A/N: This story is inspired by the movie "While You Were Sleeping"
A few months ago, Castlefanfics on Tumblr posted a prompt about turning popular rom-coms into Caskett AU stories. "While You Were Sleeping" is one of my favorite rom-coms of all time. It's from the early 90's so probably not everyone has seen it, but I highly recommend that you do.
There are 24 chapters and an epilogue. I will post chapters on my usual days: Saturday & Wednesday.
Thanks to Lord of Kavaka for the cover art!
Chapter One
Hurrying across the walkway on Lafayette Street, Kate Beckett involuntarily shivered. Just over two years on the job and she still lacked the proper skills to dress appropriately for days with damp, bitter cold. At least it wasn't windy. An icy whipping wind would have quickly turned her into a police officer shaped icicle. Fortunately, the air was calm—damp, but calm.
Kate stuffed her hands further down into the pockets of her NYPD issue jacket and increased her pace toward the nearest subway entrance where, hopefully, it would be several degrees warmer. As she continued on her way, she was forced to pull one hand from its cozy resting spot and brush from her line of vision a strand of hair covered in crystalized ice particles.
As the air temperature plummeted towards the mid-teens, Kate was surprised to see many smiling faces passing by her on the streets. People laughed and joked as they went about their mornings. A few huddled together under umbrellas. The rest appeared as though they'd been on the receiving end of a powdered sugar explosion. Still, none of them seemed to mind; the holidays did have a funny way of lifting people's moods.
For Kate Beckett, Christmas Eve was just another day to get through. Her plans that day did not differ largely from any other: get up, go to work, finish her shift, return to her apartment, pull a pre-made meal from her freezer and eat while reading on her couch. There would be no tree trimming, no carol singing, and most certainly no exchanging of presents.
She didn't mind, really. For the entire month of December Kate listened to the majority of her male coworkers lament about buying presents. Then, somewhere around the twentieth of the month, panic set in and suddenly they were all coming to her for suggestions or advice. Doling out a few ideas, she could handle (and she didn't have a problem telling them to take their troubles elsewhere on the days she felt no need to be a personal shopper), but the actual shopping? That was best left to others. Plus, it was one less form of stress in her life and who didn't need less stress?
With the subway entrance in sight, Kate let out an exhale of relief. She hurried through the cloud her breath caused and descended into the warmth. The subway was certainly far from the most glamorous place in the city, particularly with its noxious-at-times smells (thankfully the winter chill did keep offending scents at a tolerable level) but Kate welcomed the break from the piercing cold.
Considering she was still technically on duty and meant to be patrolling the streets for those keen on taking advantage of the lucrative holiday atmosphere, Kate knew she could not spend too much time below ground. She just needed a few minutes until her toes warmed from completely frozen to almost thawed; then back out into the streets she would go.
As the youthful cop was as smart as she was savvy, she knew exactly how to time the breaks on her route and exactly which subway stop to take them in. It helped that her beat hadn't changed since the fall. When it did change—as it inevitably would—she wasn't sure what she'd do, but she did not need to worry about that on Christmas Eve morning. Instead, her only concern was that due to the holiday his schedule would be off and she would miss him. As he was the thing she looked forward to most that holiday, such an occurrence would bring her great disappointment.
Marching in place to alleviate the tingling in her thawing toes, Kate glanced at the time on her cell phone. The subway train would be arriving in less than two minutes (assuming it was on time). He always did cut it close. Thirty seconds ticked by and for one saddening moment she thought he might not be riding the train that day. Then, suddenly, he appeared.
The first time she spotted Nick Rodgers in the flesh had been four months earlier when he—quite literally—ran into her. She was boarding a train he was exiting. In the hustle and bustle of people, he'd been knocked into her. He mumbled a, "Sorry officer," and continued on his way. At the time, she'd mused, "That guy looked a lot like Nick Rodgers," but thought nothing more of it. After all, what were the odds of her running into her favorite mystery writer on a subway train in southern Manhattan?
Of course she knew that Nick Rodgers lived in Manhattan (she could not rightfully call herself a huge fan unless she knew such a basic fact), but so did millions of other people. Just because Donald Trump lived in Manhattan didn't mean she bumped into him on a regular basis (or, ever, as it happened).
A week later, however, she spotted the man—or, as she believed at the time, the man who was his doppelganger—again. That time, she forced herself to stop and look a bit closer. It was then she decided if that man was not Nick Rodgers, he most certainly had a twin.
Though as a sworn officer of the NYPD Kate knew stalking was a crime, she could not help herself from switching up her route that next week so she hit the subway station on Lafayette at the exact same time, thus enabling her to see the mystery writer look-alike twice more. By the fourth time she saw him, she was certain. Nick Rodgers took the Lafayette subway several mornings a week.
Perhaps, she mused as she watched him graciously descend the opposite staircase, it was her own version of a Christmas miracle—seeing him that morning. There he was, in his usual glory: fashion-model good looks with a thick mop of dark brown hair atop his head, parted in the middle and flopping to either side. Piercing blue eyes beneath a heavy brow, full pink lips and a square jaw. His physique was lanky, making him appear taller than he actually was, but she liked that; she liked tall men as they were the only ones who stood above her five-foot-nine frame.
When he hit the bottom step, Nick adjusted the brown leather messenger bag over his shoulder and Kate felt a tingle travel down her spine. His hands—she loved his hands. The long fingers that crafted almost a dozen novels, each of them speaking directly to her soul. Giving her answers to questions the outside world had refused.
As she was intently focused on memorizing every square inch of Nick's face (per usual), Kate failed to notice the two suspicious looking men trailing several feet behind him. If she had, her cop instincts probably would have kicked in. The men, while not suspicions in their own right with their puffy overcoats and black knit caps pulled down low over their brows, walked tightly together as though they were whispering, plotting. Their eyes alternated focus on Nick and the surrounding area.
With her position concealed partially behind a cinder block column (she didn't want to be too obvious while ogling the author), the up-to-no-good duo failed to see her. Instead, what they saw was an empty train platform and an opportunity.
"Hey yo slick," one said, his voice reverberating against the smooth subway platform surfaces.
"Yeah, yeah how you doin' pretty boy," said the other.
"Whatchu got under that nice fancy coat. How 'bout a wallet or somethin'"
Kate realized a mugging was about to occur just a few seconds too late. She popped out from behind the column just in time to see both would-be robbers simultaneously grabbing for the writer's jacket. Instinctively, he stepped back, only he failed to realize he was already at the edge of the train platform. His foot having no safe place to land, he tumbled backwards over the edge of the platform, his arms flailing out to the sides; a scream lost to the echoing noise of an oncoming train.
"Oh god!" Kate proclaimed, rushing forward as the two assailants fled up the stairs they descended moments earlier. She sprinted to the spot where he fell as the squeal of train wheels against track grew to a near deafening decibel. When she was close enough, she peered over the edge of the track and let out another gasp.
Crumpled in between the nearest set of subway rails, Nick Rodgers lay motionless. His messenger bag had been tossed to the side, his arms lay at awkward angles to his torso, and one leg was half-bent over the nearest rail. A fresh onslaught of horror coursing through her body, Kate glanced between the injured man, the oncoming train, and then back. Without a second though, she leapt down from the subway platform.
"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me, sir?" she called out, but the man was out cold; he could not hear her.
A blasting whistle from the oncoming train fueled Kate into action. She needed to get the man off the tracks, but how? He probably outweighed her by sixty or seventy pounds at least and he would be absolutely dead weight. She had only seconds before the oncoming subway car killed them both.
Though she wasn't quite sure what made her think of it, she covered his body with hers, wrapped her arms and legs around him as best she could, and rolled them both towards the space between the subway rails and the platform. Though this action caused her great agony as her shoulder and elbow rolled over the rail itself, the move worked.
Just as the subway car sped past them, she locked them both safely in the tight nook between the platform and rail edge. Debris, tiny stones, and no small amount of subway grime covered them as the train whipped past. She coughed and spluttered, but felt no pain. Somehow, she'd saved them both from certain death by using a move that was bound to fail more often than not.
When the subway car came to a full stop, Kate released her death-grip on the author and reached for the walkie-talkie clipped to her shoulder. She cleared her throat before pressing down the transmitter button. "This is Officer Kate Beckett requesting immediate assistance. Backup needed and please send an ambulance."
A/N #2 - Those of you familiar with the movie probably know where this is going – or at least have a clue. For those of you that aren't, let me see if I can answer some questions:
-You have a typo—you wrote Nick not Rick.
No, that is not a typo. Nick Rodgers is the writer in this story. (Also, bonus points to you if you can guess why I named him Nick and how that pays homage to Castle (the show))
-But, but, but! Rick Castle is supposed to be the writer! Where is he?
Patience, Grasshopper. You will see him soon.
-I don't know about this story…
That's okay, you don't have to love it right now (or at all) but I promise this is a Caskett story, just an AU one J