Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. Life is cruel like that, you know. ;-)
A/N: Title from Matt Kearney's "Ships in the Night." Since we don't know how old the characters are, I've made them roughly the age of their actors for the sake of simplicity. If you think my timeline is off, though, feel free to tell me. Also – and correct me if I'm wrong – but Beckett getting her books signed by Castle at some point in the past is fanon rather than canon, right?
1980
The air is crisp and the sky is clear and sunny. In other words, it's a perfect day to be outside. Which, of course, means that they aren't outside today.
Normally Rick would be excited about his nanny bringing him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art; he loves coming up with stories about the artists and their subjects, or imagining that the paintings and sculptures have lives and personalities of their own. (Fréminet's "King of Judah and Israel?" Arrogant in the extreme, and doesn't understand why the ladies in the painting next to him roll their eyes every time he adjusts his posture to better show off his impressive muscles.)
But on a day when the weather is practically begging him to run around outside, Rick feels trapped in the museum. He's a prisoner of the Dark Lady Rosa Jones, locked up in her fortress of eeeviiil. There are implements of torture scattered everywhere and he has been deprived of food and water for days. But what the cruel Lady Jones doesn't know is that he has figured out an escape route and is merely waiting for a chance to put it into practice. When one of the guards stops observing him, Rick slips away through corridors, passing cells where he can see the remains of other prisoners. A few are still alive, but their gazes are blank; she has broken them. In the distance, he can hear the wails of a fellow prisoner being tortured. He must hurry, if she discovers that he is no longer in his cell –
"Rick Rodgers!" Rosa scolds, hurrying after him. "What were you doing, sneaking away like that? You almost gave me a heart attack."
Rats. Captured once again.
He gives her his best innocent look.
"I was just looking at these lovely, um, neo-Classical sculptures, Rosa," he says, quickly glancing at a plaque in the room.
"Sure you were," Rosa snorts skeptically. "Let's go get some lunch."
"Can we eat outside?" Rick asks, bouncing up and down on his toes with barely-restrained energy.
Rosa smiles at him with fond exasperation and says, "Yes, Rick, we can eat outside."
In an adjoining museum room, Jim Beckett frantically tries to calm his screaming infant daughter.
"Give her to me," his wife says at last, swooping in and cradling the baby.
"There we are," Johanna murmurs, gently bouncing the baby. "I think she's just hungry. Are you hungry, Katie?"
The baby looks up at them with wide eyes, then screws up her face and opens her tiny mouth to resume wailing.
"I'll take her into the bathroom and give her her bottle," Johanna tells her husband. "See you in a few."
A few seconds after she leaves the room, Rick and Rosa stroll through on their way out of the museum. They don't pay any attention to the man with an empty stroller.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
1984
Outside of the New York Public Library, thirteen-year-old Rick Rodger's favorite place in the world is Drake's Magic Shop. (Although it's a close tie between Drake's and the local Laser-Tag place).
Unfortunately, his nanny doesn't properly appreciate the magnificence of Drake's.
"OK, Rick, you have exactly six more minutes left," Rosa says, jolting him out of his appreciation of the magic kit that he's looking at, "so go buy whatever new contraption you're going to use to make my life hell."
Rick tries not to roll his eyes too hard. He likes tormenting her, sure, but he isn't that bad. But, like his mother, Rosa is prone to dramatics. Perhaps that's because she's also an aspiring actress.
And really, Rick thinks that he's entirely too old for a nanny, anyway.
Still, he's learned by now that if he doesn't heed Rosa's instructions, she won't let him watch One Life to Live with her. Or, even worse, she'll tell his mother that he likes the show, and his mother will tell his schoolmates.
He shudders at the thought and quickly hurries to the cash register, purchase in hand.
They make it out of the shop with two whole minutes to spare.
If he hadn't been so efficient, however, he would have seen a bright-eyed elderly man enter the shop accompanied by a brown-haired six-year-old a mere three minutes after he left.
"Ah, Mr. Beckett!" the cashier exclaims cheerfully. "Back again, eh? And who is this lovely young lady?"
"My granddaughter, Katherine," the elderly man replies, smiling proudly.
The little girl barely notices the conversation between the two grown men, so absorbed is she in the hodgepodge of colors and magical paraphernalia.
Smoke rises from a silvery device in one corner, occasionally emitting a faint whistle. Kids jostle in another section around a collection of practical joke items and fake body fluids, while a plump women in a turban looks through decks of tarot cards.
"Katie, sweetheart," the elderly man says, "welcome to Drake's Magic Shop."
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
1993
It is a truth universally acknowledged in the Beckett household that the little coffee shop at the corner of 1st and 14th has the best coffee in the city.
And it is important to know where to find the best coffee, because Johanna and Katherine Beckett live off the stuff. The man of the house prefers tea, but even he knows the importance of a good cup of coffee; it soothes the wild beasts that are his wife and daughter without caffeine.
So this Saturday sees the two Beckett women at the coffee shop having a mother-daughter brunch. Jim Beckett was invited along too, but declined the invitation with the excuse that the employees have looked at him "funny" ever since he tried to order a hot chocolate one time. Apparently one isn't welcome in the shop unless "that brown sludge you call coffee" runs through their veins.
Kate Beckett sits at a little table across from her mother, idly drumming her fingers on the tabletop as they wait for their order.
"Anything exciting happen at school this week?" Johanna asks.
"Nope," Kate sighs. "Not unless you count Jessica breaking up with Tyler again."
"What is this, the fifth time?" Johanna asks, chuckling.
"The eighth," Kate groans. "Maddie thinks that they'll be back together by this time next week."
"What do you think?" Johanna asks.
"I think she's giving them too much credit for common sense. They'll be back together by Wednesday at the latest," Kate says dryly.
"My daughter, the optimist," Johanna comments with a smile.
"Hey, I'm just being realistic," Kate protests.
She shifts in her seat, then says, "I'm going to use the bathroom. Can I trust you not to drink my coffee if it comes while I'm gone?"
"Can't make any promises," Johanna replies. "You'll just have to hurry, Katie."
Kate makes a face at her mother and hurries to the restroom.
Unfortunately, there's quite a line. If there hadn't been, she might have made it out of the bathroom in time to meet the man who had just entered the shop.
-–- ~*~ -–-
Rick Rodgers is taking a quick break from writing to grab a coffee to go. His novel was tentatively accepted by Black Pawn publishing last year, and now he's neck-deep in the revision process. And God, he hates editing. It doesn't help that his editor doesn't seem to think that he has what it takes to make it in the business.
He flashes the girl at the counter an extra potent smile to get her to prioritize his coffee.
As he waits, he lets his eyes drift around the full coffee shop until they fall on a handsome middle-aged woman with an empty chair across from her.
Shrugging, he walks over and asks, "Is this seat taken?"
"By my daughter," the woman says apologetically. "But you can sit there while she's in the bathroom, if you'd like."
"Thanks," he says, sliding into the chair in relief.
"One of those days?" the woman asks sympathetically.
"You have no idea," he mutters. "I'm working on a book and my editor's really getting on my nerves."
"What type of book?" the woman asks.
"Murder mystery," he replies, "but right now the only mystery is how I haven't murdered her yet."
The woman chuckles appreciatively.
"Rogers!" the coffee girl calls.
His coffee is ready.
"Wait," the woman says, "what author's name should I look your book up under?"
"Castle," Rick says, feeling the load on his shoulders lighten. Someone has faith in him, even if she is a virtual stranger. "Richard Castle."
And with that, he grabs his coffee and heads on out. He has editing to do.
-–- ~*~ -–-
Ten minutes later, Kate resurfaces.
"You wouldn't believe the line in there," she groans, sitting down. "Oh, awesome! The food's finally here."
"Not to mention the coffee," Johanna replies.
Kate reaches for her coffee eagerly and slurps down a sip.
As her daughter lifelines coffee, Johanna says, "There was a cute boy here just a bit ago. I think you would've liked him, Katie. He said he's trying to write a book."
Kate rolls her eyes.
"So that's where that masculine cologne is from," she says, smirking. "I thought you were just having a wild tête-à-tête with your mystery paramour."
It's an old family joke that Johanna has a secret lover. It started when they were newly-weds and Johanna held onto a woman's baby for her so the woman could use the airplane bathroom. Jim had been asleep when the woman handed over the baby, so he was surprised when he woke up to discover his wife with a baby in her arms.
"Wha…" he had stammered sleepily. "You. Baby? How?"
"Oh, he's my child by another man, don't you know," Johanna had said, rolling her eyes. "What? You didn't notice my pregnancy?"
"Sorry to disappoint," Johanna tells her daughter.
"I don't know, this handsome writer could just be a cover story," Kate says mock-seriously. "You'd hardly admit to meeting your paramour here if it were true."
"You can't prove anything," Johanna replies, putting on a pretend glare.
The two women exchange looks and then burst into laughter.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
1996
The former Rick Rodgers – now legally Rick Castle – is sorting through issues of Detective Comics at Comicadia when he finds it.
Issue #140. Mint condition.
He wouldn't be surprised if a lone ray of light fell from the sky to illuminate his find.
This is the issue that introduces Batman's arch-nemesis, Edward Nigma, aka The Riddler. Slowly and reverently, he brings it up to the cash register.
"I'd like to buy this," he tells the cashier.
The man's jaw drops when he sees what Rick's put on the counter.
"We had this?" he asks.
Rick nods smugly and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. And freezes. His wallet isn't there.
"Shit, I think I left my wallet in the car," he tells cashier. "Can you hold onto this for me? I'll be right back."
"Yeah, dude," the clerk says, already gently examining the comic. "It isn't going to come cheap, though, y'know?"
"Not an issue," Rick assures him, and half-races out of the shop.
A minute or so after he leaves, a teenaged girl wearing black leather walks in.
"Hey," she tells the clerk, tossing her hair over one shoulder, "Kate Beckett. I'm here to pick up my order?"
"Came in yesterday," the clerk says, reluctantly setting the comic he was admiring down. He reaches behind the counter and pulls out the latest in the Sin City series: That Yellow Bastard. "Cash or credit?"
Kate hands over a couple of bills and the cashier rings up her purchase.
"Enjoy!" he tells her, giving her her change and her book.
Kate smirks and replies, "I always do."
She walks away with an extra swing in her hips, and the clerk follows her with his eyes until she's out of sight.
A couple of minutes later, Rick rushes back into Comicadia, wallet in hand, and buys his comic.
This being rich thing definitely has its perks.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
1999
Her mother is murdered in an abandoned alleyway.
His mother pretends to be murdered at a dinner theatre production.
They're on the same subway car one evening, but they don't notice each other in the crush of people.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
2000
It's her first year at the police academy, and Kate Beckett is driven. It's an hour until she's supposed to be on duty when she gets the phone call.
The flashing caller ID informs her that it's her father.
"Hey, Dad," she says, picking up the phone.
"Katherine?" a woman's voice says on the other end of the line.
"Yes," Kate says cautiously.
"I'm Janet O'Brien, your father's neighbor," the woman says. "I came home to find him passed out outside of his house. Fortunately he had his phone on him, so I looked up your number in it."
"Oh God," Kate groans, absently massaging her temples. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome, dear," Mrs. O'Brien replies.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
She quickly calls a fellow classmate.
"Hey, Rodriguez, can I ask you for a big favor?" she says, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.
"Depends on the favor," Christopher Rodriguez says.
"I have a family emergency and I need someone to swap night shifts with."
"I don't know, Beckett," Rodriguez says teasingly, "it's been a long day and I've been looking forward to chillaxing in front of the TV. What's in it for me?"
"I'll do your paperwork for the rest of the week," Kate promises rashly.
"Two weeks and you've got yourself a deal," Rodriguez says.
"The rest of the week and I'll bring you a bagel those days too."
"Deal," Rodriguez says. "Things OK at home?"
"Thanks, Rodriguez," Kate says gratefully, ignoring his question. "You're a lifesaver."
And with that, she hangs up the phone and prepares to drive up to her dad's place.
Apparently he's off the bandwagon again.
The next morning, she greets Rodriguez with his bagel and a wan smile.
"Let me tell you something," Rodriguez declares, "you missed an exciting night!"
"Oh?" she snorts, plopping into her chair. "Crazy Maurice get up to his usual antics again?"
"Better," Rodriguez promises, perching himself on her desk. "Some guy stole a police horse and rode it through the park naked."
"Ouch," Kate says, wincing.
It was surprisingly cold last night.
"Yeah, he was pretty smashed," Rodriguez says, laughing.
Kate smiles thinly. "So what are we charging him on?"
"Nothing. Get this, apparently he's friends with the mayor, so the charges were dropped. Mayor says the guy just found out his wife was cheating on him and stuff."
"That's no excuse," Kate says stiffly.
"Harsh," Rodriguez says a bit admiringly.
"I call 'em like I see 'em," Kate returns, shrugging slightly. "So where's this extra paperwork of mine?"
He drops a thick stack of papers onto her desk.
"Hope last night was worth it," he tells her, smirking as he gets to his feet and walks away.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
2005
Kate is trying not to show it, but she's really, really excited. It's all she can do not to let out a fangirly squee at the thought of finally meeting her favorite author. Instead, she clutches her new copy of Storm's Last Stand even more tightly.
It's her day off – OK, technically she's on-call – and she's only twenty or so people away from Richard Castle himself in the line by now. She's been standing in line for almost two hours, but getting her book signed will be worth it.
She wishes her mother could have been here. Her mom had always been a huge fan of Castle's books, and had been the one to get her hooked on them. It isn't fair that Johanna Beckett will never get a chance to meet the author of the books she had loved so much.
As she blinks back against the sudden moisture in her eyes, her phone rings.
Glancing at the caller ID, she groans. It's work. Of course.
"Beckett," she says curtly.
"Beckett, we need you at the station ASAP," the chief tells her.
"But sir, I'm almost –"
"Now, Beckett. It's urgent," the chief says.
"Yes sir," Beckett says. "On my way."
Sighing, she reluctantly leaves the line.
So close.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
2009
It's yet another book launch, and Rick's already bored out of his skull. Which doesn't make much sense, because isn't this the life he's wanted all along? He's wealthy and famous and women are falling all over him. (Sometimes literally. Thank God that last one's wine glass was empty.)
"Just once, I'd like someone come up to me and say something new," he moans to his daughter.
"Mr. Castle," a women's voice calls.
He's exhausted and irritated. Can't he get a minute of peace alone with his kid?
Pasting on a smile, he turns around and, holding up his pen, asks, "Where would you like it?"
And then he sees her. The woman in question is beautiful, if extremely underdressed for the black-tie event.
Her lips thin slightly and she whips out a badge, saying, "Detective Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight."
Huh. Well that's new.
He thinks may have just gotten a second wind.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
Epilogue: Now
Slowly but surely, they are making their way towards one another.
They are making their way towards one another one step at a time; smile by smile, cup of coffee by cup of coffee… brick by brick.
A wall is slowly coming down.
There will be obstacles and miscommunications, heartache and recriminations. They will get lost and they will doubt.
But ultimately they will make it to their destination.
They will find their way to each other.