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Lost in bright city lights
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Chapter Eight – Payment due
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With no reason left to hold onto where life was taking her prior to her parents' deaths, Kate Beckett stumbles into a different world. Can she keep herself and her emotions buried deep or will everything crack open when fate throws Rick Castle her way? An AU Caskett meeting. Ficathon 2014 Entry.
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Arching her neck, Kate's head tilts back as she glances upward at the building on the corner of Broome and Crosby. Money may as well be fluttering from the skyline and her hand lowers to the hem of her skirt, fingers tugging the material down a little further.
She couldn't be more out of place if she tried.
But there are no other options. There's nothing left besides this or return home - without a photo spread - and stepping up to the doorman, she attempts to hold her shoulders in a straight line, attempts to keep her head high, attempts to ignore the voice telling her to flee.
"Mr. Castle is expecting you, Miss Beckett." He pulls the glass door open, his eyes never leaving hers as his hand lifts to indicate the elevators set into the wall. "The top floor. Apartment one."
Her mumbled reply of thanks is lost in the ether and any confidence she has is faked as she manages to hold it all together.
Just.
The elevator doors slide open the second she presses the button and making her way inside, the sound of her slow, steady breaths fill the silence as she forces the butterflies inside her stomach to exit.
She's twenty years old, not ten and this is hardly meeting Rick underneath the bleachers for their first kiss.
Cramming her hands into her pockets, her teeth trap her bottom lip with a little too much intensity, and she compresses the tender flesh, seeks the pain that pierces.
Pain she can deal with. It's the nervousness that's unexpected, a bitter taste on her tongue.
Considering all that's she's been through tonight - walking out of the lion's den - this should be easy.
Rick and the emotions he stirs are anything but easy, though.
Arriving, the elevator opens and inching her way into the corridor, she makes her way to the large door marked with a one. It doesn't surprise her that he lives in the first apartment; it suits the flashes of arrogance that she'd seen, the cocky grin that had appeared all too readily.
Pushing the memories of their meeting to the far corner of her mind, lest she begin to recall more than his grin, her hand lifts, hovering before the wooden surface, prepared to knock.
Knock. Just knock.
Except nothing happens.
Closing her eyes, her internal pep talk goes nowhere, her hand frozen, her body stuck.
A swish of air unexpectedly rushes past, a draft created as the door moves inward, and her eyelids pop open. Rick stands before her, casual in his jeans and a flannel button up, a flop of hair falling onto his forehead and with the hand that's suspended high, she drifts it through the space between them, brushing it back into place.
Traitorous hand.
"Kate. Hi. Come in."
Smiling, he doesn't react to her action, thankfully doesn't question her move which is far too familiar for what they are, simply steps backward to usher her inside, and she takes all of three paces before stopping. His apartment - his loft - is massive, the open area of the living space so very unexpected; the high circular glass ceiling, the open shelves of books forming the only internal wall, the stairs leading to the second floor.
Dinner's going in the kitchen, a dining table sits off to one side, well-worn couches form a U in the main area, and while there's a pool table in the far corner… It hits her-
This is a home.
This is his home.
"Do you live here by yourself?" Spinning on the spot, Kate turns toward Rick, his head nodding in reply.
"Uh. Yes. Why?"
"I just…" Her shoulders lift. "It's not the bachelor pad I imagined."
"Oh. Right. I." Looking up the staircase, a cloud flickers across his face before he focuses on her again, his smile a tight line. "It's a long story."
Nodding her head - she's all too familiar with that - she lets it go. Whatever his story, it's not why she's here.
"Look, about tonight. I hope I haven't put you in an awkward position-"
Footsteps on the stairs interrupt, the thunder of their haste echoing through the living area, and her eyes take in the white snowy beard, the wide girth tugging at his buttoned jacket, the camera dangling from his neck.
"You must be, Kate." Jumping down, he skips over the last three steps and her lips curl upward as he holds out his hand. "I'm Bradley."
Gripping his fingers, her smile widens under his firm touch. It's oddly like shaking hands with Santa, and the tension that was holding her shoulders tight uncoils.
"Hi, and yes, I'm Kate."
Teeth flash through his beard, his head nodding, and taking ahold of the camera, he waves it slightly.
"Well, I'm ready when you are."
"Do you need to change?" The sensation of Rick's gaze on her as he inspects the outfit she'd thrown on before leaving to meet Vincent has her head sinking down, along with her heart and self-esteem.
The reason she'd put on this tank top and skirt was because she was supposed to be facing a very different photographer tonight; these clothes were destined for the trash once she had trudged back to her apartment.
How quickly one little choice - her standing up and leaving Vincent's studio before he could go further - changed an entire night.
"Oh, Rick." Bradley's chuckle booms over them, "The photo spreads aren't about the clothes but the model. It's all about the body, the face, and that certain x factor."
"Well, Kate is talented." Rick's mouth forms a perfect O, his words clearly exiting before his brain had a chance to assess their content, and her eyebrow lifts, her stare meeting his.
"I just mean, that those qualities - good qualities - are something you have. You have talent at modeling." His hand rakes through his hair, the strands standing adorably, and squeezing her lips together, she smothers the grin that's begging for release.
Keep digging, Ricky.
"I'm just gonna go back to cooking dinner." Rick points a finger toward the kitchen. "Feel free to use whatever you need."
Dipping her head forward, the curtain of loose curls hides her smile - could he put his foot in his mouth any more? - and peeking through the strands, she watches as he walks away, his head shaking.
"Do you have anything in mind for where you want the shots taken?" Bradley's hand spans the loft, and her fingers tuck her hair behind her ears, her shoulders shrugging in reply.
She's paid to stand and smile, not much more than that.
"Well the lighting is great near the pool table, so I'll start there then."
Following Bradley's direction, she strides over. Running her fingers across the surface of the soft green velvet, she pauses, the skin on her forehead pulling tight as her eyebrows draw together. Like everything else inside Rick's loft it says money, but it doesn't scream it.
Even she's played on more elaborate tables than this.
Hitching her rear onto the edge, she wiggles back, her fingers gripping the rim as she leans forward. Each breath is now a measured intake of air, her body becoming motionless, her face wiped of all expression.
This, this is what she'd signed up to be a model for. The moment when there is nothing, no thoughts, no past, no future, just a void where she is still, required to simply be.
Bradley's camera clicks away, and she angles her head and body every other minute, a familiar routine that was simple to learn - different ways to highlight the arch of her cheekbones, the color in her eyes.
A pot clatters against the counter and her head jerks toward the sound, Rick's face contorting in guilt. His mouth moves comically, the silent "sorry" drawing his lips downward, and she smiles in turn, her head angling as she takes him in.
He moves around the kitchen easily, hands twisting the salt and pepper shakers expertly as he seasons the dish, his large frame dancing from bench to bench so very much at home and it adds another layer to the man that he is. Gripping a teaspoon delicately, he dips it into the pot, and, bringing it to his mouth, he tastes his creation. His jaw drops, a hand waving the steam and heat away, his tongue hanging out, and laughter catches in her throat.
Underneath the playboy he seems to be all boy and the smile on her face deepens, the motion pushing her cheeks high until it feels as if they will shatter from the joy. His gaze catches hers, his melodramatic movements coming to a halt, and her heart shudders, the action of it stirring to life an electrical pulse.
No, Kate.
Don't.
She won't feel, won't allow those memories in. She doesn't need to miss being around others, miss good food, miss sitting around a table laughing. She doesn't need to wish back her younger self. She can push the memories of mealtime with her parents aside. Anecdotes about something funny that happened at school or their interesting cases are not things she needs to think about. Because thinking about that makes her think about what's become of her. Her parents would be shocked to see how much she's wasted away in the last year, how little she eats thanks to the substance suppressing her ability to feel hunger, feel anything.
Closing her eyes, her head bends forward, the grip on the pool table pushing all the blood from her fingers, and with an ability formed through months of practice, she wipes her mind empty.
When her eyes open, she focuses on the front door, focuses on the exit, focuses again on not feeling anything at all.
"So all the shots I've taken are on Rick's computer, and I'm sure if you ask nicely he'll burn them onto a disc for you." Bradley winks, his bushy eyebrow wiggling, and Kate smiles, her head nodding.
"Thank you. Really."
"It was my pleasure." Pulling out the cord he'd attached to the computer, Bradley winds it around his hand before unplugging it from his camera. "Have a look, then make a note of the number underneath the image. It will make it easier for you to transfer those specific ones to the CD later. They're great pictures, just wish I could post process them."
"Yeah, thanks, but they want them raw." Kate shrugs, if it was up to her she would have varied her outfits. It's not what they want though, and those high in the ivory tower receive what they want - without question.
Her head dips again and moving closer to the screen, she slides into the desk chair. It was surreal to step into Rick's office, to see the thousands of books that form two of the walls, the gaps between them that show glimpses of his bedroom.
Not that she'd looked. There's no interest there.
Scrolling through image after image, they all appear the same to her. Bradley's a good photographer and even unprocessed, these shots are some of the best she's seen. But her expression is lacking. A vacant face, a vacant stare, and a sigh slips past her lips. She's going to have to write some numbers down, even if she can't see how she's going to stand out amid all the other girls.
"Take care, Kate." Raising her head, she smiles again at Bradley as he heaves the camera bag onto his shoulder, a hand waving in farewell and she mimics his actions. Of all the photo sessions she's experienced, that was the most enjoyable by a long shot.
"Thanks again, Bradley." Her gaze returns to all his hard work, her finger clicking the mouse repeatedly, yet nothing jumps out, until…
There's a section of ten images, one after the other, and her breath sticks, each beat of her heart impossibly loud in her ears.
She's looking away from the camera, eyes focused on something to the right, but a light to her features slices through the shroud that usually keeps her indifferent. Her lips are turned into the softest of smiles, joy captured in an instant, the green in her eyes dancing with it.
She looks happy.
Maybe for a second she was.
Closing her eyes, she attempts to recall what was happening as she sat on the pool table, what was so different from all of the other moments that Bradley captured, and the realization crashes over her.
Rick.
Rick had been cooking dinner and she'd been laughing as he'd burned his tongue.
She was happy.
Jumping out of the chair, it flies backward, and she strides across the office. She has to show him, show Rick the difference he'd made, and making her way through the door way, she can feel the same smile pushing her cheeks high.
"Thanks for coming on such short notice, Bradley." Rick claps a hand to the older man's back, a grin turning his own lips up as the two of them stand before the open front door.
"As I said to Kate, it was my pleasure, and having you owe me a favor is worth its weight in gold." Bradley closes his fingers, a fist bumping into Rick's shoulder, and Kate's feet come to a stop.
What?
"Yeah. Yeah. You know who to call when you need it." Rick's mouth forms a narrow line, his back straightening as he stares down at Bradley. "And anyway, it'll be worth it."
Bradley's laugh rumbles, his chest heaving as it rolls through his body and Kate's fingers curl.
How could she have forgotten - nothing ever comes without a price.
"I'm sure it will be." Turning, Bradley disappears into the corridor, and Rick moves forward, closing the door, his body leaning against it for a second. A smile slowly inches its way back onto his face, fingers sliding through his hair, and the delight that was surging within her dies instantly.
Right. It's time to pay Rick what she owes.
It's time to pay with the only currency she has.
Dropping his jaw, Rick's eyes widen, his gaze plummeting before jerking back up to her face. He lingers for a moment, and her weight shifts from foot to foot, her teeth latching onto the inside of her cheek, yet as she sways, he glances down again, his mouth closing with a snap.
A flush of heat travels up her neck, her skin reddening under his shocked stare, and she holds herself still. This was always going to be the cost of running from her first photo shoot, the price of calling Rick.
"Kate?"
"Yes?"
"What happened to your clothes?"
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Thank you again, your reviews and your sweetness are truly appreciated xoxo
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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for putting up with me and for their hard work xoxo
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