The credit to at least half of this epilogue totally goes to my beta, Nik's. I love you girl!

So here we are.

EPILOGUE

She's running late for work.

She quickly pushes her arms through the sleeves of her blouse, buttoning it hastily as she slips into her high heels. Her make-up is already done and her hair frames her face in soft waves. She grabs her phone from the nightstand and tiptoes across the room as quietly as she can to get her purse, trying not to wake him.

He's tired, must be after his full night of writing. He'd joined her in bed just a few hours before; she distinctly remembers feeling the mattress dip under his weight in the darkness as he unsuccessfully tried to lower his bulky frame down carefully next to hers. He'd waited a moment – obviously hoping he hadn't woken her –before shifting closer, his hands spooning her from behind as he pressed a soft kiss against that special spot behind her ear. She has a vague recollection of mumbling something to him from her sleep, maybe she'd even asked him if everything was okay, but she's not sure whether that memory is real or just a dream.

He'd snapped awake shortly after they went to bed last night, shaken by a nightmare which he'd then kept stubbornly silent about. He'd merely kissed her forehead and sent her back to sleep, slipping from beneath the covers, whispering something about inspiration striking, a sudden need to write.

She'd known better though, had felt it even in the darkness, the jerkiness of his movements, the sweatiness of his skin. She hadn't said anything, however, didn't follow him, or join him in his study as she sometimes did, sensing his need for solitude.

It had become an intuitive thing for her over the course of the past couple of months, to know exactly when to leave him be and when to push him into talking. He'sknown her like that from the beginning, never had to learn. He's always just somehow known. But it hasn't come as easily for her as it had for him, not at first. She has had to learn – learn how to distinguish the various shades of his emotions, the state of his moods, the depth of his needs. But she's figured it out over time, and now it's second-nature to her.

So no, she hadn't followed him, had merely captured his hand briefly in hers as he slid from their bed, squeezing his fingers tightly, just so he'd know. That she was there, that she was his, that she cared.

And although she needs to be up and about and on her way to work now, there's no reason he can't get a few more hours of well-deserved rest.

She retrieves her purse and catalogues the items inside before sweeping her eyes once more around the room. They come to rest on her nearly empty duffle bag, lying abandoned beside the door of his closet. The sight of it triggers a mental note to stop by her apartment after work. She needs to grab fresh clothes from home.

Actually, no, not home. Because her apartment isn't home, it's merely a place she rented a few months ago so that she'd have somewhere to sleep other than her father's house, somewhere closer to work, somewhere to feel more independent again. But truth be told, she's spent barely a handful of days there, and even fewer nights. It's not even really furnished, because she just hasn't had the time to deal with it, to make it more comfortable or cozy or familiar.

And if she's honest, the 'lack of time' thing isn't really true, it's just a very convenient excuse to use, a plausible reason as to why she's done absolutely nothing with the place. She likes to pretend it's because she spends too much time at work, or even too much time at Castle's. Because both of those are a lot easier to deal with than the strange, paranoid feeling that possesses her whenever she's actually there, a whispered voice in her head warning her that it would merely be tempting fate to put too much time and care into creating a new home for herself, because once she really fell in love with the place, she'd lose it, all of it. It would be ripped apart and torn asunder, wrenched away from her, just like the last two apartments she'd called home.

She really doesn't want to believe what that inner voice tells her. Yet she doesn't furnish the apartment either.

So her new place stays just that. A place. And home? Home is the loft – a warm, safe haven to return to after long, heavy days at work, a lively refuge filled with caring people, gentle laughter and loving embraces shared in abundance, a welcoming sanctuary set alight by the mischievous twinkle of deep blue eyes and a familiar, knowing smile. Castle is home.

It's mostly just the two of them there, often with the promise of some delicious dinner that he's whipped up, or an alluring new book that he just discovered in the bookstore, or an exciting, as-yet-unwatched T.V. show on his DVR that he totally wants to check out with her. And sometimes Alexis is there, too, stopping by to take a break from college life in order to spent some quality time with her dad. Martha's a regular presence as well, always arriving in a whirlwind, grandiosely proclaiming the need to check up on her child-like son while shooting a good-natured wink in Kate's direction.

Occasionally they'll drive out to her father's house for a late supper, picking up takeout from Jim Beckett's favorite New York restaurant along the way. Or they'll invite him over to the loft for a proper, home-cooked meal, 'courtesy of Castle', as the chef himself always likes to claim, trademark grin adorning his features.

She's used to it now, being with Castle, sharing her life, couldn't imagine living any other way. Coming home with him – to him – spending her days in his company and her nights in his bed, under his sheets, in his arms. And it's so different to all those months ago when she was staying with him just because of his nightmares. Now she's here not because he needs her to be, but because he wants her to be. And she wants it, too. Can't imagine wanting anything else.

Her hand is on the door now, purse thrown over her shoulder, but she stops, turning her head to look back at the soundly sleeping man behind her, his limbs sprawled haphazardly across the whole bed. He's lying on his back, wearing only a soft green cotton shirt and boxers, his toes peeking out from under the sheets tangled at his feet. His hair is tousled and his lips are puckered, air leaving his slightly opened mouth in deep slow puffs.

So damn irresistible.

She smiles as her feet carry her back to the bed. She really doesn't have time for this – she's already running late as it is – and besides, if he knew the effect he was having on her right now, she'd never hear the end of it. Still, she just can't help herself as she crouches down next to the side of bed closest to his head, observing him for a moment as he sleeps. She gently combs her fingers through his tousled hair, caresses his cheek with the pads of her fingers. She presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, holding her breath as he stirs slightly in his sleep. But he merely repositions himself in the bed, a deep contented sigh escaping his lips, followed by a small grin as he continues to doze. She smiles again – seriously, how could she not – then finally rises to her feet. With a last glance in his direction, she closes the bedroom door behind her.

xxx

She finds Alexis in the kitchen, coffee already brewed, the alluringly fresh smell teasing Kate's senses. The teen is back home for a few days thanks to her mid-semester break, just generally chilling out and taking it easy. She's been a regular addition for meals, movie nights, theater visits and the like, and to Kate's surprise, it hasn't felt weird. Not at all. On the contrary, having Alexis around actually feels really nice. A bit unusual, but nice.

Castle's daughter is smiling now from across the counter, silently beckoning for Kate to take a seat and join her. Kate responds with an answering grin, shrugging off the necessity of heading to the precinct for just a few more minutes as she walks the small distance towards the kitchen. It'll only be a moment, she assures herself, just a brief span of time to enjoy Alexis' company. Just like the detectives who'd trained her, Kate's a bit old-fashioned when it comes to work, always making it a point to be one of the first officers to report for duty in the morning. At least most days she is, so hopefully her boss won't mind her arriving just a tad bit late this time around. Surely Captain Gates won't bite her head off if she takes another five minutes, will she? It's not like they have a running investigation anyway, just a crap-load of paperwork no one is looking forward to. Yeah, it can wait.

By the time Kate plops onto one of the bar stools, Alexis is already pouring her a cup of the dark, steaming liquid, and Kate can't help her deep, eager inhalation of the intoxicating scent. Oh, Castle and his gourmet coffee. She has to admit, the man has impeccable taste.

She takes a tentative sip, savoring the hot, velvety wave of liquid which envelopes her tongue, the rich flavor drawing an appreciative hum from deep in her throat. She opens her eyes and throws Alexis a grateful smile.

"Thanks," she breathes fervently. "My morning just improved exponentially."

The girl just nods with a tiny smile, deftly returning the coffee pot to its former position before joining Kate at the counter. They stay like that for a few minutes, seated side by side, quietly sipping from their mugs, simply enjoying the unhurried atmosphere. Something is on Alexis' mind, though, Kate can tell. Normally Castle's daughter is cheerful and talkative in the mornings, always eager to discuss the day's plans, but today, she's strangely silent, still hasn't said a single word. Kate considers asking if anything's wrong but decides it's better to just wait the girl out. They've managed to build a good rapport over the last few months, and she trusts Alexis, knows that if the teen needs to talk about something, she'll bring it up when she's ready.

And she does, although it takes a few more minutes of silence and a few more sips of coffee. When she finally speaks, her voice sounds hesitant, timid even. "So…Dad had those nightmares again last night, didn't he?"

Kate's heart drops slightly in her chest. So Alexis had noticed as well. "Yes," she answers truthfully. "He did. But only last night, as far I can tell."

Alexis gives a small nod, mulling it over. "There was light in his study when I decided to get a glass of milk before I went to bed, and I found him furiously typing away on his computer at three in the morning. He had this…I don't know how to describe it…I guess haunted – and wild – look in his eye," she explains.

Kate winces, dipping her chin in acknowledgment. She knows that look only too well, knows that slightly desperate edge to his typing, knows the outline of that tiny vein pulsing in his forehead whenever he feels frustrated or agitated or helpless. It's not his relaxed style of writing, no. It's that frenzied, I-desperately-need-to-get-this-off-my-chest kind of writing.

She wants to believe that last night was just a fluke, a one-off recurrence of the nightmares which have made themselves so scarce over the past couple of months. She wants to believe that it's merely his subconscious reaction to recent events, a natural result of the final sentencing of the Dragon only a couple of days before and the extremely heightened emotions currently felt across the board, positive and negative – the DA's office and the FBI celebrating their victory as the defendant's flock of high-collar lawyers continue to huff and puff with hollow, impotent outrage.

That's what she wants to believe. But in all honesty, she's just not sure.

Alexis must be thinking along those same lines, too, because she asks, "Is it really over, Kate? Is Collins really going away for life?"

Collins. The Dragon. Her mother's killer. Sentenced to life without parole, found guilty on multiple counts of first degree murder, having commissioned – with both knowledge and forethought – the successful hits of Johanna Beckett, three of her colleagues, and at least four other confirmed individuals. He's finally been exposed for what he truly is. And yet, despite the verdict, Kate knows the battle's only just begun.

"I wish I could promise that, Alexis," she starts slowly, keeping her voice even, "but I can't. Nobody can. He's a wealthy, well-known public official, and he's got a veritable army of lawyers at his disposal. They'll definitely appeal. It might take months, years even, until the verdict is definite."

Uneasiness grows on Alexis' face and Kate bites her lip and drops her eyes to the counter for a moment, hating that she couldn't give the answer they both wanted to hear, hating that it's all just shades of gray.

"Still," she adds after another moment of silence, "it is a good thing. The sentence." Alexis' eyes stay trained on Kate's, and she continues, infusing her voice with calm fact and gentle reassurance. "It shows that the case they built against him is solid, strong enough to withstand any procedural or circumstantial attacks from Collins' defense attorneys. Which means it's highly likely that the verdict will hold, and that he won't be successful in his attempt to appeal."

"We," Alexis says softly. "You mean 'we'."

"Sorry?" Kate asks, slightly confused.

"You said 'the case they built against him'," Alexis clarifies. "But you should have said 'we'." She looks down into her mug of coffee, avoiding Kate's eyes. "That's where you were, right? That's what you were doing when you…left. You were working on the case."

"Um, yeah," Kate replies, a bit thrown off at the sudden conversation swing. She'd talked about those hellish eight months exactly one time with Alexis, and she definitely hadn't been expecting it to come up now. "Yeah, I was."

Alexis nods, still avoiding eye contact. "And you think it's strong. The case. Strong enough to hold up in court, strong enough to really end all of this?"

"I hope so, Alexis," Kate answers quietly, unsure whether the truthfulness of her words will be a comfort or a burden.

"But you can't be sure," presses the teen, a little frown forming across the smooth skin of her forehead. Kate shakes her head sadly, observing the redhead with heavy eyes. Alexis is still so young, so innocent. She shouldn't have to deal with stuff like this, death and murder and potential assassins. And yet…

Alexis finally looks up, meeting Kate's gaze with her own. "And what if he decides to do something about it, take revenge? On you?"

Alexis doesn't say it, but Kate hears it anyway. What if he hurts you? Or my dad? What if my father ends up as collateral damage in your war?

Kate takes a deep breath. She definitely didn't expect a morning conversation like this when she joined Alexis in the kitchen, but she probably should have. Alexis is too smart, too curious and mature, to be willingly left out of the loop on this particular topic. And despite the fact that Kate is already running late for work, she knows that this conversation is an important one. Alexis is important. So she stays, doesn't even consider bailing out or running away, as she probably would have in earlier days. She feels a little proud of herself.

"Alexis," she starts, pulling in another deep breath, "before exposing Collins, the FBI made absolutely sure that they had a handle on his whole web of contacts, made sure they could freeze his accounts, made sure they'd be able to monitor all the new money trails coming in and going out." She pauses, searching for the best way to continue.

"I wouldn't have…that's why I came back when I did. I had to be sure it was safe, that there were no more strings for him to pull, no more escape routes. And there aren't," she states firmly. "The case is cracked wide open now, and he's got the public keeping a close eye on him. And if he ever did decide to take revenge on…" – she wavers, furiously annihilates the word 'us' from her mind, refusing to use it, even in her own thoughts – "…me, he'd be risking everything. Which would be the height of stupidity. He's a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them."

She leans back, running her hands through her hair, shutting her eyes against the weariness which suddenly assaults her. "No, he's going to be concentrated on his appeal, and I'm sure his lawyers are keeping him busy, not to mention pumping him of his last legal money, so I guess he won't dare to take the risk, knowing it wouldn't be worth it in the end. And by the time both, his as well as the DA's lawyers, are finished with him a couple of years from now, he will have no power or money left to take on any personal vendettas, will have to use whatever influence and wealth that's left to try to stay alive inside the prison walls."

She sees it again, sees it the girl's eyes, all that she won't say to Kate. But you can't know for sure.

Kate lets out a heavy sigh, because yes, Alexis is right, she can't be sure. She wishes nothing more than to be able to give Alexis what she needs to hear, reassurances that are true at the same time, that nothing will ever happen to her or her grandmother or father because of her, because of Kate. And despite the fact that Kate believes and hopes for the truth of her words, she'll never be able to know for sure.

She's decided she was done hiding, done running, is too exhausted for it anyway. She's lost too much already in the process and stands to lose even more now. But she wishes she could make things easier, less complicated for the people she cares about. People like Alexis, innocent bystanders who got involuntarily sucked into this nightmare of her life.

She can't look at Alexis anymore, has to avert her eyes in shame, too craven to face the accusations of being too selfish shining in Castle's daughter eyes. But then Alexis' hand comes to cover hers on the bar, her warm fingers gentle squeezing Kate's hand.

"I'm glad you found him, Kate. I'm glad you could bring your mom the justice she deserved," the girl utters quietly.

Tears fill Kate's eyes, sudden, overwhelming and unbidden as she stares at their joined hands, completely taken aback by Alexis' words. She has to squeeze her teeth together, hard, for not letting the moisture slip down her cheeks. It's the sincerity behind them as well as the final acknowledgment of Kate's long, tiring struggle that gets to get, especially since it comes from a source she least expected to ever receive forgiveness from. In seizes her whole being, crawls under her skin.

God, she needs a moment. Or two.

"Thank you, Alexis. You'll never know how much that means to me," Kate manages to squeeze past her lips at last, has to concentrate hard on her breathing in order not to fully break apart in front of the young woman. She flips her hand over and catches Alexis' slightly smaller palm into her hand, squeezes tightly in a gesture of utmost gratitude.

"You're welcome, Kate," says Alexis, giving Kate a small, solemn smile. Then, sensing her continuous struggle with getting her emotions under control, Alexis slips down from her stool, bringing Kate for a short, slightly awkward one-armed hug.

"I'm gonna take a shower now. Have a good day at work." She's already on her feet and headed to the stairs when she suddenly stops in her tracks, turning back towards Kate. "Oh, and Kate?"

Kate looks up at her, looks up at this wonderful, amazing creature who's not even twenty years old, and she suddenly understands each and every single time Castle ever proudly boasted about his daughter, knows without a single doubt that he has absolutely every reason to. "Yeah?" she rasps out, her emotions still raw around the edges. Alexis smiles again and a completely unexpected surge of affection for the girl catches Kate unawares, hitting her full-force and nearly shattering the last remains of her self-control.

"Stay safe, okay?" Alexis tilts her head slightly, her grin going lopsided, an exact replica of her father's. "At work, I mean."

With that, she turns on the balls of her feet, and heads up the stairs, leaving Kate in the relative privacy of the Castle kitchen, completely at a loss as to how she's going to pull herself together for work.

xxx

She ends up being more than an hour late, but by the time lunch rolls around, she considers her belated arrival to be the best decision of the day so far. This particular morning has been a brutal one. There are no new cases – just a lot of mind-numbing paperwork for both her and the boys, along with some complicated prep for two upcoming trials – but obviously the universe has it in for them, because every type of non-murder-related hell that could have possibly broken loose in Manhattan last night apparently did.

The precinct is packed to the brim with troublemakers – burglars, pickpockets, hobos, hookers, even a pack of rowdy, drunken football fans who broke out into a huge fight at a nearby bar and have yet to sober up so that proper statements can be taken to clear up the whole mess. The place is a circus and pandemonium reigns, with no end in sight. Not to mention that the huge stack of paperwork in front of her seems to be exponentially growing – with every file she clears, three more mysteriously appear out of thin air.

She sighs, throwing her pen down onto the desk and bringing her hands up to cradle her head, elbows resting on the various piles of papers lying haphazardly across her desk. She senses a headache in the offing. A bad one.

God, it's an absolutely horrible thought, but Kate longs for a murder, just so she can get out of this place for an hour or two, get some fresh air into her lungs. Or, well, whatever passes for fresh air at a new crime scene. But yeah, a nice, easy homicide sounds pretty damn appealing right now, preferably somewhere outdoors. Nothing too gruesome or freaky. Just a nice, normal murder.

Okay, so her frustration is making her morbid. So what? It's not like she can actually instigate a murder with her thoughts, right? The sudden ring of a phone blares up in the background, catching Kate's attention, her body freezing in place, head snapping up.

Damn, seriously?!

Esposito is just in time to whack away the hand of a delusional hobo who tries to pick up the call first. The Latino detective glares menacingly, clicking his tongue and shaking his head at the man even as he listens to the voice on the other end of the receiver. Meanwhile, the homeless suspect decides it's best to cut his losses, shrinking back into his designated chair at Karpowsky's desk.

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Espo hangs up the phone and Kate holds her breath, part of her horrified at the notion that her boredom may have been the cause of some random New Yorker's untimely demise and part of her thrilled at that very same prospect.

"Body?" she asks, unsuccessfully trying to mask the hopefulness in her voice.

Espo shakes his head, looking pretty disappointed himself. "Nah. Just Tenner. He's stopping by later this afternoon, wants to go over the wife's testimony again. Says he doesn't want to take any chances on Forgham walking." He turns towards the far side of the room, where a sweaty, red-faced Karpowsky is currently wrestling with a broken copy machine. "And yo! Karpowsky! Get a handle on your boy there, will you? He's tried to steal my lunch twice already," he shouts.

So the call was from Tenner, the prosecuting attorney on that legal case which has been dragging on for months now. And he's coming by again. To go over testimony again. Ugh. This is going to be a long day. Kate sighs resignedly, grabbing her coffee mug and bringing it to her lips. Empty. Damn!

It's times like these that she misses Castle most. Not because of the coffee – although she definitely misses that, too – but because of his presence, his spirit, that childish zeal that she's sure he'd bring to a day like this, always looking for the brighter and more positive aspects of things.

He'd probably annoy her right up until the point he managed to lure an involuntary smile out of her. And then she'd threaten to kill him if he didn't shut up and let her work. But she'd surreptitiously sneak a peek later, drinking in the sight of him as he played with his smart phone in his chair beside her desk. Hell, she might even have pulled him into an empty observation room for a hot make-out session, which would definitely leave them both feeling breathless and longing throughout the course of the day, desperately trying – and probably failing – to keep their workplace PDA to a minimum.

But that's something she doesn't have to worry about, workplace PDA. Because Castle never comes to the precinct anymore. And God does she miss her partner. She can solve cases without him, still has the highest success rate, but it's not the same, of course it's not. It's solemn, and flat, and exhausting. The joy she used to find in her work, the fun she used to have piecing everything together, is gone. Because he's gone. And only after she'd lost him did Kate realize how much of a difference he had really made in the precinct. Not just for her, either. For all of them.

But he won't – can't – come back, as he's explained to her a hundred times over, obviously feeling guilty and restless and responsible, despite the fact that she's never blamed him for it. She knows his reasons, understands them all too well.

What once drew her closer to murder drives him away.

So she doesn't ask him to come to the precinct, even though she misses his presence at her side daily. The boys stopped asking about him after a while too, finally figuring out there was a bigger issue than her and Castle's constant, flimsy claims that he simply had no time, was too busy working on the finishing touches of his latest book. Of course, if losing him as a partner means getting to go home to him every night, getting to be the last one to see him when they turn the lights out and the first one to see him when they wake in the morning, then she'll take it. Gladly. It's a small price to pay.

Still, she misses him. And she's not going to lie – it would be nice to have someone around for the coffee runs. Beckett sighs and grabs her empty mug, rising to her feet and walking the short distance to the break room. A small smile blooms on her face as her eyes fall on the familiar coffee machine. At least there's that, this single object which represents everything, all of it together – her and Castle and coffee and the precinct. As it should be.

Suddenly there's a loud commotion from the bullpen, and Kate rolls her eyes as she turns back towards the door, her mug already forgotten. She steps out of the break room just in time to see Ryan wrestling an angry-looking Esposito away from Karpowsky's hobo.

"He took my lunch – I saw him! He has it under his…robes, or whatever he's wearing!" Espo accuses furiously, flailing his hands about, unsuccessfully attempting to evade Ryan's strong grip. Karpowsky's there too, trying to calm down the situation, but Kate can already see it's too late, because an extremely irritated Gates is stalking towards all four of them with a scowl painted across her face. She orders an unfortunate officer who just happens to be walking by to look after Karpowsky's suspect then directs all three detectives into her office with a pointed finger, a sharp tone and a dangerously arched eyebrow. Kate can actually hear Ryan gulping. She – along with the rest of the now muted bullpen – quietly watch as the four of them walk off, the office door slamming shut definitively behind them.

"Wow, obviously I've been seriously missing out," comes a bemused voice from behind her. She freezes for a split second, not even daring to actually believe, and then her head snaps around sharply to face him, to check whether he's truly there or just a desperate figment of her imagination.

Castle.

He's leaning casually against the door frame, as if this is just any other day on the job, holding two large cups of freshly brewed coffee from their favorite café down the street. He must have used the other door of the break room, following after her when she heard the commotion in the bullpen.

She's still gazing at him, mesmerized, but he merely grins at her and wiggles his eyebrows, that boyish smile of his setting his whole face alight.

"Thought I'd stop by, bring you a cup of coffee," he explains, offering her one of the paper cups. Only when she takes it from him does she realize her hands are shaking. She can't believe he's actually here, especially today, especially after she'd thought about him all morning, wishing for his presence and, with the sickening crush of her heart, knowing it would never happen.

And yet here he is. And suddenly she's moving. She squeezes the cup of coffee he's just given her tightly as she instinctively brings her other hand up around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair to cradle his head, pulling him in for a heated kiss, right then and there in the middle of the bullpen.

She doesn't care about the people who might see them, doesn't care about PDA, or professional behavior, or any other stupid rules. This is her writer, and he just brought her coffee and he came, he came, and she loves this silly, sweet, wonderful man so much, loves him beyond all reason.

"Now that is a proper thank you," Castle murmurs, slightly dazed as they finally pull apart. She grins at him, her coffee still in hand, the familiar scent of him already attacking her senses.

God how she's missed this, missed having him here, with her, teasing and bantering, working together, building the case, exchanging new theories and crazy ideas. This was where it had all started, where they'd begun.

She slips her hand back down through his hair to cradle his cheek, smoothing her thumb along the lines of his face, can't help but press another soft peck against his lips. There's laughter in the background, then some clapping, wolf-whistling even, and when she turns to look for the source, she sees that the entire bullpen is staring, everyone eyeing them closely for a moment before suddenly breaking into animated chatter, money appearing from pockets and transferring from hand to hand.

Her cheeks blossom crimson – damn it, when the hell will the 12th finally get tired of betting on the two of them? – but when she turns back to Castle, she catches sight of that huge, goofy grin, along with that mischievous twinkle in his eye as he merely shrugs at her, and she can't help grinning back, quickly biting her lip and burying her face in his shoulder, hiding there for a moment, at least until the color finally leaves her cheeks.

Thank God that Gates still seems to be berating Esposito, Ryan and Karpowsky in her office, because if the boys had actually been witness to her overt display of affection for Richard freaking Castle, she'd have never, ever lived it down. Not to mention the horrendous rant she'd have probably gotten from Gates. Yeah, it's a good thing they hadn't seen – she'd better make sure it stays that way.

Still, in spite of the risk, she lets herself be cradled by Castle for one moment longer.

"Hey," she murmurs softly, her face close to his as she leans into him, pressing her body shamelessly against his own.

"Hey yourself," he answers back with a smirk.

She gives herself another minute to gaze into his eyes before finally pulling away, not wanting to push her luck in regards to Gates – or Ryan and Esposito – too far. She glances down between herself and Castle instead, her eyes falling onto the coffee cup clutched in her hand.

"And how did you know I was just about to make myself another cup?" she teases, finally taking an appreciative sip of the hot liquid, her eyebrows raised questioningly over the rim.

He lets out a low chuckle at her words. "You're always up for another cup of coffee, Kate. It's one of your two addictions," he states knowingly.

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. "Two, huh?"

He nods matter-of-factly, face awash in impish humor. "Uh-huh. And the second one starts with 'C', too. I'll give you three guesses." He grins as she rolls her eyes at him, trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement with a mock scowl.

"Is there a particular reason for your visit, or are you just here to annoy me?" She regrets the words as soon as she says them, not sure if he's up for the normal banter, the sarcastic give and take. "Not that I'm complaining," she adds hastily, her heart fluttering in her chest, restarting in a steady, quickened beat.

"Actually, no," he says, his eyes softening perceptibly for a moment before regaining his normal, teasing expression. "Truth is, I'm here for purely selfish reasons. First off, I missed you," he admits, wiggling his eyebrows at her again and causing an annoyingly giddy feeling to rise in her chest. "And second off, I got kind of…stuck." His last word is accompanied by a slight wince, and her brow furrows in response.

Stuck?

"With the plot," he clarifies. "With the core of the murder. Something just doesn't add up, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

Oh. His writing.

"So I was hoping maybe I could hang out here with you guys for a while. You know, breathe in some true, authentic atmosphere, recover my inspiration." His words are pronounced in trademark Castle fashion, confident and casual, but she can hear that layer of uncertainty lacing his tone.

She smiles at him, something painful pulling at her heartstrings as she takes him in, really takes him in. Castle – here, at the precinct. She takes his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers before giving him a tight, reassuring squeeze and leaning into him slightly.

"Your presence has been greatly missed, Castle," she whispers softly. His answering smile is warm, rich and loving, but it quickly spreads out into that cat-who-ate-the-canary grin of his, and oh crap, now she's done it. "By Ryan and Esposito, of course," she hastens to add in an off-hand tone. "The two of them have been missing you like crazy."

His smirk merely grows, and she knows he can see straight through her nonchalance. She bites her lip and glances down, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, Castle!" Both of them turn at the familiar voice, taking in the sight of Ryan and Esposito walking towards them, grins growing on both their faces. So the reprimand session in Gates' office must be over then. "Man, it's great to see you here," beams Ryan, offering his hand to Castle for an enthusiastic handshake.

"Yeah, bro," Espo adds, clasping Castle's palm in a firm grip right after Ryan. "Beckett's been extremely cranky and hard to deal with without- OUCH!"

He deserves an even stronger pinch in the side than the one she just gave him, but Kate decides to take mercy on him, merely shooting him the don't-you-ever-try-that-again glare instead.

Suddenly there's a very distinctive click of heels behind them, and Kate freezes.

"Mr. Castle!" the authoritative voice of Victoria Gates booms behind their backs, causing all four of them to spin towards her at the same time, varying levels of guilt and apprehension written across each of their faces. "They say the good times can't last forever," she states dryly, coming to a halt before the group and anchoring her hands on her hips. "I knew it was only a matter of time until I caught you back in my precinct."

Kate's gaze whips from Gates to Castle and then back again, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. She barely manages to get out a stilted "Sir…" before the older woman raises her finger warningly.

"Not now, Detective." She turns towards Castle, skewers him with a piercing stare. "I take it you're here to stay, Mr. Castle?"

Castle clears his throat audibly, his eyes flicking over to meet Kate's before settling back on the Captain. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's the plan."

Gates narrows her eyes slightly, appraising the obviously uncomfortable writer for an agonizingly long moment of time. "Fine," she proclaims suddenly. "Fine." Her gaze shifts to Kate. "I suppose it was unavoidable anyway, wasn't it?"

Kate's heart skips a beat, understanding the weight of the words but not quite able to believe them as she watches Gates step curtly around their group and continue on to the break room. Kate steals a glance at Castle, but he's still gaping at the retreating form of the Captain, mouth ajar, eyes widened in shock. Espo and Ryan have pretty much the same expressions on their faces, and she's sure she looks just as dumbfounded.

They're all still standing there, frozen in place and staring after Gates, when she twists back around towards them a few seconds later. "Oh, and Mr. Castle?" she calls. "Stay out of trouble please, if that's even possible. The mayoral election isn't far away, and I'm going to be keeping a very, very close eye on you."

"Um, okay," Castle stutters out as Gates turns away once more. Castle's look is even more bewildered than Kate's as they gaze at each other in astonishment. "Did she just…?"

"Yeah." Kate answers. "Yeah, I think she did." They keep staring, not quite able to believe that they just received a freaking blessing from Captain 'Iron' Gates herself. Not even the shrill ringing of Esposito's cell phone pulls them out of it.

"Yeah, on our way." Espo flicks off his phone and throws a look in Kate's direction. "Yo, Beckett." She doesn't respond immediately and he repeats himself, resting a hand on her forearm, drawing her back to the real world. "We got ourselves a body."

Yes!

But then her eyes return to Castle. No.

The precinct is one thing, but an actual crime scene, that's something else entirely. She could never ask him to face that again, especially not after he's already taken such a big step forward today. For her. For himself. For them.

"I have to…I need to go, Castle," she says quietly, apology and panic shining from her eyes at the thought of leaving him behind. The boys are already at their desks, throwing on their jackets and gathering their things while she still stands rooted to the spot in the middle of the precinct, gazing helplessly at Castle, silently asking him what to do.

"Yeah, sure. No problem, Kate," he responds, smiling reassuringly and giving her an encouraging nod as she takes a few hesitant steps away from him. "You just go ahead." But then she hears it, the hesitation in his voice, the longing he's trying to hide.

She stops, takes a deep breath. And then, despite her own uncertainty, despite the uneasiness gripping her insides and the fear that it's just too much too soon, she turns and looks straight at him, her eyebrows arching slightly.

"You coming, Castle?"

There's a moment, a split second in time when the two of them just look into each others' eyes, perfect understanding passing between them.

And then a smile breaks out across his face, radiant and effortless. He gestures towards the elevator with one hand, the other still clutching his coffee, a mischievous, curious twinkle entering his eyes.

"Lead the way, Detective."

THE END

Thank you all, it was a marvelous journey. I'll be eagerly awaiting your very last reviews for this story. *sob sob*