Words could never accurately describe what it was that Kate Beckett felt while standing there in the dark observation room attached to Interrogation One, listening to that heartless coward Coleman rat out his own boss, the latter of whom was currently sitting tight down in holding. The hired muscle and hitman himself was currently sitting up there amongst the 12th Precinct's top list of most hated suspects due to what he'd done to one of their own, and he was damn lucky that Espo had only roughed him up a little bit before taking him into his custody.

The lead was good. An anonymous tip resulted in the location of a safe house on Long Island. Weapons were brandished, but fortunately no shots had been fired.

She and Castle arrived at the precinct just a short while before the boys brought the fugitives in.

And now she stood and listened in as the man who left her hospitalized went through each and every gritty detail, describing exactly what happened to Brandy Palmer, and how and why she ended up dead in her apartment that night. Then, as Esposito and Ryan aggressively tore into him even further, he coughed up the orders that he'd been given the night before last—a familiar story she'd already heard from the man's mouth just moments prior to being savagely beaten by him.

The order to make Detective Beckett disappear, by whatever means necessary.

She feels nothing hearing it again. Not sick with nausea or fear, not even a shred of anger. When she stepped foot into the 12th, she was all business again. Indomitable, impenetrable. Injured she may be, but defeated she was not. Gates' orders be damned, she waltz right back in to her domain, refusing to let these men think for even just a second that she was at home, licking her wounds and cowering in silence.

Hell no. She wanted to be there and stare the bastards down, then watch as her team dismantled them piece by piece in her stead. Not being able to be in the box and doing her job was frustrating, but being present to watch it all unfold was enough.

She could live with that.

It gives her a sense of grim satisfaction too, looking over at her attacker from behind the glass, if only because she can see how her partner fought him off during his brave moment of heroism inside her apartment. Their confrontation may have been brief as she laid there unconscious and oblivious to it all, but Castle still managed to beat the hell out of him, too. The first thing she noticed when they stopped off of the elevator was how Coleman's jaw was bruised black, blue and ugly. Now as he spoke to her team, the injury revealed itself in its entirety. It was causing him to slur when he talked, and Ryan sadistically kept asking him to repeat things even if his words were spoken clearly enough.

He wanted to make the man suffer when he had to open and close his mouth repeatedly.

Coleman would moan and groan every time he uttered even the simplest of one-word replies, and at one point in his anger at the blue eyed detective when asked to repeat yet another answer, he slammed a fist down on the table only to howl pathetically in pain.

Three of his fingers on his right hand were in similar condition to his face—another injury owed to Castle. The knuckles were black and blue, his digits and wrist puffy and swollen, possibly even broken in some areas.

She'd have kissed Castle for it right there and then, were it not for Gates standing in the room with the pair, watching and listening right along with them.

It took a great deal of persuasion on her part, but Gates eventually relented and grudgingly allowed Beckett to watch the interrogation instead of sending her right back out the door. Getting some personal closure on the case was a decent and legitimate excuse, and maybe on some level it was true that she did need that closure of seeing it all come to an end, but everyone knew how Kate was. Just like Castle, she needed the whole story. She needed to see it, hear it, have it all laid out before her. She needed to listen and observe with her own eyes and ears.

And if she wasn't allowed back on the case, she wanted to make damn sure that the boys locked this one up tight, for their victim Brandy's sake, as well as her own.

"They'll both be transferred to Central Booking tomorrow afternoon. The DA is drawing up charges in the morning."

Kate nods at her captains words, but her eyes remain focused on the scene in front of her.

She knows he knows she's there. Watching. His eyes keep darting to the glass, as if he were able to see her.

Even though she knows he can't, her brow still twitches, furrowing, every time his eyeline meets hers.

"He'll be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, Detective."

"Good," comes Castle's reply, low and venomous in his throat, and he shifts subtly closer to Kate, their arms brushing just enough to give that physical connection he's so desperately wanting but not brave enough to cross the line completely in front of his partners boss.

Or maybe he is taking a stand, showing her boss that they can and will remain professional in the workplace.

Whichever it is, she's grateful just to have him there. Always having her back, always by her side when she needs him most.

Before long, the boys are finishing up. In just an hour or so timespan, they've gotten everything they need. Gates exits the room to meet with Ryan and Esposito outside, leaving the two of them alone at last, both of their eyes trained on the man still seated at the table behind the glass.

Kate chances a sideway glance at her partner, finding a scowl on his face and his hand tightly wound in a fist.

She hasn't seen him like this since the time he beat down Hal Lockwood in a warehouse on a night nearly two years ago.

The night they shared their first kiss.

With that image in her mind, Kate breaks the professional barrier, reaching her hand down to gentle his fist, coaxing his palm into opening so that she can clasp hers with his.

He looks down at her hand first, the way her fingers slide between his, interlocking their digits in an unbreakable bond, and then he meets her gaze.

"For the murder of Brandy Palmer and the attempted murder of a New York City police detective, he doesn't have a shot in hell, Castle. Neither of them do."

"I want him to rot in prison," he admits, anger still laced in his tone, and he glances back through the mirror, watching as Coleman attempts to rub his jaw with shackled hands. "Both of them. I want them to rot away for the rest of their miserable lives."

Further crossing over their previously carefully established line of personal and professional territory, Kate turns and steps into her partner's personal space, letting her head come to rest against his sternum. His reciprocating embrace is immediate, the hand not holding hers coming up to rest along her lower back, arm curled around her body protectively with his chin set upon the crown of her head.

"They will," she whispers into his chest. They spend another minute or so watching through the glass before she shuts her eyes and burrows deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

"Take me home, Castle," she says a moment later. "We've got a dinner to order."

She can feel his lips press against her hair as he replies, "I'll call it in from the cab."

She doesn't let go of his hand the whole way back to the loft.

The warmth of the sun soaks into her skin, and the Pacific sea breeze fills her lungs as she stretches out along a sinfully soft beach towel. She's almost immediately lulled into a deep state of relaxation by the melody of the California coast playing in her ears—waves crashing against the shore, seagulls flying overhead.

There's also Rick Castle reapplying her sunscreen with the most intoxicatingly blissful massage technique that she's fairly certain he didn't mean to come off as so sensual but damn if it doesn't do it for her anyways...that's pretty damn relaxing, too. And hot. He's shirtless and in swim trunks and god does he look good.

They grabbed the first flight out to Los Angeles the moment she got the cast off her arm, and Castle acquired them a rental home that their friends then teased was going to be their beachfront love nest in Malibu.

They'd be able to stay two full weeks before she had to show back up in New York for duty, and Kate Beckett was determined to make their belated anniversary trip every bit the memorable and enjoyable getaway that she'd envisioned it as all those weeks ago.

This time, she let Castle plan the trip with her, hence the "love nest". But really, she couldn't fight him on it. He wanted her to be able to enjoy the California beach without other summer tourists, and honestly, even if she took no issue with people seeing her scars, both from her shooting and the attack, a private beach with not a soul around to bother them for two blessed weeks was a gift she couldn't possibly turn down.

Much like with the massage. Ohhh.

"Feels good, huh?" Castle beams, and she realizes she must have let out some sort of audible noise of pleasure. Damn.

"God yes," she replies, when his knuckles hit a particularly good spot in her shoulder, and Castle's hands go still when he starts to laugh at her response.

"Wow," he laughs, and she reaches back to slap his arm lightly, get him back in motion again.

"Don't you dare stop, Richard Castle."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her lips purse as she tries to hold back her smile, but then his hands are untying her bikini top and digging into her skin again, and all bets are off after that. He sets about working out the knots and soothing away the tension in her neck and shoulders, and once his hands start to drift down to her lower back, he drops down, peppering kisses along the skin left bare by his hands.

"Uhnn," she moans, a string of unintelligible sounds escaping her lips. "Castle."

She can feel the way his lips quirk up, how he grins unashamedly when his open mouthed kisses make her shiver as the damp heat cools on her skin.

"I want you," he growls in her ear unnecessarily, hands slipping lower and lower still, his actions screaming his every want and need much louder than any words ever could.

Maybe she gave him too much credit before. Sensual might have been what he was going for all along.

"Was that your plan all along, Castle? Offer to rub lotion on my back so you could seduce me?"

"You were paying far too much attention to that book."

"It's one of your books," she scoffs, cracking an eye open to look over at her advanced copy of Storm Season sitting just next to her on the towel.

"But it's not me," he whines petulantly.

She sighs. He couldn't wait to give the new graphic novel to her, and now he's jealous she's been spending the afternoon reading it? This man, seriously.

She twists, rolling from her stomach and onto her back, and Castle's eyes dart immediately south from her eyes when he notices her untied bikini has shifted with her motion, riding up and letting some skin peek free. She rolls her eyes and reaches for him.

"Castle."

He looks up, attention grabbed, amongst other...stuff.

"I'm a little heated up out here," she purrs, low and throaty as she lets a single finger trace up from the waistband of his trunks, across the bare skin of his chest. "Let's go back inside."

He shivers, eyes growing dark in spite of the bright sunlight playing across his face.

"Yes. Back inside," he raises an eyebrow suggestively. "Let's go do that."

She grins brightly, thrilled with him, and places both her palms against each of his cheeks, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. He returns her kiss eagerly.

After they pull apart, in the blink of an eye he's got his arms around and beneath her, and she lets out a surprised shriek as she's lifted up off of the ground. Castle's knee pops and he grumbles momentarily, but it doesn't stop him for long. He marches back up the beach toward the house.

"Wait," Kate says suddenly, looking back at her Derrick Storm comic lying forgotten on the beach towel some feet away. The breeze picks up and its pages flutter in the wind, but Castle doesn't stop. He keeps on moving.

"No," he huffs. "Storm had his turn. Now you're mine."

Her peal of laughter rings out as he carries her across the sand.

"Happy anniversary, Castle," she murmurs at his throat, as he gently sets her down in their bed.

"And here's to many more."

END

Thank you to everyone who supported this story. I will be forever amused by the fact that I fic!predicted a Castle-behind-bars-for-crime-not-committed story before it became canon in season five.