While waiting impatiently for Castle to return, I've been rewatching lots of episodes and coming up with lot's of "what if" or "what could have been" scenarios. This is mine for the end of 4.07 "Cops and Robbers"

Glass of wine in hand, she watched him from across the room. He stood at the foot of the stairs facing Alexis, who stood on the first step. His hands lightly holding her forearms as he spoke to her softly; every so often, she nodded. A simple smile grew across her face before she took a sip of wine and walked from the sitting area into his office, letting the events of the day wash over her.

The joy and celebration of their dinner was beginning to dwindle, the hilarity of their I-saved-your-life-more-than-you-saved-mind argument long since worn off. She glanced back over her shoulder to see him still speaking with his daughter and her chest tightened at the pivotal family moment she was witnessing.

She'd been to his apartment before, dozens of times. He'd invited her for drinks, even a meal, but this time was different. This was the first time she felt as though she was part of the meal rather than an invited guest at the meal. As they ate, Martha regaled them with her slightly dramatized tales of the day, including her son's bravery (and stupidity) for using her bracelet as a way to transmit Morse code to the police outside. Kate laughed along with the others and shared her side of what had transpired.

In those moments with laughter, wine, and food everything was all right. No one around that table had been injured and the parties responsible were brought to justice; it was a celebration. With all the happiness and commendations it was easy to forget just how serious that day was; just how close they came to it all going very, very differently.

She brought her wine glass up to take another sip, only then noticing how her fingers were trembling. She switched the glass to her other hand before wiping the free one against her pants, scrubbing her fingertips against the fabric, as though that would alleviate the shaking. So close. She had come so very close to losing him forever. To never seeing his face again, hearing his laugh, or one of his maddening theories. To having to tell Alexis that in one second the people she loved most were gone.

That stomach-churning thought brought her right back to the moment hours earlier when she stood in the tactical van and heard the explosion in the bank. She could still feel the concussion of the blast against her ribcage and subconsciously brought her hand up to rest at the base of her throat. That moment held indescribable emotion: terror, anger, despair and so much more. It was still so raw, so fresh that the mere thought of it made her heart rate shoot up.

"Hey," his cool voice a few feet away startled her. She managed to recover quickly and offered a soft smile.

"Hey. How's Alexis?"

"Okay, considering. She's pretty upset, but I think she'll feel better about her decision tomorrow, after a good night's sleep," he said. Kate nodded and ran her fingertips across her throat before dropping her hand down to her side. He watched and tilted his head to the side, taking a step towards her. "You okay?"

She almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. "Okay" wasn't even in her vocabulary at that point. She gave a noncommittal shake of her head and turned away from him. She was only about two feet from his desk so she walked to it, placed her wine glass on one corner of the desk pad, and turned back to face him. She crossed her arms across her chest at first, but then dropped them and intertwined her fingers as she spoke. "I was thinking about today and everything that happened."

She paused and took a deep breath, letting her eyes drift around the room, taking in the volumes of books and dozens of knick-knacks she'd come to know so well over the three and a half years they'd known each other. She turned her eyes back to his, saw his intrigued expression and continued. "It's funny… you live your life every day thinking—knowing—that there are things you should do, things you should say….things you need to say, but you tell yourself you have time—there's plenty of time. But then something happens, something like today, and you think…you realize that maybe you don't have as much time as you think because in a moment," she paused and shut her eyes, trying to shake off that gut wrenching moment still foremost in her mind. "In a moment everything can change."

She opened her eyes and looked at him to see he'd taken a step closer. "And," she continued, her voice a little softer, "you think…maybe you shouldn't wait anymore. Maybe you should just…"

As her voice drifted off, his chest tightened. Was she really saying what he thought she was saying? Was this the moment? The one he'd waited for. The one he'd dreamed of. The one he feared might never come.

He took a few shallow breaths just starting at her, gazing into her eyes flooding with emotion. The room was dim, lit only from the small lamp in the corner he always left on, but he could see tears on the verge of falling. He needed to be there when they fell. Taking a step towards her he spoke gently, "Kate-"

"Richard!" the voice of his mother traveling across the apartment broke their moment. He shut his eyes tightly, silently cursing her terrible timing. He turned and walked to the entrance of the office in an attempt to stop her from entering and further interrupting their moment.

"Richard, I—oh, I'm sorry was I interrupting-"

"Did you need something Mother?" he asked in a soft but firm tone.

A small smile crossed her face and she patted his shoulder. "No, nothing. Goodnight, Richard."

He mirrored her expression. "Goodnight, Mother."

As soon as he watched her ascend the stairs, he turned back only to find she was not standing in front of his desk as she'd been before. She'd walked over to the side and was staring out the windows to the Manhattan streets below. Her left arm wrapped across her body and her right hand rested against her chest, her fingertips making subtle movements against the fabric of her shirt. He smiled inwardly as he approached.

He'd seen her do it so many times in the prior few months he knew exactly what she was doing. Any time she was thinking about a case or stressed over a missing clue she did it. He imagined the move was mostly unconscious and wasn't sure she had any knowledge that she did it, but he knew. He knew every time she touched that scar, because he thought about that scar, that moment practically every time he looked at her.

When he reached her side, he didn't speak. He placed his right hand gently on her shoulder, and touched his left fingertips on to her right wrist. She looked up at him silently and he saw that one of the tears had fallen from the corner of her eye and was blazing a trail down her cheek.

Steadily, without moving his gaze from hers, he brought his hands together at the base of her shirt collar. He unbuttoned the top button and waited. She didn't react, so he unbuttoned the next, and the next until the deep-v of her shirt fell open exposing her chest down to the bottom edge of her bra. Only after this was done did he lower his eye line so he could see the raised, circular spot she'd been fingering.

He moved his right thumb down from the edge of her collar bone down the center of her chest until it reached the scar. Feeling the raised skin made the hair on his arms stand on end. He knew it happened; he witnessed it, but somehow feeling the remains of what she dealt with every day of her life made it far too real.

He began to move his thumb in slow, clockwise circles and raised his gaze up to hers once more. She stared at him intently, but rather than more tears gathering he saw that she was beginning to smile.

Gently, he rested his left hand against her hip and began to lower his head. He did not move his eyes until he was about halfway to his destination. Then, he focused intently on where his thumb rested, training his gaze on that spot until he closed his eyes and replaced his thumb with his lips.

Kate breathed in sharply, arching her back towards his lips. She brought her hands up to rest on his back, one over his shoulder and the other at the base of his neck. When his hands gripped her hips simultaneously, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and an involuntary sigh escaped her lips. This was the only sign of approval he needed.

He immediately began to move his lips northward, kissing every inch or so of her chest, her neck, her jaw, and her cheek, finally coming to rest with his face even to hers. He could feel her soft breath against his lips, the gentle caress of her fingertips across his back and the warmth of her skin beneath his. He allowed himself a moment to think about just how many times he'd dreamed of their first real kiss, now just milliseconds away. He'd wondered so many times when she would finally be ready, but now none of that mattered.

He pressed his lips against hers and felt her fingers clamp against his spine as she pulled her body into his. Their lips intertwined and he realized he'd finally achieved the one thing he'd only written about: an absolutely perfect moment.

He pulled his head back, breaking their connection, and opened his eyes. He watched as hers fluttered open and for a moment, they merely gazed at one another. His hands had traveled up to the middle of her back when they kissed, so he lowered them to her hips, in doing so catching a bit of her skin at the top edge of her pants. This simple touch served as the electric charge that shot them back together, frantic lips against lips and hands rushing everywhere within reach. He moved his down lower to the tops of her thighs which he grabbed, simultaneously pulling them apart and lifting her up to sit on the edge of his desk. She followed his lead and locked her legs around him as she pulled his chest flush against hers.

His hand dipped in the open v of her shirt, ran across the cups of her bra, and she gasped against his lips. "Castle, wait."

"W-what?" he stammered, wondering what in the hell there was to wait about.

Breathing heavy she shook her head, using every ounce of her being to form a coherent thought. "We're on your desk."

"I know," he said joyously before pressing his lips against hers.

From his tone she suspected he might have had the same (or similar) fantasy as the one spinning through her head at that moment—the one where she finds him after he's written a particularly steamy Nikki and Rook scene, pushes his laptop aside and asks if he'd like to reenact it, then and there.

"Castle," she says, pressing her hand against his chest. "Your mother could see us."

"No, she's not coming back down," he insisted, bringing his kisses to her jaw.

"Or Alexis."

That sobering through brought some clarity to his mind. His desk was positioned directly in front of the open door. If Alexis came down to the kitchen for a drink….. "Good point," he said. Using her legs around his hips as leverage, he hoisted her off the desk and took a few steps towards the bedroom. She locked her legs tighter around him and used her arms looped around his shoulders to hold on as he carried her in to the bedroom, dumped her on the mattress and then turned to shut the door behind them. "Now," he said, turning back around with a smile. "Where were we?"