A Deadly Game

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Rick Castle takes a last look over his shoulder, and the down-turned tilt of her chin makes his stomach flutter. But Gina is guiding him towards the elevator, pressing the call button with one perfectly manicured nail, and it worked once with her, it does work when he actually tries, and he can be that guy.

He can prove to Beckett-

No, no. That's not why he's doing this. He's proving to himself he can be that guy, the one who tries, the one built to be in someone's forever.

He came closest with his second wife and he's tired of the playboy circuit, tired of signing chests with a Sharpie and having his daughter embarrassed with him. Just tired.

He wants to stop, and Gina is a good place to rest.

(Rest? Gina? Not hardly. But at least it won't be boring with Gina. At least he knows where his pitfalls lie, what tricks she can get up to, and he's more mature now, he's had the benefit of Beckett's massive expectations to fall short of - but in falling short, he's climbed much higher than he ever thought himself possible.)

As they step onto the elevator, he's relieved. He is. He'll have some distance this summer, be able to put this all in perspective. He feels a part of things at the Twelfth and he doesn't want to have to give that up, the camaraderie, being partners with the boys and Beckett (Beckett, his lungs cramp as the elevator doors open) and it can be smoothed over, it can all be smoothed over.

Time and distance, and maybe by the time he's back in town for Labor Day, maybe the thought of walking into the bullpen and seeing her kiss Tom Demming won't be like a fist in his solar plexus. Maybe he'll be able to smile at her hesitant don't make this awkward face and actually mean it. Maybe-

"Penny for your thoughts, Rick?"

He turns that work-in-progress smile down to Gina. "Only looking forward to the summer. I've been needing some time off."

"Time off?" she scoffs. "You're going to be writing, Rick Castle. Don't think our reconnection here will distract me one little bit."

"Wouldn't dare dream of it," he smiles, smiles, smiles, hurting his cheeks with it.

He hopes it soon becomes second nature. He doesn't know if he can keep doing this all summer.

But he wants to.

He wants to want to.

And that has to count for something.

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