March—The Book Shop

"You may pick out one book," Martha said, holding up one finger to her son. "Just one, and then meet me at the register, alright?" Castle nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, Mother," he said, "I got it the first five times you said it; can I go now?"

"Go on," Martha said, waving him off as she turned and headed towards the romance section. Castle stuck out his tongue; romance had done nothing for him in the last couple of weeks. Kate and Tom Demming were dating now, all thanks to him. Castle could have kicked himself for agreeing to help Demming woo Kate in the first place. But the jock had offered him fifty bucks, just for writing a few poems and telling him what Kate would like. Castle had wanted to be her Secret Cupid, but couldn't afford the gifts he was required to send her; Demming could.

He sighed as he made his way towards the Action/Adventure section, looking through all the used books on the shelves. Martha had a thing for used book stores and had dragged Castle to as many as her days off and his school vacations would allow. In total, they'd been to over fifty all across the five boroughs.

And now, while Castle was on spring break and his girlfriend(?), Kyra, was off visiting her grandmother and all his other friends were on their own family vacations, he was stuck with his mother—when he wasn't stuck with Nanny Marie Louisa.

He skimmed the titles on the shelf, plucking every other book off to read the back, before replacing it as he moved down the aisle. Towards the end, he bumped into an older man, who barely even budged. Castle, however, was practically knocked sideways. The man's hand reached out and caught him, however, and steadied him.

"Sorry about that, kid," the man chuckled, letting go of Castle. He was about a foot taller than the gangly pre-teen and his eyes, though icy blue, were warm and kind. His dark brown hair and mustache were just starting to gray and he had a pair of sunglasses resting on his head and a plain blue cap sticking out of the back pocket of the faded jeans he wore. His eyes crinkled when he laughed. It was sort of…familiar.

"No problem," Castle said, "it was my fault, anyway; I should watch where I'm going."

"Very polite," the man said, nodding. "That's good; politeness will get you far; especially with the ladies." He winked, making Castle blush. The man chuckled again. "I'm just teasing you, son; you're probably fighting them off with a stick, huh?" Castle blushed even harder and the man shook his head. "Aw, never mind. Anyway, are you looking for something specific?"

"You work here?" Castle asked, looking at the man's chest for a nametag. The man shook his head, though.

"No," he said, "but I'm here quite often; I know this place inside and out. I know all the best books and where to find them."

"Oh, really?" Castle said, skeptically, "Like what?"

The man looked past him, at the bookshelf and grinned, reaching over his shoulder and plucking off one of the older titles, before handing it to Castle.

"This one," he said, "it a favorite of mine. Casino Royale. You've heard of James Bond, right?" Castle nodded, reading the back of the tattered book. "Well, this is the book that started it all; it's a great read, especially if you like a little mystery, too."

Castle nodded. "It looks pretty cool; is it in good condition?"

"Perfect condition—except for the cover. The important thing is you'll be able to read the entire story with nothing missing."

Castle nodded. "Thanks!" he said, smiling up at the man. The man grinned in return, slipping his sunglasses on over his eyes.

"No problem, kid," he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "you enjoy that!" With a small wave, he walked off towards the exit, taking the ball cap out of his back pocket and sticking it on his head and pushing open the door, he smiled back at Castle over his shoulder and gave one more wave before disappearing out the door.

Castle smiled after him before running towards the register, where Martha was waiting, holding her own book in her hands. She was looking towards the exit, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Okay, Mother," Castle said, interrupting her thoughts, "I'm ready." Martha smiled down at her son.

"What book did you choose today?" she asked, putting her hand out for it. Castle handed it to her and her eyes widened as she caught sight of the title.

"What is it?" Castle asked, noticing the change in her demeanor.

Martha shook her head. "Nothing," she said, "it's just…I had a friend a long while ago who told me that he loved this book; I just wonder what happened to him is all."

"Oh," Castle said, looking confused, "okay…" Martha took a deep breath and turned towards the register, putting both books on the counter before fishing in her purse for her wallet.

After they'd paid, she handed Castle the paper bag with their books and led him out of the shop, thanking the cashier as they exited. She threw her arm around his shoulder as they walked through the chilly weather. "How about we go and get something to eat, Kiddo?"

"Remy's?" Castle asked, his eyes pleading with her to say yes.

Martha chuckled. "I suppose so," she said, shaking her head, hugging him tighter to her side. At nearly twelve years old, Castle was already as tall with her and still growing. She reckoned he would grow to be as tall as his father…

At the thought of the elusive man, she looked down at the book in her son's hand, thinking back to the man she saw earlier…

It couldn't be, she thought, could it?

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the street, hidden by crowds of people, numerous taxis and trucks, the man from the book shop leaned up against a coffee shop, holding his phone up in front of him. To anybody walking by, he looked like he might be texting somebody or searching the web, but he was, in fact, taking a picture of the woman walking down the opposite sidewalk, with her son pressed against her side. He chuckled to himself at the height similarity, predicting that the boy would probably grow another foot by his sixteenth birthday—maybe two.

He snapped a few photos, getting a perfect shot of the two laughing, their arms around each other, before pushing off the wall and pulling his baseball cap down, making his way through the throngs of people as he scrolled through his previous photos of the young boy and his mother, ranging from infancy to the present, smiling as the boy in the photos got older and more handsome as the years passed. He'd taken more than one photo of the boy with a particularly young lady (he'd heard Richard call her 'Kate') and learned that around his friends, his nickname was 'Castle'. He caught the way his son stared at this girl and knew he'd be seeing her a lot and he couldn't be happier for them.

He just wished he could tell him who he was.

I've been wanting to write this for a while; I hope you liked it.

And, guys, while I respect your input and feedback, this is still my story and I will continue to use angst because, after all, they're pre-teens now and soon they'll be teenagers—there's bound to be a lot of angst (or don't you remember those years.) But there's also a lot of fluffiness to come so stick around. I promise you, it'll be worth it.