You Know How to Make Me Stay

A/N- Soo, here is my first story. I'm not quite sure on how long it is going to be but I guess we will see! All mistakes are mine and please tell me if I made a mistake! Yeah, so this chapter is kinda short but the other ones will be longer. I pinky promise! I'm kinda feeling that this takes place in season 4 but not anywhere in particular. So some spoilers for season 1, 2, and 3? AU.

I do not own Castle. If I did, why in the wold would I be writing fanfiction when I could be out eating with Nathan Fillion and the gang? Chinese maybe?

"Good morning, detective."

His voice sounded very much not well, not like Castle; It was an unusual blend of sadness, confusion, and disappointment. He placed the steaming hot mug on top of her desk and took his usual seat in his chair. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes for no more than a second thinking that it would not worry Beckett. Too late.

"Castle, are you okay?"

He should have known he couldn't get anything past her. She was after all, a trained detective but even more than that, she was Kate; his best friend. He should tell her, but he couldn't, not even if he tried. This was an important choice that affected his life and he didn't even have a say in it. "Yeah," He finally managed. This was definitely not the time.

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted when Esposito walked up to them, a file in hand. "Beckett, we got a fresh one in central Park." She gave Castle an "I hope so" glance before standing up and grabbing her coat. "What is with central park and murders?" Esposito shrugged to Beckett's question and held open the elevator door to Castle who was slowly walking behind them.

Since Castle had brought his own car that day, he insisted on taking it to the crime scene since he wanted to go home afterwards because he "wanted to write a few chapters in Nikki Heat". She rode alone and it felt odd. Sure she had ridden to many crime scenes alone before but not once since Rick Castle had came into her life had she not missed his incessant tapping on the dashboard or his guesses on how he thought the murderer would have killed this victim, (Which were always obscured and never right) and his reply to her glares would always be "Well! That's how I would write it". But she would never admit that, that would only expand - his already big ego - through the roof.

When she arrived, she glanced around and saw Lanie leaning over the corpse with a clipboard in hand and pen buried in her chin. "Hey, Lanie."

She glanced up and smiled, "Hey, girl."

"What do we have?"

"Well, Native American Male, Mid 40s, small caliber through the chest-" Dr. Parish noticed that Kate seemed to be distracted. "Where's writer boy?"

"He was going to take his own car here, he should be here by now-" Kate said as she reached inside her jacket pocket to the vibration of her phone; it was Castle.

Sorry, inspiration hit. See you tomorrow?

She sent him a quick reply.

Yeah, see you tomorrow.

She was a little disappointed but she couldn't show it, she had to find the killer so the family and the victim could have the justice that she wasn't able to have. She looked back up at Lanie, "Its actually just going to be me," She held up her phone, "Inspiration hit," She said, quoting Castle's words.

"Well, this one shouldn't be so hard," She trailed her glove-covered hand to the victim's belt, and pointed at a large piece of fabric, "It's not our victim's."

As he closed his car door, his body sank even more into the plush leather seats. This was going to be a lot harder that he could have ever imagined… and then some. He placed his hands on the steering wheel and turned his keys, but he didn't move. He sat there, second after second, and seconds turned to minutes. Before he knew it, he had been sitting there for almost 10 minutes just, thinking. What would Kate say? Would she be happy for him? Would she be angry? Worst of all, would she not care? No, there's no way. They were friends, of course she would care; he would care. He couldn't shake that thought.

It was then that he realized he couldn't see her, not now, anyway. So, in being a writer, he came up with the best excuse that she would hopefully understand. Castle grabbed out his phone and steadily sent her a text, for he didn't know if he could trust his voice right now.

Sorry, inspiration hit. See you tomorrow? Damn, had he meant for that to be a question? He waited anxiously for a few seconds when his phone chimed and he opened the message.

Yeah, see you tomorrow Phew.