Jeez, I have been writing so much this weekend. It feels good. Anyway, I'm not exactly sure where this came from but I actually really like it. So what are you waiting for? Go forth and read.

And I honestly think it's completely bogus that this needs to be rated T. Just sayin'.

Disclaimer: I do not, and never will, own Castle.

She doesn't read his books when Josh is there. Or more specifically, she doesn't read the Nikki Heat books. Rook and Nikki just stare at her from her bookshelf, smirking knowingly at her blatant denial.

Over the course of their relationship she and Josh have found a routine of sorts, a comfortable pattern, a familiar formula. There are two kinds of nights. There are those full of passion and desire. Ones where the noises of the city take a backseat to the noises they coax from each other, where the darkness pushes their lust to it's full potential and they hold nothing back.

The other nights are a clear contrast, much more domestic. They sit on her bed, both of them occupying the sides that they'd assigned without words somewhere along the way. He'll read his book, she'll read hers, and they'll just sit in quiet contentment.

He likes non-fiction. Usually he'll get engrossed in a biography, pages turning so quickly she's not even sure he's reading them. Other times he'll opt for essays, new perceptions of politics, previous works or even just daily life. She can understand the attraction, she really can. But that doesn't mean she feels it. She finds them plain and bland and completely lacking in that spice she craves. In a word, boring.

She sticks to her mysteries for the most part. Sometimes a romance novel will sneak its way onto her nightstand, something he teases her about incessantly. And when she's feeling a little lighter and a bit more intellectual than usual she chooses a play. But usually, she'll curl up with a mystery that she can't get enough of. The suspense, she can't resist it. It has a pull on her she doesn't think she'll ever understand fully. Cannell, Patterson, Cornwell, Reichs, and Connelly frequently lull her to sleep. As far as Josh knows, they're her favorites.

Sometimes, after a particularly hard case, she'll fish one of his books out of her shelves. Josh teases her about it but as far as he knows she isn't very much of a fan of Castle's work. As far as he knows, Castle isn't her favorite writer. As far as her boyfriend knows, Castle's words weren't what had saved her from the abyss after her mother was murdered. It occurs to her that Josh doesn't know very much about her literary tendencies.

But she can't bring herself to read anything that even mentions Nikki Heat when Josh is sitting right there. She feels strangely dirty when she does. It's intimate enough to bring Castle, even through ink on paper, into her bed and hang onto his every word. And with Josh there, it's much worse.

She feels bad enough when she reads his earlier works in front of her boyfriend. Knowing that the man speaking to her through the pages helped her through something as momentous as the murder of her mother when Josh can't really seem to help her through the simple things. She shouldn't turn to him for comfort when her boyfriend is right there on the other side of the bed. But she does anyway, and it's a sure sign that something's amiss.

And then there's Nikki and Rook. Reading about Derrick Storm and all of his others characters has her feeling like she should tell Josh that she loves him just to reassure herself that she really does. If that's what reading about the characters that have no connection to her does, then reading about characters based on her and Castle sleeping together multiplies that feeling by a hundred.

She feels like she's having a sordid love affair. Like she and Castle are the ones lost in a passionate embrace, that they are the ones who can't get enough of each other, the ones who can't stay away no matter the consequences. It's completely irrational and ludicrous but knowing that doesn't make the feeling go away.

Castle's words are so intimate, like they're sliding off the page and caressing her skin. The pictures he paints are so personal and sometimes she finds herself picturing her and Castle instead of Nikki and Rook. She's ashamed and embarrassed by it, feeling as though she'd called out Castle's name in the midst of a bout of ecstasy instead of that of the man by her side, sitting not a foot away and yet completely unaware of her inner turmoil.

It's like Nikki's life is her own dirty little secret. It's real and nobody but her and Castle know about it, it's their own secret place to escape to when the world on the page seems so much better than their reality. Because in reality she never invited him up to her apartment only to find herself stripped of all clothing the next morning. She never actually watched the light from the surrounding candles flicker across his face as she drew her body closer to his. She was never actually Nikki Heat and he was never Jameson Rook. But sometimes it sure feels like they were.

She absorbs the words and suddenly she knows that it's inevitable, that Josh is only a placeholder. She does care about him. She might even love him, but not in the way she wants to. He's only temporary. Her forever has already been decided. Deep down, she knows that. The adventures of Nikki and Rook only remind her that one day their creator will be the one sitting on the other side of her bed. Nikki doesn't make her realize it, only confront it.

And so she doesn't read them. Not when Josh is there. Because she can't put him through that, however unaware of what he's being put through he is. She can't put herself through that. She can't sit there and daydream of another man when her man is sitting right there. It's not right. It's not the way she pictured her relationship with Josh turning out.

She feels like a cheater. She feels like she's wronged Josh in every single way she can. Because he's sitting here talking about next month with such sureness while she's debating whether there will even be a next month.

So Nikki stays on the shelf, Rook keeping her company. They have their own stuff to figure out, their own issues to face. And maybe one day they will. In fact, she's sure Rook and Nikki will get their happy ending not only because the fans will demand it but because their writer will too. And then maybe she and Castle will follow suit, figuring out where they stand with one another. Maybe they'll get their happy ending too.

But that's a maybe. And she can't go on maybes. She can't break a perfectly nice man's heart over a maybe.

So for now she leaves the reminder of her inevitable future on the other side of the room, tucked into her shelves until it's almost camouflaged, until it's not as much of a glaring what if, a captivating siren singing its song and luring her into the unknown. She's content to live in her little bubble of denial. She smiles as Josh rests his hand on her knee, telling her of all of his plans for them. He says things like next month and next year and she doesn't wince, she doesn't object, she doesn't listen to that meddlesome voice that's whispering all of what could be into her ear.

No, she leaves those thoughts with Nikki and Rook. She leaves those words on the page, and pretends that this is the reality she wants. That fiction is fiction and she doesn't want it to be fact. She'll figure it out one day, but for tonight she continues to deny. Because it's just easier that way, it's much less complicated. Josh is her fact. Castle is her fiction. But she can't deny that the lines between the two are starting to blur.

I actually like this. It's rare that I really do like something I write. I'm no where near a perfectionist but I'm never truly happy with my writing. It's a cause for celebration when I am.

So? Huh, huh? Thoughts on what you just read? Anyone care to share with the class? Please?