.

"I know, but you will be. Montgomery told me you'll likely receive the promotion by the end of the year, remember?" Rick quips, drawing her through the door with his hands on her hips and using her body to close it the rest of the way until the lock clicks and she's dropping her key onto the end table near the entry. She hasn't moved in with him, not yet, but his apartment has certainly become more of a home than hers. Then again, as long as he's with her, she doesn't care too much about where she spends her time. "And after watching you work so hard, I cannot wait to see you wearing that badge. Though, I will miss the uniform."

"Who says it has to go anywhere?" she hums, quirking her brow and bumping her hips into his, watching the vibrant blues of his eyes darken and feeling the pleasant and oh so welcome burn ignite in her stomach.

"We should celebrate," he decides, his thumbs hooking in the hem of her shirt, grazing along the skin of her lower abdomen. "But first, we should shower."

"Mm, good plan." Her arms slip around his neck and Castle hoists her up without question, the dance between them so effortless, so well-rehearsed after a year and a half, but still so deliciously good. Still so good for her. "Come spar with me next week," she adds while Rick walks her through the living room, into his bedroom and the adjoining bathroom tucked inside.

His brow arches at her, a smirk flirting with his lips that she leans forward to tease apart with her tongue. "Want a partner who can actually pin you to the mat?"

"Maybe." Beckett rocks her hips, pulls a groan from his chest with her teeth. "You know a guy?"

"I better be the only guy," Castle growls and places her on the sink, tugs the dampened t-shirt over her head and tosses it to the ground. "I can still take you."

"We'll see," she muses, her spine arching forward at the slide of his hands beneath her sports bra, easing it over her head and gliding his fingers over her naked flesh. "No," she adds on a gasp. "Don't have to take me. Already have me."

"Mm, Beckett," he chuckles against her jaw, kissing a path to her ear. "Getting soft on me?"

"Shut up," she mutters, twining her legs around his waist and holding him close for a second, nuzzling his neck and sighing contently at the skate of his palms along her back, arousing but soothing all at once. She hates him for evoking the sentimental parts of her, for reminding her of how they met, how he changed everything. "Still hate you."

The laugh rumbles through his chest, has her lips curling against his throat.

"Love you too, Kate."

She hates how those words still knock the breath out of her too.

"Love you back," she sighs out, pulling back to seal another kiss to his mouth and rocking her hips. "Now remind me how much."