A/N - Should be a short story about a subject that wouldn't leave me alone.

Hope you like it.

~GeekMom

Fan Girl

Chapter 1

Discovery

"Why are we here, Mom?"

"I thought you'd like something and I am absolutely out of anything good to read that I haven't read a thousand times." Her daughter rolled her eyes at her mother's exaggeration. Ten had been interesting so far; her daughter's teens were surely going to be the death of her. "Come on," she said as she as she propelled them through the doors against the people exiting and into the warmth and brightness of the store.

"It's crowded," the ten-year-old captain obvious whined.

"It's Christmas time. Books make excellent gifts." Jo frowned; her Christmas cheer was slowly being siphoned away by the incessant moaning of a girl who, according to her, unfairly had to delay her wants and needs and desires. Katie hadn't pointed out the fact that they were supposed to be ice-skating for at least five minutes. Johanna had never been one to cave to the whine tactic. In fact, it grated on her nerves. She and her husband had always seen to it that the wants and desires of their only child were fulfilled, within reason. They tried not to spoil her, but she was a good kid: responsible and caring and was frequently rewarded. This cajoling and practically a three-year-old's temper tantrum strategy were new and Jo was not under any circumstance going to give in to the new ploy. She and her husband had also made sacrifices for said child, as any loving parent does, but Jo wanted this and Katie would need to be patient or learn patience or suffer her first grounding.

"I thought you said we were going ice-skating," Katie muttered. Six minutes.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett," Jo's whispered incantation of a full name got attention, but her daughter seemed determined to ignore her. Jo spun the girl so she was looking directly at her. Katie couldn't help but be entranced in the anger swirling in her mother's wide eyes. "We are staying here until I find a book and until I say we are going. I want to go ice-skating as much as you do, but we are here now and if I hear another whiny word about it, we'll be going home next. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Katie's contrite answer wasn't as satisfying as Johanna would have liked.

In a softer voice she tried to explain. "Look, sweetheart. I need my books to escape from all the stuff I see at work. Please let me have a few moments to find a good mystery to take my mind off of things, okay?" Katie nodded. "Hey, look, it's story time," pre-empting Katie's eye roll, she added, "No, look," she pointed to what appeared to be a teenybopper poetry-like slam. "It's The Baby-Sitters Club." The book series had been a favorite of Katie's for a few months and as luck and the Christmas sales marketing would have it, the author, Ann Martin was reading the next installment in that store in five minutes.

"Can I go, Mom, please?"

Johanna raised an eyebrow at her daughter's abrupt change of behavior and was inclined to deny based on her earlier performances, but the truth was that this would help keep Katie occupied for a little while and Jo could seek out the escapism she needed in peace.

"Yes, but here are the rules: you stay here until I come get you. No one else except Daddy, okay?"

"Yes Mom." Katie started toward the group. "Oh and Katie?" She waited until her daughter turned around to face her again. "Be respectful and courteous." Her daughter nodded, barely controlling the dreaded eye roll compulsion.

Free to roam unencumbered by pre-adolescent frustration, Jo perused her favorite section of the store: Mystery and Crime. She had always been a fan of the genre, well since she had fallen in love with the character of Pete Cochran on The Mod Squad in the late sixties. She had even considered concentrating her law practice in criminal justice, but her love for the underdog won out. She couldn't even feed her addiction through her husband, Jim's practice. He was strictly corporate law, which was a euphemism for boring paper pushing day in and day out in her opinion, but she would never speak so callously of her husband's work…out loud, it just wasn't for her. She instead visited her heroes and cheered for them as they won over evil every time in the pages of the thrillers she so enjoyed.

She lingered in the mystery section, fingering old favorites like Poe and Conan-Doyle, seeing if any spark of desire would magically lead her to another spell-binding story. She felt nothing: even favored characters like Miss Marple or Nero Wolfe did not beckon her today. She needed new; something she hadn't read before, something different. She stopped at the New York Times bestseller display toward the front of the store. Danielle Steele; no she wasn't in the mood. King, Michener, Clancy — all the usual suspects were unsurprisingly there. Jimmy Buffett's Tales from Margaritaville was a surprise, but again it didn't peak her interest. She had never been a tequila drinker.

The next down, number eleven, maybe, 'No,' she thought, arguing with her impulses. 'An author's debut book?' Did she really want to take a chance on an unknown quantity? This was going to be the book that occupied her free time during the holidays. She picked the book up and turned it over. She was startled to see that the author was young, at least his cover photo was. She opened the back cover and read about Richard Castle. Johanna liked to get to know the people she considered inviting into her home, usually into her bed or bath. She was old-fashioned like that.

"Are you going to buy that?" a brash, nasally woman in high heels, a sharp business suit and dark hair pulled back into a severe bun, that had stood uncomfortably close to her asked, looking pointedly at the copy of In a Hail of Bullets in her hand. She was not a shopper, Johanna deduced, no outerwear. She probably worked for the bookstore, maybe a manager.

"I was considering it for my book club."

"Oh."

"Why? Do you know this author? I've never seen his work before."

"Honey, of course you haven't seen him before: that's his debut and he's eleven on the list. Of course that's dropped a bit. When it came out in September, it flew to four."

"Must be pretty good, huh?"

"It's great and I don't even like the crime genre that much."

"Thanks," Jo said holding out her hand. "I'll try it, but if it's not all you say it is, I'll be back and you'll owe me a good recommendation."

"Back?" The woman's eyes glazed over for a second. "Oh you think I work here."

"Yes, I guess I assumed…"

"Look you don't have to take my word for it." The woman was steering Johanna down to the end of an aisle where a dwindling queue of people stood clutching the very same book. "Come on," she said and guided her to the side of the line.

"Oh, I don't have the time to wait in that line for a book. I have to pick up my daughter." She looked at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes.

"I like you and I want you to buy that book, so come with me."

After more navigating through the various shelving and displays of the store, Johanna found herself standing behind a huge cardboard rectangle. She peeked around the front and saw that it was an enlarged depiction of the book. On the other side of the sign were a table and the front of the line. She wasn't in a position to see the author, but assumed it was the young man from the back of the book.

"What's your name?"

"Um, Johanna, Joanna Beckett."

"Come on Johanna, I'm Paula and this," they emerged from the back of the sign, "is Richard Castle. I don't work for the store, I work for him."

The author didn't look back at the sound of his name. He continued to smile and sign each book put in front of him, but he also took the time to make eye contact and speak to each person. Johanna liked that already.

"Ricky," Paula's adenoidal Queens accent broke through the din and he excused himself and turned around. He seemed to be slightly annoyed at having been interrupted, but it quickly melted off his face.

"Paula." He smiled politely in Johanna's direction. "What is it, I'm a little busy."

"I'm practicing my art," she said sweetly. "This is Johanna Beckett. She's a fan of the genre, but not yours…" He was mildly surprised and raised his eyebrows. Most of the people who wanted to meet him were fans of his writing or other things, he'd quickly come to realize. Paula continued, "Yet; she hasn't read Bullets yet, but she likes to get to know the authors she reads and recommends to her book club. So, introduce yourself."

The poor man looked back and forth between Johanna and Paula as if they were both nuts. Jo couldn't stand it anymore and decided to let him off the hook when he walked toward her, his hand extended and said, "I'm Rick, I'll just be another couple of minutes and then we can talk, okay?"

Jo looked up. He was tall and he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Jim's were blue, but the young man in front of her possessed piercing, stunning eyes and a nice, if lopsided smile. "Um…okay," she said dumbly.

Ten minutes later she was walking across the bookstore to pick up Katie.

"Come on, Sweetheart, it's time to go ice skate."

"Mom?"

"Yeah, Baby."

"Why are you smiling like that?"