So I had this chapter all worked out around chapter four. And I only just typed it up now because I have been sick. Thank you for being patent, here is Rick's POV.


Chapter Six

His office is dark where he sits at his desk. The window, which is open, lets in the cool January air that feels more like spring then the dead of winter. It's been so mild, Rick has a feeling this whole "in like a lion, out like a lamb," will be full force come March. He's not looking forward to it, that much is for sure. In fact he hasn't looked forward to much of anything...

He sighs, his feet up on the desk, laptop in his lap with a blank document and blinking cursor. He stares at the TV in the corner of his office. He's been waiting for more news on the baby-nappers who have been dubbed not affectionately as The Deliverers. It's sickening, he thinks the things people can do to each other in real life as opposed to what he writes. And most of his stuff is prompted by what he sees and hears from the world around him. He turns the TV up to a higher volume as he frowns at the indecency. The TV blasts his ears, his attempts to drown out his melancholic thoughts are only temporarily replaced as the news woman appears on the screen.

"Evidence in the case of The Deliverers, a group a criminals who are randomly abducting and killing women for their children, shows that the murders are well planned, methodical, and sadistic. We have here with us today, Detective Beckett..."

He flicks of the TV off just as his mother walks in.

"You have got to stop moping around, Richard!" Martha scolds as she starts collecting empty coffee cups and glasses with tiny amounts of scotch left in them.

He tries to ignore her as he stares out the now black television screen. "I am not moping, mother," he replies, although his rumpled appearance says otherwise. His hair lays disheveled over his forehead and he's been wearing the same white undershirt for the past few days. His face is scruffy and unshaven, the most he has ever let it grow.

Martha pushes her red hair away from her face and puts one hand on her hip. "Really?" She slaps his feet off the desk and exits the room. "It's been over a month!" she then yells from the kitchen.

He hears the clinking of dishes being put into the sink not too carefully and the clicking of her dramatic heels. "It has not," he retorts. Now with both feet planted on the ground, he sets his laptop on the desk and gets up from his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. It's been four weeks and three days, but he won't admit that he has been counting. Or going to the club every chance he gets since he lost a week and a half in LA, letting Alexis visit Meredith.

"Face it darling." His mother reenters the room. She makes a flourish with her hand as though she's going to give him a bit of wisdom.

But he does not want to hear it. "Don't," he warns from the window, crossing his arms and tensing.

She raises both hands in the air. "All I am going to say is this...maybe it's not mean to be."

"Mother!" He turns from the window dropping his hands into fists at his sides and fixes her with a glare.

"Well, don't you think you would have found her by now? You went back to her apartment right? And you couldn't remember the apartment number."

"I was hungover," he deadpans, but also feels ashamed of himself.

She gestures to him and then to the ceiling. "See, the odds are against you," she says as if the universe is trying to tell him something.

Maybe they have been. First there was the week and a half lost in L.A, then there was a few days of book signings, Alexis came down with a cold. His deadline was up and he was forced to stay in every night. He only made it to the club maybe three nights sporadically and he never saw her...Yes, it's incredibly hard to admit, but perhaps his mother is right. He makes an exasperated sound wiping his hands over his face again.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," she says, and she really means it.

He lets his shoulders sag and turns towards the window again. The cool air brushes at his face, and he closes his eyes. He hears his mother leave shutting the door behind her. He sighs again, and lets himself think back to that night. The air was cooler then, as he and the mysterious woman hastened to her apartment. He remembers the clicking of her heels and the feel of her body pressed into his for balance. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, the result of that night, and the remaining days up to this moment have never affected him so greatly. He feels more depressed about it then his divorce with Meredith, and he only knew this woman for one night.

He doesn't know what to do now...

He can't continue like this because Paula has been breathing down his neck about public appearance. Apparently he hasn't been making enough of them, and his image is everything. His made up persona sells books. Well, if being himself got him nowhere, then maybe Paula is onto something...


"Daddy!" Alexis bounds down the sidewalk, all red hair and smiling face as she slams into Rick.

"Hey Pumpkin," he says into her neck as she squeezes him. "How was school?"

She lets go, and takes his hand as they walk down the street. "Connor pulled on my pigtails again today." She scowls while smoothing her hand down one perfect little pigtail.

"Did you tell the teacher?" he asks scowling along with his daughter and swinging her arm back and forth with his as they make their way to the diner.

Alexis looks up at him, jumping over a crack in the sidewalk. "I wanted too..." She trails of looking down as she hops over another one.

He watches her, feeling sympathetic and angry at the same time that she has to go through this already. At only the age of seven. And kids can be down right evil at this age, not to mention his little girl the the very opposite. "Why not?" he asks even though he knows the answer.

"I don't want to be a tattle tail, and hitting does not solve anything." She says that last part proudly, looking up at her father who stares back with a huge grin on his face.

"That's my girl," he replies as they stop outside Remy's Diner.

Alexis squeezes his hand and then lets go to use all her strength to pull open the door. Once inside she skips over to their table by the window, and scoots into the booth on the opposite side of Rick. Her little feet dangle off the seat as she pulls a menu over to herself. When she lifts it up, he can't see her anymore.

Rick stares at what little he can see of the top of her head, and lets his mind wander. Sometimes he wonders if he'll run into the woman on the street. Like at the news stand he frequents, or the grocery store, the mall, the park or here in the Diner. He refuses to believe that night was it. He wants to know her story. Why they met. Why now doesn't seem like the best time. Because obviously that is what this is. At least that is what he's going to hold onto. The fact that timing is everything and now might not be the right time.

"I think I am going to have...Chicken Nuggets," Alexis says and lets the menu flop down in front of her, causing loose strands of hair to flutter about. "What are you going to have?"

Rick blinks a few times coming out of his pondering and puts on a smile for her. "I don't know," he replies with an exaggerated shrug.

"You are going to eat something this time right?" she asks looking at him more like a scolding parent then his little daughter.

He can't help but feel guilty, and so he grins poking her on the nose. "How about you choose for me."

Her face lights up and she disappears behind the menu once again. Rick laughs taking a sip of water the waitress has just put down.

"What can I get you two today?" the young brunette asks sweetly.

The menu comes down and Alexis looks to Rick briefly before her full attention is on the waitress. "I will have the chicken nuggets, with french fires and a chocolate shake, and he will have a cheeseburger with Onion rings."

"What no shake?" he pouts.

Alexis sighs. "And a chocolate shake," she relents, handing the waitress the menus who smiles and shakes her head at the cuteness before walking away.

"Thanks, pumpkin." he says pulling on one of her pigtails. "Does this mean your paying?" he then asks when she slaps his hand away.

"No. I am only seven," she replies.

From the way she was ordering she could have fooled him.

A few minutes later Rick steals a fry off her plate and grins at her as she protests. "You know," he says around the fry.

She looks at him with her straw in her mouth. "What?"

"Boys only pull girls pigtails because they like them."


Rick pulls up to a club downtown. It's nine o clock, later that night and he had just put Alexis to bed twenty minutes ago. The only shred of evidence he has of his former self as he steps out of the black limo vanishes once he puts his shades on and plasters on his grand smile. He's immediately assaulted with camera flashes and the sound of the music beating inside. It pulses in his blood, bringing him back to that night.

He resists the urge to clamp his fists and ignores the questions and paparazzi as he makes his way inside. Once in there he hands his jacket off to the coat-check without looking at him and then scans the area. The beat is thrumming through the many bodies in the place as red and yellow lights shine down on them, spinning and moving like the many dancers. And of course, he is looking for her. This is a different club but it doesn't mean he can't be hopeful. He half expects to see her lithe body slither through the throng like she did a month ago. Her body humming to the beat of his heart and the pulse in his hands as he reached for her. Only his hands are left tingling, and she does not materialize in this club only exclusive people are allowed.

"Ricky!" He hears over the loud music and turns his head just in time to see his agent Paula Haas, walking up to him with open arms.

Her hair black hair is pulled back as it often is, and she's all red lips and tall curvy body as she makes her way to him. A group of people flank her and he inwardly cringes as most of them look like woman starving for the limelight.

"Paula!" he says, trying not to grit his teeth.

"Glad you could make it!" she says, enveloping him in a tight hug. A show for the group of three woman, all dolled up and reeking of too much perfume. It all mingles in a cloud around him and he finds himself hardly able to breath.

"Of course. Where else would I be?" he asks non commodity. He still searches over her shoulder and his heart plummets. She's not going to be here.. this is it.

Paula squeezes him, bone crushing and he realizes it's a warning. "She's not here," she hisses into his ear. "So get it together and mingle with these people like the Richard Castle we know and love." She lets go at that last part and pinches his cheeks.

"Who else would I be?" he asks, dropping his head slightly and peering at the group with his sunglasses down his nose. He opens his arms as if to embrace this life, and the group laughs.

"He's something, isn't he?" Paula asks, and all three woman, all blonde, giggle nodding there heads enthusiastically as they look him up and down.

"Can I have your autograph?" one blonde asks, all teeth and boobs.

"Sure!" He tries for zealous and it seems to work. "Where would you like it?" He whips a pen from his shirt pocket. Something Paula has made sure he is always handy with.

The woman looks at him sheepishly and alluringly when she comes up with no paper, or no book, but instead, pulls the V of her barely there dress and pushes one breast up for him to sign. Paula looks at him devilishly. Like this is the most delicious detail he can make of himself, and subtly pushes him foreword.

As the other two crowd around him obviously wanting the same thing... Richard Castle takes one last look for what he knows he wont find, and shrugs his shoulders. He says nothing, waggling his eyebrow to produce a flock of laughter and pastes a satisfied look on his face. He bites his tongue between his teeth as he leans in to sign what will be one of many chests.


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