A/N: I saw a prompt on Tumblr and I just couldn't resist starting a fic for it. The prompt was simple: What would have happened if Kate's mother hadn't been murdered? So I decided to take the story from the point of "Flowers for Your Grave" assuming that everything in Castle's life remained as it was on the show; however, because Kate's mother was still living, she never joined the NYPD. And thus the story begins...

Enjoy!

One

Richard Castle had been called many things throughout his life, many of them true. Mystery novelist. Millionaire playboy. Ruggedly handsome. And now social miscreant all because he violated a few pesky laws. Okay, so maybe climbing in that fountain after having more than several beers was not his brightest idea, but just because he happened to lose his belt during a drinking game gone awry earlier that night and he happened to be wearing his older trousers and those trousers happened to fall down as he was climbing out of said fountain…Was that really "public indecency" or simply an unfortunate accident?

Castle tended to believe the latter, though regrettably the members of the NYPD he encountered did not share that opinion. And, okay, maybe it was ill-advised for him to offer to sign a few (or a dozen) books for them to do with as they pleased in exchange for forgetting this whole incident, but how was he to know they'd start throwing around terms like "resisting arrest" and "attempted bribery?" After that, things went downhill quickly, which was why he presently sat on a stiff, straight-back wooden bench in the hallway of the Manhattan district court office as his five-hundred-dollar-plus-an-hour lawyer attempted to plead a deal on his behalf. Castle was hoping for his sentence to be reduced to time served, but seeing as he was only in custody from two a.m. until six forty-five when his lawyer arrived, he was advised not to remain optimistic about that particular prospect.

Truth be told, this was not his first scrape with the law and, quite honestly, it would probably not be the last. He tried to keep himself in check, especially for Alexis's benefit. The last thing he wanted to do was to set a horrible impression for his daughter. Then again, seeing as it felt more and more like she was the parent in their relationship, he doubted his occasional brushes with the law influenced her in any negative manner. Besides, it wasn't as though he was out at night robbing banks or conning people out of their money. He simply liked to have a good time and occasionally that kind of fun got out of hand and led to some misfortune.

He shifted on the bench with a wince (Why did it have to be so damned hard? Couldn't they afford cushions?) and rested his right elbow on the bench's arm. He scrolled absentmindedly thorough his phone with his right thumb. After checking his Twitter to see if he had any new tweets (four, but none were all that interesting), he scrolled through his apps to see find something to do as he waited. Just as he was internally debating on whether or not to waste more money on Candy Crush Saga or stick with the classic Angry Birds, the approaching sound of heel clicks drew his attention.

Castle skimmed his eyes over the reflective surface of the well-polished marble floor until he spotted the source of the noise: a pair of black stiletto heels approaching. His gaze traveled northward, over the shoes, past a slim ankle and toned calf and across the snug knee-length charcoal pencil skirt to the leather briefcase hanging at hip level. He needed to see no more to know it was a lawyer approaching. Normally, he wouldn't give a female lawyer a second glance, as he found them to be uptight and bossy (and not in the fun way), but he figured one with a bottom half as attractive as this one was worth the continued gaze.

He skimmed his eyes up her fitted charcoal blazer and cranberry blouse and noticed the tussled honey-brown locks falling in subtle curls around her shoulders. Intrigued, he lifted his eyes a few inches higher and that's when he felt it: the clench in his gut, the lightning bolt to his heart; he was captivated.

She approached, now just a dozen feet from him, with the confidence of a woman who knew her way around the courtroom and welcomed the challenge each new case began. Her face, though clearly displaying the serious thoughts in her mind, exhibited exquisite beauty through plump lips, defined cheekbones and gorgeous eyes accentuated with just a hint of makeup.

As she passed him, she glanced in his direction, and he felt all the air evaporate from his lungs. For just a brief moment, he thought I would never return. But then, she was gone, disappearing through the set of double doors at the end of the hall, and his breath returned. His mind, however, traveled with her out the door.

"Mr. Castle?"

The voice of his lawyer roused him from his state of near shock. He cleared his throat, stood, and pocketed his phone. "Ah, Branson, yes. Um," he glanced at the aging lawyer and then back towards the double doors, "you didn't happen to see that woman that just walked through here, did you?"

"The ADA?"

Castle's brows lifted with surprise. "She works for the District Attorney's office?"

"Yes, I believe her name is Beckett. Why?"

After taking mental note of the name, he shook his head. "Nothing; no reason. What did the judge say? Good news?"

Branson pursed his lips. "Well, no jail time if you consider that good news. There will be a fine, of course-"

"Which I will happily pay." Especially if it gets me out of jail time, he added to himself.

"-and they're willing to look the other way on the attempted bribery charges if you agree to do forty hours of community service-"

"Forty hours!"

"-which I told them you'd happily do," Branson informed him in a father-scolding-child tone. He could see Castle's rebuttal painted all over his face and sighed heavily. "It's forty hours in a soup kitchen—prison time would be much worse. Besides, we don't have to tell the press why you're there; just use it as a publicity opportunity."

Leave it to Black Pawn's lawyers to put a spin on everything, Castle thought to himself. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly.

"Very well," the lawyer said, shouldering his bag. "I'll find a nice place for you to volunteer for the next five Saturdays."

"Five Saturdays!"

"Yes. Five eight-hour shifts."

Castle groaned like a whiny toddler on the verge of a temper tantrum. The prospect of giving up the next five Saturdays was almost as unappealing as jail time—almost. "Can't I just…get it out of the way quicker? Like a bunch of weekdays? You can volunteer on a weekday, right?"

Branson huffed into his mustache. "I'll get back to you with the details."

"Thank you, Branson! I appreciate it!" Castle added with a nauseatingly sweet grin before exiting the courthouse, bound for home and his laptop, where he had every intention of Googling ADAs named Beckett.

As Kate Beckett left the courthouse that Wednesday afternoon, her mind was already focused on the next day's trial. The witness was lying, that much was clear, and she needed to find a way to crack him or, at the very least, trap him in his lie, but it would be easy. He was smart; she was smarter. Still, she enjoyed the challenge; the challenge got her out of bed every morning.

Making her way towards the exit, her gaze scanned absentmindedly across the hall when she spotted a familiar looking man sitting on one of the benches. Was that…Yes, yes it was. Famous—or, rather, infamous—novelist Richard Castle in the district court office. Interesting, but not shocking she thought to herself.

As she made her way down the front steps of the building to hail the nearest cab, she wondered if he had been arrested again. It was no secret he'd had a few brushes with the law in the past few years—it added to his playboy mystique…and to the sales of his books.

Shaking her head, she ducked into her cab. A great writer he may have been, but a great person? Probably not.