Rick Castle groans, his dreams long forgotten, squinting his closed eyelids, as he feels a flutter of warmth and light dance across his face. He holds out his hand in front of his face, vainly blocking the intrusive light, as he gently opens his eye lids and sees the rays of sunshine filtering in through the window's blinds, silently cursing them. He looks around, trying to focus his eyes, shaking off his drowsiness, as reality sinks in that he's not in his bedroom or his loft. Oddly, the feeling is not that uncommon to him by now. Over his life, he has woken up many times not in his room but he has definitely never woken up here. He sneaks a glance to his right at the bedside table, upon which sits a lamp and an alarm clock, whose display reads 7:15 am. God, he's slept less than 4 hours, but strangely, he does not feel tired, despite the amount of alcohol he consumed last night. He looks down and sees he is dressed only in his boxers, his pants and shirt lying in a pile in a corner. As he looks to his left, he sees the sleeping female form lying face first on the bed next to him naked, her arms strewn about and her head buried under the pillow. Faint sounds of snoring reach his ears, as Castle smiles, recognizing the body next to him immediately. He doesn't think he'll survive if he ever makes fun of her snoring to her face, but he stores this nugget of information for some later use.

The images of the previous night's activities flash through his head: the deep and passionate kisses, the moans of pleasure from both of them, the three rounds of sex…He shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep and the salacious thoughts contained in his mind. God, the post-midnight activities had been great, some of the best of his life, he muses, as he looks upon the bare back of the female next to him. Her velvety satin skin, so soft to his touch and taste, as he remembers confidently trailing his tongue down her spine during their third round and the gentle bites he took of her shoulder blades, neck, and buttocks. He had left no part of her untouched and he was sure she had loved every second of it. His smile turns into a grin as he recalls the events. The view of her back, ass, and legs is too tempting and Castle starts to lean down to her back, wetting his dry lips, but he stops himself, not wanting to wake her. He presses his back against the headboard, moving up the bed quietly, letting the filtering rays of sunshine land on his bare chest, warming him, despite the late September chill outside. No, he wouldn't wake her. Waking her meant talking and discussing what they had done. His grin slowly starts fading away.

Would she regret it? He absolutely had no regrets; it had been mind-blowing and wonderful. Would she hate him for what they had done? God, after all these years…he was afraid of her reaction. And then he had to take into account the third parties involved, the betrayal they might feel, especially one particular person. He creased his forehead. He hoped he hadn't screwed this up so badly. He hoped for a repeat performance of their night-time activities, for many more actually, but she was so damn difficult to read. Best to wait for her to wake on her own before dealing with the repercussions, he told himself, as he calmed his rapidly beating heart. Yeah, that was Castle's M.O., the coward's way out, leaving things for later. He starts softly breathing in and out, trying to calm himself. But the more he thought about it, the more nervous he became. He could feel the beads of sweat forming, as his writer's mind began to analyze every possible outcome, many of them ending with yelling and screaming and regret. His heart was beating so fast. God, if he didn't know better, he thought he might be having a panic attack! How the hell had he ever gotten into this mess? He rubbed his face vigorously with the palm of his hands. He closed his eyes, praying he knew some yoga technique that could relax his nerves. Damn it, Rick, you know how you got here, his subconscious told him, as he remembered the exact date, minute, and second this had all started.

6 months earlier

Come on, close! God damn it, close! Rick tried to will the elevator doors to close, wishing he had telekinetic powers like those he had read in comic books when he was younger. Please! He pleaded with the doors, as he felt a sharp twist of pain in his chest, as the images of Kate Beckett in Josh's arms ran through his mind. God, he had never felt such heartache in his life before, not even after his divorces. After all he and she had been through in the past two days! Possible radiation poisoning, almost freezing to death in the metal container, and standing in front of a ticking radioactive bomb set to take out half of New York, and still, he doesn't get the girl in the end! He saved the city from a domestic terrorist attack and still, he had to leave and see her out of the corner of his eye seeking comfort in Dr. Motorcycle Boy's arms. How pathetic was he! Always doing the right thing, refusing to finish the sentence to ask her out to his loft for dinner when saw Josh coming down the hallway. He had stepped aside because Kate was in a relationship. Or at least that's what he told himself, because admitting that he was too much of a coward to tell her his true feelings was too difficult.

The elevator doors finally closed, as he leaned against the far elevator wall and stared at the ceiling, the image of Kate and Josh still in his head, the ache in his heart still too fresh. In a fugue state, he barely remembers exiting the elevator, saying goodbye to the duty officer, and hailing a cab outside the precinct. God, it was still too early, barely four o'clock. He did not want to go home to a lonely apartment, not after everything he had been through today. His mother and daughter Alexis were still in the Hamptons, where he had sent them for their safety, when the threat of the bomb had been real and imminent. Where else could he go? He had just eaten some pizza and drunk some beer with the boys and Beckett at the precinct, celebrating their heroic antics. But he wanted more than beer right now, he wanted to drown some of the pain he felt but he didn't want to be alone. He gave the cabbie instructions to the Old Haunt and sat back in the seat, staring out the window at the city he had saved.

Saved? Yeah right! It had been more like dumb luck! He remembers the panicked look in his eyes as the timer on the bomb displayed less than 60 seconds remained, the deflated voice of DHS Agent Fallon on speaker phone apologizing profusely, that he couldn't see the bomb Beckett had texted him. It sounded like Agent Fallon had been driving, trying to open the attachment. Castle wondered why he never just pulled the car over, instead of fumbling while trying to drive. Or who Fallon's phone service provider was, because Castle definitely wanted to lodge a complaint against them! So with no Agent Fallon coming to save them and Kate giving him that resigned look that said she was ready to face death, images of the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote and Daffy Duck cartoons raced through Castle's mind and he did what they would have done in his situation, as the counter reached zero: he pulled out all the wires! Miraculously, his stunt had worked and they and the city had been saved. Thank God for Looney Tunes cartoons! Castle's face broke into a smile, as he stared out the cab window, seeing the numerous people in the streets of New York City, blissfully unaware how close they had come to disaster.

But then Castle remembered: that hug! Damn it! His reverie of heroism was cut short, his face turning into a frown of frustration, as he remembered just how good that had felt, holding Kate in his arms, so tightly, smelling her cherry-scented shampoo, the curves of her body pressed against his, wishing he would never have to let her go. But then he did and he wondered if he ever would get to hold her like that again. That's how it was with Kate Beckett! Just glimpses, ephemeral expressions of how good they could be together. That hug, their undercover kiss, the looks they shared over the years….they all just served to tease him because he could never get the lasting and real version of Kate. Nooooo! Josh, Tom, Will, they all got to enjoy those moments with Kate, no matter how long those relationships had lasted. Not him, never him! Castle ran his hand through his face, messing up his hair, and groaning, feeling pathetic for his inner whining, as the cabbie stared at him through the rear view mirror.

"You okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, just peachy!" Castle responded, his tone too derisive for the curious cab driver, who ignored Castle for the rest of the ride. God, it was so frustrating to feel this strongly about Kate Beckett! Two plus years of seeing each other almost every day, solving murder after murder, hours and hours spent together, and this was as far as he had gotten, resorting to reminiscing about one hug and one kiss….how sad! He couldn't keep this up, surviving on these crumbs of affection that his muse deigned to offer him. No, something had to change, he wouldn't continue like this! Castle lost track of how much time passed, until thankfully, the cab reached its destination and Castle sprinted out, tossing some bills and a tip for the cabbie, feeling guilty for the way he had treated him. He needed a drink and he needed it now, as he scrambled down the stairs and opened the door to his tavern, disappearing within.