My Safe Word is Apples

Kate is nervous. Rather than trust herself to talk to Castle or god forbid leave another message, she texted him the next morning asking him to meet her so they could talk. He got back to her within minutes: where & when? 1030 2day ok? she texted back. At Café Royale? Fine, he replied. I'll be there.

Now she's standing in front of her bedroom's full-length mirror looking at herself from as many angles as possible. If it weren't two days before Christmas and freezing out, she'd wear something short and tight, something to make his blood boil. So she's decided if it can't be short, it can be clingy and bought a cream-colored soft wool dress. A wide red leather belt gives her a splash of color. She zips up her mid-calf black leather boots and inspects the ensemble in the mirror. She looks good, better than she's looked in a long time. Of course, if he isn't interested anymore, then it won't matter how good she looks. He didn't call her back last night even though he must have heard her ridiculous message by then. But he's agreed to meet her so maybe he is willing to give her another chance...ahhh. Shut up, Kate, she tells herself. Stop obsessing. She makes a face in the mirror, grabs her coat and walks out the door.

She meant to be early so she could be sitting at a table calmly drinking coffee when he walked through the door. She didn't want to look rushed or emotional or nervous. Instead, late morning Manhattan traffic conspired against her. The car in front of her cab stalled and wouldn't start. A bike messenger swerved in front of a UPS delivery truck, causing the truck to slam on the brakes and her cab to come within inches of rear-ending it. By the time she arrives, she's ten minutes late and flustered. And of course he's the one sitting at the table calmly drinking a cup of coffee when she rushes in.

"Sorry," she says, taking off her coat and dropping it over the back of a chair. "A bike messenger with a death wish delayed me."

He arches an eyebrow at her. "I've lived in the city most of my life, Kate. I know about traffic." Castle's blue eyes appraise her coolly. "You look good."

"Oh, thanks. So do you." He did look fine. The dark blue of his shirt makes his eyes look impossibly blue and he has the faintest hint of scruff on his jaw. Kate remembers the last time she felt that scruff on her face and neck as he kissed her and she looks down at her hands so he can't sense what she is thinking. Castle signals the waiter over and orders her a cup of coffee.

"Sooooo," he says. "You called this meeting."

"Yes, I did." Kate looks into his eyes and mentally grabs hold of her courage. She's never been good at apologizing. "Rick, I'm sorry. I thought, with all my therapy, that I'd come to some sort of...resolution...regarding the whole investigation. I thought I could get back into it, and still try to have a life. But then you told me about...well, you were there." She's hoping to get some sort of sign from him revealing what he's thinking, but his poker face is on firmly. She sighs. "I said a lot of things I regret. You're just trying to protect me and I flipped out."

"Yes, you did." Castle says. "It was as if Montgomery's death and your being shot didn't even happen."

Kate shakes her head. "No. I mean, that's what it may have looked like, but I knew I was overreacting and I needed to get some distance...so I flew to Charleston to visit a friend."

"And what sage advice did this friend give you?"

Kate smiles at the memory of Maddie's succinct comment. "She told me that I am, quote 'a complete and total moron.'"

Castle is surprised to find himself laughing. He expected to be angry and exasperated but he's not. Maybe—just maybe—the crack in her bull-headedness that he heard in her message last night is real. "I bet that went over well. Is there a crime scene in Charleston I should notify the local P.D. about?"