My Partner, My Love
Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just taking them out for a spin in Castle's little red Ferrari, the one in my head anyway. Poor Castle… still not driving…
A/N: It's Caskett's fifteenth wedding anniversary and everyone's feeling a bit nostalgic. Spotlighting the stages of how they fell in love: appreciation, infatuation, attraction, impression, conviction, reaffirmation, all explored during a special day with family and old friends.
Chapter 1 Appreciation
It was early morning and Kate sat perched upon the cushions of the bay window of their office sipping her second cup of coffee of the morning in what had become a daily ritual. She glanced out the window noting it was beautiful outside, and on this day she would accept nothing less. The sky was cobalt blue and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was a big day and their home would soon be filled to the max with friends and family. She knew she should get moving since there was still so much to do, yet she found herself lingering.
In her lap lay open a photo album, each photograph more cherished than the next. She'd been cleaning out the office earlier, when she'd come across a bunch of them and was unable to resist the urge to reminisce, if only for a few moments. She relaxed letting the memories wash over her, her fingers gently caressing the pictures, and allowed her mind wander. Their first case together. How had time slipped by so fast? It seemed like only yesterday…
"Mr. Castle?"
"Where would you like it?"
"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD, we'd like to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight."
"That's new."
I'd been reading Castle's books for years and always thought he was an amazing writer; one of my favorites actually. His books had helped me through some very dark times after I'd lost my mother. To this day, he'd never really understand how much they meant to me; how they'd led me towards the career I chose and kept me absorbed in something other than the hellish aftermath of mom's murder. It would be the first of many times he'd save me.
When I was about twenty, I'd gone to one of his book signings. I stood on line for over an hour as he sat at a table signing books, engaging in conversation with everyone that had waited. I remember thinking he was even better looking in person than on the dust jacket of his books and much more approachable than I'd expected.
As the line shortened, I got a really good look and could feel my pulse quickening. I dreamily wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through all that wavy hair and have that smile directed at me. Looking back, it's clear I'd obviously reached what would be the pinnacle of my fan-girl status. It seemed like forever before I made it to the front of the line and then finally I was standing before him, grasping my well-worn book in my hands like a bible.
He had the most gorgeous, expressive blue eyes I'd ever seen and I would swear they twinkled when he looked up at me. He smiled with that lopsided little grin of his and then asked my name. His sultry baritone melted over me and I found I could barely speak. I nervously muttered my name, which I'd later confirmed I'd gotten right, he signed my book and thanked me for coming. I suppose you could say he'd practically rendered me speechless from the very first day I met him - foreshadowing at its finest.
That moment stuck with me years later when we'd meet again under entirely different circumstances. It seemed fitting that a copycat murder straight from one of his books had brought us together again; being a fan I'd recognized the similarities in the crime scenes instantly. For me to catch that case; well, it truly must have been destiny. Oh, and wouldn't he have a field day hearing me admit that.
His books were somehow linked to our case, so we were to bring him in for questioning where he'd be treated as a suspect until proven otherwise. Despite the grim nature of our reunion, I'd been eager to see him again, not that I'd expected him to remember me. More than a few years had passed since he'd signed my book; I wasn't that naïve young girl anymore.
Walls had gone up, set firmly in place, remnants of my heart painstakingly glued back together; I prayed each day the glue would hold. I'd vowed no one would know how much my mother's case haunted me. I was all grown up; wiser, confident, completely in charge; any misgivings absorbed by my job as detective.
The boys and I went to his book launch party, I was directed where to find him and made my way through the crowd. Surveying the room, I took it all in; the glamour, nightlife, booze, and the scantily clad women all dressed to impress. Of course, I'd heard the gossip and seen his picture in the papers; a new girl on his arm every time. They'd painted him as a playboy, but I held fast to the idea that the nonsense was mostly for publicity and reminded myself not to believe everything I read.
I spotted him at the bar across the room talking with a pretty red-headed teenager, not more than fifteen who was probably up way past her bedtime. I'd sincerely hoped he wasn't trying to pick her up; he had to see she was way too young for him. Even from across the room I recognized the grin, along with the hair, and I struggled to smother my inner fan-girl. He was a bit older and still handsome, but taller than I'd remembered.
I called out his name and he turned around, pen at the ready, and promptly offered to autograph my chest. Apparently, sometimes the papers did get it right. I flashed my badge, quickly set him straight by introducing myself and explained the nature of my business, which seemed to shut him up for about a minute.
The teenager behind him, who turned out to be his daughter, remarked "that's new" leading me to believe he didn't have many run-ins with the law. Or so I thought until I pulled his file later down at the station. Signs of his misspent youth jumped out at me from the pages; the file so colorful I'd wondered if he wrote it himself. Disorderly conduct, resisting arrest and my personal favorite – riding a stolen police horse – while nude. He showed absolutely no remorse and quite the knack for getting himself out of jams unscathed; a talent that would serve him well in life.
The remainder of the questioning didn't go as smoothly as I'd anticipated. He wasn't taking me seriously at all, and our first meeting years before was quickly becoming tainted with each new word he spoke.
"You can spank me if you like."
And that smirk of his I'd once found so endearing…well, I'd been about ready to wipe it off. I had a job to do, people were dead, and he seemed to find the entire situation humorous.
He gave me some line about "boy's being boys", his lame attempt at charming me. I made it very clear I wasn't applying for a job as one of his bimbos and wouldn't be falling for his bad-boy charm anytime soon. Just when I thought I'd taken the reins back on the interview he called me out for being a fan. I panicked a little at that knowing confirmation was the last thing his ego needed, and worked to compose myself which was no easy feat once he started hitting on me.
He'd been cleared of any wrong-doing, was free to go, and frankly I'd had enough of him for one day. I needed to focus on the case, not his advances, so I ended the interview and sent him on his way, chalking up my infatuation with him years before to a youthful crush gone horribly awry. To think, our story almost ended right there...
Imagine my surprise then when he showed up uninvited at the precinct the next morning offering to assist with our case. It was clear he enjoyed getting a rise out of me from the start and it wasn't long before he proceeded to psychoanalyze me; started kicking at my walls, claiming to have me pegged. He knew all the right buttons to push.
"Well, you're not bridge and tunnel. No trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan, that means money. You went to college, probably a pretty good one. You had options. Yeah, you had lots of options, better options, more socially acceptable options, and you still chose this. That tells me something happened. Not to you. No, you're wounded, but you're not that wounded. No, it was somebody you cared about. It was someone you loved. And you probably could have lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught. And that, Detective Beckett, is why you're here."
"Cute trick. Don't think you know me."
I was all kinds of bravado, but the truth was – he was right, and he did know me. I'd thought I'd been so good at hiding it, so clever, so tough, yet he could see through my façade from the get-go. That day was the first time I'd threaten to shoot him, but it wouldn't be my last.
We believed we had our likely suspect safely locked up behind bars and the case wrapped up all nice and neat. Of course, Castle insisted we had the wrong guy, based on nothing more than the arrest had been too simple, but the evidence against the suspect was damning so we closed the book on it and parted ways.
Again, I assumed we'd never see each other again, but he turned up the next day with a gift - a signed book, another for my collection, and then he gave me a very not so innocent kiss on my cheek. He was a rogue, of that I was certain, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be and he left me second guessing myself. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He really knew how to work it...
He was all kinds of trouble this man; the one my mother warned me about, and just my type back in the day. He was smart, witty, challenging, and dangerously good looking, but unfortunately he didn't take me seriously, and at the time I was all about being taken seriously. To him it was all fun and games, and the gift he'd given me had just been to throw me off track. He'd been rifling through the case files on my desk and had taken them with him before he'd left. He'd left me no choice really; I did what every girl wishes she could do when bamboozled by a guy, I had him arrested.
He'd been so sure we had the wrong guy in custody and claimed it was why he took the files. In hindsight, at least he had a good reason. He'd suspected the real killer even before I did and ended up chasing the guy down himself. Castle was reckless and slightly crazy, but damn if he wasn't the most interesting thing that had happened in my life in a long time.
He asked me out at the end of the case, but I turned him down flat. I was so sure it would never work since we were complete opposites. Thankfully he was of a differing opinion.
"Well, this is it."
"Doesn't have to be. We could go to dinner, debrief each other."
"Why Castle, so I can be another one of your conquests?"
"Or I can be one of yours."
"It was nice to meet you, Castle."
"That's too bad. It would have been great."
"You have no idea."
And I didn't. I didn't think it would ever work, although I admit there may have been a little extra swing in my hips that day as he watched me walk away. I liked his attention; I just didn't know what to do with it. He overwhelmed me. Still does.
The next day Roy called me into his office and told me Castle would be shadowing me - indefinitely.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yeah. I just got a call from the mayor's office. Apparently, you have a fan."
"A fan, sir?"
"Rick Castle. Seems he's found the main character for his next set of novels: a tough but savvy female detective."
"…I'm flattered?"
"Don't be. He says he has to do research."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"No way."
"Beckett, listen…"
"Sir, he is like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush, totally incapable of taking anything seriously."
"But he did help solve this case. And when the mayor's happy, the commissioner's happy. And when the commissioner's happy, I'm happy."
My favorite author wanted to write a book about me. Flattered and shocked, of course I was, but I'd been given no choice, nor any time to object; it was a done deal - thanks to Castle's friend the Mayor. I stomped on my inner fan-girl with my four inch heels and told her to shut the hell up.
"How long, sir?"
[Motioning to his door] "That's up to him."
What a site he made too, the devil, leaning up against the doorframe, all that attitude encased in a fancy suit complete with cocky grin. He reveled in my discomfort and had my blood boiling that's for sure, a fact he relished. He also knew he was lucky Roy was in the room with us at the time.
Castle had managed to finagle his way into my life, and like it or not, was there to stay. I wonder if things would have turned out differently had I just said yes when he first asked me out? Would I have been just another conquest or would we have made it work?
Kate's internal musings were interrupted by the sound of her name being called.
"Mom? Where are you?" called Anna as she searched out her mother.
"In here, honey." Kate answered.
"Hey. Whatcha' up to? Dad's looking for you." The fourteen year old beauty said, as she entered the room. Spotting the photo album in her mother's lap she assessed the situation. "Oh, I see." She teased. "Feeling a little sentimental today, huh?" she teased. "Well it is your anniversary. Dad's going to have a field day with this though…" she said mischievously, shaking her head, "since you're always saying he's the mushy one."
"Never mind young lady. You tell him…," Kate said shrewdly, cocking an eyebrow, "And I withhold the double-fudge chocolate cake I bought for tonight. You know - the one you love so much."
"On second thought, your secret's safe with me mom." Anna replied wisely before grabbing a seat next to her mother.
"Smart girl."
"Can I see?"
" Sure." Kate said. "But you've seen all these pictures a hundred times before."
"I know, but I love looking at pictures of you, dad and my aunts and uncles when you were all so young."
"Hey!" Kate replied miffed. "You make us sound so old!"
"Well. I am nearly fifteen mother." she said exasperated, before adding happily, "And besides, everyone says I look just like you, so in a way it's like looking at pictures of me. Let me see."
"You may look like me," Kate agreed giving their beautiful daughter the once over, "Except for your father's eyes, of course, but you definitely take after your Dad. We should have named you junior. And you just turned fourteen. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up please."
Anna chose to ignore the pesky details of her age and continued to scan the photos. "This is a pretty funny picture of you and Dad. When was it taken?"
"Your grandmother took that picture of us at your Dad's book signing."
"You look mad and he looks nervous."
"That would be because your grandmother had just informed me Nikki Heat would be the name of my character in your father's books." Kate replied, making her daughter giggle.
"Speaking of Dad, that's why I came up here." Anna said. "He sent me on a quest to find you. He's still cooking up a storm and said you are needed for quality control. And not to rat him out, but he's preparing something that looks a little odd." She said scrunching up her nose. "He needs supervision. You might want to hurry."
"Oh no, I told him no smorelettes. Tell me there are no smorelettes!
"No smorelettes."
"Thank God." Kate said breathing a sigh of relief. "Even after all these years I still have no idea why he thinks anyone likes those. Thanks for the heads up. Can you help me bring these photo albums downstairs? It might be fun later when everyone gets here to look through them together."
"Sure." Anna replied, picking up a couple and heading towards the door.
"Is your sister here yet?" Kate asked as she loaded her arms with a few photo albums and followed Anna out.
"Not yet, but she called to say they're on their way."
"Awesome. This is going to be fun. It'll be great having everyone together again!"
A/N: Company's coming, for a stroll down memory lane. Tell me if you'd like to see more. Hope you liked it and thanks for reading. Karen