A/N:This was originally a one-shot based off of Food to Die For. I'd always planned to expand it into the story you're about to read and silly me, I thought I could tell the tale in five chapters. Ha! Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it. Please leave reviews - they are the Scooby Snacks of the fanfiction universe!

Just a few vocab/slang FYIs:

null point - an angle of optimal visual acuity.

Joe Schmo - American slang for a regular guy.

CHAPTER 1

Their relationship had started with a rhythm of subtext. In fact since that first meeting they had became so proficient at not saying things directly that sometimes Castle wasn't sure if she realized just how much she revealed, other times he wondered if she gave him as much as she did only because she hid so much more.

He had always been a risk taker, the guy to push the limits purely because they were there. Never in malice. he always knew exactly how far his charm would get him, rather he found that being incorrigible was the perfect defense against being vulnerable.

Smoke and mirrors . . . which had led to more than one upturned applecart.

He knew that Detective Beckett had seen through the ruse at times, but her beautifully cautious eyes had been fixed on the rotten fruit he'd left in his wake. He could distract her from his sins for a time but he worried that his past immaturity was her null point; the place where her focus came to rest in those moments when he wasn't actively proving himself to be worthy.

He had lived his life with a foot in two worlds; the bad boy celebrity versus the overprotective father who yearned for stability and a relationship that could weather his quirks. He long ago had abandoned any pretensions of forever. If he had any inkling that a woman wouldn't measure up, he would steer her away before she could nudge a toe beyond the divide between 'Rick Castle' the dad and 'Richard Castle' the author.

Only one woman had carelessly crossed that line; blurring his two identities from the moment she'd casually called him 'Castle.'

It was mischief at first, letting his guard down while he played in what he brazenly saw at first as the precinct playground. He had been so careless in his in pursuit of Kate's attentions that he had disregarded his own defense mechanisms.

'You have no idea how hard it is to love someone knowing they're going to break your heart.'

Cecily had no idea how wrong she was. He knew that torment acutely.

Castle hadn't been able to pinpoint when fascination morphed into devotion, but regardless, he had grown emotionally attached to a woman who was determined to be unavailable to him.

Never before had he yearned so much to be Joe Schmo, a regular guy with a modest salary and a consistent pace in life. Instead he was a best-selling author condemned by his muse's rationality.

'I mean guys like Wolf they come in, upset the applecart. Of course he makes you feel alive but eventually you know he's just gonna let you down. So why risk it?

He made her feel alive . . . she admitted that much, but she left no doubt that he had no chance to woo her in the end. She would always defer to what was safe. She was pursuing the Demmings of the world in order to insulate herself from what had the potential to shatter the last bit of her soul. The subtext couldn't have been clearer.

Even though he was ready to risk it all, he understood. She had lived through upheaval and she couldn't survive another blow. Her mother had been violently taken from her then her father had pivoted from steady to self-destructive in space of that same final heartbeat. It only made sense that Kate would want to recreate the security she had before her world had been torn. She sought a stable family life with a man who had proven himself faithful. A steady life, roots - those things mattered more to her emotional survival instincts than romantic fulfillment.

In Beckett's 'Hierarchy of Needs' after coffee, food, and shelter came justice then security. Fashionable boots definitely had a tier but falling head over heels in love did not, unless it conveniently went hand-in-hand with stability. She wanted a relationship she could contain. She wasn't afraid of putting in the effort to lend breath to mediocrity; she just wasn't capable of throwing her lot in with a man like Wolf . . . like him.

What she didn't understand was that her fears weren't so different than his. It was easy to judge a man whom she had seen publicly flit from relationship to relationship on page six for years before he had breezed into her life. He was Richard Castle, breaking hearts and taking names. But a man like that was groomed to be so. Abandonment, insecurity, whatever the history of any such man, underneath it all was the fear of having someone so precious that the pain of losing her would be crippling. The difference between his history and Kate's was that where her coping mechanism was to hide, his was to deflect with childish antics, and he had the burden of the press to immortalize his poor choices.

Castle had to concede that Demming was her safer option. The detective's loyalty and strong sense of justice seemed to enhance his annoyingly warm smile. A guy like that wouldn't up and leave her for book tours, be hit on by fans or throw her into the limelight that she despised. Castle had looked for passion in the way Beckett regarded her boyfriend, and although there was no doubt Demming was all in, Beckett only gave off a vibe of peaceable comfort. She liked the homicide detective, but he didn't make her feel alive.

Where Beckett saw weakness in Wolf's irresponsible tryst, Castle saw years of repressed devotion. He would never condone an affair, but he felt sympathy for how Wolf suffered. More than that, the writer had an insatiable need for Beckett to understand that the young man had been driven by more than a passing fancy.

That was the thought that had drawned him to her door.

He didn't have any acceptable excuse to be at her place this late and he couldn't manufacture a reason before his fist knocked of its own volition. He winced when he heard Kate talking as she came towards the door.

Castle suddenly felt clammy and on edge. in a split second she would open the door, and if Demming's arm was slung around Beckett's waist . . . well, he would have no recourse. He would stand slack-jawed as Detective Annoying claimed his territory with a condescending smirk. He had just sent the signal from his brain to his foot to do an about-face when the door swung open. Kate paused in the middle of her sentence as she considered Castle then said into her phone, "Sorry, Lanie, I need to go. I'll call you later, okay?"

She ended the call, placed one hand on her hip and one high on the door frame.

"Hey" Castle internally kicked himself for such a killer first line.

"Hey, Castle. Everything okay?" He didn't often come over and hardly ever unannounced.

"Yeah. I was out walking, trying to shake off the case and I guess I ended up here."

She waited a beat then motioned him in, "Okay. . . Come in. That's quite a walk."

"Yeah."

She stood with her arms folded, bit her lip then probed, "We closed the case, it wasn't so different than most; convoluted but open and shut."

The implied question was, 'What are you doing here, Castle?'

He blurted, "It wasn't about a thoughtless tryst."

Kate gave him a humoring glare.

"Castle, he got her pregnant."

"Okay, there obviously was a tryst, but, Beckett, Wolf had resisted. He hadn't just decided to toy with her life. Their connection, which had started so innocently, grew until it could no longer be tempered. Cecily loved Wolf against her will to be devoted to David. When, in an unguarded moment, they gave into the magnetic pull of years of longing that first touch was too fixed a force to keep her at arm's length any longer." He then realized how desperate he sounded.

Beckett's mouth opened but nothing came out. She swallowed thickly at his passionate narration and carded her fingers through her hair trying to ground her own emotions.

"Castle . . . so . . . you came over here to defend Wolf?"

He shook his head and tried to slow his whirling thoughts.

"He wasn't using her. He did everything he could to prove himself worthy. He made mistakes." Beckett raised her eyebrow pointedly. "Okay, a slew of mistakes, born form an immature way of coping, granted. But she was his inspiration for becoming a better version of himself. The reformed man he was at the end had always been there, and he had devoted himself to proving to her that the change was permanent."

Kate decided to indulge him since he was obviously worked up. "Castle, if that wasn't who he really was, then why? Why did he do those things? Why didn't he bother to clean up his act before he decided to ruin Cecily's life?"

Castle willed his words to work miracles and said pointedly, "Maybe it's just too hard to recover from a reputation that has been promoted shamelessly for the gain of others." He gave her a moment to let that sink in then added, "It was an insurmountable task, but once he knew she was pregnant, he thought he had a chance. For once he thought he could show her who he really was, that he could be the guy who could make her feel alive but also the guy who could right the applecart."

There was a pause then Kate, inspecting his expression, carefully noted, "That's a lot of upset fruit, Castle."

He chanced a look at her, "If it had taken the rest of his life to prove himself to such a woman, it would have been worth it, assuming, you know, that Wolf would have lived."

Kate shook her head, "How could Cecily ever really have known? How could she trust that it wasn't a phase, that he wouldn't grow tired of a normal life with an ordinary woman after going from party to party in the limelight?"

"She would never have been ordinary to him."

"Castle," Kate paced, trying to figure out how to gain some measure of control over this conversation despite her rapidly beating heart. "That's a lovely sentiment, but don't you think you're romanticizing a bit. Odds are that Wolf would have backslidden eventually."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know that he wouldn't have."

"Okay, just for the sake of argument, say that he did reform. What could he have done to convince you the change was permanent?"

"There's not one single action. Persistence over time, I guess."

"How long, Beckett? How long until you're convinced?" Castle asked earnestly, not really caring how thin the subtext was becoming.

She blinked at him a few times and he could see her back-pedaling.

"My opinion doesn't matter. The salient point is that Cecily couldn't take that risk."

"You know, Cecily wasn't exactly innocent in this."

Kate rubbed her brow with her thumb and forefinger, also feeling that the subtext was getting too close to text. How was she culpable? Castle was the rogue element in their relationship . . . partnership . . . whatever. She answered with an edge, "Sure, blame the pregnant woman. Sounds reasonable."

Castle countered, "I'm not blaming her per se, she's in a mess and I sympathize, but how was she being fair to David or herself for that matter? If she felt that strongly about another man, no matter the man's character, she had no business using David's heart as a sanctuary." He was nearly huffing.

Kate said in a calmer voice, "She could have been content if Wolf had backed off."

He pulled his lips in as though he could physically block his words. Regardless one slipped out.

"Content."

Beckett shrugged, "Maybe even happy. It was her choice, and she had made it. Wolf should have respected that."

Castle felt a knife turning in his gut. Did she want him to leave her alone to lead a bland life with Detective Second Best?

"And what about David? Would it have been fair to him that he would have never truly had her heart? He would always have been up against the memory of her one true love."

Kate seemed to take comfort in Castle's dramatic flair and smiled, "One true love? What is this, a fairy tale?"

He looked at her soberly. "It could be – could have been." At that moment he felt as though he was looking over his own shoulder at an insurmountable heap of rotten apples. "But apparently all they have is a tragedy. One friend kills another, a young woman is sentenced to a lonely life as a single parent riddled with guilt and the baby . . . the baby will grow up to be another Wolf, trying to defy his insecurities and the cycle will continue." He ended in a sigh. "No, Beckett, it's far from a fairy tale in my estimation."

He sat, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands through the tense silence. After brandishing all the well-structured arguments he could conjure, he suddenly felt hollow. In trying to convince Kate not to compromise he had gone for the jugular by baring his soul. He felt like crawling in a hole, or scheduling a three-month book tour that ended somewhere far from The Big Apple.

Again with the fruit.

Kate walked towards him, started to extend a hand to his shoulder but diverted it to her temple, "Castle . . . it was a rough case, I'm sorry I didn't realize how hard you were taking it." The tenderness in her voice was painful. He knew she didn't mean to be condescending but he felt humiliated by his own outburst all the same.

He gave a self-deprecating huff. "Sorry. I guess since I make a living creating fictional worlds I just get carried away. You're right. I don't have the right to impose what I think qualifies as happily-ever-after on others in reality." He continued evenly, as he acquiesced, "We both know that life isn't a fairy tale and sometimes 'content' is the best-case-scenario."

"I guess that's why you're a best-selling novelist. We all need fiction to counter reality at times." Castle was still looking down as she brought her hand down to hover over his shoulder. Rather than giving into the sudden urge to massage it she made a fist and tapped him lightly, the only way she could think to touch him and not have him break – or her. "You have to feel those sentiments deeply in order to write them and that empathy can't be an easy thing to turn off during a case like this."

He knew she was giving him an out; letting him walk away so they could be okay. He decided to take it and cut his losses.

He sighed, "Yeah, sorry. I felt for the guy more than I should have."

"Wolf was a bit like some of your characters so I can understand your affinity for him, but Castle, Wolf wasn't Storm, and he wasn't Rook . . . or you."

"I didn't say he was." Before she could counter him he added, "I should go. You probably have plans and I don't want to take up more of your time." He stood and smoothed the wrinkles from his trousers.

"Actually, I just got back from seeing Maddie, and I have no other plans aside from calling Lanie back."

He nodded, willing her to ask him to stay but knowing she would choose to exercise caution and a safe distance instead. He didn't want her pity, or kindness, he wanted honesty and affection and to make her feel alive. She couldn't give those to him, not yet, maybe not ever.

Beckett had been right. He wasn't Wolf. Where Wolf fed his passion Castle would employ restraint indefinitely if Kate chose contentment in the arms of another man. Forlorn yet determined, he vowed to focus on one day at a time and prayed that it would be enough for her to look back someday and see his persistence for what it was.

She looked a bit conflicted then asked, "Is Alexis home?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He felt her relief at not casting him into a lonely evening.

"Uh, can I use your bathroom before I go?"

Kate paled then blushed as she politely replied, "Of course," and motioned down the hall.

Castle entered the room and saw the reason she'd hesitated. Apparently her plans included a date with George Winston, a glass of wine, a bubble bath and her copy of Heat Wave.

His lip curled. He might not be who she needed right now but she still let him write in the margins of her life where compromises fell short. He swore to give Rook and Nikki a fairy tale ending one day. Until then he'd bide his time by righting all the applecarts he could.