Disclaimer: As always, all things "Castle" belong to Andrew Marlowe and ABC & Co.

Author's Note: My attempt at trying to fix the summer after S2. I know this is well-travelled terrain in fics but hopefully, this still manages to be different enough to be interesting.

What the Heart Wants

Chapter 1

Castle emerged from a writing haze and shifted, realizing how stiff he'd become after… oh, he'd been writing for more than four hours now. No wonder he was stiff. And hungry, come to think of it. It was almost 5 p.m. now and Naked Heat was coming along nicely. He was getting to the point in the plot where he could stop doling out clues and red herrings and start tying things together. Another chapter or two should be enough to get him to the climax when everything fell into place for Nikki.

He stretched, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles in his back, and then emerged from his office, wondering if Gina was still outside, taking in the sun.

He found himself yawning as he walked. He had woken up ridiculously early that morning, considering he was technically on vacation, and he wasn't sure what it said about him that even on a holiday weekend, he automatically woke up early and then chose to actually get out of his comfortable bed rather than lingering in it.

And he refused to think, even to himself, that his willingness to get out of bed had anything to do with the woman sleeping next to him. It wasn't true. What man in his right mind wanted to leave his own bed and the naked woman whom he'd invited to stay with him if he didn't need to? It was crazy so it simply couldn't be true. That was all.

He wasn't going to think about the fact that when he opened his eyes in the morning (the last couple mornings), he'd felt a jolt of something like surprise, something he refused to label as disappointment, because the woman he was sleeping next to was not the woman he'd been dreaming about—not that his dreams had involved anything intimate. It didn't mean anything.

It was simply that he enjoyed the couple hours of quiet in the mornings, sitting outside on the lawn overlooking the bay with a cup of coffee and a book. The sight and sound of the water, the crisp quality of the air out here, had been refreshing and he'd felt the serenity he usually felt out here settle in. Well, mostly. He hadn't quite managed to fully recapture the peace he usually felt here, some lingering sense of something like discontent nagging at him.

Of course, it could just be the absence of Alexis. Yes, that was it. He hadn't been out to the Hamptons without Alexis in years, actually not ever, he realized. There had been a couple times that his mother and Alexis had come out to the Hamptons without him, coming out here a few days before him or lingering a few days after, but this was the first time that he had been here without Alexis.

He grimaced a little. It had just been a few days since he'd dropped Alexis off at Princeton; it was ridiculous to be missing her so much already.

This morning, he and Gina had shared a pleasant brunch and then Gina had said that she planned to spend the afternoon getting some sun, maybe swim a little, while he was busy writing. He had taken the not-so-subtle hint and retreated into his office shortly after and while he had procrastinated for a while, eventually an idea had crawled into his brain and he had actually started to write.

And now, more than four hours and three full chapters later, he thought he'd gotten enough done that Gina would let him out.

What was he thinking? He was a grown man. He didn't need anyone's permission to decide when he was done with work for the day.

He emerged into the kitchen to find Gina just coming in from outside, wearing a light sundress and looking flushed from the sun and it occurred to him, not for the first time, that when Gina was relaxed and smiling, she really was a gorgeous woman.

She smiled when she saw him and he returned the smile. See, they could be good together. Again.

"Hey, have a good afternoon?" he greeted easily.

"Lovely. You taking a break for now?"

He kept the smile on his face as he poured himself a glass of iced tea. "Actually, I think I'm done for the day. I've gotten a good few chapters done and I want to clear my head for a while before I go back into it." His stomach chose that moment to make itself heard and he gave a little laugh. "Plus I'm hungry so I was thinking we could have an early dinner, eat it outside?"

The corners of her lips tightened a little for a fleeting second before she dispelled it by giving him a quick smile. "All right," Gina agreed. "What were you thinking of eating?"

He felt a little bit of tension loosening as he realized that she had, at least, decided to forgo arguing with him about being done for the day. But he couldn't help but wonder how long the reprieve would last. Before, when they'd been married, she wouldn't have given way but maybe this was a sign that she had changed. Maybe they really could find common ground again, enough to forge their relationship anew.

"Pasta with chicken?" he suggested. "That's easy enough. And can you put together a salad?"

"That's fine."

That settled, he and Gina went to their separate tasks, finding it somewhat awkward to work around each other until Gina finally moved all the salad fixings over to the other side of the counter, thereby getting out of his way. It occurred to him, with some surprise, that he could probably count on his two hands the number of times he and Gina had actually prepared a meal together even when they'd been married. Gina wasn't much for cooking—she could cook, at least the basics, but she didn't really like to so she rarely did so—and with the hours she worked, when they'd been married, she had usually returned to the loft only in time to join him and Alexis for dinner.

The preparations didn't take long and he allowed Gina to pick a wine and get the table ready outside while he finished preparing their dinner and plated it up. When he emerged bearing the two plates, he saw that she had even found a candle and brought it out. It wasn't dark yet, of course, but the candle still added a nice touch, made the dinner seem more intimate, romantic.

She was trying. He softened a little further towards her. They had been good together once and on the phone the other day, it seemed like they'd reconnected, found that the initial spark still existed or had been rekindled.

They chatted lightly as they started to eat, Gina commenting on her day and how nice it was to be outside, enjoying the sun, and he felt himself relaxing further under the influence of the fresh air, the pleasant conversation with a woman he did care about. For all their differences, he and Gina still shared a lot of interests and Gina was intelligent and witty, in her own way.

He was smiling and content. It was a measure of how relaxed he'd become that when Gina asked how his writing was going, he answered easily. "Today was productive. I made some good progress on the book, think I'm getting close to the beginning of the end."

"Good to hear. You haven't told me much about the plot except that it's about the murder of a gossip columnist?"

Her tone was light and he sat forward in his chair. After all, Gina had been his editor, was still his publisher, and aside from that, she was clever and when she wasn't trying to pressure him, she often had helpful suggestions that made his books better. So he gave her a potted summary of the plot, going into somewhat more detail than he normally would, talking about the red herrings he was throwing in. She approved the one about the body snatching and the potential involvement of the disgraced politician and that encouraged him to expound further and before he fully realized it, he was talking about how those particular red herrings had been inspired by the cases he'd worked on with Beckett in the last year.

He forgot himself—and his company. In afterthought, he knew that and if he had thought about it, he wouldn't have. He liked to think he wasn't quite that tactless. But, well, he got excited and in the end, he wasn't sure it would have changed anything.

He emerged from his haze when he had to pause to take a drink, belatedly realizing that he had been talking almost nonstop for a while.

And whatever ease and good humor had existed between them before, it was clearly gone now. Gina was picking at her plate, her lips pressed together in an expression he knew and recognized. Oh crap. His heart dropped. What was the matter now?

Okay, so he'd been talking too much, he admitted that. He forced an awkward, self-deprecating chuckle. "Sorry. I guess I've been going on and on. I got excited, you know how I am."

She did know that; she knew him. And she was the one who had asked.

"Yeah, excited," she clipped out, finally looking up at him. "I know how you are and I'd be fine if you were excited about Nikki Heat."

He blinked. Uh, what? He was excited about Nikki Heat, wasn't that the entire subject of their conversation? "I am excited about Nikki Heat."

She snorted. "Oh, is that what you're excited about?" she retorted with biting sarcasm.

He stiffened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Gina put her fork down with a precision that boded ill for him—not that anything right now boded well—before she looked at him. "Why did you ask me out here, Rick?" Her voice made the 'k' sound seem even harder than it usually was and in some corner of his mind, he noted Gina's quirk that when she was pleased with him, she called him Richard and when she was irritated, she switched to Rick, as if she liked that the harder 'k' sound echoed her own mood.

"The other day on the phone, we had a good talk and it seemed like there was still something there between us," he answered after a moment. "So I wanted to explore it."

She twisted her lips into an expression of annoyance and skepticism. "So you say."

He felt a spurt of anger. Now she was basically calling him a liar? "What do you mean by that?"

She met his eyes directly, not backing down. Not that she ever did. "Are you in love with Detective Beckett?"

Shit. He felt his heart drop into his feet. He wasn't. He wasn't. He couldn't be.

Could he?

It wasn't as if he hadn't already had Beckett's face in his mind, her image practically haunting him. Writing about Nikki Heat guaranteed that Beckett would be at the forefront of his thoughts but hearing her name brought the image of her into the spotlight, a kaleidoscope of memories flooding his mind in an instant. He could picture her smile, see her roll her eyes or bite her lip, see that look of focused intensity when she was in the interrogation room. See her drinking her coffee.

See her leaning in to kiss Demming right there in the precinct. His stomach twisted sharply at the memory.

Shit.

"Then why would I be here with you?" he shot back, deflecting, going on offense by avoiding answering. Because he could not answer. The only acceptable answer was 'no,' but he couldn't say that because he didn't know for sure and suspected that denying it would actually be a lie. (Oh shit.)

Anyway, it was the sort of question that had no right answer. If he said 'no,' he knew Gina wouldn't believe him and would just think he was lying.

Gina's expression contorted, something like self-recrimination flashing across her face before it was gone and her anger at him had won out. "That's what I told myself. I know you've always swooned over Detective Beckett but when we got to talking the other night and then you asked me out here, I thought you must have gotten over it, realized it was just a stupid crush that wasn't real."

He tried not to flinch, tried harder not to flare up in response to this belittling assessment of his feelings. Whatever his feelings were.

"But then, listening to you talk… do you know how many times you've said Detective Beckett's name over dinner?"

That, at least, he could try to defend himself against. Not that he actually knew how many times he'd mentioned Beckett. "I was talking about work and Beckett and I work together so of course I mention her."

Gina narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not an idiot, Rick. You work with those other detectives, the real-life Raley and Ochoa—"

"Ryan and Esposito," he supplied automatically.

"Yeah, them. You work with them too but you've mentioned them, just as 'the boys,' three times. You've mentioned Detective Beckett 17 times."

17 times. In what had to be less than an hour. He had? Really?

He suddenly remembered what Donna Vincennes, at the Ledger, had said about why she'd written that blurb about his rumored involvement with Beckett. You went on and on about her. Beckett said the funniest this, she's the best that…

He inwardly winced, his irritation abruptly leaving him to be replaced with something like… guilt, even shame.

No, he didn't know exactly how he felt about Beckett, if he was—oh god—in love with her. But that was the problem. He could love Beckett. He knew that for damn sure. He might not be in love with her, not fully, not yet, but he could love her.

Beckett was extraordinary. He'd always known that but in this last year, learning just how extraordinary she really was, seeing more of the depths of her strength and her heart… Beckett was—he set his teeth a little against the flare of pain at the admission—right now, Beckett was… it for him. She was the only woman, as far as he—his heart—was concerned. No one else could compare.

And no, it didn't seem to matter that she wasn't interested, that she was dating another man. The heart wants what the heart wants. And his stupid, overly optimistic, glutton-for-punishment heart wanted Beckett.

Shit.

"Sorry," he finally managed to say. He knew his tone sounded flat, not quite remorseful, even if he actually was, but he couldn't help that, was trying hard to keep his own hurt out of his voice. It was one thing to talk about Beckett when he got excited and forgot himself but he wasn't going to confide his hurt in his ex-wife and soon-to-be-if-she-wasn't-already ex-girlfriend. (And what kind of temporary insanity had made him think that could be a good idea to begin with?)

"Yeah, me too," Gina clipped out and it wasn't forgiving. He tried not to wince, again. "I'm going to go pack my things and get out of here."

He felt another stab of guilt. "I can drive you," he offered lamely.

She shot him a look. "Don't be dumb, Rick. I can take care of myself and Black Pawn will cover it anyway since I was out here trying to make you write."

His guilt and his shame receded a little at that. That was Gina for you, business first. Whatever hurt or disappointment she might feel, she was his publisher first. Just like always. "Suit yourself."

She paused to look at him. "I don't know what's going on between you and Detective Beckett but whatever it is, you still owe me the first draft of Naked Heat and I'll expect it by the end of the week, at the latest. Any later and we'll have to start going after your advance."

"Fine." He supposed he should just be grateful she was giving him until the end of the week, as she'd said she would at the start of the weekend, rather than pushing up the deadline out of spite. But no, that wasn't fair of him either, he thought tiredly. He and Gina had their issues—obviously—but she wasn't a bad person, wasn't vindictive, and for the most part, she did have his best interests—well, his career's best interests—at heart.

Gina vanished inside the house, taking her plate and her glass of wine with her.

After a moment, he leaned forward to blow out the candle before he sat back again. There was certainly no need to try to create atmosphere anymore.

Gina's question—are you in love with Detective Beckett—echoed in his mind. Was he in love with Beckett? He might be. He could be.

And he'd still asked Gina to come out to the Hamptons with him. He grimaced into the encroaching darkness. That didn't paint him in any too positive a light.

Castle liked to think of himself as a good man. Whatever his faults—and he knew he had them—he liked to think he was a good, decent guy. He tried to be honest, kept his promises. He had never cheated on anyone, never gotten involved with a woman who was in a relationship.

As much as he might not be sure exactly how he felt about Beckett, he knew he liked her, cared about her a lot. Beckett had become… a friend, a good friend even, was probably the most important person in his life aside from Alexis and his mother. He couldn't think of much he wouldn't do just to see her smile, make her happy. And if nothing else, seeing Beckett's apartment explode when she was inside had told him just how deeply he cared about her. Those moments when he'd thought she might be… gone… ranked as among the worst of his life, right up there with the times he'd been terrified over Alexis.

And yet, even knowing all that, he had still asked Gina to come out here with him. And before that, he hadn't hesitated before falling into bed with Ellie Monroe—that might have been a stupid meaningless fling on both sides but still.

Faced with the prospect of a summer alone, without Alexis—and fine, after finding out that Beckett lied to him about going away for the weekend with Demming—he'd given in to his hurt and, yes, his petulance and not a small amount of self-pity, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, asked Gina to come with him. Under the theory that it was better to be with someone he liked (at least, most of the time) than be alone, if he couldn't have the one he wanted.

Which might not be wrong, per se, but it certainly wasn't fair to Gina. It was one thing to have a fling with someone who knew the ropes, knew that it was only going to be sex, but another thing to try to start a relationship under essentially false pretenses. Which was what he'd done with Gina. Not deliberately, perhaps, but still, what kind of insanity had made him think he could start something again with Gina, of all people, when he knew that Gina could never compete with Beckett? Maybe, if it had been someone he didn't already know so well, someone he could tell himself might be able to match up to Beckett in his eyes, it might have been okay but Gina was not that person. Not only because Kate Beckett existed in the world but because he should know by now that he and Gina, no matter how they might technically work on paper, did not work in real life. They never really had and short of one or the other of them undergoing some drastic and fundamental change of character, they never would.

He supposed he should just be relieved that this new start with Gina had ended so quickly, before Gina could get any more invested, before either of them could waste any more time. Before he could use her any more just to avoid being alone. That was what he'd been doing, he admitted now. He'd been using her.

And whatever Gina's faults, she deserved better than that.

He heard the sound of a soft step behind him and turned to see Gina, changed into a shirt and pants. No need to try to attract him now.

"I'm all packed and I've arranged for a car to pick me up." She hesitated but just added, "I guess I'll hear from you in the next few days with the first draft."

He sighed a little and stood up, taking a few steps toward her. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. And I'll get the draft to you by the end of the week. I promise."

She nodded. "Okay." He could tell from her tone that he wasn't fully forgiven, not that he'd really expected to be. "Bye, Rick."

"See you later."

She turned and left, going back into the house and then out of it again to where a car was no doubt waiting.

And he was left alone.

~To be continued…~