Chapter 2:
She used to hear from the Alliance once a month, maybe two, but as time went on, their transmissions became less and less frequent, until they finally stopped all together. "I suppose war is keeping them busy," Martha mused one day.
"Good," said Mal.
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
"Cuz it means we're still putting up a fight."
"I suppose that's true," said Martha. "A few uprisings had already begun before we left. People, those who originally supported the Alliance, were in a state of shock after they found out about Miranda."
"Well," said Mal. "Any decent human being should be."
There was a pause in the conversation, so Martha changed the subject. "How's your big story idea coming along?"
"Really well, actually," he said. "Nearly done."
"May I read it sometime?" asked Martha.
"You can read it right now," he said. "If you want."
"I've got the time," she said, smiling.
Mal paced up and down the living room as Martha sat on the couch and flipped through his manuscript. "That's really distracting, you know," she finally said after several minutes, though not taking her eyes off the page. "Why don't you go outside for a bit?"
"Fine," he sighed. "I can use the fresh air, anyway."
–
He came back an hour later. "Well?"
Martha turned to face him and said, "That was amazing."
"You're just sayin' that."
"No," she said. "Really. I think you should try to find a publisher."
"You liked it that much?" he asked, a little wary of the flattery, but didn't mind hearing it anyway.
"Obvious Alliance undertones," she said. "The victim with only a brown coat to identify him, the American and Chinese business partners... But still. I could really identify with your characters. Where'd you come up with the crazy sister and her brother? And the plot was well thought out and had me surprised until the very end. I tell you, Derrick Storm is going places."
"Thanks," said Mal.
"I'm surprised you didn't do a science fiction, though," she said.
"I know crime," said Mal. "And I understand what some men are willing to do when things ain't going how they want it; the idea just seemed to flow."
"Well," she said. "You've got talent."
"So," Mal said, sitting down beside her on the couch. "What about you?"
"What about me?" she asked.
"You've also got a chance to start over," he said. "So what have you always wanted to do?"
"Oh, I don't know..." she shrugged.
"Come on."
"Well..."
"Yeah?" he asked.
"When I was younger," said Martha. "I kind of thought I'd like to be an actress. But it's silly."
"I ain't laughin'," said Mal.
"Do you really think?" she asked.
"Don't hurt to try," he said.
"Mal?" she said.
"Hmm?"
"Thanks."
–
About a month later, Martha had a smile on her face as she walked into the apartment. Mal was at the table, working on his book.
"I've got a present for you," she said.
Mal looked up from his work and turned to her. "What is it?"
She reached into her bag and pulled out some files, saying, "Ta da!"
"Um..." he said. "Thanks?"
Martha lowered her arms to her side, tsk-ing as she came to sit beside him. "It's what's in the files," she explained. "I've been thinking about your book. You won't have any hope of publishing it if you don't have the proper credentials. Since you have no birth certificate, license, or anything, really, I've been making inquires around the city to see what we can do to change that. I met the loveliest man who took care of all of that. Now we both actually exist here."
"Why does this say 'Richard Castle'?" he asked, flipping through his papers.
"It was the best the man could do on such short notice," she explained.
"Yours say 'Martha Rodgers', though?" he said, glancing at her license.
"Well," she said, quickly gathering the files together. "Perhaps mine was easier... Anyway, lots of writers have pseudonyms."
She noticed the dark expression on Mal's face. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.
"I just don't... I don't want to forget who I am."
"I'll be here to remind you every once in a while," she said, reassuringly taking his hand in hers.
Mal clasped her hand, and said, "Thank you."