AN: Thanks to anyone who's still reading, reading for the first time; anyone who has favorited, followed, or reviewed. Special thanks to lv2nsb1for sharing and super encouraging, you have no idea how happy that little anecdote made me! Also Special thanks to Jayce Gish, you said so many things that I really needed to hear, I appreciated it so much!

Not Beta'd.

Chapter 17

"Don't worry Castle. My choices will give you the insight you're looking for. Or not."

Such a tease.

Of course she knew that he'd be looking for insight. Always was. He would never tire of peeling back the many layers of her self proclaimed Beckett onion. His fingers twitched and he couldn't help but reach out for her tray, but she blocked him with her body and poked her slim finger into his chest. What he would do to that finger if they were in a more private setting.

"There are many characters. Many choices and to limit me to ten is like asking me which of my hairs are my favorite. Therefore," he was slightly surprised when she pointed fingers at both Martha and Alexis in turn as well, "you may read little into who I picked. I will, as requested, give explanations, however these are not necessarily reflections on myself or my absolute all time favorite characters. I tried to be diverse. A random sampling of those who piqued my interest past and present. Many were left out due to time constraints, etc."

Sexy. As. Hell.

Not that it mattered to him what characters she'd chosen. She could have picked Dick, Jane, and Spot and he would still be thrilled that she was playing along. She was participating in his family's traditions. More than just to appease him, she actually seemed to be enjoying them as well. The fact that this one was rooted in his passion: literature, and she got all defensive about it—that was about enough to do him in.

And that was a little scary if he thought about it too much.

His eyes followed her delicate hands as she pulled the wax paper off of her tray.

Her first cookie was a bit understated. He could tell that it was a female, she had longish blond/brown hair peeking out from a bonnet and was wearing some kind of blueish dress. There were no other distinguishing features. Still...

"Let me guess, Laura Ingalls?" She smiled and shook her head.

Ok then. "Uh, Anne of Green Gables?"

She laughed. "Nope."

At least she was having fun. He pursed his lips and squinted. "Um...Maria von Trapp? Incidentally, did you that The Sound of Music, based on Maria von Trapp's autobiography, was the last musical that Rogers and Hammerstein wrote? Hammerstein died nine months after its Broadway premiere. Sad, but true."

Alexis shook her head at him and groaned. "Daaad..."

"What? You like my trivia! It's interesting."

"Sorry, but that's not correct, Castle. Do you want me to just tell you?" She chewed on her lower lip. Hmm. She was nervous, perhaps? About this character's identity?

"No, I think I'd like a few more guesses. Ok. How about Jane Eyre?" He watched her face for tells. Ah, still not right, but he was getting warmer. "No? Ok, how about Bonnie Blue Butler? I know, I know, her name is Eugenie Victoria." He shrugged. "What can I say? I like the alliteration of her nickname."

Castle snuck a sideways glance at his Mother. Her eyes were twinkling as she laughed silently. She gave him a look that said, I know what you're doing...wrap it up, and shook her head as she gave him a tight lipped smile.

He looked to Alexis. She was smiling openly and shaking with the laughter that she must've been holding back.

And back to Kate. She was beginning to get that I'm quickly becoming not amused look. He'd better keep it to only a couple more guesses.

"No? Ok, what about Becky Thatcher from Tom Sawyer? Eh, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm? No? Ooh! Kirsten Larson, the American Girl who, sadly, got archived in 2009?"

Small shake of the head. Lips pressed tightly together. Time to wrap this up then. He could tell she was nervous about her choices. His objective had been to joke. Ease the tension a little. Although, he really was guessing. "Well I don't know. You've really stumped me."

And there it was. Her smile returned. "Give up, Castle?"

He exaggerated a sigh. "I give up."

"This," she held up the cookie like a prized doll, "is Elinore Dashwood from Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility."

"I knew it! That was my very next guess, I swear!"

"Stop acting like a child, Castle. You did not. You didn't have a clue who it was." But he could tell that she wasn't angry. Just...well he didn't rightly know yet. And she was right. He hadn't a clue that she'd choose this character. He didn't really know who she'd choose. That was part of the reason he'd been so excited for this tradition this year.

Really. Only a part.

He allowed his shoulders to slump with the appearance of defeat. "Alright. Why did you choose her?" Ah, blessed with a little bit of his mother's acting chops, that actually sounded like he was a little disappointed when in reality, he was practically giddy that she was opening up to them like this.

"I chose her because she is one of those characters who possesses a kind of integrity that always leads her to do the right thing. She has a coolenss of judgement and way of understanding that allows her to be considerate without being patronizing. She's quite witty, but not sarcastic. Intelligent, but without being supercilious. I chose her because her feelings run deep, but she is in careful control over them. But she is passionate."

"She is?"

"She is. Very much so."

Oh, they weren't talking about Elinor anymore were they? Mental notes, Castle, his heart was telling him. This is important. You're probably going to need to hash this out with her but in a more private setting.

"Alright then. Elinor Dashwood. Lovely. Who is our next guest then?"

She held up another cookie. This one decidedly a male character judging from the facial hair frosted onto his face. He wasn't going to play another guessing game. Once was probably more than enough for one afternoon.

"This is Edmond Dantès, the protagonist and title character of Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. I chose him because I admire his loyalty. His sense of what is right. I love the way he helps Albert, I love his passion. Most of all, though, I love his final words. Those words of immortal wisdom: 'wait and hope.'"

She closed her eye sand took a deep breath. Opened them. "What, no comments from the peanut gallery?" She arched an eyebrow at the three Castles. (Well, two Castles and one Rodgers really, but not to put too fine a point on it...)

"What made you notice that? I mean, out of so many books, so many great lines...why did those words from that book stay with you?" Alexis, thankfully, was the one to ask. He was itching to know as well. "I mean. If you don't mind my asking."

Kate shook her head. A brief sadness crossed her face, but she shrugged and lifted her eyes to his daughter's. "It's kind of a long story."

The three exchanged brief glances before Castle answered her, "We're holding our peace," and nodded for her to continue.

Alright. Honesty, right? Ok.

"After my mother was killed...it was easy to lose hope. I became...obsessed. One of my personal favorite quotes became Oliver Wendell Holmes' 'Beware how you take away hope from another human being.' Then one day when I was still a beat cop, really low on the totem pole, someone left the book on my desk. I'd read it in high school, but hadn't thought much of it at the time. The unsigned note told me that if I was in for revenge, this guy was a master at it. One night I was eating Chinese takeout, had just finished reading Gathering Storm and picked up. So I started reading it again, this time as a victim, with new understanding of what Edmond Dantès had gone through. It's amazing how a story can come alive when you've felt the emotions that the protagonist feels."

Kate glanced up to make sure she wasn't just babbling away. Their eyes were focused on her in rapt attention. Huh. She'd never thought much of this story.

"Anyway, I'd read a good two thirds of the book and had forgotten about the rest of my dinner. I'd gone to the kitchen to dispose of the rest of it and found the fortune cookie sitting on the counter. I've never understood what good fortune cookies are. To me they weren't fortunes at all. They didn't promise anything. They were usually trite little sayings, sometimes not even making sense. But I'd seen the power they held for many. Over the years I'd watched people rip open their little cookies as they sought out the scrap of paper that could 'change their lives'. It seemed that the need for hope was so powerful that mature adults would immediately believe what's printed on a skinny little strip of paper. But I wasn't charmed. I didn't believe what they might have to offer. Didn't believe in their attributed magical powers. On the other hand, the need for hope had become an essential part of my life.

I opened the fortune cookie." She paused. This was going to bug him. She smiled, waiting for it.

It didn't take long.

"And! What did the fortune cookie say?" He was so predictable.

"It said, 'A good book is sometimes wiser than a close friend.' I didn't put any stock in it, but returned to my book to finish getting revenge on those who had wronged him. When I got to the end, the part when Maximilion and Valentine wake to find that he has already departed with Haydee and left only a letter. His letter ends with those two words: 'Wait and Hope.' Those were the exact words that I needed to hear. To be reminded of in the state that I was in. Castle, your books got me through my mother's murder. But Edmond Dantès reminded me, in a way, that good things would come."

"And?" When had he stepped to her side?

She lay her head against his shoulder. "And he was right. I waited. I kept hoping. Good things came. Things that I didn't or don't deserve. He was right."

Castle's arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into him as he leaned down and whispered "I've always been partial to: Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind."

She could stop there and he'd be a happy camper.

Well. No. He wanted more. Always more.

Still.

He was amazed that she would open up like that. Grateful. Time to nudge her so she didn't stop to think about what all she just shared and stop altogether. "So, uh. Who's next?"

She released a breath. Picked up her next cookie. Oh. Cookies. She'd frosted two cookies together, joined at the hip. "Next is the Bobbsey Twins. The Bobbsey Twins are the principal characters of a series of children's novels penned under the pseudonym Laura Lee Hope. The books related the adventures of the children of the middle-class Bobbsey family, which included two sets of fraternal twins: Bert and Nan, who were 12 years old, and Flossie and Freddie, who were six. The earlier Bobbsey books were primarily adventure stories, but with the growing popularity of the Hardy Boy and Nancy Drew, detective plots began to dominate the series. As a child I read Nancy Drew, liked her even, but the familial bond between the sets of twins was what made me choose them." He watched as color filled her cheeks. So...she must want kids someday. Multiple kids maybe? This, also, very important. It would be very wrong to pull out his phone and start taking notes now. Instead he discreetly gouged his right thumbnail into his opposite forearm. Not enough to draw blood. Just enough to serve as a reminder. A visual cue.

"That's lovely dear." Martha had, surprisingly, remained mostly silent—probably watching her son flounder in his attempt at nonchalance in observing his favorite detective. "Richard mostly loved comic books as a child, but he became a best selling author so I guess I can't complain."

"Not unless you'd like to..."

"No. But thank you darling. Kate, what is that oddity amongst characters?" Martha pointed to a mostly white cookie that didn't resemble a person at all. In fact, it didn't even resemble a gingerbread man. It almost looked like-

"Moby Dick. Title character from Herman Melville's Moby-Dick. The great white whale himself. With no dialogue and only being present in three of the book's 135 chapters, his very presence or just the idea of it, powers a host of unforgettable characters across a canvas as deep and wide as the sea. He represents more than just a white sperm whale. He stands for struggle, for God, nature, fate, the universe, for anything really. And he means something different to each character."

"You know, they used to call me the White Whale..." He was sure his voice hadn't cracked.

"Used to?" She sounded skeptical. Ducked under his arm as if to move away. Not that he would let her. He stilled her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Damn the fact that his mother and daughter were right here. They already knew anyhow.

"Well, yah. I've already been caught. Hook." He kissed her forehead. "Line." Her nose. "Sinker." Landed on her mouth. Her tantalizing mouth. He could get lost in the depths of her so easily.

But she still had a few more cookies to explain, and the explorations could wait.

Should wait.

He kissed her once more lightly, a promise, it seemed of later. Nudged her elbow towards her tray. Hm. They were getting to the choices she wasn't quite sure of herself.

Except that she was.

She'd picked these characters for a reason. It didn't matter if they understood (though of course they would-this wonderful family that seemed to have adopted her). "This next one is another childhood favorite. Matilda Wormwood from Roald Dahl's Matilda. I chose Matilda because I love her spirit. Her passion for learning things and for books. I love that she chooses to excel despite her parents' apathy towards her. And I love that she discovers that she has psychokinetic powers which she is able to use to her advantage."

"Is that the super power you'd pick?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to it." That was true. Not entirely too revealing. She'd be open to having a number of superpowers.

His grin was contagious. "I'd want to fly. OH! No, I'd want x-ray vision. Wait-Invisibility. Well, healing factor would certainly be useful. Uh...shoot there are just too many to pick from!"

"And the rest of the peanut gallery?" She might as well include everyone in their playful banter. This was a family activity after all.

Alexis scratched her head. "I think I'd like the ability to calm people...Empathy. Or maybe...breathe underwater?"

Martha waved her hands in front of her as if she were conducting an invisible orchestra. "Superhuman senses. The ability to see, taste, feel, and hear more than a normal human. To LIVE life to the fullest. To be able to enjoy everything as it was meant to be enjoyed. That would be a power worth having, don't you think?"

Kate smiled, "Indeed it would."

She was adorable. Kate Beckett. Adorable.

She'd probably shoot him if she knew he thought things like that.

Her next cookie, looked like she was almost halfway through, was, much like her first—quite nondescript. Female. She had her hair up with tendrils of chocolate hair falling haphazardly across her forehead. Her dress, he assumed, was supposed to be lace and was made of edible lace. He said nothing as she turned shy eyes towards Martha, Alexis, and finally, himself.

"I highly doubt you'd be able to guess this one."

"Based on my track record thus far this afternoon, if you want to eat dinner before midnight you may want to just go ahead and tell us who she is."

"This character doesn't have a name."

"What do you mean she doesn't have a name? Is she that small a part? You did know that this was an exercise in characters that have played some roll in shaping each of us, right? If this is "The lady who was walking three people behind the horse carriage in the 18th chapter of Pride and Prejudice..."

"Relax Castle. She is the main character of her book."

"But you just said-"

"Yes. She does not have a name. She is the unnamed narrator of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca. I fell in love with this book when I first read it in high school. The narrator, despite feelings of inadequacy and constant psychological undermining from the housekeeper of her new husband, eventually learns that the person who has been presented to her—her husband's late wife, Rebecca- on a pedestal was a sham. And, more importantly, she learns that her husband never loved her, Rebecca, but really does love her, the narrator. It's quite the emotional roller coaster for a teenager and I loved her naivety and courage and determination to do what she believed to be right. I loved that she struggled because it only made it sweeter when she found out that Maxim, her husband, really did love her. That he didn't regret marrying her."

She sighed, caught up.

Adorable.

She probably hadn't even noticed that she'd put the cookie down and was twisting a dish towel in her hands as she spoke.

When had she picked up a dish towel? Hmm. She always had been a sucker for love stories. Hoping he hadn't picked up on what she was sure was a distant look on her face, she picked up the next character cookie and kept going.

"This is Margarita from Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita.Margarita is The Master's lover. She finds herself trapped in a passionless marriage and devotes herself to The Master, whom she believes to be dead. She is a title character, but does not appear until the second half of the book. The Master, an author despairing over the unjust rejection of his book, turns from his mistress. Margarita, however, refuses to lose hope over her lover or his work. Without spoiling too much of the plot, or making your ears bleed, things come to pass where she is offered to be granted her greatest wish. I love that she uses that wish to benefit someone else. So a second wish is granted and she chooses to live in poverty stricken love with The Master. Those responsible for the wish granting don't appreciate the way in which The Master and Margarita have chosen to live, so they're denied entrance to Heaven and to Hell leaving them in a sort of limbo state. They don't have a very conventional 'Happy Ending', but still..."

She wasn't really sure how to explain it. How this character had touched her. How her fate had felt so much like her own at times.

"There are such things as unconventional happy endings."

It was Alexis who spoke. "But I understand your fascination with this particular situation. The magnetic force there is to a character whose life seems tragic, yet...happy. It makes sense." The girl shrugged, trying to make her less self conscious about her choice in this character?

"Thanks, Lex." Lex? Where had that come from? It just kind of popped out.

She was giving his daughter nicknames. Wow. She must really be...comfortable. The Kate Beckett he knew and loved didn't usually wear her heart on her sleeve. Didn't just fling nicknames around—unless she was mocking him.

An excellent turn of events, he thought. Move her along before she realizes that her walls are crumbling.

If only it were that easy.

"Another female character?" he asked as he looked at the next one on the tray.

"Don't worry, Castle, she's the last one. Female that is. This is Irene Adler from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes story A Scandal in Bohemia. She is one of the most notable female characters in the Sherlock Holmes series, despite appearing in only one story. She is described as having "the face of the most beautiful of women and the mind of the most resolute of men". I love that she is caught up in scandal, but outwits Holmes and leaves him note of it. She is frequently used as a romantic interest for Holmes in derivative works."

"So she's sexy and smart. Sounds like someone I know..." Did she have any idea how much it turned him on that she chose someone who bore resemblance to herself without (most likely) even trying? It would be his undoing. But she'd promised that this was to be her last female character. What did that mean? A few good men?

Castle laughed quietly. How many times could he make her blush in one afternoon? He should have been keeping count. Made it a game.

Maybe he'd start fresh tomorrow. For now, Kate was picking up her next cookie. As promised it was male. Dark frosting and. He is known for the most part for his love of Catherine in the first part of the novel than for his final years of vengeance in the second. I prefer to think of how he is before he becomes the bitter angry man that the second novel holds. I am fascinated by how certain components of his nature make him seem like both hero and villain. He is a tragic but romantic mess of a man. I love what he tells Catherine about Edgar Linton's love compared to his love for her: 'If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn't love you as much as I do in a single day.' So romantic."

"So romance is what wins over your heart then? You got it."

Oh if he only knew. He already had her heart.

But a little romancing wouldn't go amiss either. It would probably do her some good even.

Her next gingerbread man was wearing a tux. He hadn't been too hard to decorate, which is why she'd allowed herself a couple of extra cookies.

"When I was a teenager, don't laugh, I wanted to be a Bond girl."

She paused. Let the idea of her being a Bond girl dance through his mind for a moment. Martha and Alexis didn't comment, but the amusement on their faces as they watched Castle struggle with the image was almost as good as just watching his face.

"Bond. James Bond. 007 himself. James Bond is the fictional protagonist of a series of novels and short stories by Ian Fleming. Bond first appeared in Casino Royale which was first published in 1953. Most people know him from film adaptations, but the first film came out in 1964."

She paced a little in front of the long kitchen island. Drew a finger along the breadth of his shoulders. He was probably still trying to picture her as a Bond girl.

"Almost finished."

"Almost?"

"Very nearly. I have two left."

"I could have sworn I said 10."

Alexis laughed. "Give her a break Dad. You had 11."

Martha chimed in, "That's right, and I only had 7. It all evens out."

He laughed. "I suppose you're right. Alright then Little Miss Overachiever, let's see your final two."

She picked up a cookie and covered the last, it was to be a surprise. "This character goes by many names, the most widely known being Simon Templar, though that is not his real name."

Alexis squeaked.

Squeaked.

"What?"

"Oh sorry. I just love him. Books and Val Kilmer. Please, go on."

"He's commonly known as The Saint. The movie version took certain liberties as to why he is called The Saint, but in the books, by Leslie Charteris, it is mostly due to the fact that his initials, and often those of his aliases, are ST, though his true name remains unknown. I like his boldness. His sense of justice."

She shrugged. Unsure of her choice. But the most important one was left beneath the wax paper on her tray. This one she would explain before revealing.

Kate looked up to see three sets of eyes watching her steadily. There was no judgment in them. No expectation. Just...love?

Wow.

Time to just plow ahead.

She cleared her throat and began speaking as her hands toyed with the edge of the wax paper. "This last one is an author. I thought maybe it would be good to pay tribute to one of those geniuses that bring to life these people we come to admire and love. I don't know. Sometimes the way he tells a story, you fall right into it, you know? The main character is you. Everything that happens to him/her happens to you. Your problems, your real problems, melt away and instead you take on those struggles and sacrifices of that character. His triumphs become your triumphs. The best thing, though...about the books...is that the end is already written. Maybe not on paper, if it's a series or something, but in thee author's mind. Somewhere they have seen a glimmer of how it will end. Now, I'm not one of those who opens the book and reads the end first, but it's a safety net—if you trust the author. I trust the author not to let me fall too far. This author, he's never let me down."

She pulled the paper off of the tray.

No words.

He'd been expecting this hadn't he?

Not expecting. Hoping.

It wasn't a man.

It was a chess piece.

A rook.

A Castle.

"Did you say genius?"

AN: Soooo sorry for the delay. My grandfather is in his final days on Earth. Any day now.

But hey, I made it in under a week, right?

Reviews...would be good. Thanks for reading.