Author's Note – Hey there, so I'm new to the fic world for Castle, but this show and its wonderful characters have pulled me in hook, line, and sinker. My muse can't help but get excited and push me into writing about them all. This one-shot popped into my head after re-watching 2x05, and knowing Kate has always been a fan of Castle's books, even before he came into her life, this idea was born.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta Dmarx for her time and help.

Summary – What drew Kate Beckett to the words written by Richard Castle? A one-shot and tag to episode 2x05, and Kate waiting an hour in line just to get her book signed by her favorite author. Kate centric and semi AU, inspired by 'When the Bough Breaks,' particularly the scene at the Nikki Heat book launch and Will Sorenson's revelation that Kate stood an hour in line to have her book signed by Castle.

Roads Traveled

"Hey! It's Nikki Heat!"

Detective Kate Beckett strolls into his world; the red carpet venue crowded with people and buzzing with chatter. She walks into the room, navigating past the oncoming cluster of press while a strong sense of discomfort envelops her. She's off duty; cameras flicker and flash, momentarily blinding her, as paparazzi hustle to take her picture.

She's made a real effort tonight; she left the Precinct earlier than normal. She went home to shower and style her hair, abandoning her street clothes in favor of a Hervé Léger dress, stilettos and a slick of new mascara. She wanted to look like she belonged amongst the glitz and glamor of the life led by Richard Castle. And maybe a very small fraction of her, a part she loathed to admit was present, wanted to look the part of Nikki Heat; or at least the version of herself that had inspired the author to write about her vocation.

Truthfully, ever since he'd begun to tag along on her cases and shadow her, the inner devout fan within her had been more than flattered. It seemed oddly poetic that the man who had helped her through such a difficult period of her past would now want to base a book around the life and the career she led. And as reluctant as she may be to admit it, she wanted to look the part of Richard Castle's muse tonight.

Kate focuses her attention back to the room, driving her way through the gauntlet of photographers. Wait staff walk around with glasses of champagne while those attending the party mingle, apparently having great time. Kate tilts her head slightly, attempting to smile for a picture and pushes aside the wish that she was in the comfort of her own apartment, soaking in the tub with the book and a glass of red wine for company.

Castle is off in the corner talking with a fellow author. He's so at ease with the mass of attention and she hates that. He's the one who dragged her into this part of his world in the first place when he came up with the whole Nikki Heat thing.

Kate steels herself; she faces worse than this on a daily basis. She casts a look across the area and spots Captain Roy Montgomery talking with some people. Montgomery meets her gaze and offers a warm smile, and a surge of relief spurns her forward as she heads in his direction. In turn he peels away from his acquaintances and moves to meet her.

"You clean up nice, detective," he compliments her genuinely and thankfully it boosts her ego.

"Thank you, sir."

"Castle is going to be happy to see you. Have you read the dedication?" Montgomery asks.

"No." Her ears prickle with curiosity. "What does it say?"

"Go see for yourself," the captain encourages. "Excuse me." And with that Roy Montgomery disappears to talk with another group of associates.

Alone again, Kate moves toward the table, to the display of strategically placed copies. She picks up a copy, the glossy cover smooth beneath her fingertips, her eyes gazing at the bold print. She bites down on her lower lip to hide her grin. He'd written this book about her, she was his inspiration. She turns the book over in her hand, looking at his picture and then reading the blurb below.

Kate's mind casts to the girl she had once been; the girl who'd waited over an hour in line to meet him and have her book signed. He didn't know her back then. Didn't know the woman who he'd later describe as 'extraordinary' even existed. But she knew him. Or at least she knew a part of him; the part of him that fascinated her. The part that didn't drive her crazy; it was his art and expression that found her in the depths of grief and confusion.

The first time she met Richard Castle was on an autumn day. He doesn't remember her of course but she remembers him all too vividly. She remembers the churning excitement in the pit of her stomach and the tingle of anticipation that danced through her mind as she took the time to trek across town to his book signing.

The gusts of wind whip through her hair as she walks through the park toward the book store where she knows he'll be. Her strides are long and purposeful, and her heels clacking on the path that is littered with leaves. She exits the park, the quickest way to the book store, and crosses the street. She navigates the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the path of oncoming commuters until she reaches her destination. Her eyes glimpse the promotional poster hanging in the window. It reads 'Meet the Author' in large, bold text on the signature black and red background. She'd seen it weeks before; her excitement peeks, she always planned to come today.

She tosses her empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can before she enters the store. The turn-out for him is good, really good. The line is already long and Kate moves to take her place at the end of it. Unfortunately she's missed his reading and the Q&A session, hadn't been able to leave the precinct early enough. She had taken an early lunch (normally she skipped lunch and ate at her desk) hopping on the subway to come here.

Richard Castle and his representation are situated in the center of the bookstore. He is sitting behind a long, slim table with his publicist standing closely by his side. The table is covered by a white cloth and on it rests several piles of copies of his new best-seller. He wears a dark, crisp suit and a pale blue tie. Even from a distance she can see that he's handsome, charming, and has a nice smile. He's exactly how she imagined he'd be.

She waits as patiently as she can as the minutes tick by and the line moves slowly along. Her eyes wander ahead every so often, beyond the line of waiting fans, to look at him. She adjusts the straps of her backpack; his book, the one she purchased on pre-order days before, is nestled in the depths of her bag. She glances down at her watch, thinking of the paperwork that still awaits her back at her desk. Normally she wouldn't even consider taking such a large chunk out of her work day but meeting him is important to her.

Richard Castle's words had first found her in a dark place.

Katherine Beckett had been just an ordinary teenaged girl all those years ago, before her mother was murdered. Kate, back then, was bright, beautiful and popular; and happy and uncomplicated. And maybe she was blessed with a wilder streak than her parents truly approved of.

After Johanna Beckett's death, Kate's perfect life fell apart. The senseless tragedy was so sudden; Kate was left reeling and her father, Jim Beckett, took the death of his wife hard. Her father, whom she'd always looked up to, seemed to splinter and shatter right before her very eyes. Kate tried to be strong for her father. She tried to stop his spiral downwards and she tried to stop his drinking. She hadn't known what to do; her father was always the strong one and seeing him crumble was unbearable.

She also remembers that the only word she ever seemed to hear following the events of that fateful day, from family friends and police alike, was 'sorry'. That word, that sentiment, seemed so empty as Kate watched her world cave in around her.

She had hoped that the detectives assigned to her mother's case might give their family answers, and with them, give her father some strength.

Sadly they didn't. The police closed her mother's case, attributing the murder to an act of random gang violence, and walked away. Unfortunately Jim and Kate weren't afforded that luxury. They were left to attempt to carry on with their lives and make sense of all that had been ripped away. And Kate was left questioning that if the officers and detectives worked harder and dug a little deeper, then maybe she would have the answers she and her father so desperately needed.

So she abandoned her dreams of becoming the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and transferred to study law enforcement. She wanted to give her dad, her family, hope in the only way she believed she could; by becoming a cop, fighting for justice, and searching for answers.

She threw herself into her studies; it helped her through the otherwise endless days. She graduated with full honors before going on to the police academy. She then worked at the New York precincts assigned to her and progressed up the career path quickly. She put in all the hours she could to solve her homicide cases.

Helping others eased her pain but she still carried her grief with her each and every day. That hurt never left.

So in her spare time she studied the files put together by the detectives that had worked her own mother's case. She explored their leads, reviewed their theories, and tried to find what they missed; hoping that what may have been overlooked would give her a new angle of investigation to chase so she could someday solve the case, bring those responsible to justice, and bring resolution to her and her father.

It didn't happen. Those answers never presented themselves to her and Kate almost lost herself in her quest. All lanes of investigation seemed to darken and disappear around her; despair overtook her, consuming her every waking moment all over again.

She knew, as much as it hurt her to admit, that she had to stop chasing the answers that weren't there.

Giving up was hard. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do; but she needed to walk away, and attempt to lay that terrible part of her history to rest.

She still had her life to live.

She did it for her mother; Johanna wouldn't have ever wanted her daughter to become lost to misery.

And she did it for her father; she had to be strong for the parent who was still in her life.

Her superiors and peers all helped her through the subsequent weeks. The morning she placed her mother's file, and her books of notes, into a box and placed it in the back of her closet is still fresh in her memory. It was the same day she met Captain Roy Montgomery and Detective Javier Esposito when she started at the 12th precinct.

Letting go was difficult for a long time but she worked harder and went for the odd drink after work with some of her co-workers. Colleagues became friends and they somewhat unknowingly helped her move forward.

As did he.

Richard Castle helped her to move forward.

It seemed strange to her that someone she had never met could do that but nevertheless he did. Through his words, through his craft, she found an inner strength.

It seemed a little weird to her at first that she found comfort in reading crime novels. She learned through her grief that the best way to combat it can be distraction. To do something, or go somewhere different, somewhere far away in her mind, so she can forget.

She wanted to forget the pain, to push aside the hurt and the confusion, and every once in a while she did. But why did she find solace in crime novels?

Her current boyfriend, Will Sorenson, doesn't understand it. He teases her and suggests she read classics and love stories. But she finds herself drawn to mystery and murder. To his words. Richard Castle's words pull her in.

Richard Castle's books, and his ideas, are insightful. He is wise beyond his own years she believes. She knows from reading his articles and interviews that he researches his themes and topics thoroughly, but it's more than that. His work shows such a unique understanding of killers and madmen. He offers a viewpoint different from her old training officers and her current peers.

He looks outside the box, he looks beyond the obvious in the stories he tells. It helps her see things from angles she wouldn't necessarily consider. He writes about cops and detectives but somehow he thinks differently and it gives her new insights into the minds of murderers and the crimes they commit.

And she'll probably always be curious as to why people kill each other. It all stems from her own past. She still needs those answers. That's all she thinks about in those quiet moments during the day or while she lies awake unable to sleep at night.

"Next!"

The female publicist's voice jolts Kate back into the center of the room. The line in front of her has miraculously disappeared and she's next. Kate steps forward toward the table.

"Thank you for coming to see us today," the publicist, dressed in a lavender pant suit, says by way of greeting.

Kate smiles at the woman but her attention quickly falls back to her favorite author, sitting behind the table with an attentive smile, and her stomach does an uncomfortable flip. She's more than a little star struck.

"Hi," she says, silently willing herself to be cool and calm. She plucks the book she's been carrying from the depths of her bag. She places it onto the smooth surface between and pushes it toward him. "Would you sign this for me?" She lifts her head, brushing back the long dark locks of hair that have fallen in front of her face. Her gaze meets his blue eyes and she spots a twinkle of attraction behind his roguish smile. She knows his reputation as a flirt and a lady's man but she likes the idea that he may find her beautiful.

"Who should I make it out to?" he asks opening the book carefully.

"Kate," she answers quietly. Growing up she always went by Katie, sweet little Katie. That's how friends and family knew her. Or Katherine, when her parents were mad at her, or when her father discovered her newly purchased Harley. She sucks in a breath before continuing, "Kate Beckett."

Richard Castle smiles and dips his head as he scribbles her name on the first page of the book. He stops then, looking back up at her.

"Did you enjoy the book, Kate?" He probably asks every one of his fans the same question but he seems genuinely interested and keen to know her answer. There's a twinkle in those blue eyes and she's humbled and exhilarated that this famous, talented man is flirting with her.

"Very much," she says genuinely but tries so hard to hide the fact that she's practically shaking at the very idea of talking to him. "It was very… insightful." His stories reached out to her, helping her and guiding her in ways she can't possibly explain.

"Insightful?" Richard Castle looks at her then, clearly intrigued by her answer. He leans in a little closer, cocking his head and staring right at her. "What is it you're looking for Kate?"

His question causes her to falter for a moment. For a split second as his eyes lock with hers it's almost like there's a flicker of recognition between them. Like the meeting of two lost souls. She allows herself to consider that perhaps he writes so astutely because he's seen death, been the casualty of a heart shattered beyond repair or the witness of grief.

"Answers," she says quietly.

"Answers?" His interest is clearly pegged now, that was probably not the response he was expecting from her.

"Yeah…."

"Rick!" His publicist interjects now in a firm whisper, silently urging him to sign the book and move along to the next person waiting in the line. She undoubtedly knows from experience that Richard Castle likes to flirt with the attractive, young women who love his books.

Richard nods his head in the direction of the woman, his eyes leaving Kate and he stoops to finish the inscription in her book. He scrawls the message quickly before closing the book and looking back up at Kate. He pushes the book back towards her and she picks it up, holding it tightly in her grasp.

"You have a good day, Kate," he adds in a softer tone, "take care of yourself."

"Thank you." She smiles at him before she turns and walks away; the next fan waiting in line is already walking to the table. Kate holds the book close to her chest as she navigates through the stacks and the people. She heads straight for the exit and leaves the store, feels in the heat in her cheeks, and she's still smiling. She stops in front of the next store, a coffee shop, before she looks at the message he's written.

She opens the book, the wind whipping at her hair, and she tucks it behind her ear before she reads.

'To Kate,

I hope you find what you're looking for.

Richard Castle.'

Kate's sad smile traces its way across her lips. The words he's written, this time directly to her, reach for her and embrace her, filling her with a sense of hope. And although she doesn't think that her quest for justice is a road she'll ever be ready to go down, his message gives her the feeling that maybe she'll someday find peace; a calm silence for her soul. Perhaps that is the only thing she can hope for but maybe it's enough.

Kate presses the book shut and slips it back into her bag. She crosses back to the park and she's glad she made the effort to come to meet him.

Back in the center of Castle's glitzy universe Kate finally cracks open the copy of Nikki Heat that she's cradling in her hand. She feels that same burning anticipation in the pit of her stomach that she'd had when she went to his book signing, and met him, for the first time.

With a deep breath Kate flicks immediately to the dedication, which reads:

'To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th.'

A smile now traces its way across her lips. That's quite the dedication. And it's huge compliment to someone who's read all of his books and followed his work for many years. For many women a dedication like this would have been a dream come true.

And even as the strong, sensible and comfortable woman she is today, she is touched and flattered by the message he's written to her. As much as she isn't willing to tell him, Richard Castle has and always will be a positive and much needed influence on her life.

~ fin

Thank you for your time.