"I want to be more than who I am."

As the rhythmic cadence of her heels echoed off the hallway walls leading to her loft, so did those words rebound within the confines of her mind. After a grueling past couple of days, it felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and a sense of liberation coursed through her veins. Everything seemed brighter, in a way - or perhaps she just hadn't allowed herself to appreciate the world's vibrancy until now. Whatever the case, something was different...something had changed. Like a long-time prisoner released from their shackles, taking that first step out of the suffocating darkness of their cell into the luminescent light of the sun, she felt alive.

For the first time in a very long time, Kate Beckett was free.

Without conscious forethought, the emerald-eyed detective slid her small silver key into the lock, twisting it with a satisfying click, and then stepped inside. She paused at the threshold, taking in her surroundings. What had once seemed so familiar, so cozy...suddenly felt foreign, empty. Not only was it still trashed from her breakdown - coffee table tossed askew, shards of glass scattering the floor, and the like - but it seemed to be missing something. Or someone, whispered a small voice in the back of her mind. Her thoughts immediately traveled to that of one enchanting, blue-eyed mystery writer.

Softly shutting the door behind her, Kate tossed her bag on the counter and raked long, nimble fingers through disheveled auburn tresses. She inhaled a deep, cleansing breath as she glanced at the clock. Time seemed to have escaped her - her therapy session had ended roughly around six, but it was now going on eight o'clock. She'd taken the long way home, on foot no less, so she supposed that was to be expected. Still, she suddenly felt a growing sense of urgency, as though the passing hours were like grains of sand slipping through her fingers, beyond her grasp. She needed to do something, to go somewhere, to be with someone other than herself.

One person stood out in her mind...there was one person she needed to call.

After pouring herself a modest glass of merlot, Kate padded into her bedroom and flipped on the overhead light. Gingerly perching on the edge of the mattress, she rubbed her jean-clad thighs, stalling. That powerful, liberated feeling seemed to have fled in favor of a fluttering in her stomach and a pounding in her chest. She felt sixteen again, fretting over whether or not to phone her crush and ask him to be her date to the Sadie Hawkins dance. It was ridiculous, really.

Draining the rest of her wine, the brunette whipped out her cell as if it were a nefarious weapon, and resolved to take the plunge. Her fingers knowingly dialed the number, and she listened to the familiar high-pitched ring. It only sounded once before that husky, all-too attractive voice filled her ears.

"Beckett?" He sounded surprised.

"Hey Castle," She replied warmly, feeling a sudden rush of affection toward him.

"Is everything okay? Did a body drop already?" He seemed overly concerned, and she could just picture his brows forming a furrowed line above those captivating baby blue eyes.

"No, no, nothing like that," Kate answered quickly, already feeling like she'd made a mistake. What if he was busy? She should've considered that he might want to spend some time with his family after a tense couple of days. The last face he wanted to see, the last voice he wanted to hear, was probably hers. "Everything's fine."

Relief flooded Rick's voice. "Good, good." A pregnant pause. "So...how are you feeling?"

Kate felt like banging her head against the wall. This was not their usual mode of conversation, it was not the witty banter or verbal foreplay she'd grown to know and love. But honestly, what had she expected? Obviously he'd be more solicitous, more cautious, between the way she'd all but lost control...and the way she'd treated him like a welcome mat to trample all over. "I'm feeling a lot better," she breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I really am."

There was a smile detectable in his tone. "I'm glad." Another pause, before he added a bit more hesitantly, "I was worried about you."

Her heart skipped a beat, and her voice softened. "I know you were," she murmured. Kate felt clumsy and awkward in this openly emotional territory between them. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, indecisive, then continued, "Look, Castle, I'm sorry I kicked you to the curb for most of this case. I just..." She trailed off, at a loss for what to say. But Rick smoothly picked up where she left off - he always knew the words at the tip of her tongue.

"You were under a lot of stress, Kate," He supplemented in a warm, empathetic tone. "You're allowed to be human from time to time, too, you know."

A soft laugh tumbled from her lips. "I guess I just needed someone to remind me of that."

Rick chuckled as well. "Well, then, I'm your man."

Warmth emanated from her chest and spread throughout her body, from head to toe. "Yeah," she said quietly, "yeah, you are." She realized how that sounded, but she didn't exactly care - tonight was going to be a night of risks, she decided.

A flush colored her cheeks, and it wasn't just because of the wine. "Listen, Castle...do you have plans tonight?" As their conversation became more fluid, Kate became more bold. What was the worst that could happen?

She refrained from allowing herself to contemplate answers to that question.

"That depends," he began, sounding more like his usual charming, playful self with every word. "What do you consider 'plans'? My laptop is calling out to me, insisting that I should be writing, but what can I say? I like to live on the edge, switch it up from time to time. Who knows, I may just sit here and bask in the evening's soft glow."

It was as though some irrefutable law of the universe was compelling her to roll her eyes, in typical Beckett fashion. "I think it's a little late for that," she replied, light amusement reflected in her tone as she tossed a glance out her window, noting the darkened city skyline. "Sorry to burst your bubble. If you'd like, I'll buy you a drink and you can try basking in the dim, skeevy light of the bar." She pursed her lips, suddenly feeling as though inhale, exhale was a foreign concept. Why was she being so anxious and girlish about this? It wasn't the first time she'd offered to take Castle out.

But it was the first time she'd offered as someone other than his platonic crime-fighting partner. It was the first time she'd gone out of her way to arrange it; the first time she'd allowed it to seem like she wanted to spend time with him, without fear of its connotation, how he might tease her, or his ego might inflate at the prospect.

"Why, Detective Beckett, I thought you'd never ask." He sounded truly flattered, with only a subtle hint of smugness or jousting - a quality she simply expected to hear in his voice. "I couldn't possibly imagine better company with which to spend the evening."

And there he went with one of those 'Castleblanca' lines, as she liked to call them. They made her heart stutter and her legs weak like putty, an element of movie-worthy romance that she never expected to encounter in this decade. It was moments like these that made her wonder why she didn't just go for it with this guy, this sweet and incredible man.

"Unless you throw Carmen Elektra into the equation...but that's a whole different story."

Moment over. "A story that you certainly won't be writing," Kate retorted crisply, though she had to smile at the sound of his hearty laughter at the other end of the line. "How about The Old Haunt? Nothing like buying a guy a drink at his own bar." She chortled, drumming her fingers idly on her thigh. This was probably the longest non-case-related phone conversation they'd ever shared.

"An excellent suggestion, I must say," Rick responded lightly, "but I'd like to take you somewhere special tonight. Mind if I hop on over to your place in about an hour? The establishment I have in mind is within walking distance, but I'm considering pursuing a career as an in impromptu tour guide, and you're my guinea pig."

It was sometimes genuinely difficult to discern whether or not he was yanking her chain. Either way, she was intrigued. "Alright, Castle, I'll bite. But it won't be easy to wow this guinea pig." Kate inwardly puzzled at that peculiar statement. This wasn't exactly how she'd expected the conversation to go when she'd planned it all out inside her head, but then again, when did anything ever go according to plan with Rick Castle?

"I aim to please, Detective, you know that," He answered smoothly, "and by the end of evening, pleased you will be. I guarantee it."

Kate arched a brow, trying to keep her mind from sinking into the gutter with the many, many different meanings that phrase lent itself to. "We'll see about that." There was a touch of playfulness to her tone, something she hadn't heard from herself in a long time.

"Yes, I do believe we shall." This was the banter she'd so sorely missed.

"Oh, and Castle?"

"Beckett?"

She just had to ask. "You said you want to take me some place 'special.' Are we talking 'nice evening cocktail dress' special, or 'old sweater and blue jeans' special?" At the risk of sounding like she needed to feel pretty around him, she would be damned if she was going to show up looking like a bum at some chic, high-end bar in Uptown Manhattan - if that was what he had in mind, of course.

Warmth flooded his tone. "You'll look extraordinary no matter what you wear, Kate. I'll see you soon."

Before the thorough detective could interrogate him any further, he'd hung up, and she was left with absolutely no inkling as to appropriate attire for their little escapade. Instead, she wore a wide, faintly giddy smile.

Things were looking up already, and she strongly suspected the best was yet to come.