Unexpected Find: A Castle Fanfiction
Potterfanxp123 (William F.)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Castle', any and all likeness to the characters within are owned by ABC Studios, and were created by Andrew Marlowe, and Terri Miller
Kate Beckett took a deep, calming breath as she opened the door to the "Storm Fall" launch party wishing, not for the first time tonight, that she was here to get an autograph. As with most of her Monday nights, however, that was not the case. Two hours ago, the body of Allison Tisdale, an heiress turned social worker, was found lying in her bed, nude except for the blanket of flowers that covered her.
For the hazel eyed, brunette, lead detective of the 12th Precinct, it was a fear-inducing reminder of the fragility of life. All those years ago, when she and her father had returned home only to find Detective Raglan waiting with what was the worst news of her life, it was the author she'd come to question whom had inadvertently saved her life through his words. And, in a true sense of irony, it was the very same book, "Flowers for Your Grave" that saved her life, and had inspired the killer to kill the victim.
Her eyes searched the crowded rooftop party, and found the author, Richard Castle, chatting with ex-wife number two, and current publisher, Gina Griffin. It was as the author separated from his publisher, that she saw her chance to strike. She gathered her courage, and violently suppressed her fangirlish tendencies, before walking through the throng, a stern expression on her face.
"Mr. Castle," a voice that had haunted her memories for ten years called out from behind her. She froze, tears filling her eyes. The author turned, a pen in his hand, as he said, "Where would you like it?"
She felt someone moving past her, and suddenly her breath hitched in her lungs, as she caught a scent that she'd missed these past ten years. Unbidden tears came to her eyes, and she choked back a sob, as years of suppressed emotions fought to bridge her walls. And suddenly, a book was in his hands, and the author was asking the woman her name.
Kate clenched her eyes shut as the answer came, as she knew it would, "Johanna Beckett."
Anger. Pure unbridled. Agonizing in its intensity. All consuming, vengeful rage.
Grief. Irrational, unbalanced and excruciating in its fathomless never-ending glory.
She never heard the sob that escaped her, neither saw the face that spun to see what was happening, nor did she feel the hand that tangled itself into her hair, pulling her into a shoulder.
Suddenly it was too much, and she pushed away, out of the arms that she had dreamt of for ten years, suddenly too shocked, too hurt to let the woman that had abandoned her all those years ago provide even the smallest measure of comfort.
Suddenly, as if the thought had triggered some unseen switch, her tears were gone, the rage lifted, and a cool, detached calm settled on her, stilling her nerves as she turned back around, unsurprised that her mom was still standing beside the writer.
"Mr. Castle," she said, ignoring the hurt that flickered across her mom's face. The author fanatically looked between her mother and herself, looking uncomfortable in the situation, as the redheaded teenager behind him raised her head. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place tonight."
Suddenly, a surprising gleam entered his eyes, and he smirked, a giddy look on his face. The teenager shook her head, took the pen from his hand, and patted him on the shoulder, giving him the lightest kiss on his cheek before she turned back to the book that Kate had only just noticed on the bar counter.
She then turned away, doing her best to bind her brittle emotions, even as her mom's voice said, "Katie?"
She clenched her fist, but before she could say anything, she blurted out, "Why don't you go grovel to dad before trying to get on my good side, mother? I have a murder to solve."
Then, she led the author away, even as behind her she heard her mother break down.