A/N: A Caskett-y Christmas carol, set in season 3. A little angst, quite a few Christmas clichés, and a lot Caskett goodness. Multi chapter WIP, but will be finished by Christmas. Assumes no significant others at this point.

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Can Castle help Beckett to know the true meaning of Christmas?

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Do You See What I See?

Prologue: Thanksgiving

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Castle eyed the body sprawled across the department store floor. One cold, lifeless hand was still clutching a stack of fifty-percent-off gift cards. Castle lifted an eyebrow, and glanced from the victim to the team and back again.

"Black Friday, indeed."

He wasn't sure Beckett had ever rolled her eyes as hard as she did in that moment. He feared for the safety of her eyeball tendons. Despite her obvious disdain of his comment, she remained silent as she continued to work the scene. Ryan, on the other hand, just had to chime in.

"Dude, Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving. This is just a good old fashioned holiday murder."

"Yeah, bro," Esposito backed up his partner. "Today isn't any Friday, much less a special one.

Castle waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever guys. I bet the vic here thinks it's a pretty black day."

"I'd agree with that," Lanie's voice drifted up from where she was examining the body, shifting on her knees to get a better look. She pointed with her pen. "Knife wound, right in the back. Not a good day."

"Maybe he had just taken the last restaurant gift card," Castle proposed. Four unimpressed faces indicated that his theory was both wrong and boring. Not a flattering combination. He tried again. "I meant... oh! Obviously, he's anti-capitalism."

Ryan coughed out a laugh. "Lame."

"No, he is. Look, he's all in black. He works for the government. Obviously..." Castle paused to connect the imaginary dots. "Obviously, he's out to see what kind of people would be working or shopping on what should be a sacrosanct holiday. He was here to take the moral temperature of our society, and was clearly going to report back to his superiors that we've all lost our moral compass."

"Clearly," Lanie intoned, earning a disapproving glare from Castle and a fist bump from each of the boys. Beckett sighed and crossed her arms, watching him without reaction.

"So his plan," Castle continued over their tittering, "was to report that we've all lost our way because of the monetizing of Thanksgiving and he was going to shut it all down. All the people working here today would lose their jobs, thousands of people would have to wait until December-December, can you believe it-to buy Christmas gifts and the world as we know it would end! And then what would become of all of this?"

He punctuated this last bit by gesturing toward a huge holiday display, shrugging his shoulders and holding his arms out to his side, "So someone-some hero- took him down. Saved the day and saved our way of life. We shouldn't be investigating the murderer, we should be investigating our own government for sending this communist into our midst."

He ended with a flourish and a voice raised loud enough to garner strange looks from the other cops working the scene.

Ryan looked at him skeptically, then frowned down at their victim. "Communist, dude?"

"Maybe," Beckett interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes halfway. "Just maybe this guy was killed because it's so ridiculous that the Christmas season starts earlier and earlier every year. Maybe the killer was driven to a homicidal rage by all of the snowflake decorations and the cold and the pine-scented everything and the God damned Christmas music! It's still November, for Christ's sake! It's not time for Jingle Bells yet!"

She ended on a slightly hysterical high note that sounded as if it had been squeezed out of too small of a space. Silence followed. Lanie raised concerned eyebrows at her friend before going back to work. Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up toward the rafters before wandering away. Esposito slid away to discuss logistics with a beat cop nearby. Castle swallowed and chewed on his own tongue. Nervously, he rocked back on his heels.

"Uh, you ok, Beckett?"

"Fine," she muttered, staring into the middle distance.

"Sorry I was making jokes," he offered. Because he was always joking, but she rarely responded like this.

"No, it's..." Beckett made brief eye contact and lifted her lips into a pained smile. "It's fine. I know you were just..." Her voice trailed off.

"Being me?" he asked, and watched with mild pride as some of the tension left her face.

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he agreed, redundant.

"Yeah," said Lanie, still working at their feet. "Knock if off, Castle." The words were said in jest, and the strain left their little group as quickly as it had arrived. Esposito and Ryan both drifted back from where they had wandered away.

"So Beckett," Ryan said, "you sound like you could stand to blow off a little holiday steam. You should meet us all at the Old Haunt tonight." Castle's face lit up at the idea.

"You're going out on Thanksgiving night?" Beckett asked incredulously, mouth pursed, studiously avoiding Castle's gaze.

"Yeah, after dinner. Jenny might come too. You should join us."

But Beckett was already shaking her head, declining before Ryan had even finished speaking. "Ah, no, thanks."

Just then another detective came up to their group with information regarding the security footage, and they were all back to work within seconds.

Later, at the precinct, Castle was saying his goodbyes to his friends so he could go home and help with his holiday feast, preferably before Martha ruined it. As he was slipping on his coat he found himself nearly alone with Beckett. She seemed distracted, standing near her desk and trailing her fingers aimlessly over some forms, so he touched his fingers to her shoulder to rouse her from her daze.

"Any plans tonight?" he asked carefully. She was a little on edge today, more than one too-sharp comment or misplaced sigh.

She looked up, surprised to find herself alone with him and to find him well within her personal bubble. She stepped back. "I... no. Just work."

Castle couldn't help but frown. "But, it's Thanksgiving."

"Right."

"Won't you see your dad, at least?"

"No. We don't really celebrate the holiday."

"But you have so much to be thankful for," Castle responded automatically, a little too earnestly. He was a little stunned by the suddenly dark look in her eyes. And he realized in that moment that she hadn't been agitated all day, she had been sad. His brow furrowed in sympathetic unhappiness.

Instead of answering his comment, she flicked her eyes up to him. "Go home, Castle. You should be with your family." She surprised him by reaching out to lightly squeeze his hand, and then she was gone, disappearing into the ether that is the crowded precinct break room.

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"Oh! Grab the wine!" Castle called, raising his voice over the sound of Christmas music and the replaying Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. The holiday classics were battling for prominence in the loft and producing a near cacophony of noise. Alexis leapt for the bottle precariously tilting over the edge of the breakfast bar and managed to save it from crashing onto the floor with one hand while the other miraculously kept stirring the gravy.

"Yes!" Castle raised both hands over his head in victory. "No casualties."

"Careful, Darling. We don't want to waste any of the good stuff." Martha swept down the stairs and plucked the bottle from Alexis' hand. She topped off her own glass and tucked the bottle under her arm. "I'll just take this for safe-keeping."

Alexis shot her father a look to stop his sarcastic remark before he could voice it. She had warned him that his being so late to the festivities because he had been working meant that he owed them at least two hours of his best behavior. Actually, she made him promise; had wormed it out of him somehow, and now he had to stand by it.

Castle made the motion of zipping his lips before crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out at her behind Martha's back. Alexis grinned and rolled her eyes softly before turning back to her task at hand. Dinner was almost ready.

"So, my dear son, no special guests this year?" Martha asked, ever the queen of subtlety. She perched on a stool and eyed him knowingly.

"Nope, just you lovely ladies," Castle replied. His tone was casual, but he narrowed his eyes at his mother as he took a sip from his own glass of wine. She was getting at something, and he would bet that he knew what it was.

"No detectives you wanted to invite? No tall, lovely, smart, brunette detectives?"

Castle leveled her with a glare, but gave it up with a shrug. "I did invite her, but she had plans."

Two sets of blue eyes were watching him now, so he took another drink and shrugged again, albeit more nervously. "She did."

Martha hummed noncommittally. Alexis peered at him closely and asked, "What aren't you saying, Dad?"

He paused, considering. He didn't want to color their opinions of Beckett with his own possibly incorrect conjecture. But, on the other hand, maybe they could help him see the big picture. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "I don't think she had plans. I just don't think the holiday season makes her feel very happy."

"Well that's no surprise, dear," Martha said, surprisingly serious. "But maybe you could help her with that."

"What are you saying, Mother?"

"I'm saying, Richard, that maybe you could help her see the humanity in the holiday season. Help her to see the good. Help her to see what you see when you look out at the world. She's been living in the shadow of a tragedy for far too long, in my opinion. Help her see the sun, Darling."

Castle's head tilted in awe. His mother, for all of her faults, did have a very particular way of looking at things. And at times, she was almost comically eloquent. Maybe he could help Beckett to see what he sees. Maybe he could bring her a little bit of the Christmas spirit. A little bit of what he loved about the holidays.

With a grin at his percolating plan, he downed the rest of his wine and stood to help two of the three most important women in his life set the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Spontaneously, he drew them both into a big family bear hug, eliciting squeaks and half-hearted complaints. He loved his family, and he loved how they made him feel about the world. He hoped in time he could share that feeling with Beckett

At the very least, he could try. And he had an entire month before Christmas to do it.

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A/N: YAY, I managed to get this out on Thanksgiving day. Hope you enjoyed it! I expect chapters of this will be kind of sparse until the middle of December when school is out for the semester.

Please review, if you like it so far. :)

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!