Five Years in the Life

A/N: Sorry, this one is sort of short. I started writing the year from where Kate was 20 from Castle's perspective but I didn't like it so I deleted it. In any case here is Kate age 26, Castle age 33 (approx). Only four more shopping days and chapter Christmas 2012 to go! If you're lucky I might throw in a bonus chapter ;). Let me know what you think! Remember, reviews are love! :)

Chapter 6

Richard Castle held back a sigh as he reached for the next book. It wasn't that hated book signings, because he didn't. In fact he loved them: the fans swarming around him, the women tittering and mooning. It was exhilarating. It was a high. It was amazing. At Christmas time he even dared to call it magical. Now, here it was, a week before Christmas and his latest book was already on the top of the best seller's list. Merry Christmas to him. But truth be told, he was starting to get tired of it all. He was starting to get bored. He handed the book back with a smile and a quip about something as his eyes roamed over the next few people in line. There were a couple of giggling co-eds, a mousy looking housewife, a hot housewife, a guy and a woman. His eyes landed on the woman and for a few seconds, which seemed to draw on forever, he couldn't drag his gaze away. She looked so sad. She was clutching his book to her chest like it was her only lifeline and he could tell by the drawn out rise and fall of her chest that she was trying not to cry. She was beautiful with her brown hair hanging softly around her face and falling down her back in waves. He took the next book distractedly as the woman brought her thumb up to her mouth and began to chew on her nail. She was nervous. It was cute.

The next few people seemed slowly as Rick flexed his fingers and rubbed the back of his neck before planting on another smile and lifting his head to look at his next fan. The saccharine smile fell and a truly soft tilt of his lips replaced it as he saw the brunette standing before him.

"Hi." His voice caught in his throat so it came out at barely above a whisper as he stared up at her from his place seated at the table. He held up his hand in a tiny wave and she blushed slightly as she realized that she was still clutching the book to her chest. Slowly her arms unwound and she held out the book for him to sign.

"Hey." Her reply was barely more audible than his and he could see her draw in another breath, like she wanted to say more but something was stopping her.

"What's your name?"

"Kate."

Rick nodded and his smile widened as he glanced up at her once again, his pen now poised over the first page of the still perfectly crisp book.

"Is that short for Katherine?"

The woman, Kate nodded and drew her bottom in between her teeth. It was adorable.

"It s a beautiful name; a strong one. I've always loved it," He murmured as he bent his head over the page.

"Then why have you never named one of your characters Katherine?"

The question was soft and it caught Rick off guard. He had never named one of his characters Katherine and the only way she would have known that is if she had read all of his books. He smiled. She blushed. She knew what she had just given away.

"I don't know, I guess none of them have ever been good enough."

He looked up as he handed the book back to her and their fingers brushed accidently as she reached out to take it. He felt a jolt of electricity flow through him; his fingers tingling as hers closed around them. Blue eyes met green ones and his world stopped for a moment. He could see everything: pain, strength, vulnerability, mirth, sadness, and hope all wrapped up in a flicker. Hope. Her fingers pulled away as the book slipped out of his now limp grasp. He wanted to reach out a grab her, tell her not to go. He wanted to know, he needed to know everything about her. What she wouldn't or couldn't say. She was magic, she was extraordinary, but he couldn't move.

"Thank you," her voice mumbled out of her and he could hear everything behind it, everything she hadn't said before.

He stared after her as she walked back towards the door, towards the bustling city and the sea of strangers with his book once again clutched against her chest. His heart pounded his chest and he forced himself to swallow the breath he had been holding. She turned back to look over her shoulder and their eyes locked once more. He tried to say with a look what his voice had failed in him a moment before.

You're welcome, Kate. I hope you find the strength to continue being extraordinary.

Richard Castle met thousands of people a day walking the streets of New York City. Most he never spoke too, barely even acknowledged as he passed them by on the sidewalks and shared his personal space with them in elevators. He would never see them again, and if he did chances are he would never remember them. Staring after Kate that day, with a line of fans waiting for him to make their dreams come true, his wife/publisher standing behind him having a heated conversation with someone on the other end of her phone, and his daughter curled up reading in corner of the bookstore somewhere, everything else fell away. He tried to memorize her: the lines of her cheek bones, her long legs, flowing hair, the way her fingers curled around the spine of the book. He tried to remember her so that the next time he saw her in the city he would know who she was. He tried to remember but as he was forced to pull his attention back to the line and next book, as the rocks in his marriage became more and more apparent, as his daughter laughed as they tore open presents and ran around the house playing whatever silly game they had created that week, the woman slipped from his mind and back into the sea of New Yorkers. Another face, another body, another fan.

Somewhere, over the course of the next year, as writers block took over, Derek Storm became just another character, and his marriage ended he stared at the blank page in front of him. He wanted to write about someone strong, someone haunted, but the words wouldn't come. Something was wrong; there was something missing. He typed the name over and over, Katherine, but he drew a blank. There was no context, nothing more than a fleeting jolt; a want, a need to write about a woman, a woman he didn't know. He sighed as he sat at his desk in his bathrobe and stared at the cursor blinking on the blank document.

He was missing something extraordinary.