A/N: Title suggested by talkoncornerswhitelightinblue on tumblr
Castle was a chronic people watcher and one of the symptoms of his disease was crafting intricate backstories for the characters he watched act out on the stage of life. He knew that every single person on the subway with him had a story, an explanation why they were at the exact same location as he was but was ending up in a different place.
So when he saw this tall girl with hunched shoulders like the weight of the world rested upon them, he knew she had a story. She was pretty, brown hair hastily tied back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. He looked at her outfit as to give him an inkling of where she was coming from. She was in black dress, her eyes lined but lacking the heavy makeup most people in all black wore. They were semi formal, maybe back from a disastrous date?
Oh she looked up. Wow, she has beautiful eyes. Soft green but they were so sad and bloodshot. She had been crying. Wait was that a tear, correction she still was crying. Was the date that bad? Maybe her boyfriend broke up with her? Or she got in a fight with her best friend or they ran out of her favourite cupcakes at her favourite bakery. Okay, the last one was a bit too dramatic even for him but he could not stand to see her so sad, alone.
"You know. If you want, there's this really amazing bakery at the next stop and I'll get you your favourite cupcake there?" he asked starting up a conversation with this obviously troubled women.
"What?" She looked up at him eyebrows raised in confusion.
"Sorry, I mean I kinda imagined that you were upset because your bakery ran out of cupcakes and yeah that's stupid."
Way to creep out the lady Castle. Honestly, how are you even a writer, he mentally chastised himself.
"No."
A smirk. Improvement. It was not a smile but he'll take it.
"I was serious about the cupcake offer so if you want, next stop and I'll get you some. They have this chocolate peanut butter one that's to die for. So what do you say?"
"I was taught not to accept food from strangers but, sure. What's the worst that's going to happen?" she replied in a playful tone.
"I'm Rick and the only murder I do is on paper and my publishers patience if you ask her. What's your name?" he asked, both to get to know her and to satisfy his curiosity.
"Don't you wonder what makes people do that to others?" She inquires in a tone that indicates that this question was one that she has thought about before.
"What? Murder?" he wonders if he had heard wrong. That was not what he was expecting her to ask.
"Yeah. I mean how can you take someone's life just like that. They might have a family waiting for them. A husband, wife, children and they think their loved one is going to come home but they don't. They never will."
"Well, sometimes it's not so much about the who but the why. Maybe it was a crime of passion, revenge or even fear. There's always a story why. He paused allowing the train they were riding in to come to a stop.
"Here's our stop. And the bakery is just down the corner. Still up for a cupcake?" he wonders if she was serious about accepting food from a stranger. Given it's prepackaged and bought in front of her so less chance of him messing with, but he didn't know her thought process.
"If this is your way of taking back the cupcake offer then I'll have you know that I fully intend to collect my one cupcake as promised " her response was quick followed by a slight raise of the eyebrow.
"Now that you know my name and occupation, what's yours? After all you are a stranger to me and who knows who you really are" he asked mirroring her earlier words.
She smirks at him, liking the fact that she had a piece of information she could withhold.
"Want the name, you gotta earn it," she sasses back.
"I'd think that buying you a cupcake and cheering you up would be enough he starts and stops abruptly when he notices the corners of her lips fall and the crease between her brows take residence on her face again. And wrong thing to say. He just got her out of her funk and now he's put his foot in his mouth again. Another disease he couldn't seem to rid.
"Earn your name. Okay I can do that. How would you like me to? he continues quickly.
"I mean I.. What. Usually women give me their names but working for it, this is different. You're different"
"Yeah. I'm the crazy lady crying on the subway. You don't have to buy me a cupcake you know. You can go and we can just forget about this whole thing," she offers him an out.
"No. I promised you a cupcake and a cupcake you'll get. I don't like going back on my word. But for the record, if you want to talk about it, or anything then I'm ready to listen."
She says nothing. Only follows him into the warm store out of the cold winter outside. He ordered a box of a dozen assortment of cupcakes. He promised her one but she looked like she could use a few of them. If not to cheer her up then to hopefully help her fill out her dress a bit better.
They sit together at the cramped corner booth, legs touching next to the condensation from the window. He watches as she picks a cupcake and brings it to her lips. Her entire posture reminds him of a feral cat. She looked so weighed down by the weight of the world that he would keep quiet, wait her out and see if she'd want to unload. She really should. Keeping whatever it was bottled in couldn't be good for her if her posture was anything to go by.
"I just came back from burying my mother and making sure my dad got home okay. He's probably downed all the scotch we have at home and I. I'm supposed to go back to stanford, continue my second year but I don't know how I'm suppose to move on without her in my life. Everything's gone on like her death meant nothing. The wind keeps blowing, trains keep running but it feels like my world has stopped. It's like all time has suspended and all I can think about is the last time I saw her, alive. She was so excited for dinner, her daughter finally free to have dinner with the family and she didn't make it. I didn't get enough time with her. I just. How do you move on from something like this?"
"Honestly, you don't. You never move on. You just learn to accept it and survive. One day you'll wake up and realise that the load you carry on your shoulders though still weighs the same but is not so hard to carry anymore because you get stronger. One day you'll be able to think of her and your first instinct won't be to cry. You never move on but you learn to keep pushing thorugh. "
"There's just no closure in her death. One minute she was here nagging me to spend time with her and the next she was gone. Just like that. I didn't get to say goodbye or tell her I loved her for the last time. I can't remember the last time I told her that and now, I'll never get to "
"I'm sure she knew. And I'm sure that in her last moments she was thinking of you and how she'll never get to tell you she loves you one last time or see her daughter grow up."
She says nothing, pondering the words he just told her. He reaches out and holds her hand, providing her his silent support. He knows he can't say anything to make this better so he doesn't. He sits quietly and observes her as she eats, pity lacking in the way he looks at her. The last thing she would want was more pity. They sit in that booth for an hour, just taking time to stop and be in the moment. She stands when the last cupcake is gone indicating for him to follow. He holds the door open for her like the gentlemen his mother raised him to be.
"Thanks for the cupcakes and the company" she says one foot out the door.
"It was no trouble at all," he says sincerely.
She hesitates slightly before leaving.
"Kate. It's Kate," she says with those warm brown eyes haunting him for the rest of his life before walking out the door into the cold.