From the Castle Fics prompt blog on Tumblr: "2x12 AU. Castle is shadowing Esposito and Ryan and instead of Kyra, Kate is the bride and "the one that got away"." Eight part story, set in 2011.
His cheeks are stained with exertion, a rosy pink that he earned with a quick jog up the half block to the hotel and, then, from his hurried efforts to cross the lobby and hustle upstairs to the crime scene.
In months of shadowing Ryan and Esposito, he's never been late to a scene, never dawdled at home when the call comes to inform him that the two homicide detectives are once again on the move with an active case.
But book research had dealt him an unexpected blow, and Rick can still feel the sticky remains of the duct tape his daughter had so gleefully slapped over his mouth at his own insistence before sauntering out with her grandmother. His idea for how to free his erstwhile hero from an apartment invasion had gone awry and left him struggling against his restraints while the Hawaii Five-O theme song had blared on repeat from his coffee table.
Wiping discreetly at his face to check for any residue, Rick turns the corner of the winding hotel hallway, spotting the usual uniforms on duty and the bright yellow crime scene tape. A crowd of onlookers is something he's gotten used to in his nearly two years of a life filled with homicides, but it's not often that the lingering spectators are dressed to the nines. On his short walk he spots three identical mauve dresses dotting the group, the handful of men he can see all wearing the same standard black suit and white shirt. There is also an older woman at the very front, an over styled helmet of gray hair that nearly matches the metallic silver of a dress that is dripping with sequins, lace and the odd shine of what he knows to be taffeta after a childhood spent backstage in theatres across New England and, for a couple summers, the Midwest.
All in all, he assumes there must be a wedding scheduled in the hotel, and with what looks like most of the bridal party staying on this floor he can imagine what type of gloom might settle over the day. Giving one of the bridesmaids a polite smile, he turns and ducks under the police tape, pleased to avoid having to talk to the woman or anyone else hanging in the hallway and looking for news.
"About time you showed up, Castle," Esposito calls out to him as soon as Rick has cleared the door. The detective gives him no more than a glance, most of his attention turned towards whatever he's scribbling into his notebook that has likely been provided by the medical examiner on scene.
It isn't until he spots someone rising to their feet from the thick carpet of the room that he recognizes Lanie Parish. She looks different, her hair pulled back into some complicated configuration of curls, and her face painted with makeup that's far more dramatic than he's come to expect from the doctor.
The dress is what brings it all together, the color and fabric an exact match to the trio that he spotted in the hall. She's covered the top half of it with a leather jacket that swallows her petite frame, one that Rick would bet his next advance that Lanie pulled off the back of the cop standing beside her.
"I'll put in a call and ask Perlmutter to pick this one up," Lanie is saying as he comes to a halt beside the victim; a young woman with spiky auburn hair and a circular bruise around her neck. The technicians are careful as they lift her, gently placing limbs into the opened black bag that are standard issue for the department to transport a body.
She looks young, he thinks, his eyes lingering on her face until the zipper has hidden her from view.
"All things considered, I think it's best I don't get involved in the autopsy…." Lanie's speaking softly to Esposito when Rick turns his attention back to the two of them, her lips pressed together and her eyes flashing something that he can't quite define. Esposito seems to know exactly what has put the expression on her face though, if his nod is any indication.
"You knew the victim?" He asks softly, too much respect for Lanie and what he's sure has been a difficult day to allow him to be crass or dismissive.
"Not really," she says with a sigh, snapping off a pair of blue gloves that immediately are handed off to a waiting lab tech, who drops them into an evidence bag that Rick knows will be labeled and processed in the lab. "I've met her all of three times, including the rehearsal dinner last night, but still…."
"Who is she?" Rick poses his second question to Esposito, the creak and snap of the gurney accompanying his question as the techs prepare to wheel the body out of the room.
"Her name is Sophie Ronson," Espo replies, "Lives in Los Angeles. She arrived in New York two days ago, specifically to attend a wedding here in the hotel."
"I've determined her time of death was somewhere between two and four this morning," Lanie adds, "No one even knew anything had happened until she missed her hair appointment. She didn't answer her cell or her room phone when we called, so Laurie, another bridesmaid, came up to check and found her….."
Lanie's explanation ends with a little shrug, the doctor at a loss for words and Rick steps forward to squeeze her arm rather quickly, pleased when she manages a small smile.
"We're gonna take it from here, Lanie," Espo tells her, carefully leading her towards the hallway and under the crime scene tape that's blocking the door. "You should go back."
"Yeah," she nods in agreement, her gaze towards the group that looks to have thinned out since Rick entered the hotel room. Most of those still lingering have their attention on the pair of uniforms that are conducting interviews, collecting statements and any clues that might lead the detectives to Sophie's killer. "I'm gonna go call Perlmutter, then check on the bride…."
While Lanie heads to the left, back towards the elevators and a large block of unobstructed rooms, Rick takes a right with Esposito, wading through the remaining group towards a large set of double doors at the very end of the hall. Even from here, he can see that's where most of the original crowd has gone, the doors propped open as if to welcome them in.
"Any leads?" he asks Espo once they've gotten past the crowd, his writer's mind is already at work, crafting a story about a love triangle and murder committed in a jealous rage.
"Not yet," Espo says with a sigh, "I took the crime scene and Ryan took interviews with the bride and the groom. They're the first suspects, since it's their wedding. The groom is Will Sorenson, an FBI Agent stationed in Boston that grew up on Long Island, and the bride just graduated out of Quantico last year, she used to be on the job in the NYPD actually…."
The hotel suite is large and teeming with people, several of them sipping on champagne or munching on hors d'oeuvres from small china plates. He doesn't hear the rest of Javier's briefing, truth be told, Rick doesn't need it because the bride can't be missed as she stands in the center of the room. Her dress is form fitting, a slim column of satin that's accented by a crystal encrusted belt that sparkles in the afternoon light, dark brunette hair brushing her shoulders in soft curls that he knows are going to accent her cheekbones and leave her eyes glowing with glints of forest green and burnished gold.
"Kate," he whispers, whatever breath that remains in his lungs expelled in that one syllable. It's hard to draw breath for a moment, his heart clenching as it hasn't done since she slipped out of his front door with a packed suitcase, tears still shining on her cheeks, spiky chestnut hair standing on end from the number of times she'd drug her fingers through it while explaining to him that she couldn't stay any longer.
She had been weeks away from turning 25, a couple months from a detective's badge. Seven years ago. Seven years, two months, and three days.
Not that he kept count.
"You know Beckett?" Esposito's voice cuts into his thoughts, the surprise evident on his face from the way his eyebrows have lifted towards the buzz cut that still makes him look like he's ready to deploy with the army.
"She's the one that got away," he says without thinking, realizing what he's spoken aloud only when Espo gives a low whistle and turns on his heel to put some distance between himself, Castle, and the woman that's now looking at him with some irrepressible combination of shock, joy, surprise and, in the deepest parts of those green irises, longing.
"Rick Castle," she whispers, the sound of his name accompanied by one of those full and brilliant smiles that once could have hung the moon. He doesn't think about how his heart has started to beat in overdrive, how his fingers are itching to reach out and tuck one of those curls behind her ear to feel the familiar curve of her cheekbone and re-experience how perfectly it fits against his palm.
"Hey, Kate," he answers, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as she approaches him, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, "Long time, no see."
He still looks good.
Her first thought might be a little superficial, but Kate can't help it. Richard Castle had always been attractive, even in the early days when he was no more than a face peering out at her from the back of a book jacket. Age seemed to be something that only did him more favors.
Why he's here she can't imagine, but she's drawn to him like a moth to a flame. In times of crisis, Castle had been her comfort, if not in person, then in the words he crafted. Even when she'd made the decision to leave, to figure out herself and make herself a better person, Kate had never managed to sever her ties with his books.
If she couldn't be with the man, she damn sure would take the piece of him she was allowed, even if she had to share it with millions of his other fans.
"No kidding," she replies quickly, feeling her lips stretch with the first smile that she's managed since this morning. Sophie's murder had upended everything, cast a shadow on what was meant to be the happiest day of her life; a day that already had been rooted in its own struggles, given who in her family was missing.
A second murder in such close proximity certainly hadn't done anything to quiet those demons.
"I haven't seen you in…." Kate wrinkles up her nose, forcing back the memories of her mother's death, of Sophie's crumpled body on the floor of her hotel room, and putting all her attention towards teasing Rick.
"Seven years," he supplies, his eyes sparking with dark blue flecks, enough of a change to tell her he's been keeping count and, maybe, that he's frustrated she hasn't.
But she has. Kate knows exactly how long it's been; seven years, two months, and three days.
"Has it been that long?" she hums in her pretense, giving a shake of her head, "Wow. You look good."
"You look better," he says, that slow grin sliding over his face with enough joy that Kate can feel the response of her own answering smile. "I mean….this dress? You look amazing, Kate."
The heat of a blush begins at the apples of her cheeks and spreads from there, and she's never been so thankful to have resisted the suggestions of practically every one of her bridesmaids, her future mother-in-law, and her aunt Theresa in wearing her hair up. Having it down allows her to dip her head, hiding behind the long strands with a shy grin.
But Castle knows her tells. She can hear his soft chuckle, and there is a moment where his hands lift, intent on reaching out to touch her, the curl of them holding the sort of familiarity and intimacy that has her heart skipping a beat, some long buried part of her craving the electricity that always sizzled across her skin whenever he touched her.
"And who is this?"
Like being doused in ice water, Will's voice shatters the moment, sending her crashing back to reality instead of settling in daydreams of the past. This isn't seven years ago, she isn't a twenty-something who doesn't quite know what she wants from life or who she wants to be, she's thirty-one, a Federal Agent, and wearing the ring of another man.
If not for a murder, she'd be married to him in a couple of hours.
"Will!" Kate plasters on a smile, turning towards the voice at her left shoulder. Like her Will is dressed for their would-be wedding, though he's slightly loosened his tie and his hair bares the marks of having seen more than one round with his fingers, she's sure from aggravation with his mother and the frustration of the day as a whole. "This is Richard Castle…." she says by way of introduction, watching as the polite curiosity on her fiancé's face changes to something a bit aggressive.
It's subtle, nothing more than the way his eyes take on a darker hue and his lips press together, but she's known Will for long enough to understand his tells. And, likewise, Will has known her long enough, been in her life long enough, that he's aware of her history with Rick.
"Oh," he says, stepping forward to capture her left hand, tangling their fingers together and turning them so that her engagement ring is on clear display, "The writer." Even though he lists Castle's occupation, the undertone of acknowledgement of their personal relationship is unmistakable, and Kate has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. He might as well have said 'your ex-boyfriend' and been done with it.
"Indeed," Rick replies, blue eyes flicking from the top of Will's dark hair to the tip of his polished dress shoes, assessing and cataloguing the man that replaced him.
"Why are you here, exactly?"
"Working," Castle says with a grin, gesturing towards two of Kate's former colleagues in Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito as they confer with their two identical notebooks, "I shadow Detectives Ryan and Esposito for a series of books, and consult on cases for the NYPD."
Even though Kate had known, even with the pair of books in question taking up a spot on a shelf in her apartment in Boston, she can't fight the swell of pride that surges up for Castle as Rick explains his role to Will. And it's absurd, really, that with all the homicide detectives in the city, or even in the Twelfth Precinct, that she would end up with the pair who regularly got an assist from the one person she never truly seemed to shake off from her past.
The odds were surely astronomical and if she had been the sort of girl to take stock in signs, Kate would have been considering what exactly Rick's re-appearance in her life could mean.
But destiny, fate, and all those supernatural concepts had always been his domain. She was the logical one, the person driven by the evidence and the facts.
"I see," Will replies, his voice marginally warmer than it had been, "Well, I hate to interrupt your reunion, but Kate and I need to move downstairs and speak to our guests, explain why the wedding has been postponed."
The squeeze to her hand is gentle, a subtle signal to let her know that they really should leave immediately. Impressions and rubbing shoulders might not be anything that she or Will cared all too much about, but his mother put plenty of stock in social graces and maintaining appearances.
If they didn't go soon, Eleanor Sorenson would come after them herself, and badger them both for their impoliteness and inconsideration.
"Will's right," Kate says with a slow sigh, "We really should go. It was nice seeing you, Rick."
Goodbyes said, Will takes that as his cue to steer her away, leaving her barely enough time to glance over her shoulder to see Castle standing where they left him, eyes piercingly blue as they meet hers one last time.