"It is both of us that will keep each other safe.

We save each other."

-Tyler Knott Gregson

"Kate Beckett, 35 years old, captain of the Twelfth precinct. Mother, Johanna Beckett, was murdered in January of '99, the daughter's been obsessed with avenging her death ever since."

Castle observes the woman on the white-board in front of him, listening to the man speaking as if giving a lecture in a college auditorium, but having to focus harder than usual. Kate Beckett is stunning.

"And did she? Avenge her mother's death?" he inquires, following one of the lines that flow like a spider web to the crime scene photo of Johanna Beckett, crumpled and smeared with blood in an alleyway.

The man nods. "Last year, despite the efforts of sources I'm not permitted to speak of, Detective Beckett discovered evidence that put Senator William Bracken away for life."

"Good, always hated that guy," Castle mutters, earning an exasperated look from the man briefing him, but he merely shrugs in reply.

Gorgeous and efficient, he was going to have fun with this one.

"Anyway. Once Bracken was put away, the former detective threw all of her time and energy into becoming captain of the Twelfth precinct and posed no form of threat to us. Until recently." Castle follows the makeshift pointer of the man's marker down another thread. "Two years ago, when Captain Beckett had undergone a brief stint working for the Attorney General's office in Washington DC, she initiated a search connected to Bracken. Three days ago, something on that search popped, had her entire team killed."

Rick's face remains a blank slate, but internally, he winces. An entire team?

"And now?"

"And now, Kate Beckett is going to hunt this thing until she finds the truth, or it kills her." The man shrugs, withdraws his marker to his side. "We have reached out to you, Agent Castle, to simply draw the captain away."

"And if I don't, you'll kill her?" Rick challenges, crossing his arms, tilting his head with the question.

The other man straightens in front of him, not a trace of nonsense hiding in the hard lines of his expression.

"We have had our eyes on Kate Beckett for years. Multiple times she has proven that she is not one to underestimate. Once she exposed Bracken, claimed her long sought after victory, we assumed she would be content."

"You were wrong?" Castle murmurs, arching his eyebrow at the man who looks far from amused.

"Unfortunately. Believe it or not, Agent, we do our best to keep our hands clean in this business. Disposing of Captain Beckett is a task we would rather not pursue. At the moment."

"So you reach out to my father, recruit me to do the dirty work for you?" Rick queries, still irritated with that, with how his father could simply decide to loan him to this ominous underground company without consulting him.

"The CIA prefers to have more friends than enemies, son. Consider this a peace treaty of sorts," Hunt had joked with him, always turning everything into a joke since Rick had been a child. He had never been amused by his father's humor.

"The objective is simple. All we are asking of you is to lure Kate Beckett away from this, gain her trust and… distract her, with your company, ensure that she never learns the truth. The timetable on this situation is sensitive but negotiable, though if you cannot complete the task, if it proves too difficult due to Beckett's obstinate nature, then you contact us. As I said, we don't like to get our hands dirty, but we are more than capable."

Rick glances back to the photo of the woman placed in the middle of the board, the image of what could become of her, her face pale and lifeless, her skin stained in blood, flashing behind his eyes one that makes his stomach twist without permission, and he stands from the seat he had taken in their conference room.

He'd had no intention of taking this job when he had walked into the facility two hours ago, determined to turn them down just to spite his father, but now he steps forward, snags the file from the table as he heads for the door.

"It's a deal."

Kate absentmindedly traces the rim of her glass, chasing drops of condensation with the tip of her nail while the man across from her continues on with talk of his most recent endeavor with a burning building. He's nearing the ending of how had heroically saved a family of four from a flaming Brownstone and had even gone back for the beloved pet dog. By no means did she find the fireman's job anything less than admirable and she had been completely intrigued by his detailed recounting. The first time around.

Seven stories later and she had completely lost interest, in both the conversation and the man.

Her date is an absolute bore and she is so tempted to escape to the bathroom, call Lanie and simultaneously complain while seeking a chance of rescue from Brad the firefighter, whom her best friend had set her up with.

A loud ringing startles her from her leisurely study of her wine and she glances up to see Brad jerking his cellphone from his front pocket.

"Oh, Kate, I'm so sorry. I'm off for the night, but I told the station to call if necessary-"

"No apology needed, Brad. Go save some more lives," Kate encourages with a strained smile that the fearless fireman seems to accept as genuine.

"Will do! Maybe we can meet again later this week?" her fleeing date asks as he shrugs his jacket back on and pushes up from his chair.

"I'll call you," she promises, lies, and Brad throws her another dazzling smile that is too bright for her tired eyes.

"Fantastic, look forward to hearing from you," he beams, leaning forward to peck her on the cheek before darting for the exit, and Kate sighs in relief.

She had wanted a break from the monotony of her work schedule, confiding in Lanie that she had wanted loud because her life was far too quiet, but Brad the fireman has successfully reminded her why she isn't suited for noise.

Kate sighs, unsure if she's more disappointed with the direction this evening took or simply herself, and pops open the compact purse at her side. She's just about to pull out her phone, send a text to Lanie and see if her friend would like to join her for drinks at the bar a couple of blocks away, but she's barely parted the mouth of her clutch when someone is sliding in across from her.

"Glad he's finally gone," the stranger chuckles, settling into Brad's former seat and quirking his brow at her while Kate considers whether or not she'll be in need of the pepper spray, or even the gun, she has tucked into her purse.

"Excuse me?" she replies, scrutinizing the unwelcome man in front of her, trailing her gaze from the bronze of his hair to the piercing blues of his eyes, the distinct angles of his jaw, down the visible tendons of his neck to the broad wall of his chest, his shoulders…

Well, maybe not completely unwelcome.

"Oh, the guy who was boring you to death," he answers, hooking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction Brad had sauntered off in. "I hadn't wanted to be rude, but I thought he'd never leave-"

"How can you just assume I was bored? Were you listening in on my conversation with my date?" she demands, pinning the handsome man across from her with one of her best interrogation glares, but he only smirks back at her in response.

"Okay, first of all, I'm Rick," he begins, folding his hands atop the white tablecloth. "And I saw you when you walked in half an hour ago. Couldn't really take my eyes off of you."

"And you think that gave you the right to invite yourself to my table, Rick?"

His eyes flash at the sound of his name in her mouth, between her teeth.

"Of course not, I was just feeling brave," he shrugs, his smirk unfurling into a grin that's a little lopsided, imperfect but endearing nonetheless. "And no, I wasn't listening in on your conversation since I was sitting all the way over there," he informs her, nodding his head towards an empty table maybe twenty feet away, adorned with a single chair and a barely touched plate. "But I could see it was rather one sided and you were more intrigued by the drink in your hand. So, I'm assuming this was a blind date gone wrong?"

"Regardless of what it was, it's none of your business," she bites out, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a slow sip of the rich red wine, noticing those blue eyes following the line of her throat, a spark of gold bursting amidst the seas of cerulean. "Speaking of boring conversations, I think this one is over."

"Would I have a better chance if we had a different conversation?" he quips, quirking his brow at her, attaining the charm of a little boy for a moment, tempting her, but Kate shakes her head.

"No."

He deflates a little, just the slightest slump of his shoulders that she doubts anyone else would notice, but he doesn't stop smiling at her, even as he accepts his defeat.

"I understand, my sincerest apologies for bothering you," he states as he rises smoothly from Brad's chair, sweeping his eyes over her one last time before setting his shoulders back and turning towards the door. "Just know that the guy who was with you before was an idiot."

"Why do you say that?" she decides to indulge him, arching one of her eyebrows in question once he spares her another glance over his shoulder.

"From what I saw, he didn't stop talking from the second he arrived here to meet you. If I were him, the moment I saw you in that dress, I would have been speechless."

It's just another line, she reminds herself, a well-composed piece of flattery that any man could use as an attempt to win a woman over. But never had she heard a man use such words so earnestly.

Rick has already turned away from her, taking the same path Brad took towards the exit and disappearing out the doors, into the night, and Kate growls under her breath. She fishes out a few bills from the inside of her purse to leave a tip for the waiter, and stands from the table, strides out after the stupid man who had her too intrigued to just let him walk away. The first man who had successfully held her attention in such a long time.

"Hey," she calls, watching his spine stiffen in surprise before he spins around to see her stepping out of the restaurant, chasing after a stranger. "Rick."

"Yes?"

"Why were you dining alone in a five star restaurant?" she inquires, dodging an elegantly dressed couple walking past her for the door to Drago, and strutting towards him on the sidewalk.

"I know the owner. He owed me a free dinner and I had no plans for the evening," Rick answers without missing a beat, easing her nerves with the quick response. A man dining alone in a place like Drago, where the portions were small and the food was quite lackluster, she had begun to grow suspicious of his intentions. "I picked one hell of a night to dine on overly expensive cuisine."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Overly expensive and tiny."

"Oh, I know," he concedes. "I had the quail as a main course. Felt more like an appetizer."

"Brad and I didn't even make it past our appetizers, I'm starving," she reveals without thinking, regretting it the moment she notices the spark in his eyes reignite.

"It's still early, you know," he muses, shuffling his feet on the stained concrete beneath them, but curving his brow upwards, an interesting contradiction of uncertainty and confidence. "We could salvage the evening, have dinner somewhere that serves real food."

Something flutters in her stomach, the sensation almost foreign, and she immediately tampers it down, pins her bottom lip between her teeth and watches Rick's eyes subtly darken as they dart to her mouth.

"Did you have a place in mind?"

"Depends if you're in the mood for burgers or pizza," he answers, the smile on his face startling, the light in his eyes breathtaking, and there was no use trying to quiet the butterflies raging in her stomach now.

"Burgers," she decides, taking another step towards him, pursing her lips to stop the ridiculous returning smile threatening to bloom across her mouth when he holds his arm out to her.

"You're in luck, I have the perfect place in mind."

Kate curls her fingers into the crook of his elbow, feels the warmth spread from her fingertips, leaking into her bloodstream.

"Lead the way."

There were many ways to approach this, to approach her and the task at hand. Romancing her was the most effective from LokSat's perspective, abducting her would be his father's first choice, but Rick preferred to test the waters, to study his target, learn more about her before he made any concrete decisions.

Which led him into a bar and grill styled diner he had only been to once in the past, but could still remember the rich taste of a delicious burger and crisp fries on his taste buds. The same bar and grill he had tracked Kate Beckett to earlier in the week when his mission had begun.

Kate's lips part as he holds the door for her, delighted surprise subdued but shimmering in her eyes.

"What?" he asks, playing dumb, but his lips threaten to unfurl into a smile at the look on her face. He would bet his career that Kate Beckett failed to believe in fate, but he could see she was questioning the coincidence of his restaurant choice.

"Nothing," she murmurs with a quick shake of her head, the caramel locks of her hair shining in the soft light of the diner, falling around her face to graze along her cheeks. "Just an interesting choice."

"We could go somewhere else if you-"

"No, this is great," she assures him, walking alongside him towards a corner table near the back of the diner, where he can have a full view of the place. "Just not what I had expected."

"Better than Drago at least, right?" he jokes, sliding into the worn leather booth, flipping open his menu.

Kate chuckles, a light and beautiful sound, a rich contrast to the severity of her exterior. Every visible part of her is sharp, piercing and lethal from her head to her toes, but he's noticed over the last few days, when the line of her mouth curves upwards, when her eyes illuminate with amusement, the slashes of her cheekbones are softened, the frown lines bracketing her lips fade, and just a fraction of the intimidation she carries so well falls away.

"Definitely better than Drago."

"Better company too?"

Kate props her menu up in front of her, lifting her eyes to him over the top of the laminated sheets of paper, and hums thoughtfully as she pretends to peruse her dinner options.

"That's yet to be seen."

A young waitress approaches their table with a pen and notepad, scribbling down their orders and delivering two glasses of water while they await their burgers and the basket of fries Kate had suggested they share.

"You know, it would probably help if I knew your name," Castle muses, swirling his straw around in his glass, bumping ice cubes against the rim while Kate eyes him skeptically, always so suspicious. "Plus, you know mine, so sharing yours would only be fair-"

"Kate," she answers, scraping a hand through her hair, dislodging a couple of bobby pins to set the locks free around her shoulders. "Are we even now?"

Rick shrugs, trying so very hard not to be distracted by the spill of her hair over her bare shoulder, the caress of strands along the ridge of her collarbone, and since when did he look at a woman like an adolescent with his first crush?

"It'd be even better if I got to learn more about you."

Kate places her elbows on the tables, folds her hands beneath her chin, and studies him with an unnerving gaze that he's almost certain is an interrogation tactic.

"Okay, Rick," she decides, flicking her eyes to his mouth, back up to his gaze once more, and oh yeah, Kate Beckett knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly how to make a man sweat. "But you first."

"I'm an open book," he lies, probably the greatest lie he could ever tell her, but Richard Castle's carefully constructed backstory would ring true. "So shoot."

He gives her the cover story he's rehearsed multiple times in the privacy of his loft, reciting the lines with ease, training his expressions to react in all the right ways at all the right times, and yet somehow, Kate Beckett still looks less than impressed by his tale of a struggling journalism career.

"Well, what about you?" he questions, a little offended that she doesn't approve of him. Well, his fake life, that is. He had worked on that story all week. "What do you do?"

"Captain of the Twelfth Precinct," she replies, pride simmering in her gaze, shifting to polite gratitude when the waitress appears with their meals.

"Impressive," Castle praises, sending a murmur of appreciation to their waitress and plucking a fry from the basket between them. "Interesting, though."

Kate pauses with her burger in her hands, barely even lifted from the surface of her plate, and narrows her gaze on him.

"Why is that?"

Castle shrugs, pops the fry into his mouth and makes her wait as he takes his time chewing. "Most smart, good looking women like yourself become lawyers, not cops. Leads me to believe something happened in order to send you down this particular path."

Kate returns her burger to her plate, trepidation flashing across her face, and it serves as a reminder for him to tread lightly. He couldn't afford to spook her.

"Maybe it did," she murmurs, taking a sip of water from her straw before returning her attention to her food, failing to meet his eyes as she spoke for the first time that night. "Either way, none of your business."

"Of course not," he agrees without missing a beat. "I wasn't trying to pry. You just… intrigue me."

Beckett furrows her brow at his, swallowing down the small bite of her burger. "Intrigue you? I don't even know you."

"Yet," he points out with his best grin, earning an eye roll in reply. "But hopefully that will change."

She shakes her head, something that resembles doubt flicking in her eyes, and it's his brow that creases with confusion this time.

"You're wasting your time," Kate tells him. "I'm not sure what has you so curious, but you'll notice pretty quickly that my life is ultimately rather boring."

"I don't believe that," he argues, knowing for a fact that her life is the opposite of boring. "And even if that were true, that doesn't make you boring, Kate. Doesn't make your story boring."

"My story?"

"Yeah, I'm a journalist, I crave a good story," he informs her with a smirk, but she drops her eyes back to her plate, her hardly touched food, and frowns.

Something tells him that learning Kate's story, weaseling his way into her life, is going to be harder than he had planned for. But that's okay, LokSat hadn't given him a timeframe, he was quite certain they couldn't care less how long it took him to draw Kate away from the conspiracy, as long as he did it successfully.

"Want to tell me your favorite color next?" he murmurs, trying to lighten the mood, pursing his lips to hold back the smile when Kate huffs a breath of laughter and nudges his foot beneath the table.

"It's purple."

Rick drapes his jacket over her shoulders once they're on the sidewalk outside of Remy's, the brisk September air swirling around her bare legs, and she offers him a grateful curl of her lips at the action.

It's been a while since she's dated a guy who held doors and donated his jacket to shield her skin from the chill, since she's gone out with a gentleman.

"So, Captain," he hums, proving too fond of using her title after knowing of it for only an hour. "Do you have to work in the morning?"

Kate nods, clutching the ends of his suit jacket and diverting her eyes to the concrete beneath their feet. "Rarely do I not have work in the morning."

"You have to have days off every now and then, right?" Rick asks her, falling into step beside her as she begins to stroll in the general direction of the nearest subway station.

"Sometimes," she hedges, unwilling to admit that she can't recall the last time she allowed herself to have a full day off of work.

"Then how about this?" Rick proposes, purposely grazing his knuckles along the back of her hand. "I'll give you my number tonight and the next time you have some free time, we can meet again, go on an actual planned date."

Her heart flutters with excitement, tickling the cage of her ribs with its feathering palpitations, but she bites her bottom lip, does her best to tamper it down. She had just wanted a date tonight, a way to prove to herself she could be normal, have a life outside of work just like everyone else, but Rick had been more than she'd planned for.

"You're thinking too hard, Kate," he teases, coming to a stop before they can reach the nearest crosswalk and touching tentative fingers to the bone of her wrist, sparking frissons of electricity through the simple brush of his fingertips.

"I just don't know if it's a good idea," she reasons, despite the argument the scent of his aftershave wafting up from his jacket evokes through her senses.

"You won't know that for sure until you actually give it a try."

She risks a glance at him, silently surprised by the intensity of longing in his eyes, and she wants so badly to say yes, to stop playing it safe and just give someone a chance, give Rick a chance.

"Okay," she murmurs, grinning at the sudden curl of his fingers around hers, the delighted smile claiming his lips. "Give me your number and I'll call you, plan something for sometime later this week."

Rick releases her hand to reach past her, withdraws a small notebook from one of the jacket pockets and quickly jots down a number for her on a sheet he rips off. But all she can manage to focus on is how badly her hand misses his warmth.

She accepts the piece of paper, trades him his jacket for his number, and suppresses the shiver the wind threatens to elicit as it whispers along her uncovered flesh, every inch of her going cold again.

Though, a burst of heat does spread from her cheek, where Rick places a gentle kiss, purposefully lingering, allowing her to feel the bloom of his smile against her skin.

"I look forward to hearing from you, Kate," he says as he draws back, his eyes sparkling like the city lights scattered all around them.

He walks away in the opposite direction, heading uptown, and Kate finally takes a deep breath, flicks her eyes down to the piece of paper folded in her hands. It's been so long since she's actually liked someone, since the thought of seeing them again made her heart skip and stumble, and while the once unwelcome sensations scared her, the foreign giddiness was such a refreshing change from the harrowing hunt for LokSat.

Maybe Rick could be good for her, she considers as she starts down the path that will lead her home, or at least he could provide a nice distraction. She could use one of those.

The loft in SoHo that he's owned but rarely used for the last ten years is uncomfortable, too much space for one person, and he wanders around bored for most of the night, thinking about her. There's plenty he could be doing, probably should be doing; he starts his new job tomorrow – oh, she was going to kill him – and the least he could do was go over the notes sent from LokSat's man inside the Twelfth.

Entertaining the idea of going out on an actual date with Kate is far more appealing.

He's never been on a date that wasn't a cover, a ploy for information in some way, and that's exactly what his next date with her would be. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, so why did he feel so disappointed that it wasn't real?

It's been a week since he began surveillance on her, a single evening in her presence, and she's already getting under his skin. And Castle cannot understand for the life of him what it is about her, what makes her different from all of the other female targets he's turned to conquests for the sake of the job.

Rick stands from the large, overbearing desk consuming at least half of the office space that his father had had furnished for him, just in case he ever needed the apartment for an assignment, for missions that were sometimes handled intimately. He strips on his way to the master bedroom, folding his clothes and placing them neatly on the edge of the king sized bed out of habit and checking the phone he had purchased last week, thumbing through the messages from his father, dismissing the mission updates from the team in the Middle East, and dropping the device onto the nearest pillow.

Castle drifts into the impressive en suite, steps into the shower and sets the water temperature as hot as it will go, until steam billows through the room, fogs the glass door, and the pelt of the water scalds his skin.

Kate Beckett may have slid beneath his skin, threaded herself through his veins and leaked into his bloodstream, but maybe it was a good thing, for now, for the sake of the mission. He'd have her out of his system by the time it was all over with.