Author's Chapter Notes: Where our heroes begin their journey's.
Seventy-Two Hours Earlier
Kate sipped at her cappucino as her eyes flicked over the report of the latest homicide to grace the boroughs of New York. It had been a quiet week, relatively, and Kate had found some time to look over one or two cold cases she had in the top drawer of her desk. The office was quite peaceful this morning; phones ringing, the elevator dinging and the murmur of her fellow officers talking around her – the usual hubub. After a workout in the gym this morning, she felt quite peaceful and relaxed.
Until she felt his presence behind her that is. She could feel herself tensing the longer he was silent, leaning on the back of her chair and looking over her shoulder. She felt him lean down next to her ear, she felt frozen with her cup nearly to her lips.
“What is it, Castle?”
“You missed a bit,” he teased and she could hear the smirk in his voice.
“All right, genius, where?” she looked over the paperwork, she’d filled in all the appropriate boxes, signed in the right places, there were no spaces left blank. She glanced up at him with a frown.
“Right…there,” he swept his thumb gently over her top lip and their eyes caught and his breath caught in his throat as he pulled his hand away slowly. He held up the foam on his thumb for her to see with a quirk of a smile as she gaped at him. He looked away as he wiped the foam of on a napkin from her desk and broke the spell, and she cleared her throat and tried to get her thoughts back on track.
“Umm, thanks,” she gave him a quick, nervous smile.
“You’re welcome,” he returned her smile, looking just as nervous as she did. “So, uh, what we looking at today?”
“I was just looking over an old case, seeing if anything jumped out at me,” she flipped a sheet of paper over in the manila folder. “Weren’t you supposed to be writing your perfect crime for Nikki Heat not to solve?” she joked. Ever since he’d announced he was going to attempt to write the perfect crime she’d had serious doubts. Even as an outsider to the writing industry she could see the huge pitfall that lay before him if he decided to write this one; how could Nikki solve a crime with no clues? She’d told him as much of course, she’d never been one to shy away from telling someone the truth if she saw a flaw in their plan; which made telling Richard Castle, the spinner of great tales and whose ego would barely fit through the elevator doors in the morning, that his forthcoming plot was less than foolproof all the more satisfying. Especially when he stuck to his guns and tried to write it regardless of what anyone else said.
“Surprisingly well,” he surprised her, leaning back in his chair confidently and fiddling with a pen in his left hand as he spoke.
“Really?”
“No,” he all but collapsed in his folded arms over her desk. “You know when you just write and write and write then find yourself in a hole?” He looked up at her for confirmation only to see her confused expression, “Well I’ve seemingly skipped the writing stage and just found the hole, and the more I think about it – the deeper the hole gets.”
“Well, I warned you, Castle, there is no such thing as a perfect crime,” she sipped her cappuchino, eyes still on her report. “And if there were, there would be nothing interesting about it.” She almost heard him start pouting with a large puff of air, glancing sideways at him over the edge of her cup confirmed he was pouting over it. She sighed, deciding to give in and ask, “So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed and sat back, looking off into the distance it seemed. “Anyway, that’s not why I came down here, although don’t think that I don’t appreciate the ego battering,” he dug his hand into the pocket inside his jacket with a wicked look appearing on his face; a look Kate knew meant he was planning something involving her, usually something she wasn’t going to be happy about. He held out an envelope to her and she put her coffee down as she took the letter from him before sliding her thumb underneath the lip and opening it.
“What’s this?” she slanted her eyes at him suspiciously.
“Wow, you really have no patience do you?” he teased her, knowing it wasn’t really true. She seemed to have infinite patience for some of her cases, at the same time as never being still.
“A party? You’re inviting me to a party?”
“Ooo, a party? Whose?”
“Yeah and when is it?” She looked up to see Ryan and Esposito approaching from behind Castle. She had thought she was being quiet, but apparently the twosome had superhero-esque hearing.
“Oh no, ‘fraid not boys, only got two tickets, one for me and one for Beckett, she is after all the…”
“…inspiration for the book,” they both finished in unison with Castle.
“Yeah yeah, we know that. But dude, why do you need a ticket?” Ryan carried on. “It’s your party.”
“Yeah, that’s lame dude,” Esposito shook his head, looking disappointed in him.
“Yeah but, my publicist only gave me two,” he told them. Castle looked back at Beckett, quietly smirking behind him.
“You’re whipped, man,” Ryan laughed.
“So…what? I just call her and demand tickets? She’ll eat me!”
“That’s why you shouldn’t be in business with your ex-wife,” Esposito shared his pearl of wisdom, earning a glare from the writer.
“Yeah, call her Castle, tell her you want to invite more people,” Kate said in that daring tone of voice. “That is unless you’re too chicken,” she sipped her drink as he whipped around to face her, the flirtatious look she cast over her cup was too much to his already cornered mind. Caught by her gaze he barely registered the boys doing chicken noises behind him until she laughed and broke their gaze.
“All right, I will!” he told them, grabbed his over coat and strode to the end of the desks. He faltered there, then turned to the elevators, “After I’ve had a drink.”
John had to admit to feeling a little jealous as he knocked on Elizabeth’s front door. She’d been given a beautiful little apartment in the suburbs whilst he had been left base-side with barely any time to look for a place himself. He sighed deeply and started to idly thumb through the mail he’d picked up downstairs while he waited. Bill, bill, spam, letter with Washington DC stamp (probably some stunning international job offer), plain envelope with the address hand written and a New York stamp on it. He flipped the envelope over to see if there was a sender’s address and his eyebrows nearly leapt through his hairline as he gasped at the name he saw, then nearly spilled all of the mail on the floor as Elizabeth chose that moment to open the door.
“John? You okay?” she asked, an amused little smile creeping over her face as she watched him scurry to regain control over the errant mail.
“Uh, yeah! Hi ‘lizabeth! Umm,” he looked down at his hands. “I uh…I got your mail for you,” he smiled up at her.
“Thanks…I think,” she laughed as he passed over the letters awkwardly, looking at what she’d been sent as she stepped aside for him to come in. She didn’t get past the first one before he thrust another one under her nose.
“You have to open this one now,” he told her as she glanced up at him with an odd look. She laughed a little and took the one he’d given her while tossing the rest on the table next to the door.
“What’s got you so worked up?” she asked, flipping over the letter casually and sliding a thumb under the sealed flap.
“Do you realise who that letter’s from?” he asked wide-eyed.
“Yes, it’s from Rick,” she replied, removing the folded paper and pieces of card from within.
“Rick?! That’s Richard Castle you’re talking about there!! The Richard Castle! Derek Storm? Nikki Heat?”
“Yes, I know who he is John, we used to go to college together,” she walked into her living room as she started to read the letter. Realising he wasn’t following, she turned back to the hallway only to find him all but gaping like a fish at her. “John? Are you okay?”
“You know Richard Castle?” he walked up to her slowly.
“Yeah, in fact we used to date,” she teased, slanting her eyes sideways to watch his jaw drop. She slipped the piece of cardboard out of the envelope and read through it quickly, only stopping when John dashed around to peek over her shoulder. His cheek gently touched hers as she shot a glare at him. His eyes cast over her face and he cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish and backing off a step or two. Elizabeth swallowed and refocused on the invitation, trying not to let his earlier proximity throw her too much.
Another minute passed as she read the invite and she could feel John’s bottle excitement behind her until he all but exploded, “Well? What is it?”
“It’s an invitation to the launch of Richard’s new book, Heat Rises. Huh,” she walked into the kitchen as she teased him. “Look at that, I get to take someone with me.” She kept her back to him as she put the kettle on to boil, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to tease him if she saw his desperate little face following her. She could practically feel him bouncing with excitement behind her as she took two mugs out of the cupboard above the kettle and carried on muttering to herself. “I suppose I could take Carson, I caught him reading Heat Wave the other day…or maybe Zelenka, he seems to have a real appreciation for literature…” she trailed off with a quick glance over her shoulder only to find herself quickly turned by the shoulders to face him.
“Elizabeth, don’t tease,” he said slowly, eyes completely serious as they met hers which were on the verge of laughter. “And don’t think I’m above begging, because I will…” he left the statement hanging. She smiled and took hold of his arms as he continued to hold her shoulders gently.
“John,” she tried to steady her voice as her amusement threatened to bubble over. “Would you…like to…come to Richard’s book launch with me?”
“Oh thank God! Yes!” he looked elated at the prospect. She laughed as he sighed in relief.
“You didn’t seriously think I’d go with anyone else,” her smile faltered a little as she saw him evade her eyes. “Did you?”
“Well, you know,” he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “I’m probably not the first guy you think of when you think of books, but Derek Storm was kind of what helped me get through Iraq.” She gazed at him for a minute, taken aback by his honesty, “What?” he asked uncomfortably.
“Nothing,” she said quietly and shook her head. The urge to kiss him on the cheek came over her then, but she resisted. She had sensed in the last couple of weeks that their relationship was changing, into something more comfortable yet intimate, but she found herself scared of breaking such a beautiful relationship for something so carnal. She sighed and turned back to the kettle, “I’ve just never heard you talk about Iraq is all. It’s good to hear you talk about it,” she smiled over her shoulder as she poured hot water in to the tea pot.
“Yeah? The shrink they assigned me back then would probably disagree with you,” he joked. “So, uh, what do I have to wear to this thing?”
“Knowing Richard, it’ll be the whole nine yards black ties and cocktail dresses,” she picked up the invitation to check.
“A tux?!”
“Huh, he’s toned it down a bit since we last met, dress blues for you and an evening gown for me,” she nodded as she retrieved two cups and put sugar and milk in them.
“Evening gown?” his voice was closer behind her and had a distinctly dirtier tone. “I’m going to get to see you in an evening gown?”
She cleared her throat before she teased back, knowing he was stood right behind her looking over her shoulder, “Yes, and who knows how short it may be.” She turned her head to look at him and his proximity made her breath catch in her throat and unconsciously lick her lips. She fumbled for the teapot to start pouring, needing something to try and ground her mind.
“Elizabeth?” he all but murmured next to her ear and she could only hum in response. “A cup of tea needs a tea bag, no?”
Kate sipped at her cappucino as her eyes flicked over the report of the latest homicide to grace the boroughs of New York. It had been a quiet week, relatively, and Kate had found some time to look over one or two cold cases she had in the top drawer of her desk. The office was quite peaceful this morning; phones ringing, the elevator dinging and the murmur of her fellow officers talking around her – the usual hubub. After a workout in the gym this morning, she felt quite peaceful and relaxed.
Until she felt his presence behind her that is. She could feel herself tensing the longer he was silent, leaning on the back of her chair and looking over her shoulder. She felt him lean down next to her ear, she felt frozen with her cup nearly to her lips.
“What is it, Castle?”
“You missed a bit,” he teased and she could hear the smirk in his voice.
“All right, genius, where?” she looked over the paperwork, she’d filled in all the appropriate boxes, signed in the right places, there were no spaces left blank. She glanced up at him with a frown.
“Right…there,” he swept his thumb gently over her top lip and their eyes caught and his breath caught in his throat as he pulled his hand away slowly. He held up the foam on his thumb for her to see with a quirk of a smile as she gaped at him. He looked away as he wiped the foam of on a napkin from her desk and broke the spell, and she cleared her throat and tried to get her thoughts back on track.
“Umm, thanks,” she gave him a quick, nervous smile.
“You’re welcome,” he returned her smile, looking just as nervous as she did. “So, uh, what we looking at today?”
“I was just looking over an old case, seeing if anything jumped out at me,” she flipped a sheet of paper over in the manila folder. “Weren’t you supposed to be writing your perfect crime for Nikki Heat not to solve?” she joked. Ever since he’d announced he was going to attempt to write the perfect crime she’d had serious doubts. Even as an outsider to the writing industry she could see the huge pitfall that lay before him if he decided to write this one; how could Nikki solve a crime with no clues? She’d told him as much of course, she’d never been one to shy away from telling someone the truth if she saw a flaw in their plan; which made telling Richard Castle, the spinner of great tales and whose ego would barely fit through the elevator doors in the morning, that his forthcoming plot was less than foolproof all the more satisfying. Especially when he stuck to his guns and tried to write it regardless of what anyone else said.
“Surprisingly well,” he surprised her, leaning back in his chair confidently and fiddling with a pen in his left hand as he spoke.
“Really?”
“No,” he all but collapsed in his folded arms over her desk. “You know when you just write and write and write then find yourself in a hole?” He looked up at her for confirmation only to see her confused expression, “Well I’ve seemingly skipped the writing stage and just found the hole, and the more I think about it – the deeper the hole gets.”
“Well, I warned you, Castle, there is no such thing as a perfect crime,” she sipped her cappuchino, eyes still on her report. “And if there were, there would be nothing interesting about it.” She almost heard him start pouting with a large puff of air, glancing sideways at him over the edge of her cup confirmed he was pouting over it. She sighed, deciding to give in and ask, “So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed and sat back, looking off into the distance it seemed. “Anyway, that’s not why I came down here, although don’t think that I don’t appreciate the ego battering,” he dug his hand into the pocket inside his jacket with a wicked look appearing on his face; a look Kate knew meant he was planning something involving her, usually something she wasn’t going to be happy about. He held out an envelope to her and she put her coffee down as she took the letter from him before sliding her thumb underneath the lip and opening it.
“What’s this?” she slanted her eyes at him suspiciously.
“Wow, you really have no patience do you?” he teased her, knowing it wasn’t really true. She seemed to have infinite patience for some of her cases, at the same time as never being still.
“A party? You’re inviting me to a party?”
“Ooo, a party? Whose?”
“Yeah and when is it?” She looked up to see Ryan and Esposito approaching from behind Castle. She had thought she was being quiet, but apparently the twosome had superhero-esque hearing.
“Oh no, ‘fraid not boys, only got two tickets, one for me and one for Beckett, she is after all the…”
“…inspiration for the book,” they both finished in unison with Castle.
“Yeah yeah, we know that. But dude, why do you need a ticket?” Ryan carried on. “It’s your party.”
“Yeah, that’s lame dude,” Esposito shook his head, looking disappointed in him.
“Yeah but, my publicist only gave me two,” he told them. Castle looked back at Beckett, quietly smirking behind him.
“You’re whipped, man,” Ryan laughed.
“So…what? I just call her and demand tickets? She’ll eat me!”
“That’s why you shouldn’t be in business with your ex-wife,” Esposito shared his pearl of wisdom, earning a glare from the writer.
“Yeah, call her Castle, tell her you want to invite more people,” Kate said in that daring tone of voice. “That is unless you’re too chicken,” she sipped her drink as he whipped around to face her, the flirtatious look she cast over her cup was too much to his already cornered mind. Caught by her gaze he barely registered the boys doing chicken noises behind him until she laughed and broke their gaze.
“All right, I will!” he told them, grabbed his over coat and strode to the end of the desks. He faltered there, then turned to the elevators, “After I’ve had a drink.”
John had to admit to feeling a little jealous as he knocked on Elizabeth’s front door. She’d been given a beautiful little apartment in the suburbs whilst he had been left base-side with barely any time to look for a place himself. He sighed deeply and started to idly thumb through the mail he’d picked up downstairs while he waited. Bill, bill, spam, letter with Washington DC stamp (probably some stunning international job offer), plain envelope with the address hand written and a New York stamp on it. He flipped the envelope over to see if there was a sender’s address and his eyebrows nearly leapt through his hairline as he gasped at the name he saw, then nearly spilled all of the mail on the floor as Elizabeth chose that moment to open the door.
“John? You okay?” she asked, an amused little smile creeping over her face as she watched him scurry to regain control over the errant mail.
“Uh, yeah! Hi ‘lizabeth! Umm,” he looked down at his hands. “I uh…I got your mail for you,” he smiled up at her.
“Thanks…I think,” she laughed as he passed over the letters awkwardly, looking at what she’d been sent as she stepped aside for him to come in. She didn’t get past the first one before he thrust another one under her nose.
“You have to open this one now,” he told her as she glanced up at him with an odd look. She laughed a little and took the one he’d given her while tossing the rest on the table next to the door.
“What’s got you so worked up?” she asked, flipping over the letter casually and sliding a thumb under the sealed flap.
“Do you realise who that letter’s from?” he asked wide-eyed.
“Yes, it’s from Rick,” she replied, removing the folded paper and pieces of card from within.
“Rick?! That’s Richard Castle you’re talking about there!! The Richard Castle! Derek Storm? Nikki Heat?”
“Yes, I know who he is John, we used to go to college together,” she walked into her living room as she started to read the letter. Realising he wasn’t following, she turned back to the hallway only to find him all but gaping like a fish at her. “John? Are you okay?”
“You know Richard Castle?” he walked up to her slowly.
“Yeah, in fact we used to date,” she teased, slanting her eyes sideways to watch his jaw drop. She slipped the piece of cardboard out of the envelope and read through it quickly, only stopping when John dashed around to peek over her shoulder. His cheek gently touched hers as she shot a glare at him. His eyes cast over her face and he cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish and backing off a step or two. Elizabeth swallowed and refocused on the invitation, trying not to let his earlier proximity throw her too much.
Another minute passed as she read the invite and she could feel John’s bottle excitement behind her until he all but exploded, “Well? What is it?”
“It’s an invitation to the launch of Richard’s new book, Heat Rises. Huh,” she walked into the kitchen as she teased him. “Look at that, I get to take someone with me.” She kept her back to him as she put the kettle on to boil, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to tease him if she saw his desperate little face following her. She could practically feel him bouncing with excitement behind her as she took two mugs out of the cupboard above the kettle and carried on muttering to herself. “I suppose I could take Carson, I caught him reading Heat Wave the other day…or maybe Zelenka, he seems to have a real appreciation for literature…” she trailed off with a quick glance over her shoulder only to find herself quickly turned by the shoulders to face him.
“Elizabeth, don’t tease,” he said slowly, eyes completely serious as they met hers which were on the verge of laughter. “And don’t think I’m above begging, because I will…” he left the statement hanging. She smiled and took hold of his arms as he continued to hold her shoulders gently.
“John,” she tried to steady her voice as her amusement threatened to bubble over. “Would you…like to…come to Richard’s book launch with me?”
“Oh thank God! Yes!” he looked elated at the prospect. She laughed as he sighed in relief.
“You didn’t seriously think I’d go with anyone else,” her smile faltered a little as she saw him evade her eyes. “Did you?”
“Well, you know,” he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “I’m probably not the first guy you think of when you think of books, but Derek Storm was kind of what helped me get through Iraq.” She gazed at him for a minute, taken aback by his honesty, “What?” he asked uncomfortably.
“Nothing,” she said quietly and shook her head. The urge to kiss him on the cheek came over her then, but she resisted. She had sensed in the last couple of weeks that their relationship was changing, into something more comfortable yet intimate, but she found herself scared of breaking such a beautiful relationship for something so carnal. She sighed and turned back to the kettle, “I’ve just never heard you talk about Iraq is all. It’s good to hear you talk about it,” she smiled over her shoulder as she poured hot water in to the tea pot.
“Yeah? The shrink they assigned me back then would probably disagree with you,” he joked. “So, uh, what do I have to wear to this thing?”
“Knowing Richard, it’ll be the whole nine yards black ties and cocktail dresses,” she picked up the invitation to check.
“A tux?!”
“Huh, he’s toned it down a bit since we last met, dress blues for you and an evening gown for me,” she nodded as she retrieved two cups and put sugar and milk in them.
“Evening gown?” his voice was closer behind her and had a distinctly dirtier tone. “I’m going to get to see you in an evening gown?”
She cleared her throat before she teased back, knowing he was stood right behind her looking over her shoulder, “Yes, and who knows how short it may be.” She turned her head to look at him and his proximity made her breath catch in her throat and unconsciously lick her lips. She fumbled for the teapot to start pouring, needing something to try and ground her mind.
“Elizabeth?” he all but murmured next to her ear and she could only hum in response. “A cup of tea needs a tea bag, no?”