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Mark Fallon still hated paperwork, even after all the years he'd had to do it as part of his job. He was somewhat distracted but very grateful, then, when his cell phone rang. Picking it up from the corner of his desk without looking at the screen, he answered, "Fallon."
"Hi. This is Madison Queller," the voice on the other end replied. "We met a few nights ago at Kate Beckett's City Council campaign event?"
"Yes," Mark replied, "I remember you." He shifted his focus from his paperwork to the phone. "It's good to hear from you."
"I was calling about that cup of coffee," Madison said.
"I'm not maxed out on my caffeine intake for the day," Mark replied.
"Neither am I," Madison replied. "Would 6:00 work for you?"
"Six is fine," Mark said. "Where?"
"There's a place near my restaurant," Madison said.
"You own a restaurant?" Mark asked, impressed.
"Q3," Madison said. "We have a second location now, up in Fairfield, Connecticut, but I'm at the one in Midtown. My favorite coffee shop is a few blocks West of the restaurant." She gave Mark the address, and he pulled a notepad closer and scribbled down the address she gave him. "Meet you there at six?" she asked.
"I'll be there," Mark assured her.
"Okay. I'll see you then," Madison said.
"See you then," Mark echoed before ending the call.
He set his phone down and brushed at his jaw. It was a little after 2:30 PM now. Get a grip, Fallon, it's a cup of coffee. You don't have to shave for it, he mentally reprimanded himself. Still, this was his first...he hesitated to call it a "date." He hadn't really dated very much since Kim's death, and never seriously. A dinner here, a movie there, though he was no monk. He was basically a sexual camel, really; once or twice every six or seven months was enough for him, especially without any kind of attachment. Lust always burned out fast. Once he had scratched that particular itch, he was ready to move on.
But he couldn't deny there was something different about Madison Queller. She wasn't put off by his demeanor. But it wasn't about a challenge for her. He knew that instinctively.
He had been cloaked in an emotional suit of armor for sixteen years, so decimated by his wife's death that he didn't dare let anyone else get close to him again. He survived losing Kim, and there were times when it felt like he had survived losing her against his will, because in a very real way, his life had ended on September 11, 2001, as well—the life he had known, loved, and been building with Kim for nine years. He had a very different life without Kim. Emptier? Hell yes. Lonelier? Lonely beat the alternative, as far as he was concerned. If he didn't put himself out there, he couldn't get hurt. And he never wanted to hurt again the way he had hurt that morning all those years ago when he lost his connection to Kim, when he heard nothing but static over the phone, when he heard Mr. Stanhope's secretary cry out, "Oh my god, the second Tower of the World Trade Center just collapsed!"
He didn't view Madison Queller as a challenge either. It had been a while, but he honestly wasn't looking to get into her pants. She intrigued him precisely because she hadn't been scared away by the image he projected to the world. The last time there hadn't been a woman who was bothered by what was politely termed his standoffish behavior was Kim...and that's because back then, he hadn't been standoffish.
Mark returned to his paperwork, since his supervisor was one of those Company wonks who insisted on paperwork being finished on time. He had just finished it up when his phone binged, signaling an incoming text message.
The text was from Madison Queller.
"I'm so sorry, Mark, but there's a crisis here work. I can't get away. I swear I'm not standing you up, but two of my servers had to leave b/c one is sick and the other one's mother was just in a serious car crash and is headed to the hospital. Can I have a raincheck, please?"
Mark was surprised at what he felt after reading the text: he felt disappointed. He had actually been looking forward to having coffee with Madison to end his workday.
But in the next instant, a thought occurred to him. He quickly sent Madison a short reply: "Sure, no problem."
Then he did a quick Google search on his computer, during which Madison texted him back, "Thanks. I'm REALLY sorry."
After getting the information he needed, Mark texted back, "It's all right."
He finished his paperwork, then grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, pocketed his phone, and headed out.
Twenty minutes later, he was at Q3 in midtown Manhattan. The restaurant was packed, but Mark was undeterred. "Good evening, sir. Table for one?" the maitre'd asked when Mark reached the podium.
"Two, actually," he said. "I don't have a reservation. Is that all right?" He hadn't thought far enough ahead; if he needed a reservation, he was sunk.
The maitre'd checked the book on his podium. "We have one table for two left in the back," he replied.
"That's perfect. I'll take it," Mark said. "And I really appreciate this."
"If you'll follow me, sir," the maitre'd said. Mark followed him to the back of the restaurant, and when they arrived at the table, Mark reached out his hand to shake.
"Again, I really appreciate this. Thank you very much," Mark said as he shook hands with the maitre'd. The maitre'd looked down at his hand after Mark ended the handshake and saw a $20 bill there.
"Thank you, sir," the maitre'd replied before pocketing the twenty and leaving.
When Mark's server arrived with menus, he said, "Is your boss still here? The owner and manager, Madison Queller?"
"Yes," the young woman replied, perplexed.
"Do you know how she takes her coffee?" Mark asked next.
"Um...yes," the server replied, still puzzled.
"Good," Mark said. "Please bring me two cups of your finest coffee, one black, and the other fixed however Madison likes it best, and then after you've brought the coffee out here, go back and tell Madison that the guy at Table whatever-number-this-is wants to speak to her personally, but don't tell her anything else about me, okay?"
"Okay," the server said. She returned a couple of minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee, setting one in front of Mark and the other at the empty place across from him.
When she returned to the kitchen, she asked one of her fellow servers, who was carrying a tray full of plates and drinks for his customers, "Hey, Eddie, have you seen The Boss Lady?"
"Back there," he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the back of the kitchen.
"Thanks," she replied. She went back into the kitchen and found Madison in the back, thanking another server, Jasmine, for coming in to help cover while Mateo was at the hospital with his family. "Hey, Boss Lady?" she said.
"Courtney, what can I do for you?" Madison asked her young employee.
"The guy at Table 19 is insisting on speaking directly to the manager," Courtney replied, carefully schooling her features so as not to give anything away.
"On my way," Madison said, bustling out of the kitchen and heading to the back of the restaurant.
Mark saw Madison approaching, striding purposefully across the restaurant towards him, and he got to his feet, quickly buttoning his jacket.
When Madison realized Mark Fallon was the guy at Table 19, she stopped in her tracks. "Mark?" she said, surprised.
"At the risk of appearing too forward, I decided to collect on that raincheck you mentioned," Mark replied. "Since we couldn't meet at your favorite coffee shop, I had your server bring a cup of coffee fixed the way you like it." He walked around the table to pull out Madison's chair for her.
More than a little floored, Madison sat down. Mark gently pushed her chair in, then resumed his own seat. "I take my coffee black," Madison said. "My whole staff knows that."
Mark took a sip of his own coffee, then replaced the cup in its own saucer. "I take my coffee black too," he said. "And this is very good coffee."
"Thank you," Madison said. Mark Fallon was definitely an enigma. Thanks to Kate, she knew he had good reason to be closed off, but he had sought her out to keep their coffee date, and managed to surprise her in the process.
Concern flickered across Mark's face for a few seconds. "Do you have time for a cup of coffee? Or does the crisis still need your attention?"
Madison smiled. "I have time," she said. "Everything is under control." She settled herself more comfortably in her chair and picked up her coffee cup. "So, you know a bit about my day. How was your day?" she asked. "Or are you allowed to tell me?"
Mark resumed his seat across the table. "Paperwork," he said. "Not anyone's favorite part of the job by any means, but something that has to be done." And so Madison and Mark compared notes on their respective work days as they had their coffee.
When Mark was getting ready to leave an hour later, he said, "Is it all right if I call you?"
"I'd like that," Madison said. When she smiled at him, he smiled back. It was the same genuine smile he had given Kate and Castle at the campaign event days earlier, but it lasted a few seconds longer this time.
"All right, then," Mark said. He took Madison's hand and squeezed it once, quickly, and surprisingly (to her) gently. "I'll call you tomorrow. Good night."
"Good night," Madison said as she watched him disappear through Q3, out the door, and into the night.
"We are going to have the best costumes here!" Rick exclaimed as he and Kate got out of the car.
"Considering how many Wonder Women, Princess Leias and General Leias I've already seen, at least we'll stand out," Kate mused, straightening the long skirt of her red dress. She looked Rick up and down. "I still want to know where you found a pair of boots like that, and if they make them for women and in my size," she said, gesturing to his feet.
Rick's answer was forestalled by his phone binging, announcing an incoming text. He pulled the phone from his hip pocket and read the screen. "Alan. He and Lanie are already here and waiting for us inside," Rick said. He and Kate made their way into the Javits Center then, where New York Comic-Con 2017 was being held.
"Well, if there's a murder here this year, we won't have to deal with it," Kate said as they entered the noisy, crowded convention center.
"Alan has been bragging about his and Lanie's super-secret costumes for weeks. You really have no idea what Lanie and Alan are dressed as?" Rick asked for the hundredth time.
"None," Kate replied. "All I've gotten from Lanie are complaints about having to dress up for this."
"Thank you," Rick said. Kate tilted her head slightly, giving her husband a quizzical look. "For going along with this. It's no Nebula 9, I know..."
"You've been very good about not making fun of Nebula 9 since I asked you not to do that," Kate said. "I understand why you like this show, and in some ways, this costume is even better than Lieutenant Chloe's was."
"No argument here," Rick said, giving Kate a very appreciative look.
"Rick! Kate!" They heard Alan calling them then.
When Rick and Kate turned in the direction of Alan's voice, and they caught sight of Alan and Lanie and saw what they were wearing, their faces fell. Lanie and Alan wore similar expressions of shock and dismay.
"Those are your super-secret costumes?" Rick asked. "You're kidding!"
"How did we do this?" Alan asked.
"You insisted on keeping everything top secret, that's how," Lanie said.
"I had no idea Rick and Kate were going as Captain Mal and Inara from Firefly!" Alan defended himself.
"We were the ones who insisted on keeping the costumes secret," Rick said. "So this one is on us guys."
It was true: Rick and Alan were both dressed as Captain Mal Reynolds, and Kate and Lanie were both decked out as Inara Serra, from Joss Whedon's Firefly, a favorite show of both Rick and Alan.
"We could have come as Princess Leia and Han Solo," Lanie said. "I actually found a tutorial at YouTube on how to do my hair in those ridiculous ear-covering buns from the original Star Wars
movie and spent a week practicing how to do it, but you were all, 'Everyone's going to come as Leia and Han this year, as a tribute to Carrie Fisher. We'll be the only Mal and Inara there.'"
Kate burst out laughing then. Alan looked confused, and Rick wondered exactly what Kate was laughing at. "Lanie," Kate said as she recovered herself, "it could be a lot worse."
"How?" Lanie wanted to know.
"Full body makeup," Kate said. "Ripped fishnets like that gaggle of Harley Quinns over there." She gestured to a quintet of people dressed as Harley Quinn from Suicide Squad.
"Oh, my...Two of those Harley Quinns have ZZ Top beards!" Lanie exclaimed. Thankfully, no one heard her in the din except Alan, Kate and Rick.
"Any costume that involves massive cleavage spilling over or a corset," Kate continued. "And as badass as Princess Leia was in all the Star Wars movies, right up to being General Leia Organa, she had very unfortunate hairdos...and do not get me started on that gold bikini."
"Yes, seriously, don't get her started on the gold bikini," Rick chimed in, very familiar with Kate's views on that particular Princess Leia costume.
"So we wore the same costumes," Kate said. "It's not as bad as all that, really. There are a lot of Leias here, like Alan said, those Harley Quinns, and a veritable sea of Wonder Women. This isn't constricting, it doesn't exploit or objectify us as women, and we didn't have to paint our skin blue, green, or gold."
Lanie sighed. "You have a point," she said. She looked at Alan then. "But if we come to this thing again next year, I'm picking our costumes!"
"Whatever you say," Alan replied.
Rick glanced at his watch. "I hate to break up the debate," he said, "but the Joss Whedon panel is starting in approximately ten minutes."
"We'll finish this discussion later," Lanie told Alan.
"Yes, dear," Alan replied dutifully.
Lanie walked beside Kate, leaving Alan and Rick to walk next to each other. "I still bet we're the only ones at the Whedon panel dressed from Firefly," he said.
"That's a good bet," Rick replied. "I went to one other Whedon panel years ago. I thought I had walked into the auditions for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And with this being Buffy's twentieth-anniversary year-"
"Any chance David Boreanaz might be a surprise guest?" Alan cracked. "Lanie might forgive me if she gets a live Angel sighting."
"Lanie likes Angel?" Rick asked, surprised.
"Well, she's not really into Buffy or Willow," Alan said dryly.
"Do you and Castle have different costumes for Halloween?" Lanie asked Kate.
"Rick insisted," Kate replied. "You know what a production he makes out of Halloween, so re-using our Comic Con costumes was never an option."
"Well, thank goodness for that," Lanie said. "Because Alan and I are going to be wearing these on Halloween. At least we won't match you at the Halloween party. That would really be embarrassing."
When they arrived at the panel, they were indeed surrounded by a sea of Buffys, Willows, Angels, and Spikes, as well as several Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters.
As they settled into their seats, no one else in the audience paid any attention to the two Mals and two Inaras sitting together.
Kate paid more attention to Rick's giddy reactions than she did to the panel itself, and she smiled to see him so clearly excited.
Lanie wasn't into sci-fi or panels or conventions at all, but seeing how much Alan was enjoying himself, the way he hung on the panel's every word, the way his eyes lit up, and how happy he was to be there, she realized that this was important to him, a very big deal, and okay, yes, it was embarrassing to her that she and Alan had shown up dressed identically to Kate and Castle, but on the other hand, no one else here seemed to notice or care.
When the panel was over, before they left the hall, Lanie leaned over and kissed Alan. "Wow," he said when she broke the kiss. "What was that for?"
"An apology for being so difficult earlier. This means a lot to you," she gestured all around her, "and I didn't really get that before. Watching you these past couple of hours...I do."
"I know this isn't really your thing," Alan said. "And I'm sorry David Boreanaz wasn't here. I know he's the only thing that made Buffy worth watching for you."
"Not the only thing," Lanie said. "Spending all that time with you was the main reason I binge watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer with you."
Alan pulled his phone out of pocket. "Just so you know, I'm not a completely clueless nerd." He tapped the keypad, then handed the phone to Lanie.
She read the phone, then looked at Alan in surprise. "The Berkshires?" she asked.
"Confirmed reservation for next weekend for Mr. and Mrs. Alan Masters," Alan replied. "You mentioned several months ago that you've always wanted to see the Berkshires in the fall. Comic-Con was for me. The Berkshires are for you."
Lanie threw her arms around Alan and hugged him, and he hugged her back.
In the meantime, Rick and Kate checked on Lily (she was happily playing at home with Alexis and Javier), and then Kate said, "So, where to next?"
"Souvenirs, of course," Rick said. "I promised Alexis I'd bring her something back, and we have to find something for Lily."
They found a Wonder Woman t-shirt for Alexis, and a Wonder Woman onesie for Lily, although the designs didn't match.
"Do you think Lily will want to come here someday?" Rick asked after they had made their purchases.
"It wouldn't surprise me at all," Kate said. "I believe that's one of your dreams. Family Comic-Con visits."
"My dreams do have this magical way of coming true," Rick mused. "I'm reminded of that all over again when I wake up with you every morning."
Kate leaned closer so she could speak directly into Rick's ear. "You were already getting lucky tonight," she said, "but just for that, I'll do Firefly cosplay."
Rick looked at Kate earnestly. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want or need any cosplay. I only want to make love with Kate Beckett Castle, because you, Kate...you are my ultimate fantasy, and you always will be."
Kate could only respond to that by kissing Rick, in the middle of the overcrowded Comic-Con floor, so that's what she did.
