I don't own Castle. I don't own Taylor Swift's "Enchanted."
Title: Enchanted
Rating: T+
Description: "I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever, wondering if you knew. It was enchanting to meet you." In therapy, Katherine Beckett reflects on the first time she met Richard Castle.
"Your eyes whispered 'Have we met?'
Across the room your silhouette
Starts to make its way to me
The playful conversation starts
Counter all your quick remarks
Like passing notes in secrecy"
"Enchanted"
Taylor Swift
"What was it like, the first time you met him?"
Kate smiles softly, through the tears that fall steadily down her cheeks. She has already been here for an hour. She needs to leave soon or someone was going to wonder where she is. But she can't seem to rise out of the chair she was sitting in. Maybe it was its soft leather, reminding her so much of the leather jackets she wore. Maybe it was the plush, so different the hard bottom to her desk chair. Maybe it was the width of the seat, giving her enough room to pull up her legs.
But she knows that it was the safety of the closed doors; the comfort of the walls; the understanding therapist sitting across from her. She knows it had nothing to do with the chair but has everything to do with the room.
I open the door to my apartment.
Shrugging off my jacket, I toss it on my couch before aimlessly wandering to my kitchen. Checking my fridge for food, I frown when I only see a plastic container of Chinese food I ordered I week. Sighing, I slam the door shut, and reach for a bottle of wine on the top cabinet and pour myself a class.
I definitely deserve it.
It has been one hell of a day.
"I was annoyed," she tells him softly.
He frowns slightly. "I thought that you were his fan?"
She glanced up from her fingers, nervously playing with the tattered edges of her sweater. Blushing, she continues, "Sure, I was a fan. But he came in, upset the apple cart, left, came back, then decided to stay without even asking me." Just talking about it makes her flustered, just like it had three years before. "I liked his writing, but I did not like him."
I draw a bath and settle in. I close my eyes for a long time and try to clear my head. I try to get rid of the image of Rick Castle walking out of the Precinct that day. I don't want to think about him. He is annoying, egotistical, and completely … completely.
I paused, opening my eyes. I pick up my wine, and take a long drink.
He was completely charming.
"What changed?"
Kate bites the inside of her cheek. Honestly, she doesn't know what changed. One minute she is doing everything she can to make Richard Castle go back to his book parties, his ex-wives, his life and leave her the hell alone. The next minute, however, she can't seem to solve a case without his constant off-the-wall theories, morbid puns, and coffee.
She didn't know what happened between that first murder and their most recent.
But that is a lie. And she knows it.
"Everything changed," she confesses, looking up at him, catching his eyes. She doesn't hide herself here – what is the point? If she wants to get better, she has to tell him everything. She can never let the walls come down when she has the bricks and concrete next to her. She has to step away from the wall, throw the mortar away.
Her eyes reveal hurt, sadness, excitement, anger, fear, and something else the doctor can't pinpoint.
I remember trying to get an autograph from him once.
I stand in line for two hours, my copy of Storm Rising in my hands. My uniform is scratching me everywhere because I haven't taken it off all day. I have been up since four that morning, digging through trashcans, and it is already nearing seven. I tap my foot in anticipation, trying to keep my eyes open.
I have never been the kind of girl to stand in line for an autograph. I am not a "fan girl." I do not squeal at television characters nor do I get excited when the 'will they; won't they' couple finally gets together. But Richard Castle has been much more than the author of a few best-sellers – unintentionally, he has dug me out of my mother's grave.
I feel indebted to him. How can I possibly repay him?
I just want to meet him. I know I would never see him again but I want that signature to show my mom when I go to her grave. I want to look back on this book and remember what it is like to meet the man who saved me from myself, from the bullets, knives, pills, everything.
The line moves forward. I peek around the shoulder of the woman in front of me. I can see him. He is sitting behind a table smiling up at whoever he was talking too. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days, the first three buttons of his collared shirt were undone, and he looks absolutely wonderful.
What catches my eye, however, is the little girl with fiery red hair sitting next to him, running a marker along a coloring book. That must be his daughter, I think. She's adorable. I watch as he leans over and plants a kiss on the young girl's head. He ruffles her hair, which earns him a glare, and then he looks back up at the fan in front of him.
My cell starts to ring and my face fell.
Oh, no.
I blink heavily, tearing my eyes away from the scene. I pull out my cell phone and see that it is Esposito. I answer, trying not to cry. "Beckett," I greet, trying not to sound like I am about burst into tears. Because I am. It is a long day – and it Is about to get longer.
"Got a fresh one, Beckett," I hear him distantly.
"Figured," I reply hardly. I get the address and step out of line. The ditzy blonde who had been jabbering on the phone since I got in line quickly fills the vacant space. I didn't even bother glaring at her – I didn't have time. Instead, I turn around once more and looked back up to the table. The little girl behind Richard Castle's table catches my eye.
I gave her a smile and a wave – kids always give me the same look when they see the uniform. It fascinates them – we're like modern-day superheroes, without the capes or masks.
I remember her tugging on Richard Castle's sleeve. Before he can see me, however, I beeline to the door. The last thing I need is for him to see me as I am about to cry. I just wasted two hours waiting for an autograph I won't ever get. Maybe some other day, I remember thinking. But I knew that it wasn't going to happen.
"It seems like you were much more than a fan."
His comment brings her back from her memories. She nods, biting her lip. "I guess," she agrees, unsure how to respond. "He helped me through a lot back then. His books had an ending. The good guys always won. It gave me … hope for the future. He had that 'happy every after' effect in his books that no mystery novelist had."
Her therapist smiles and writes something down on his clipboard, almost identical to the one Lanie carries around at crime scenes. "Does he still have the same effect on you, Kate?"
She pretends to think but she doesn't have to. Yes. He is there – always. They were beating the odds together – beginning with their quirky relationship, to their makeshift partnership, and finally to whatever they are now. What are they? She always wonders. Sometimes she feels like she did in the beginning – annoyed and frustrated. Other times they banter, swap innuendos, just like they had done before he left that summer for the Hamptons. Then other times, she thinks they are already together, already really together.
I love you. I love you, Kate.
"Yes," she answers.
In bed that night, I pull out my old copy of Storm Rising from my bookshelf. I have not touched this particular book since that day I left his book signing. It always brings back such a disappointing feeling – I never have gone to another one of his signings. I became too busy with work, with my promotion, with my murders.
Then, he waltzes into my life, almost ten years after my failed attempt to meet him.
I happen upon this case that is based off his books. I remember the scenes, the murders he penned, and then I meet him – really meet him. Though he is annoying, egotistical, a nine-year-old on a sugar high, he is something. He is different, charming, fun – all aspects not included in the life of a detective for the NYPD.
I did know what to think of Richard Castle.
However, now that we have murderer guy – Kyle Cabot – I don't have to worry about him coming back to me again. In a weird way, the universe works itself out. I didn't get to meet him before but I got to meet him today. I didn't get an autograph – but I did have conversations with him, find out that he is not a miracle worker but just a playboy, and solve a case with him.
I will not see Richard Castle again.
I am okay with that.
I am okay with this.
"He kept coming back," she chuckles. "I thought that my time with Richard Castle was over. I thought the universe worked itself out. But I was wrong. He came back." She straightens out her legs, slips on her shoes. "He came back," she repeats, her face breaking out into a small smile.
Her cheeks are dry.
Her tears have stopped falling.
"It was so weird," she says, leaning forward into her seat. "I couldn't imagine in a thousand years something like this would happen. These kinds of things only happen on television. But, then it did." She shrugs, runs a hand through her hair. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm living in a fairytale." She pauses, fighting a grin. "A really twisted, morbid fairytale that is."
Her therapist nods, and stands, knowing their session is rapidly drawing to a close. She follows suit, grabbing her leather jacket, straightening her turtleneck sweater.
He gives her a look, curious. "So, what was it really like, meeting Richard Castle?"
Kate gets what he's hinting at. I love you. I love you, Kate. She remembers the freezer, the crazy theories, the kiss, the obsession with toys, the books, the parties, the guns, the tragedies, the laughs, the tears, the smiles, the connections, the conjectures, the fights, the funerals, the shot. And as these thoughts race through her mind, Kate can only think of one word to describe finally Richard Castle for the first time.
She rolls her eyes.
"It was enchanting."
A.N.
My first one-shot on here! :) This was a lot of fun to write. I don't know if someone has done this before, but I just became obsessed with the song "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift. It fit Castle/Beckett in a really weird, off-the-wall kind of way. This idea popped into my head and I wanted to avoid homework, so … Haha.
Thank you so much for reading,
Lizzy