I took the liberty to use the text below, but I don't own it, the credit goes to: karenfelloutofbedagain (tumblr).

Also, I don't own anything Castle related.

I had a simple idea to mix the story of the season finale of Castle, nothing major, I just found it cute, I hope you all like it too…

In a cold breeze through the night she was there sitting in the swing set with nothing but a scarf. What in the world could possibly have happened for her to be there all alone? Kate was swallowing dry, rubbing hands to keep them warm. She needed to make a choice and quick, 'cause that was the turning point in her life. Her father had been there and he handed her a letter.

Kate loved her father very much, he was a very wise man and had always given her the best advices, and she never went wrong when she did what he told her to do. She called him to talk about the job she was offered and how it was everything she always wanted for her career, but also to talk about Castle and how they were having this dance that she was afraid that once the song stopped they wouldn't have anything else.

"You have to do what you want to do, this is the job you've ached for" – His voice echoed through her mind.

"He's going to hate me dad…"

"That's something you're gonna have to live with… Katie, when you called me and told me what this was all about I took the liberty to separate some lines from a poem of an unknown writer, before you do anything else, read it."

She had the letter on her hand; she was sitting there for hours but didn't open the envelope. Now she did it, and the note followed:

""What happens if a writer falls in love with you?

Lots of things might happen. That's the thing about writers. They're unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you've never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash your pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It's an unpredictable life.

But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?

This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. Your walls and gaps, your own mess spilled in ink. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you've never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you've never known. And yet they're you. They're not you; they're someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you're wandering through the pages of some story you've never even read. There's no way to know. You'll find yourself within a book; immortalized by the magic that he sees in you. You'll be his everything immortalized in ink, because not even the time can erase what he creates. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.

If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die."

Katie, before you make any decision, whether to get the job or to be with Castle… weigh it carefully. You have a good heart, let it guide you."

What she didn't expect was Castle coming in her direction, with his eyes fixed on her and his expression neutral but angry all at once. He had all the rights to feel this way, after all she didn't share with him one of the most important decisions in her life and he had to find it through a simple boarding pass. She lied to him again, and she hid it from him because she knew it would've lead to a conversation she was afraid to have, the where-are-we-going-with-this-relationship conversation. Lanie told her it probably wouldn't be a bad idea, but yet she was doubtful, maybe because it could mean the end of her relationship with Castle, or maybe because it could also mean a change of levels in this relationship and she never had that. She never allowed herself to have a long lasting relationship 'cause she had some sort of block that no other man could ever get through. But what happens when Castle put down the fort?

Castle sat right beside her, but didn't say a word, his eyes were no longer fixed on her, but in the horizon as if he was thinking or reflecting about something. The silence filled the moment and she was feeling guilty but at the same time she was trying to justify her acts even though she knew there were no means she could actually do it… He was already broken.

"I'm sorry" – she started – "I shouldn't have kept secrets".

"It's who you are. You don't let people in. I had to scratch and claw for every inch".

"Castle…"

"Please let me finish" - He interrupted her – "I've been doing a lot of thinking about us. About our relationship, what we have, where we're headed. I've decided I want more. We both deserve more".

"I agree" – Kate implied.

"So whatever happens, whatever you decide… Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"