From the moment he wakes and until his tired, strained eyes begged for sleep the following night, Castle spent every free moment typing away at his laptop. So immersed in his craft, he lost track of time and ended up dropping his daughter off late to school and was very nearly late in picking her up in the afternoon. He felt horrible about it, as any good parent would, but he just couldn't get the words and images out of his mind. When Alexis contentedly played on her own or watched cartoons throughout the afternoon, Castle would write. After he made them dinner and read a bedtime story a short while later (with her help, of course. 'It's a fairy tale, Daddy. Not fairy tail.') he went back to his office and wrote some more.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so inspired.

She was still nameless, his character, but what she lacked in a name and title she more than made up for in everything else. His second encounter with Kate Beckett had fueled his imagination to bursting, and his character finally had the start of an origin story now. Young, intelligent, and driven, she had every opportunity in the world to become whatever she wanted to be. But then tragedy struck her family, and now she was on a quest for answers, and for justice.

Castle just hadn't come up with the why or how of things yet. He still needed...more.

It was the other details of her backstory that he was constructing at present, almost needlessly so with some of them. Comic books and cosplay; a prestigious school and an ambitious childhood dream; a chance meeting with a man she would soon fall in love with.

A man he determinedly refused to believe was himself, because his character was not Kate Beckett. She was just based upon her. Inspired by her.

(Maybe if he said it to himself enough, he would one day actually believe it.)

He wondered how Kate would feel if she knew that he was writing a character for which she was the inspiration for. A character he still had no idea what to do with yet, but even so.

Would she approve?

It was entirely possible that Kate would be angry with him, or disturbed even, by the fact that he was using her life as fodder for something that could potentially end up in another one of his books. The more he thought about it as he wrote, the more he started to think that the protagonist in a new book he was working on, Derrick Storm, could benefit from a love interest kind of like her. But then, it was his first spy novel, so maybe writing her as a sexy femme fatale would be better.

Oh. Wait, no. Not—

She was nineteen. Legally an adult at that age, incredibly attractive and stunningly beautiful, but still only nineteen just the same. He couldn't write her as Storm's lover. That would be wildly inappropriate of him. He'd already written some outlines for sex scenes long before even meeting Kate and now the thought of writing her into those scenes, the images it evoked in his head of the provocative things he had written about Storm doing to the woman he had writhing in his bed, and the things she did to him.

No. Just - No. He couldn't expose her that way. And god, what if her mother read the book? How mortifying would that be? How awkward?

But he just couldn't get her out of his head. It taunted him, a vision of her smirking, beckoning him towards her on the bed with a single finger curling in a come hither motion, her lower lip held captive by her teeth.

Why so flustered, Castle? That can't be the first time a girl's had her hand in your pants.

Shit. He had to stop. Now.

Slamming his laptop shut, he shoved back from his desk chair and blinked tiredly at his watch. The short hand lingered between the four and five while its longer sibling hovered just past the six. He couldn't believe how fast time had flown by in the night. It wouldn't be long now before the sun would rise.

It was long past time to sleep, and about time he got his head screwed on straight when it came to Kate Beckett. They'd be meeting for coffee in just a few hours and he still didn't even know what his motives were. Why had he suggested it and made the offer in the first place?

An innate desire to comfort her? To see her again?

All it took was one look from her, one image in his head, or the sound of the hitch in her breathing, and his mouth started running every time. The need to make things right for her was so unbelievably strong and he couldn't help but throw himself out there.

Dragging his feet to his bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers and threw on an old t-shirt. He brushed his teeth quickly in the ensuite bathroom and stumbled back to his bed. Briefly, thoughts of her tangled in his sheets tormented him as he lay prone, and he shook them away, burying his head into his pillow with a groan.

Some time after, he was finally out, but only to be whisked away to a dreamland where he was met by the girl with gorgeous green eyes and a smile that lit up the room.

"Castle," her breathy voice called to him, and fool that he was, he followed after her. As if there was any other choice.

To think that he ever thought he'd be able to stay away from Kate Beckett.

Even in his dreams there was no escaping her.

Kate rose early on Friday morning, the blood in her veins thrumming with anticipation. She ate a quick, light breakfast, kissed her father on the cheek as he left for work a short while later, and then she hopped into the shower soon afterward. It was a little after nine by the time she got out, leaving her with another two hours before she'd be meeting Richard Castle at the coffee shop just around the corner from the hospital where her mother was admitted.

"It's not a date,"she told herself as she dressed, though she was admittedly picking her outfit with care. It was a lot colder outside on this day, the forecast predicting intermittent snowfall, so she opted for a heavier double-breasted coat, long knit scarf, and a relatively new pair of heeled boots. She went light on the makeup and curled her hair a little, but nothing too fancy.

Casual. Nothing outside of the ordinary for her.

She was simply meeting him for coffee at Starbucks, and they were just going to talk about what had happened with her mother. That was all. There was no grand gesture behind it and it would really be silly of her to think otherwise. He was basically just going to let her vent about everything, right?

But that didn't keep her from returning to the floor length mirror in her bedroom and checking her reflection like a silly, stereotypical teenage girl with a crush; from returning to the bathroom to make sure her makeup was just right, her hair curled just so. It really wasn't a look outside of the ordinary for her but, yes, maybe she was being a little more meticulous about it. She was never one to worry about how others perceived her and it wasn't like Castle had ever seemed put off by her appearance before anyway.

And it wasn't a date.

But it sure as hell was beginning to feel like one.

To kill some time and two birds with one stone, Kate took her bike to the New York Public Library in Midtown and returned her finished copy of In a Hail of Bullets. Looking around the mystery novel section of the library shelves, she easily found an assortment of books available by Richard Castle, and the next book that was on her list to read: A Rose for Everafter. From her research, she knew it to be Castle's second published novel, and even he himself had recommended it to her two days ago when they had been on their way to lunch at Bellevue.

She gave the yellow cover of the book a quick once-over in her hands, noting the skull and clock that sat prominently to the forefront and wondering if they had anything to do with the plot of the book at all. Castle's books did tend to take quite a few liberties and exaggerate on some themes, but the overall tone and feeling is what she enjoyed most. The man knew how to spin a tale and weave a story, how to engage his readers and get them attached to the characters they were reading about.

And he knew how to keep you coming back for more.

Glancing to an overhead clock on the far side of the wall adjacent to the aisle she was in, Kate took note of the time. It wasn't even half past ten, and the Starbucks they were meeting at was within walking distance, maybe just a mile or so. She looked down at the book in her hands, turned it over to see Castle's face staring back at her on the other side, and then, lightly biting her lower lip, she thought to herself, Oh, why not?

Finding a comfortable seat in a quiet corner of the library, Kate sat down with Richard Castle's book and started reading.

Castle's cell phone rang from within his pocket just as he was getting out of a cab at the corner of 2nd and 33rd Street. He was running late after oversleeping, and lunch traffic wasn't doing them any favors despite the cabbie's best efforts to earn the enormous bonus Castle promised him if he could get him close to Starbucks within the next ten minutes of him climbing inside the cab.

He didn't need the help of any caller ID to guess who it probably was on the other end of the line, but seeing the display notify him that the call was from a payphone, he knew it could only be one person.

"Hey, Kate? Is that you?" he answered his phone sheepishly. He didn't even wait for confirmation that it was her before he plowed ahead apologizing.

"Look, I'm so sorry. I would have called to tell you I was running late but then I realized I didn't have a phone number for you and I didn't even know if you had a cell phone at all, but I'm right down the block. I'll be there in two minutes, tops. I promise."

He waited a torturous few seconds before her soft laughter erupted through the earpiece of his phone. She had such a beautifully contagious laugh to her. Just hearing it made him beam.

"Easy, Castle. It's fine. I was just calling to tell you I was running late, too."

He found himself slowing the pace of his steps and his breath caught. "You are? Is everything okay? Where are you?" he asked, stepping up to the corner and pressing the pedestrian crossing button on the traffic light pole, though he briefly debated hailing another cab depending on how she answered.

Kate hesitated, taking in her surroundings and shifting the payphone in her hand from one ear to the other. "I'm um, at the library." Where I lost track of time due to another one of your books.

She waited, hoping he wouldn't catch the significance of her location but then, sure enough, Castle chuckled and she cringed, knowing she was caught.

"Oh? The library, hmm? Is it safe to assume you've acquired a new Richard Castle thriller, Beckett?"

He could picture the scowl on her face when she growled back, "Oh, shut up."

"Which one?" he pressed on, ignoring her irritation with him. "Is it one I suggested?"

"Forget it, Castle. I'm not feeding your ego."

He grinned. "You said you like lattes, right? How do you take yours?"

The line went silent for a few seconds before she asked him, "Why?"

"I'll grab us some coffees and meet you over there. It's not that far, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she fumbled, but then, "Castle, we can't bring coffee into the library."

"You can't talk in the library either," he supplied. "So, Bryant Park next door. You wanna go ice skating, Beckett?"

"W-what?"

"Ice skating." The line was silent on her end for another moment before Castle continued, "Please tell me that in all the nineteen years of your life spent in New York you've at least gone ice skating before."

Kate exhaled a frustrated breath of air. For as charming as the man could be at times, he could be simply exhausting with how spontaneous and hasty he was with everything in his life, and how much he loved to tease. She could tell easily that it was going to take some effort to keep up with him sometimes.

Not to mention a great deal of patience.

"Yes, Castle. I've gone ice skating," she replied cooly. She wasn't about to let on how horrible she was at it. "I thought we were getting together to talk about my mom's case?"

"Unless you know of some way to skate on your face—which would be incredibly impressive to me, to be quite honest. I'll definitely require a demonstration of that—I'm quite certain we can speak while upright and gliding across a frozen pond."

Shit. He was serious about the ice skating. "My skates are at home," she argued quickly, only a second later to realize to whom she was speaking and how futile that argument would be.

"Imagine that. So are mine. We can rent some."

"Castle," she warned, trying to convey with her tone what she was too stubborn to voice aloud. It was one thing to be able to spend time with him, but she didn't want that time spent falling on her ass and having him laugh at her every time she stumbled clumsily on the ice.

"Don't worry," he continued though, unperturbed. "I've got it covered. It'll be fun! So, about that coffee..."

Sighing in frustration again, she finally gave in. Maybe she could just dig her feet in and deal with it once he got there.

"Fine. A skinny vanilla latte."

"Got it. See you in twenty," he told her quickly, rushing across the street before the light turned red and pressing down on the red END key of his phone before she could form a response to him.

Kate reached into her bag, pulled out her copy of A Rose for Everafter and glared at the back cover, tempted to take it right back inside from whence it came.

She debated a short moment before throwing it back in her bag and muttering, "Damn you, Castle," under her breath.

Leaning against a light post by the snowy steps leading into Bryant Park off of 40th Street, Kate waited for Castle's arrival while quietly watching the clouds looming overhead. The big white and gray puffs were blocking out much of the sunlight now, and she was certain it would start snowing before long. Not that any of this would be a deterrent to any of the ice skaters currently zipping along the ice just a short distance behind her, however.

Bryant Park was directly behind the New York Public Library and it was bustling with people. There was much more room and much less crowding on the ice here though, allowing for ample space for people to skate along happily and undisturbed. She'd gone with her mother and father to Rockefeller Center just about three weeks before Johanna had been attacked—it was something of a Christmas time ritual for her little family to check out the primarily tourist attraction, but Johanna loved it so—and Kate recalled with both an eye roll and a smile how many times the two of them had been bumped into, or had to change direction suddenly, and fallen all over the ice because of how miserably crowded it was.

They had a great time and a good laugh about it later as usual, all things considered, but she realized now that always going to Rockefeller Center never really afforded her the opportunity to learn how to skate properly.

It wasn't a pretty sight that she was very keen on letting Castle see today if he was so insistent on them going out on that ice.

"Hey."

The sound of his voice so suddenly beside her made her gasp and startle, and she'd have shoved him, hard, had she not resisted at the last moment upon seeing him carrying two cups of coffee and what appeared to be a white pastry bag.

"God, you scared me!"

Castle chuckled. "Where were you, space cadet?"

"Huh?" Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "I've been here waiting for you."

"No, I mean, you looked pretty lost in your head as I was walking up. Something on your mind?" He handed her the vanilla latte with a small smile playing across his lips and then asked carefully, "Your mom?"

"Oh." Kate took her coffee from him with a whispered thanks and looked from Castle to a group of teenaged skaters, perhaps not much younger than herself, who were heading over to the ice at that moment.

"Just bringing back some memories, I guess, being here. We went skating not too long before...everything." She took a deep breath, and Castle gave her that moment of silence. She exhaled slowly before adding, "It's crazy how some things can change in the blink of an eye."

Castle appeared to ponder over the truth of that for a moment, his mind fleetingly recalling his ex-wife in bed with her director and the ensuing fallout of her tryst, before shaking that thought off, leaning back against the nearby iron fencing and changing the subject to something more positive.

"You ever been skating here before?" he asked her.

"No." She might as well be upfront with him. Maybe he'd cut her some slack and forget the whole thing. "My mom and I usually stick with Rockefeller Center. Sort of dumb, I know, because of how packed it is, but she loves the atmosphere there this time of year."

Off her shrug and with a twinkle in his eye, he said, "I've been taking Alexis here since she was three. She even skates better than I do now, if you can believe that. She flits around looking like a little ice fairy. It's adorable."

Kate found herself smiling brightly, despite her reservations. He was such a good dad. She didn't even have to see him with his daughter to know so. You could hear it in his voice alone, and the way he spoke so affectionately about his little girl.

"Don't worry. I won't force you if you don't want to go, Kate."

Her eyes had been carefully focused on the lid of her to-go cup, and when she lifted her gaze to him, he added, "Especially if you're going to be out there wearing that."

On reflex, she looked down at her clothing, then gave him a look, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"I noticed the helmet," he explained, lifting a finger and pointing down at where it peeked out from her shoulder bag. "You hanging on to that for somebody?"

Kate laughed. "No. This is mine."

"Yours?" he asked in surprise. She nodded, smiling back at him.

"Uh huh. For my bike."

"Bike," he said flatly, then his eyes steadily lit up with the knowledge as it hit him. "As in like a scooter?" She shook her head. "A motorcycle?" he guessed again with glee.

"Mhmm."

"You ride a motorcycle? That is so cool. Can I see it?"

Kate pursed her lips in a smug little smile, then gestured with a nod of her head down to the white bag in his hand.

"Later. What ya got there?"

"Oh. I didn't eat anything yet this morning, so I brought breakfast. We can just go grab a seat somewhere, eat a couple bear claws. Talk over coffee as planned, if you want."

Kate's line of sight flit from Castle's eyes to the bag in his hand and back up again, and the softness of his expression sent a flutter through her chest. Okay, so he could be really pushy sometimes, but there was still that sweet and understanding side of him that she just couldn't possibly resist.

She reached her hand out for the pastry bag and took it from him, then nodded in the direction of the icy pond before walking off in that direction.

"I swear, if you laugh at me, I'll hurt you," she tossed over her shoulder. "And you'll never lay eyes on my Harley."

"It's a Harley?" he exclaimed, but when she gave him another look he replied, "Scout's honor," a grin on his face as he crossed a finger over his heart for good measure.

She rolled her eyes and kept on walking, hiding her smile behind her cup as Castle trailed behind, sipping his coffee contentedly.