In the fifteen minutes that she spends on the phone, Rick is able to piece together enough from Kate's half of the conversation to understand that someone has died and now the body is missing and she wants it found, now.
It isn't a stretch of the imagination or a gross manipulation of the evidence in front of him to conclude that the body in question is his. Instinctively, he understands that this isn't a woman who makes large gestures like bringing flowers of sympathy to his doorstep without a reason and it also explains the wounded look that lingers in the hollows of her face and the slant of her eyes.
Making her a second cup of coffee is perfunctory, as much a peace offering that some version of himself has caused her so much trouble as an effort to sooth what looks to be a bear of a headache when the phone finally gets placed onto the kitchen countertop, apology already swimming her eyes.
He's a little pleased with himself at the reluctant grin that the sight of a fresh cup of coffee and two Advil draw up, and he doesn't even bother to hide his responding smile when she grabs the pills and the coffee in one go, sighing in satisfaction after the first sip and lingering for a longer second taste.
Watching her throat work to swallow the liquid, how the pale line of her neck is extended and her eyes sparkle with pleasure. It's undeniably sexy.
"I couldn't help overhearing," he says, if only to distract his traitorous mind before it can begin to do something like picture her naked, "A body has gone missing?" Rick keeps the question innocent, hand casually placed over his full page of notes and prose so that she can neither read it or tug it out of his possession. It's too early to know for sure, but he can't help but think there is something special about those two opening paragraphs. The character just speaks to him, slotting some missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle into place so that he inexplicably feels more like himself than he has in years.
She hedges on the answer, full lips pressing together while she busies herself with the cup. It's a clear stall for time, her mind turning furiously to craft some half-truth or mild excuse about why she can't tell him. Rick just isn't sure if he efforts are both to save her investigation or to also protect herself from the memories.
It isn't particularly difficult to let her off the hook, his interest and definite attraction to her warranting that he do something to assuage her guilty conscience.
"I know its mine, it's okay," Rick finally says, voice gentle when his hand covers hers, "But I didn't die, Captain Beckett, I'm right here."
He's a little surprised that she doesn't pull her hand away, but he also can't be disappointed by it. There's a visceral connection between them, the press of her skin sizzling across his palm in a way that's entirely intoxicating and seductive.
"How could you possibly know that?" Kate asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion and surprise.
Her frustration draws another smile, this one inadvertent. It's the type of smile that usually gets reserved for attempting to charm a beautiful woman to a hotel suite, something he used in television interviews and the promotional circuit. This is his most charming effort, but Rick can feel the difference in how it rests across his mouth. This one is born of genuine amusement, and maybe a little embarrassment at just how his mind works to connect the dots.
"You looked guilty, and sad. Like you're holding yourself responsible for what happened. And you showed up with white lilies for my mother which -"
"-are meant to express sympathy for a loss," she finishes his sentence, words followed by a sheepish little sigh that is so adorable that he can't help but grin at her and thread their fingers together with a little squeeze of understanding, "Very observant, Mr. Castle," Kate says softly, her eyes shining at him with some emotion that he's at a loss to name.
"I do my best," Rick replies, thumb gently circling across the patch of skin between her own thumb and forefinger. It's fascinating to watch how clearly that affects her, the subtle way her green eyes grow a bit darker, pink tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip before they wrap around the rim of her mug.
Again he finds himself waiting for her to finish, mulling over the words that fill his head. She's so different than what he had been expecting, so reserved and shy, but there's more to her as well. In a way, he feels as it she's yearning for something, clinging to whatever sliver of hope there is to make her life something more.
She's on the cusp of being extraordinary. He can feel it in his bones.
"You shouldn't worry about the other me. I'm sure he's back home and he's fine," Rick says softly, angling his other arm so that it will support his weight when he leans across the counter, "His body disappearing just means he's alive and well in his own world, doing whatever it is he's meant to do there."
There's some sort of war going on in her head, Kate's eyes reflect frustration, disbelief and anger in a rapid succession that takes his breath away until, finally, she chokes out the words, "You can't possibly know that."
Rick's scoff is mostly unintentional, a reaction born from years of people doubting just how much he values science fiction and the endless supply of theories. He's watched hours worth of the stuff, is well versed in the various concepts of alternate and parallel universes (because there is a difference). He once had a Doctor Who marathon that lasted until his mother had scolded him for his lack of hygiene and how it was beginning to infiltrate the main room of the loft.
"Haven't you ever seen Back to the Future, Kate?" His voice takes on that over eager pitch, syllables forming in a much quicker tempo in his excitement, "When the Doc first tries out the DeLorean he sends his dog Einstein one minute into the future, and while he's gone the car pops out of existence! It goes to the future and then comes right back completely unharmed."
If he had thought there had been confusion on her face before, it's nothing compared to the look that paints itself onto her features now. Her eyebrows draw together, lips pressing into a line and nose completely scrunched up to the point that he has to stifle the urge to laugh.
"But shouldn't you have gone to his world?"
"No, Marty McFly was able to be in 1955 on three different occasions and it never erased any of his past selves. Time travel isn't as linear as people want it to be - it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff…." Rick grins at her, giving a waggle of his eyebrows when Kate finally laughs and rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, okay, Doctor. Whatever you say," she retorts, and God help him, she's possibly even more attractive while spouting out character references that compliment his nerdy side. "But I still have to make sure. Even if its just for paperwork purposes…." Kate trails off, eyes darting down to their still joined hands.
"I understand," he assures her quietly, thumb making another pass across her skin until she reluctantly tears her gaze from their fingers to meet his eyes, "But just…..don't get caught up in chasing a ghost…" Rick means it with kindness, and maybe there's a bit of a plea that she give him a shot as well. He still has so many questions, is so desperately eager to understand what happened between her and this other version of him.
And maybe he wants to see if there's more to this than physical attraction and being thrown together via impossible circumstances. What he doesn't expect is how her eyes lose their spark, that swirling pool of green losing some of its light. The mask that settles over her face is hard, the anguish reflected at him something that threatens to engulf him with the rawness that lingers under that carefully crafted shell.
Kate even pulls her hand away, dropping it into her lap so that its no longer in easy reach. That's when he understands it. That she's lost someone close to her, was thrown into this career and this life by the actions of someone else.
His heart breaks just a little for her.
"I…I'll work on it," she says once the silence has stretched too long, voice brittle with emotion that he quickly decides not to comment on. If he's going to make anything of this, to have a lasting shot at infiltrating her ranks like this other version had he's got to play it safe. No need in tipping the boat just yet.
And yet, he takes and breath and dives in a completely different pool, the nonchalance of shrugging his shoulders completely at odds with the yearning, quiet hope that fills him up when he poses the idea, "I could help you….work on it, the case, I mean. You said I was shadowing you for a book and I….well, I do have an idea after talking to you."
For a brief moment, he's sure she's going to turn him down in the way her lips twitch and her eyes blink closed. Already he's trying to think of ways he can manipulate the system, who he can call to ensure that he's allowed inside her world without her explicit cooperation.
Rick is so involved in his plotting that he almost misses her quiet yes and the way her lower lip is pulled into her mouth to keep her smile under wraps.
She likes him. He can see it in her eyes, and in asking to stay he's managed to make her very happy. Considering the way Kate had looked when she's walked into his front door this morning, he'll mark it down as a win.
"You can come in but my life is boring. Whatever idea it is that you have? It might not live up to your expectations, my job involves a lot of paper pushing and political agendas. That hasn't changed since I went on a da—" she stutters on the last word, eyes growing comically wide even as he bounds around the counter with a burst of laughter.
"You went on a date with me? After knowing me a day!" he doesn't mean to be rude with his laughter, but he's absolutely chuckling even when Kate produces a glare at him that makes the rest of it die in his throat unvoiced.
"It wasn't a date, you used it to get information on the case," she replies, that mournful look back in her eyes, "It helped make an arrest but…." Kate shrugs, "It also led to the rest of it."
Oh, he's an ass. Rick sighs, taking the two steps he needs to end up at her side. It's presumptuous to touch her, even though his fingers itch with the desire. He settles for stuffing his hands into his pockets, mulling over the idea of hurting this woman while on a hunt for information. Would that be something he would do? Probably, but he'd also give a heartfelt apology for his behavior.
But instead he took a bullet, he'd heard as much during Kate's first phone call, therefore leaving him unable to make it up to this woman who so carefully has opened herself up to him.
"Let me make it up to you" he says, smile a little hesitant when she glances up at him. Rick is the son of an actress, he understands when it is his cue to continue on and he doesn't hesitate to snag his chance, fingers lightly curling around Kate's wrist before he poses the question, "How do you feel about musical theatre?"