Pre-season to season 4-ish AU, of sorts. Entry for the Castle Halloween Bash 2015.
The next chapters will go up in fairly quick succession.
a/n: With gratitude to a story I've read years and years ago in a different fandom - I only remember the very basic premise of that story, but that premise served as a huge inspiration for this piece, and for that I am immensely thankful.
FADE INTO LIGHT
Kate let her eyes wander around the vast space, couldn't believe her luck. The loft was huge; high ceilings and modern appliances, large windows that sent the light sprawling across the gleaming hardwood floors; even a rooftop with a view of Manhattan that made her heart pound. It had three bedrooms, two more than she even needed, technically, but at this asking price, it would simply be stupid to turn it down. It'd be a great investment for the future. The apartment was significantly lower priced than what a space like this would go for right in the heart of New York City, a fact that threw up several red flags for Kate, yet no matter how often she'd looked over and analyzed the paperwork, the specs, the details, there was nothing there that warranted the low pricing. Well except for the silly ghost rumor.
Supposedly, the loft was haunted; prior potential buyers backing out before setting down the final signatures, and even the last painting crew who'd come in here had fled the building, claiming a sighting.
Kate wasn't going to be scared away by a silly story. The moment she'd set foot into this place on Broome Street, she had felt at home, had felt an attachment she couldn't quite explain, to the quirky bookshelves that doubled as walls, the large picture window, the sparkling white kitchen, the open staircase that curved upstairs along a wall of raw brick, its unique character. It was more modern than her usual taste, more than her current apartment - and she really loved her place, had had a hard time making peace with the fact that she'd have to move out. The owners were modernizing the whole building which voided her rent control, and even if she could keep her claim on her apartment, it would be easily a year until all renovations were done, and where was she to stay until then?
Her savings and her regular income and employment status from the NYPD allowed her to attempt to purchase her own apartment, but never in a million years would she have expected to find a gem like this!
"I'll take it!" She shook her realtor's hand.
Upstairs, a door slammed shut.
Her furniture was set up, the last of the boxes dragged inside and stacked in various rooms, the pizza boxes and beer cans emptied that she'd provided to the guys from the precinct to thank them for helping her move. She gathered up used napkins, empty cans and water bottles, stuffed everything in a garbage bag and carried it along with the empty pizza cartons into the hall to the garbage chute.
Back in her loft, she let out a deep breath, let the silence settle over her as her gaze wandered her new home. It was a bit odd, she thought, what the previous owners or their family had left behind. Some furniture had stayed, oversized prints of an elephant and a lion still hung on the bedroom wall, and a grand piano sat before the large picturesque window, its black gloss surface gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. She sank onto the piano bench, lifted the lid, reverently ran her fingertips across the keys. She had had some lessons as a kid though she'd never been very good at it, but she'd always loved the resonating sounds of a piano in a vast, echoing space.
Kate barely managed to pull her fingers away when the lid slammed shut, and she jumped off the bench, her heart pounding. But it remained still; silence filling the loft once more, so she shrugged it off. Probably a draft somewhere.
She started unpacking in the office, lifting her books from the moving boxes and organizing them into the many shelves, the classics on one side, her mystery collection on the other. Her Richard Castle set got its own shelf, and she traced the spines lovingly as she set them into the shelf. Such a loss, that there'd be no more of his works. She'd gone and bought every one of his that she hadn't already owned when the author had died several months ago, his life so tragically cut short by a drunk driver. Kate had read them all, mourning his genius and bemoaning the loss of his words.
She shivered, noticing how cold it suddenly felt, goose bumps breaking out across her skin. Odd. She knew she had set the temperature to a comfortable 73. Kate moved on to the desk, setting out some office supplies, sliding paperwork into drawers. She'd warm up from moving around.
When she looked up a while later, the Castle books looked orderly like soldiers, spine to spine sitting exactly perpendicular to the edge of the shelf. She didn't recall lining them up with such attention to detail.
The afternoon blended into nighttime as she worked, making as much headway as she could in every room. She liked to have her things in order, preferred to control her environment to make her feel at home, cozy and comfortable; a retreat from the danger and depravity of her job.
The wind started howling outside, a storm front moving in fast, bringing with it a forceful thunderstorm that rattled the windows, lightning cracking through the black skies, zigzagging in untamed patterns. Kate went into the kitchen, set the kettle onto the stove to make some tea. Just as she flipped on the burner, everything went dark.
'Oh great,' she muttered, her mind retracing her steps when she had packed her boxes to figure out where she might've put a flashlight, or candles. A flash of lightning sparked, illuminated the loft in ghostly white light, and Kate found herself face to face with the specter of a man, large and broad-chested, looming over her, his face scrunched tight with anger.
Kate's heart was pounding, her fingers shaking with shock even as the specter disappeared when the flash of lightning faded. She felt ice-cold, wondered if she could see her breath if it were any lighter in the apartment, and she knew, inexplicably knew that he was still there.
"Who are you?" Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears.
"You know who I am," a voice growled back, and Kate instinctively took a step back, her butt bumping against the kitchen counter.
Her mind was racing, her blood pumping fast, a mix of fear and disbelief churning in her stomach. This couldn't be real, right? There were no ghosts. Maybe she was dreaming, had fallen asleep somewhere while unpacking without realizing?
More lightning, long jagged flashes of pale purple and he still loomed before her, broad and overwhelming her, intimidating yet- not. He did look familiar, and his eyes were stark, piercing blue.
"You're- Richard Castle?" It was half-statement, half-question; he looked just like him yet Richard Castle was dead, and she was more certain than ever that she was dreaming. She'd been thinking of him, arranging his books, so of course he'd stolen his way into her dreams. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Yes, I am," he growled. "And this is my home. And you, you need to get out."
She startled. She had bought Richard Castle's loft? Something fell to the ground and shattered into what sounded like a thousand pieces on the stone kitchen tiles, pots and pans rattling in the box that was still sitting unpacked on the floor.
"Hey, knock it off!" She scolded, anger rising through her. She dealt with criminals and murderers daily, she wasn't just going to scare by some dream ghost in her head. "I live here now!"
"Well I'm not leaving."
"Neither will I," she growled back, determined as she strode past him, or where she assumed he might be hovering around, making her way back to the bedroom for the candles. There were no ghosts, and this was ridiculous. The cold breeze seemed to follow her so she whirled around, stabbed her finger into the dark nothingness.
"Guess we'll just have to learn to co-exist."
Richard Castle was mad. Steaming! Who did she think she was, waltzing into his home, her things strewn all over his furniture, her scent invading the loft. Although- She did smell good. Like... Cherries, maybe? Yeah that was it.
And she was beautiful. Just stunning. He watched her move around, the shapely length of her legs and the curve of that butt, wow. Her profile sharp with those high cheekbones, long forehead and straight nose and a subtle, inviting curve to her mouth. Did he really just say 'long forehead'? His writing style clearly was deteriorating. He'd have to work on that.
Determination set her features and it was hot, the way she strode around, the sound of her voice, that fiery spark in her eyes.
But never mind that. She couldn't just live here. He'd scare her away in no time.
Kate's alarm blared at 6:30 and she startled into wakefulness, her eyes bleary and limbs feeling sleep-drunk. She stretched and rose, sliding into her robe to make a cup of coffee before her shower. She felt refreshed, realized she hadn't slept this well in quite some time.
She had crawled into bed last night, curled onto her side and snuggled in under the thick duvet. The wind was still howling outside, rain smacking against the window panes and thunder booming; a door seemed to slam closed, then she heard the sound of running water, and the grating sound of nails scratching on wood. She shrugged it off; new places always have strange sounds, she argued with herself, and dug for a pair of ear plugs. With every sound cut off and only pulsating silence and the beat of her own heart, she'd quickly given into the exhaustion of her day.
The electricity was back on, and she filled her coffee maker with grounds, flipped on the switch. With the comforting sounds of the vitalizing liquid percolating, she walked back into the bathroom, and turned on the shower.
This woman, oh, this woman! Everyone else who'd intruded had scared away easily enough and she - she didn't even budge! Did nothing scare her? She'd just ignored him!
Castle sniffed, inhaled deeply. Coffee. Ooooh.
How he missed the flavor of coffee.
When Kate came home after work, all her photo frames were kicked over, picture side face down on the shelves or floor, every book had been flicked off the shelves - except the Richard Castle collection - and all her toiletries messed up on the counter in the bathroom.
"Really?" She growled into the void, and then set to work, righting every misplaced item.
"Is that all you got?" She challenged the silent loft. She wouldn't exactly say she believed in ghosts, or even this ghost. Was still mostly convinced she'd dreamt his whole appearance in her home. But if, if he did exist, she certainly wasn't going to let some arrogant, self-centered writer win.
"You aren't going to get rid of me that easily!"