Chapter Four

For the first time in his academic career, Rick Castle set his alarm to awake him one hour before the start of his Monday morning class. As he usually tried to cut his before class waking time as tightly as possible, this was unprecedented, but he had a very good reason.

Promptly at nine twenty-five, freshly showed, wearing a nice plaid button down shirt (a blue tone to bring out his eyes), Rick walked into physics carrying not one but two cups of coffee along with his rucksack. As many of the NYU's student body shared his opinion of early Monday morning classes, only about a third of his classmates had arrived by that point and Kate was not among them, but that was okay. Rick was glad to have arrived first so he would be sure to greet her when he came in.

He made his way back to the twentieth row, but instead of sitting he placed his rucksack on the aisle seat and stood in front of it, his eyes trained on the door. Fortunately, it only took about another minute for her to walk in wearing her green coat with her messenger bag slung over her shoulder. As she ascended the stairs, she looked up and caught his eyes; he grinned at her.

"Morning Kate," he said when she was five steps away from him. He held out the take-away cup in his left hand and added, "This is for you."

"O-oh." Kate stopped on the step below him, surprise etched across her face. She extended her gloved hand slowly and took the cup. "Thanks. You, um, didn't have to."

He merely shrugged. "Though you could use an extra pick-me-up this morning." Plus, he still felt guilty about what had happened to her, and this was just one more tiny way to compensate.

She took a sip of the beverage and a smile spread across her face. "A vanilla latte."

He bobbed his head and mentally patted himself on the back for his observational skills. "Yeah, um, I saw you with one a couple times."

Her brow creased. "How would you know what's in the cup?"

"Oh, um, I read what was written on the side…"

She blinked. "That's kind of creepy."

"Sorry!" Busted—he was totally bused! But, really, he meant nothing by it. He observed her just like he observed others. It's what writers did. Besides, when her cup was sitting on the lab table in between them, it wasn't as though it took high-powered binoculars to read the label showing its contents. Deciding a subject change was warranted, he asked, "So, um, are you feeling better?"

She bobbed her head and ascended the stairs until she reached the second row from the back, her preferred seating area. Rick picked up his rucksack and followed. "Better, yes. Getting up this morning was a bit rough, but the Advil took care of my headache so, yeah, I'm doing ok."

"Great! That's great because-"

"Yo Ricky! What are you doing? Wrong row, bud."

Rick turned to see Pete and Jeremy standing in front of their regular row, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Yet another reason he wanted to get to class early: he was hoping to change his unofficial seating assignment, possibly permanently, but definitely for that day. "Actually, I'm going to sit with Kate today. I mean, if she doesn't mind," he added when he turned back to her. She shrugged, so he gave his friends a smile and sat down beside her at the end of the row.

"Actually, um, I'm glad you're sitting here."

Rick's heart took flight at Kate's words. Endless possibilities for their future swam through his mind and he did his best to suppress them before hearing her reasoning. "Oh?"

She took another sip of latte and nodded. "Yeah, um, what's your schedule like today? I don't have anything after this until one; I was hoping we could grab lunch."

Lunch? Oh he could definitely do lunch. Lunch could lead to so many other things like dinner and walking hand-in-hand down New York City streets. She would, of course, need time to recover emotionally from her assault and he was perfectly fine with that, but perhaps, in the future… "I have a twelve thirty, so it'll need to be a bit early, but yeah, absolutely."

"Great. I, um, wanted to ask you some questions about Saturday night if you don't mind. My father and I are meeting with a lawyer after my class this afternoon. And, by the way, he'll probably be contacting you too," she added with a nervous laugh.

He shook off her concern. "It's no problem at all." He'd already been contacted by the police again the prior afternoon to confirm the identity of Kate's assailant. Rick had been able to provide the correct room number, but at the time did not know whether Douche-face was Matthew or Craig. As it turned out, Matthew Davis was African-American, which meant it was easy for the police to determine Craig O'Donnell to be the gentlemen they needed to question.

She flashed him a small smile, locking her fingers around the take-away coffee cup. "Thanks Rick."

At eleven-fifteen, Kate walked into the student dining hall and leaned against the wall off to the side to wait for her lab partner. How it was only lunch time, she wasn't sure. As far as her body clock, it may as well have been eleven p.m., but the doctors had warned her that she would feel extra tired for the next week. Thank god for Rick's latte.

Rick.

Her perception of him had certainly taken a one-eighty over the course of that weekend, hadn't it?

In all honesty, she was still processing the events of the Saturday night party. That was one of the reasons she wanted to talk to him—to hear it directly from the eye witness rather than regurgitated from a written statement read in a monotone by a police officer. She knew that in the days and weeks to come she would continue to process what happened, but one thing that had been changed most unexpectedly was how she felt about him.

What Rick had done, the actions he had taken, had saved her from a far worse fate, and she was thankful for that. If he had done nothing else, she would have held him in a higher regard than just a sometimes irritating twenty-something whom she sat beside in a physics lab. Yet, his actions over the prior twenty-four hours spoke volumes: delivering her flowers, wanting to find out if she was all right, bringing her coffee. To her, this proved the events of Saturday night had not been him reacting purely on instinct, but that he was a genuinely kind, thoughtful person and she appreciated that more than words could express.

When her lab partner arrived they made their way through the lines with the other students. He chose a breaded chicken sandwich with fries and a brownie. As she still wasn't feeling the best, Kate went with vegetable soup and a roll. She picked out a two-seater table tucked against the wall for them to sit out so they could have their conversation in private.

"I was, um, hoping you could go through everything again for me—what happened Saturday night."

He picked up a ketchup-smeared fry and looked at her cautiously. "Everything?"

She nodded in confirmation. Yes, hearing it again—hearing about the terrible things that happened to her without her recollection—would be difficult. She didn't want to hear it, but she needed to. From the little bit of Googling she'd done the prior day, she knew accepting what happened to her was part of the healing process. Yes, it was terrible, but terrible things had happened to her before and she lived through them. She would live through this as well.

"You don't remember, right? Any of it?"

"The last thing I clearly remember was arriving at your building. I kind of remember talking to you, but only vaguely."

After taking a bite of his sandwich and a rather large gulp from his Coke bottle, Rick leaned his forearms against the table and began to tell Kate everything he knew about what happened. He also detailed his previous interactions with Craig, her assailant, to explain why he had been so confused and concerned when he heard she had gone off to his room. When he got to the part about finding her in Craig's room, he was clearly hesitant, but pushed through it as efficiently as he could. At the end of the tale, Kate asked a few questions for clarification and then thanked him once again for helping her.

"I just wish I could have done more," he said with a rather sad smile.

"You did more than enough." She promised. Then, after ripping a chunk off her roll, she decided to lighten their conversational mood by asking, "So, um, what's your major again? Something with English, right?"

He bobbed his head. "English with a specialization in creative writing, yes."

"You want to be a writer?" she guessed.

"Technically, I am one; I've published a book."

Kate nearly choked, having never expected that response. "You…what?"

"It, ah, went to print earlier this year; it'll be in stores in May."

Kate's jaw hung open. What? Seriously—what!? From the way he spoke with downcast eyes and a tone that indicated he was telling his mother about the lamp he broke accidentally, it sounded as though he was apologizing for the action instead of celebrating, which she would have been doing had she been in his shoes. It baffled her. "You're kidding!"

"No."

"You wrote a book?"

"Yes."

She let out a light laugh—unbelievable! And fascinating. "What's it called?"

"In a Hail of Bullets; it's a mystery."

Again, he used the apologetic tone she didn't understand. Shaking her head, she said, "Wow, um, that's incredible. Congratulations! How…how do you even publish a book?"

"Well," he began, a slightly cheeky expression creeping into his face, "first you have to write the book…"

She twisted her lips to the side and gave him a perturbed expression. "I know that, genius."

As they continued to eat, he briefly explained the process of writing, editing, finding an agent, and ultimately finding a publisher. Having no background knowledge of how books were published, Kate asked plenty of questions, and Rick answered each of them with a smile. Truthfully, she found the whole thing fascinating. More so, she never would have expected Rick, her lab partner, to be a mystery writer. He really was surprising her that week!

"It was a long process, but it'll definitely be worth it to see my book on display in book stores."

She smiled at him. "I can only imagine."

"And, in hindsight, I guess it wasn't that grueling. I mean, I'm getting a book published at twenty-one—before I've even graduated college. I really have no right to complain compared to how others struggle. I'm very lucky. At this point the worst part is just changing my name on everything."

Kate blinked. "You're…what?"

He nodded as he pushed his now empty tray aside. "My name. I'm publishing under the name Richard Castle and rather than just use a pen name I'm actually legally changing it."

Her brow wrinkled. "What's wrong with Richard Rodgers?" she asked, referring to the name she had seen written on his class assignments.

He shrugged. "Just doesn't sound as catchy, I guess. The agent suggested I pick a pen name and that's the one I chose, but going through life with two names is weird. I thought it would be easier to switch. Course, that was before I actually stared to go through the whole insane process," he added with a laugh.

"And…your parents don't mind?"

He drained his Coke bottle before shaking his head. "'s just my mom and she doesn't care."

Kate hummed to herself, taking that interesting bit of knowledge in before she asked, "How long have you been writing?"

"Oh um…since I was ten. Feels like forever."

"Nearly half your life."

"True."

Kate skimmed her teeth across her bottom lip, still taking in the shocking knowledge; she absolutely needed to know more. "So what's the book about? In a Hail of Bullets?"

His expression brightened. "You wanna read it? You can borrow a copy. We can stop by my place after this and—oh shit." He reacted to the way her expression paled. "I'm so sorry I didn't even-"

She shook her head. "Of course you didn't; it's fine." She knew he meant nothing offensive by what he said; he was just excited about his book. Normally, she wouldn't have minded, but as his dorm building was the "scene of the crime" so to speak she was not quite yet ready to go back there.

"You know what? Don't worry about it. I'll just bring a copy with me to physics on Wednesday."

"Thanks."

He nodded his head. "So, your major is pre-law, right? Like your dad?"

She gave a half smile. She could probably have written her own book to explain her chosen major, but she had no intentions to do so. Instead, she merely replied with a vague, "Sort of."

"What did your mom do before she died?"

Kate felt her blood turn to ice in her veins the instant the question left his lips. How had he—How did he-? She never told him—that was for certain. Her mother was a subject she did not discuss. Period. End of sentence.

Rick cleared his throat. "Your, um, dad told me that she-"

"I don't want to talk about her." Kate cut him off sharply. Then, she began cleaning up her lunch, making sure her spoon and napkins were all back on the tray. Feeling the vice begin to close around her throat she muttered out, "I have to go."

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

She shook her head as she stood up and held her tray in one hand and her jacket and messenger bag in the other. "I'll see you later."

Rick stood as well, saying, "Kate, I'm sorry," but she refused to look at him. Instead, she took off towards the exit with barely a muttered goodbye. Talking about or thinking about her mother was generally a topic that brought her instantly to tears. In her already emotionally rattled state, she figured the likelihood of her crying was so high it was practically a certainty. She did not want to cry in front of everyone in the cafeteria including Rick, who while kind, still had not reached that level of friendship. That just wasn't something she was ready for.