A/N: I wrote this while editing Two Coffees. Kylie did the beta-ing honors, and Trish helped with logistics! Thank you! The idea is thanks an awesome anon on Alex's amazing prompt blog.

( "Lockdown/shoot out in the 12th, everyone but Castle is there" castlefanficprompts . tumblr post / 71915596555 / )

The title is about the eighth attempt at a name and I thank Kylie, Lou and Andy for the handholding! (Also, sorry. Nice that you're all still talking to me.) It's just a quick one - ten chapters - to tide us all over until Ficathon comes to save us from hiatus, and is set post 3XK. Enjoy!

Chapter One - A day of writing

A day of writing. Again. Well, that was just great, wasn't it?

Stuck behind his desk all alone; obviously no bodies had dropped. Or, worse, maybe one had. Maybe Beckett had decided not to call him. Maybe after last week she'd realized he was more of a liability than an asset. Maybe she'd deliberately avoided his call last night. Maybe-

His screen saver bounced around his laptop and he glared at it; yes, he should be writing, but after last week's encounter with the triple killer he had done nothing but rehash his failure in letting Jerry Tyson escape. Since that night the taste of scotch had been a constant companion on his tongue and none of the dark words that had been bleeding out of his fingertips would ever make it to Black Pawn's inbox.

Castle's heart leapt at the sound of his cell ringing but as the familiar ring tone registered he knew before he looked down that the tone was all wrong and he was about to be disappointed. A glance at the screen dealt the final blow and he pushed the phone away behind his laptop, out of view, unwilling to find out whether it was a friendly call from his girlfriend, or a harassing call from his publisher.

Ugh. He sighed; old issues were starting to rear their heads and he wondered for the hundredth time just what he had been thinking when he'd called Gina up last May. He inhaled deeply, letting his lungs fill with air, and he held his breath, waiting for the shrill sound to die. One. Two. Three. And he exhaled, pulling the cell back into view.

One missed call.

A touch of his finger on the track pad brought the laptop back to life and he glanced back at the document on the screen, making a face at it; Rook had it so easy. He could chase around after Nikki all day, then fall into bed with her at the end of it. Rick, on the other hand, could chase after Kate all day at work and then-

What?

No. Castle shook his head. He wasn't going to go down that path. He would return Gina's call, maybe see if she wanted to go out for dinner. And Beckett - who ironically hadn't returned his calls - could do… whatever it was she did with Josh.

The thought of the man's name had him blinking, and he bit back a shudder as he reached for his phone. Gina. He had to call Gina back. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on Beckett.

He stood up, rolling his head and stretching his neck and shoulders. Grimacing again, he punched down on Gina's name with more force than was maybe necessary and held the phone up to his ear.

Beckett had nothing to do with this. And if she hadn't returned his call it was because there hadn't been any homicides to solve, not because she was avoiding him. She would call him back if and when she got the chance. In the meantime, he would extend the same courtesy to Gina and return her call.

"Hey, Rick." Gina's voice was relaxed and he breathed a sigh of relief; he was getting Gina Cowell; girlfriend, not Gina Cowell; ex-wife and publisher.

"Hey… Sorry I missed your call." The lie slid out easily and he smiled at her tinkle of laughter. Gina was easy. And so what if the thought of her didn't set his heart a flutter; maybe a partnership was meant to be about more than that? Maybe they'd given up too easily years ago and this really was their chance to make it right.

"No problem," she said. "Just wondered if you wanted to grab a bite tonight? There's a new place in Tribeca that everyone's been talking about."

Who was everyone? Castle bit his tongue and nodded before realizing she couldn't see him. "Sure. Pick you up at… seven?" That gave him the rest of the day to get his head in the game and out of this funk.

"Actually, I was thinking I could come round to your place this morning, in an hour? I can take a look at what you've been working on, lend a bit of pre-editorial advice, then we can spend the day together?"

Gina hung up without waiting for his reply, and Castle scowled at his phone. An hour. Okay, in that case he'd better get freshened up.

"Dad?"

"Alexis!" Thank God. The shower hadn't helped; maybe Alexis could talk him out of his mood. He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes in a very Beckett like move. No. Not Beckett-like. People other than Beckett were allowed to roll their eyes; get it together, Rick.

"What's with you?" his daughter asked from where she stood in front of the fridge, and he groaned, ruffling her hair.

"Can't a dad be glad to see his daughter?"

Alexis shrugged, reaching for the juice. "Sure. But when you have that look on your face it usually means you're bored or you've got writer's block, and you want me to entertain you."

"Ha!" he announced, taking the juice from her hands and swigging it. "Neither of those things."

"Then what is it? Detective Beckett hasn't called you for a few days, huh?"

"Why do you think it has anything to do with Beckett?"

Alexis shrugged. "You just seem happier when you get to go and look at murder all day."

"Murder. Right."

Alexis looked at him, her expression strained. "Are you sure you're okay, Dad?"

"Sure, sweetie." He nodded, plastering a smile onto his face and Alexis narrowed her eyes at him but carried her own glass of juice into the living room without saying anything else. He sighed, staring for a moment at the carton in his hand before putting it back in the fridge, staring vacantly at the contents for a moment before closing the door.

"You really have time? You don't have a case?" Gina smiled at him from across the kitchen counter, and he shook his head. "Seems like every time I've seen you lately you've been rushing out to meet Beckett, or you've just come from the precinct."

Castle reached for the cup she handed him, pouring her a coffee and handing it back, pouring one for himself before answering. "No. Haven't had a case all week. Not since…" He let his voice trail off.

Not since the triple killed had bound him to a chair in a motel room. .

Not since he'd held Beckett's hand by the pool, allowing himself a brief moment of peace.

Poolside, he'd let himself sip at the coffee that Kate had brought him. He'd refrained from grimacing at the fact the convenience store quality had nothing on the coffee he'd brought her earlier that day, and he'd stared at their hands, letting the image of his enclosing her smaller one burn into his retina.

Not that he could explain that to Gina.

He ran his hand through his hair, wincing at the deception; he'd given her and Alexis the cliff notes version, only revealing the whole story to his mother.

Martha had been smart enough to work out his code, after all, and he couldn't exactly hide it from her.

Alexis, well, he just didn't want to taint his daughter's world like that.

Gina was a different story. He should have told her everything. But as glad as he was that they'd reconnected last summer - he was glad, he repeated to himself - it still didn't make her his partner. Not the way a spouse should be. No, the only person he really wanted to confide in, if he was honest with himself, was Beckett.

Beckett, though, obviously didn't feel the same way; he'd left her a voicemail and a couple of texts, but she hadn't returned his call, and her texts had been brief, impersonal.

He swallowed, pushing his guilt down, and followed Gina through to his office, coffee in hand. She flipped open his laptop, looking at him pointedly, and he entered his password, before pulling up a chair for her and settling down in his own.

He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for the computer to boot up. This wasn't complicated, and he needed to get out of his head. Beckett was his work-wife. Gina was his writing partner, his editor and his girlfriend. And his ex-wife.

He rolled his eyes. Yeah. It was simple.

Or it had been, before last week.

"Really, Rick- are you okay?" Her voice broke through his reverie, and he shrugged, looking at her apologetically.

"Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine." The desktop appeared at last, and he double clicked his word processing program, tilting the screen so Gina had a better view. "So I have all these scenes with Nikki, and nothing with Rook."

"Hmm." Gina pulled the laptop from him, her fingers flying across the keyboard, and he smiled at her gratefully; she was at the top of her game as both an editor and a publisher, and he would always be beholden to whichever Black Pawn executive had assigned her to the Storm series; she'd been an integral part in developing those books from something good to something excellent.

He watched her work, blond hair falling across her face as she squinted at the screen and made notes that he knew, from experience, would be vital to bringing the story to life.

It was funny, though, watching her with the Nikki stories. She'd been with him from the start with Storm; Derrick felt almost like someone they'd created together. Nikki, though? He fought the wave of possessiveness that coursed through him and repressed the urge to snatch his laptop from Gina. Nikki was his. His, and Beckett's.