Summary: Kate stands in front of her mother's grave with a loss so new, a pain so fresh that she can't quite find the hope she so desperately wants and needs. Meeting a (tall, dark, of course!) stranger changes that. Set in December 2000, A/U only in that our two heroes (cue theme tune) meet earlier than canon suggests.

Disclaimer: I hereby proclaim that I have absolutely no ownership of Castle, the show nor the characters. Shocking, I know...

She stands before the grave, her shaking hand gripping the chain of her necklace, trying to draw some strength from it. She's placed the flowers on the ground, touched the tombstone, and now's the moment when she has to speak. Her therapist had said it would help if she talked to her mom but she's not so sure. Sometimes, yes, she goes home feeling slightly lighter of heart but others it spirals her into several days of the numb sort of grief she's come to know and hate.

"Hi, mom," she begins as she always does. "Uh, I miss you. Obviously," she chokes out. And she does. It's been nearly a year now and as Christmas draws near she feels her mother's absence more than ever. They'd made a half-hearted effort to celebrate Kate's twentieth birthday last month, a quiet evening at her parents' (her Dad's...) home but it hadn't been the same and she wasn't looking forward to the festive season at all. She couldn't help but notice when shopping last week the vast quantity of alcoholic beverages her father had placed in the shopping cart and the fears she had were steadily growing. Sure, she hadn't dealt and wasn't dealing 'well' with her mother's murder but she'd replaced her crutch (meaningless sex with almost-strangers night after night) with tentative steps into the world of therapy and it was helping somewhat. Alcohol, though, she knew... Shaking her head, Kate lets go of the necklace's chain and smoothes her long, slender fingers over the hem of her sweatshirt. It's an abnormally warm winter's day today and she's thankful for it. On her previous visit, two weeks ago, the sky had been dark, almost black, and the rain threatened to fall on her for the entirety of the time she spent stood stiff-backed in front of her mom's grave. As a child she'd never been afraid of cemeteries, per se, but as she stands here alone talking to her dead mother she feels a chill run up her spine.

In fact... She turns her head swiftly, glancing at the open space surrounding her. Nothing. Damn nerves. Damn nightmares. Damn death and graves and murder and horror and everything. She berates her over-active imagination. No, of course she's not being watched. Kate scoffs at herself and turns back to the grave, kneeling before it, the soft, wet grass leaving marks on her scuffed dark jeans. "Mom, I, I think Dad's getting worse. Withdrawing more, I mean. I don't think he managed to crack even a tiny smile when I was there for dinner on Sunday. He's been going to work but he's not eating properly. Remember how he always loved your roasts? I tried to cook it for him and burnt the entire thing. Fucking disaster it was, mom. I should've listened to you better, had you write me out a recipe for it. Bit late now, though..." Kate sighs before drawing in a shaky breath. "I hate seeing him cry. He cries a lot. I mentioned my therapist to him, told him maybe it would help. I don't think he even heard me. Sometimes it's hard to get his attention. He'll be staring at a photo of you, of us, even sometimes staring at nothing, thinking. Um, what else? Uh, I've been on a few dates lately, mom. Some nice boys, you'll be glad to hear. One of them asked about my family. I just couldn't get out of that restaurant fast enough. I just wanted to curl up at your side and cry, have you there to shush me and comfort me and run your hands through my hair like we did when I was little." Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Kate presses her fingers to the stone. "I love you, mom. We'll get whoever did this, I will. I promise. I won't forget. Bye mom." Her knees are starting to ache and she stands up slowly, her joints feeling sore and tired. She needs to go home.

The evening light is dimming as Kate Beckett starts walking back to the car. Even though she hates this place so very deeply there's a quiet stillness about it that appeals to her at this moment, the surety of the area, the sturdy trees and perfectly trimmed grass and memories, so many memories. People come here to seek comfort, find solace, communicate with their past, try and reach out to the dead, try and bridge that gaping chasm between this ever-changing world and the complete full stop that was the next. The slight breeze hints at stronger winds to come later in the evening and Kate pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail. She so needs a haircut. She reaches the center of the cemetery and, as she always does, makes a quick stop at the tiny grave there. The first few times she had visited her mom her it had taken some courage (both liquid and temporal) before she had gone over to stand there. Instead, she wandered idly around, looking at various engravings on headstones, imagining the lives that had long passed now. Occasionally, she'd find herself tearing up at a particularly touching message and once she'd even burst out in laughter at an amusing quote. Inappropriate, perhaps, but so much a breath of fresh air in the midst of constantly choking back tears. This grave though...

The small posies are there. As they always are.

Emily Anne Waterstone

1975 - 1976

always, love

Kate sometimes wonders if Emily had had siblings, sometimes wonders what had taken her from earth so very young. She won't allow her mind to wander in that direction today, though. No time. No room for the swirling emotions she knows will take up and reside in her mind for the remainder of the day if she goes there. Instead, she adds a single flower to the bunch already there and continues walking.

Until she sees him. A man stands, tall and straight-backed, peering down at a grave. She inches closer, curious. There are a few visitors she recognizes by sight now but not this person. His black coat is elegant and he runs a hand through his brown hair before pulling out a notepad and pen from his pocket. What? Leaning against a tree, Kate allows herself to examine the stranger from a distance as he starts jotting down something on the paper. She can't see his face properly at this angle but she can easily make out from his clothing and footwear that he is obviously rather well-off. Odd. He's writing at a furious speed now and she resists the urge she had to go over and spy further. By no means was Kate shy but neither did she go and introduce herself to strangers in cemeteries. And then he coughs. Loudly. She sneaks slightly further behind the tree.

"And hello to you too, creepy person staring at me for the past five minutes." Oh. Kate blushes furiously and unclenches her fists. Damn. She slowly walks out onto the path towards the man. His voice was warm and friendly and so she takes the risk, sheepishly looking up at him as she finally comes closer.

"Um, yeah, sorry," she says haltingly, running her fingers through her hair nervously. "I didn't mean anything by it, I just -"

The man (nice smile, beautiful blue eyes, about thirty?) grins and puts his notepad and pen back into his jacket pocket before extending his hand. "Not a problem. I do my fair share of creepy staring so it's only fair karma comes back to bite my in the ass. I must say, though, my ass has never been bitten by anyone quite as beautiful as you." Oh my god. He was flirting? In a graveyard? What kind of sick man went to pay his respects and then quite cheekily set about flirting with a stranger?

"Excuse me? she replies, almost shrill with her indignance and ignoring his large hand, which promptly falls back down to his side.

"You're beautiful." His eyes are sparkling and christ, he was enjoying this, loving watching as she flushed in embarrassment. "What were doing anyway, if you don't mind me asking? Do you make a habit of staring at strangers in graveyards?"

"Not exactly, no."

"What, staring at people you KNOW in graveyards, then? Not much better, if I'm being honest with you. I don't mind the staring so much, but I would definitely prefer, say, if it were in a place slightly less conducive to becoming part of my nightmares. I know a lovely coffee shop nearby where you can stare at me to your heart's content if you want to..."

She can't even get the words out. This man, he just...

"Oh, I totally forget my manners, I'm -"

"No shit, Sherlock," she scoffs, practically spitting out the words. "Do you usually try and pick up young women in graveyards or did you run out of gullible targets in coffee shops and bars?"

"I'll be ignoring that oh so hurtful remark," he remarks with a raised eyebrow, pressing a hand to his heart melodramatically. "As I was saying, I'm Rick."

"And I'm going. So lovely to meet you." With that, Kate turns away from the stranger and starts back to her car again. No distractions this time, she berates herself. So stupid.

"Hey!" His footsteps are loud as he jogs after her. Oh god. He's a creep, isn't he? Suddenly Kate is very thankful for the self-defense classes she'd taken. His hand on her shoulder makes her freeze up and she glares at his now serious face.

"Let go," she demands.

He does so immediately. Obedient at least. "Look, I'm sorry. I was," he shrugs. "I was being a bit of a jerk back there, sorry. Can we just go back to the creepy staring, me catching you and start over?"

"Um, no?"

"Skip the staring then and we'll just be beautiful strangers meeting randomly."

"In a graveyard."

"Well, yes. Glad you have no qualms with me calling myself beautiful though."

"I've learnt never to break the delusions of the unhinged. Dangerous, apparently."

"And I'm unhinged?"

"Not judging, Rick, just observing..."

"Can I observe you too?" he asks, his eyes looking her over in a way that both makes Kate feel slightly uncomfortable and annoyingly flattered.

"You can observe my back as I walk back to my car and drive away, yes."

"Can I at least know your name before you abandon me and the possibility of our glorious future together?"

She can't help the chuckle that escapes. "Kate. My name's Kate."

Rick nods happily and looks her right in the eyes. "Thanks, Kate. It was lovely meeting you. Feel free to walk and I'll follow behind, docile as a lamb."

"I doubt that but it's not like I have much choice."

"Oh, there's plenty of choice. We can skip merrily up the path holding hands, I can carry you bridal style, I could even give you a piggy back. Ooh," he continues excitedly. "We could race back to the car!"

"You are mad, aren't you?"

"Not exactly," he smiles, almost' sheepish as he starts walking beside her. "Just racking my brains, trying to figure out a way to get you to agree to come and have a coffee with me. You do like coffee, don't you?"

"I love coffee," Kate says passionately, unable to hide that tiny morsel of information (leverage) from Rick.

"Hmm, agreed. My mother abstains from the good stuff and it's the only evidence I need to establish her insanity."

Laughing, Kate puts a hand to the man's arm, a soft touch. "How about this, then, just so you don't get to the begging stage - we go have coffee then you get to leave me alone?"

Apparently he is amenable to that idea because within fifteen minutes the two of them sit across from one another at a small table in a coffee shop Kate is not familiar with but vows to frequent from now on. She sips on the steaming coffee and tries not to moan with delight at how perfectly exquisite it is. Rick is watching her with bemusement and some measure of pleasure, enough to make her wish she didn't blush quite so easily. Yes, this man looks nearly ten years her senior but he's simply gorgeous and, to be honest, she doesn't remember the last time she's enjoyed the company of a near stranger this much.

"Talking of creepy staring, Rick. someone else appears to be engaging in that particular activity now... I feel like you're trying to read my thoughts or something."

"Oh, I so am, Kate. It's easy. Right now you're thinking 'oh my god this man is handsome and I so feel like sharing with him why I was in the cemetery.'"

She frowns. Well, yeah, just a tiny bit wrong. Forcing a smile, she replies with a slight grin (please don't grimace, face), "How about I don't share that information and instead you tell me why you were there? You didn't exactly look like you were mourning a loved one, what with the blatant flirtation by the grave."

"Research."

"Research?"

Rick pulls the notepad out of his pocket and pushes it towards her. "I'm a writer."

"So, you were doing research for an article or something?" Kate prods.

"Oh, no, no. Actually, I'm an author. Mostly murder mysteries and crime thrillers."

"Anything I might have heard of?"

"Depends whether you read much or not."

"I read. Depends on how good the writing is or not," Kate adds with a smirk. "So, have I heard of you or not?"

"Um, well, my last name's Castle. Richard Castle."

Vaguely familiar but... Kate shakes her head slightly, bemused at how disappointed her coffee partner looks. "Sorry, no."

"Well, you'll just have to try them won't you?"

"How graphic are they? I mean..."

"Not very. I mean, the one I'm writing at the moment is called A Skull In Springtime. It's about a young man who runs away after his father dies but he gets drawn into something even 's dead bodies, sure, but I don't exactly spend pages depicting the effect decomposition has had or the full horror of injuries sustained in the murders."

"Oh, well, um, that's good."

Rick chuckles. "Yeah, it is."

Awkward. Kate frowns as she finishes off the coffee, slowly inching towards the edge of the seat. "Um, I'm sorry but I really do need to be getting going now. Lovely to meet you though." She holds a hand out and almost winces as Rick takes it in his much larger hand, holding onto it far longer than is really necessary.

"I can't convince you to maybe meet up with me for drinks sometime, dinner even?"

"You're very persistent, Mr Castle, I've got to say."

Grinning cheekily he lowers his head as he removes his grip and kisses her hand, his soft lips causing a sharp intake of breath from Kate. "I think you're worth it..."

She pulls back and stands up, trying not to look him in the eye (oh god, why did his beautiful eyes have to twinkle like that?) as she takes a few bills from her purse and puts them on the table. "For the coffee. Um, thanks. I have classes in a half hour so I need to go."

"You study near here?"

"Yeah." Oh, god, Kate, leave. Now. Don't let him draw you into a conversation. No, you probably won't go to the lecture but still... "Um, I've been doing pre-law but I'm not sure whether I'll change or not. I've been forced to rethink it a bit so..."

Rick looks concerned and she tries to stop her mouth from shooting off about everything. Thankfully, as seems his wont, he deflects away from the almost somber feeling towards a quick smile. "Smart AND beautiful. If you give me five minutes I'll go and fetch a ring and I'll be back to propose in no time."

"Eager, Ricky, are we?"

"Well, unless you don't have a problem with pre-marital sex..." She gasps and puts a hand over her mouth as he has the audacity to follow the remark up with a wink. Sure, she's had men be quite clear before but this level of blatant interest... "Yeah, probably shouldn't have said that, sorry. Mother always says I'm going to end up bitter and alone if I don't work on discovering some level of subtlety when speaking to beautiful women."

"You can always try men..." she suggests with a smirk. "Maybe they'll be less resistant to your obvious charms."

He laughs like she just complimented him and she can't help rolling her eyes. "You look cute when you do that, Kate."

Again. "Thanks for the coffee, Rick, and the immense flattery but I need to be going."

"There's no chance you'd take my number, give me a call sometime? I'm a good listener."

"If you listen half as well as you talk, Mr Castle, you should become a counsellor."

"A compliment, Kate, was that a compliment?"

"Don't get cocky, big boy."

"Again with the compliments! You're the perfect woman!"

Kate grins and steps closer to Rick, resting her chin on his shoulder and turning so that her lips mere millimeters from his. "You have no idea..." With that, she moves back and is not even surprised when he gently stops her with a hand to her arm. He hands her a business card that he has scribbled a number on the back of.

"My number at home. If a young girl answers called Alexis, don't assume I've kidnapped a young child for 'research.' That's my daughter, six and adorable, and so don't you dare insult me when speaking to her. I need someone to worship me or I'll fall into the slough of despair."

"Are you always this melodramatic, Rick?"

"I like the word passionate more. Better implications."

"Naturally." She takes the piece of card he's holding out to her insistently and tucks in into her pocket. "Again, nice meeting you. It was, um, interesting."

"My pleasure. Make sure to buy my books - you'll even get to see my ruggedly handsome face on the back!"

"Ooh, lucky me," Kate laughs. She waves and turns her back on the man still sitting at the table, walking out of the coffee shop without looking back. Maybe she'll see him in here some other day. Hopefully. He was definitely interesting.

When Kate gets home she enters Rick's number into her cell phone. Just in case.

Twelve months later, Kate is in her local bookshop when she spots a poster advertising 'the new and exciting novel from best-selling author Richard Castle - A Skull In Springtime'. When she buys the book - the day after it's released (she will not act eager) - she heads straight for the dedication and thank you notes, something she has done for as long as she can remember. She skims through the latter list of names, Gina and Andrew and god knows who else, before coming to a halt. Oh my god. Because the last line simply reads:

Finally, thank you to Kate. Because strangers are a danger. But only to my ego. And my heart.

That night, as they eat dinner at the loft, Alexis squirming in her lap as she reaches over for the pepperoni pizza, Kate can't help poking Rick in the arm. "Bought the book today, mister."

"Like it?"

"Almost as much as I did the first two times you forced me to read it."

"Forced?" he laughs. "No one forces you to do anything, Kate." And there's a proud smile on his handsome face as he says it, a smile which Kate just can't help kissing.

Alexis groans and they chuckle. She tickles the young girl lightly, running a hand through her long hair. "Your daddy is a very good man, Alexis." She rolls her eyes (and Kate loves how much it annoys Rick that she's picked up that habit) and leans into her father for a cuddle.

"Read the thank yous, Kate?"

"You know I did."

"And?"

"I'm surprised I haven't tired of how ridiculously cheesy you are when you're trying to get into my pants."

Rick raises an eyebrow. "As opposed to how suave you were in bed last night when you were begging me to - "

"Rick! Please try not to scar your daughter just yet."

Alexis is climbing off the sofa now, away from the adults. He presses his soft lips to her neck, laughing as she squirms slightly, wrapping his arms around her and then kissing her firmly on the mouth. "Next time you're getting the dedication, okay? No excuses."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't stop the small smile from spreading across her face. She likes it when his eyes light up at her smile. And they always do.

"I love you, Kate."

That night in bed he's the one begging her.