It's taken me a while to write this one down, but I think it's gonna go more smoothly from now on.

I only wanted to warn you guys to not be surprised when any of the details won't fit with the original CASTLE backstory, because I've changed it for the purposes of this fic.

I hope you like this chapter. (:

CHAPTER 2: WHAT YOU'RE SEARCHING FOR

You know how

you let yourself think that everything will be all right if you can

get to a certain place or do a certain thing. But when you

get there, you find it's not that simple.

Richard Adams – Watership Down

April 2nd

It's the screaming of children that wakes Kate up. She straightens in her seat, yawns and looks out the window of the plane. They're nearing the ground now, and she can just barely see the outline of the Paris below them.

Kate doesn't really know why she chose Paris to begin with. She's always wanted to visit the 'city of love' as most people call it. Maybe she secretly hoped she'd find a new start here.

She still hopes so.

Rick steps out of the airport terminal and breathes in the air. It's about 4 PM in Paris and the voices of the people passing by seem so far away.

He's finally here, away from New York and the things that make him blue.

There are a few cabbies smoking cigarettes, leaning on their cabs. Rick steps closer to one of them, a blonde man in his late twenties, and nods to him. The man offers him a wide smile and puts his mouth around the cigarette again, then flicks it away and steps forward with an extended hand.

"Hello," he greets with an American accent. Rick is surprised by this and as he shakes the man's hand, he introduces himself, "Hi, I'm Richard Rodgers." The man laughs and pats Rick's shoulder.

"An American, huh?" The cabbie receives a small nod for an answer.

"Well okay then. I'm Jean Rouvette."

"It's nice to meet you. So you're French?" Rick can't help asking.

"No, man. I was born in New Jersey, but I have French parents."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So… You need a ride?" Jean asks him and Richard slowly nods in confirmation.

"Yeah, I do."

"Great then. Get in."

Rick enters the cab and immediately sighs as the voices from the city clear out of his head.

"Where are you going?" Jean asks and it's only then that Rick realizes he doesn't know where to go. He doesn't know anything about good places to see in Paris.

"I don't know," he mumbles eventually. Jean looks back at him and then laughs soundly.

"Don't tell me you came here without a plan?" Richard just shrugs and looks out the window to avoid the man's gaze.

"Look… I don't want to be rude, but that wasn't really smart, man. But you know what… You've just come upon the greatest cabbie ever. So I'm gonna take you around, show you what's good here, yeah?" The weight slowly lifts off of Rick's chest at the man's offer.

"Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks."

He closes his eyes as the cab speeds off into Parisian traffic.

Kate finds herself sitting on a bench at Sarah Bernhardt Square, facing Rue de Lagny. Soon after arriving in Paris, Kate figured there are such beautiful houses and infrastructures in Paris. One of them is a half-brick house Kate's staring at now, a pale pink color covering the façade. It looks so beautiful. It's not like there's not a lot of buildings like this one in New York, but European architecture is… something else entirely. It's like you can take a peek back into the history while just looking at a certain building, like you're allowed to be a part of something greater. And Kate loves this. Loves that she can finally feel like she's free.

"Excusez-moi…" she hears after a while and she looks up to see a young couple handing out a camera to her.

"Parle vous français?" they ask her and she nods, but instead of letting them talk further, Kate stands up and says, "But you're not French, are you?" The woman with bright blue eyes smiles at her and nods.

"No, we're from England," she responds and Kate gives her a smile.

"We were wondering if you would mind taking a picture?" Kate shakes her head and stretches out her hand to take the camera.

"No, no, sure." She snaps two photos of the couple and just as she's handing them back the camera, she freezes as a sea of thoughts floods her mind.

She wants that, she realizes. Trips with her boyfriend and taking pictures and goofing around and taking walks in the park. She wants someone to forget all her troubles with.

"Um… Miss?" Kate shakes out of her trance and apologizes to the woman, gives her back the camera. The couple leaves and Kate finds herself wandering the streets of Paris once again. She doesn't really know where to go, what she's searching for, but she figures following her heart is the next best thing.

Jean finally drives Rick to a bar that evening. They've spent the whole afternoon sightseeing; mostly Rick, because Jean has already seen it all. Paris seems to look more magnificent on brochures and in pictures, but the reality of it is somehow just more … real to Rick.

The bar Jean has brought him to is called 'Harry's New York Bar'. As soon as Rick steps in, he can see dozens of people drinking cocktails, hear their chatter and the clinking of the glasses.

The bar is not big, but not too small either; it's perfect, just like a bar should be. The walls are wooden, covered with American baseball and basketball club flags and there's a distinct smell of alcohol in the air. Rick thinks he can hear the piano playing somewhere close by, but he forgets about that as soon as Jean pushes him towards the bar, mumbling in his ear something about all the nice ladies in the bar. Rick ends up pressed against Jean on his left and one of those 'nice ladies' on his right. He turns toward her for a moment and she flashes him a bright smile. She's pretty, but Rick's not really into meeting a random stranger and having a one-night stand with her. He can have that back in New York, too.

So he nods politely and then turns to the bartender and orders a glass of Jack Daniels; just to keep his mind off of things he isn't supposed to be thinking about in first place; like loving and losing and letting go.

"So, Rick," Jean starts with a smirk covering his face, "how do you like it here?"

"Here as in Paris or here as in Harry's NY Bar?" Jean laughs and then claps his hand on Rick's shoulder.

"I mean in general."

"Paris is nice, beautiful buildings and parks, nice people. The bar is quite fine, too."

"You like it here, then?"

"Yeah…"

"Thinking about staying?" he asks carefully. Rick grabs his glass and then shooks his head once.

"Nah. I'll keep travelling; see where it leads me. I gotta end up in the right place in the end, right?" Jean nods sympathetically, then lifts up his glass to knock it against Rick's.

"Cheers!" he shouts, then takes a swig of his drink.

"By the way; there's a girl that's been watching you from the corner of the bar since we've come in here," Jean adds for good measure, then seems to disappear somewhere downstairs. Rick turns around and locks gazes with a pretty girl Jean mentioned.

She must be about twenty, Rick thinks, and as she laughs to her friend by her side about something, then they both look back at him, Rick decides to go there and at least meet her if nothing else.

As he comes closer to the place where she's standing, she straightens up and shoots him a wide grin. He smiles back and extends his hand as he reaches her.

"Hi," he says and the girl lets out a low chuckle.

"Salut," she murmurs back and shakes his hand. Her fingers are soft, with long fingernails. He feels a rush of lust pass through his veins at only the thought of those nails buried into his back. He knows he shouldn't be thinking like that, but it's been months and he wants to forget Meredith in any way possible. If it means obeying his primal urges, then well… Nothing too wrong with that, right?

"Do you speak English?" Rick asks the girl and she shrugs.

"A little," she answers with a broken French accent.

"Well then, I'm Rick," he offers and his hand flows into his hair.

"Je suis Adelene," she tells him.

"Nice to meet you… Adelene." The girl giggles and lifts her cocktail glass to her lips to take a sip.

Rick is about to comment on how pretty she looks, when he hears the bar doors close behind someone. He turns around and suddenly it seems as if the whole world has stopped before his eyes and he can only see her.

The woman's got long brown locks and a great figure and as her mouth lifts up into a soft smile and her eyes twinkle in the lights from the bar, it makes her even more attractive and dangerous at the same time; femme fatale, Rick thinks.

Kate steps into the dimly-lit Parisian bar. Her first thought is that it reminds her of New York, so she smiles to herself and takes a careful step into the crowd gathered at the bar.

There is a young bartender making cocktails at the bar and as she leans on the counter with her elbows, he looks at her appreciatively and throws her a sleazy smile. He looks attractive and in only his undershirt, there's just so much to see.

"Salut," he greets her and quickly fixes another cocktail for a woman in the corner.

"Bonsoir," she says back and catches his wink as he yells something to someone over the room. Kate turns around and sees a man in his late twenties grinning widely at her. She nods politely back at him, then looks at the bartender. He's leaned over the counter in the mean time and he's so close, Kate can smell his alcohol breath on her face. It's pretty unattractive to her, but she'll live.

"You a tourist?" he asks her and Kate nods swiftly. The bartender extends his hand.

"I'm Jacques. And you?"

"Kate. I'm Kate," she answers with a tight smile on her face. Jacques leans even closer, so that his nose is almost in contact with Kate's.

"You from America, right?" he starts and as Kate gives him a 'yes' in confirmation, he continues, "I've been in New Jersey, yes. Lots of pretty girls," he states, then lets his gaze wander down, to her chest where her sweatshirt hangs a bit low. Kate clears her throat and fixes the hem a bit higher on her chest, then leaves her hand there to make sure it doesn't slip too low again.

"You're a pretty girl too," the Jacques says and Kate shrinks back from the bar at his expectant gaze. There is just no way in hell she's going to have an affair with this guys. He's too disrespectful, even though she's just barely met him.

"Thank you," she answers him and then steps away from the counter altogether.

"Excuse me," she offers in goodbye and then peruses her other options. She's half-tempted to get out of here and find somewhere else to go, but just as she's about to turn around and go back outside to the street, she spots him in the back corner of the room.

Rick sees the girl head towards the bar, sees her leaning towards the bartender and sees the man leering at her.

He feels this unexplainable rage inside him: how the hell could someone look so disgustingly at this beautiful creature!?

Suddenly, Rick feels a small hand on his biceps and looks down at Adelene who's licking her lips in a strongly suggestive manner.

He merely smiles back at her, then averts his eyes to the femme fatale with beautiful eyes.

He spots her drawing the hem of her sweatshirt a bit higher and then Rick clenches his teeth as he sees the bartender practically in the woman's face.

Rick's feet shuffle a bit forward against his will. Maybe not totally against. He has a strong urge to plant his fist into the bartender's face.

"Where you go?" Adelene asks him and he turns swiftly back to her and shakes his head, then turns back to the woman. She's moved away from the bar now and is standing almost in the middle of the bar. He's transfixed, focused on her every move.

Rick licks his dry lips and at the same moment the woman turns around and he can't even breathe.

He can't quite discern the color of her eyes from this distance, but they look dark and smoky and as attractive as the woman's mouth or the angle of her jaw or her hair.

She looks amazing.

And she's staring back at him.

He thinks he might be having a heart attack.

And then the woman smiles and bites her lip and Rick's positively sure he's dead.

He hears Jean's voice somewhere close by, but can't move his eyes off of the woman.

"Richard!" A fist lands in Rick's chest and as he snaps out of his reverie, Jean looks at the woman.

"Ohoho, what do we got here?"

"Leave it, Jean," Rick tells him and unbuttons another button on his maroon shirt. It's so hot in here.

"That girl? Man, she looks dangerous." The woman is now looking for something in her backpack, occasionally sneaking glances in Rick's direction.

"Do you know her?" Rick asks.

"Nah, man. She must be a tourist; the backpack and all."

"But you've never seen her before?"

"No. I'm sure I would have remembered her." Rick's chest squeezed at the thought.

"Yeah. She's quite… unforgettable."

"You gonna go talk to her?"

"No."

"You want to?" Yes.

"No, I'm fine," Rick lies and gives Jean a small smile. Jean just shakes his head and takes a firm hold of Rick's forearm, pulls him in the direction of the steps to the basement space.

As Rick takes the first step down, he doesn't even care that Adelene is creeping behind his back, he only has eyes for the beautiful girl that looks absolutely lost in here, like a little child in a city full of harmful people. He wants to save her, take her somewhere safe where nobody could ever get to her.

The last thing he sees about the upper floor is the girl's eyes locking with his.

Kate is looking for a pack of cigarettes in her backpack when she looks up and sees the handsome man talking to another; a friend, she thinks.

They're both looking at her and after a while, they turn and head downstairs and Kate catches the stranger's eye as he descends the stairs.

Kate bites her bottom lip again and quickly lights a cigarette with nervous hands. She thinks the man had been interested in her, but she can't be sure…

She's deciding on either leaving the place or going downstairs, when she hears the piano playing somewhere close by.

The stairs that lead down to the basement are lit with Christmas lights and there's a big neon sign above them that says 'PIANO BAR'. Kate smiles at that. When she was a child, her mother would play the piano to her some evenings and even teach her a few notes. But as the time passed, Kate had found more interest in rock 'n' roll and guitar, so she abandoned the short and rare piano lessons for her father's guitar ones. She kind of misses her mom's lessons now, though. She already knows how to play guitar, but she'd like to know how to play piano, too. Her father doesn't know how to play it and her mother, well… Her mother is just not around to teach her anymore.

Kate will forever regret her past decisions that caused the loss of time with her mother.

As Kate goes down the steps, she hears the crowd applause and the distant voice of someone singing. It's a jazz tune, which recognizes as Ray Charles's song, and the man currently singing it downstairs sings beautifully.

Kate can't help but wonder if it's the man from across the bar singing.

And it is. It's him, swaying on the piano bench, with his fingers moving sinfully swift over the black and white keys. His voice is a mix of harsh rasps and harmony, strung together with precision and practice and something that sounds like the ocean splashing against the shoreline.

Kate moves a bit from her position to stand more in the direct line of his sight, just so she can see his whole face, admire him, get him back for when he so unabashedly admired her upstairs just a few minutes earlier. She lets herself relax and watch his mouth as he forms words, the angle of his jaw as he lifts his head, the slope of his nose like a mountain range, spreading up over his face to the place where his eyebrows are separated by the skin that's glistening with sweat. His eyes are closed, the lids tightly shut to separate reality from the song.

He looks so soft in the dimmed lights of the room.

And then he opens his eyes and focuses them on her and she thinks she can hear him lose his breath for a moment there, like he can't quite believe she's here.

Rick tries to get rid of the annoying woman following him, so when the pianist shouts into the crowd if anyone would like to play a song, Rick immediately shouts yes and excuses himself to Adelene, sits in front of the piano and tries to think of a song to play. Dear God, he hasn't played in ages.

Just as he thinks he's so doomed, someone in the crowd shouts, "Play something from Ray Charles!" and Rick sighs in relief. He knows Ray Charles's songs, has perfected them to the point where it sounds almost like the man himself is playing.

So he starts to play, closes his eyes and tries to pretend like he's in his old living room in his and his mother's apartment, 19 years old and barely aware of the world around him. It helps.

Somewhere close to the end of the song, Rick opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is the woman standing at eleven o'clock and watching him with a twinkle in her eyes, and one of her hands – holding a cigarette – pressed against her smiling mouth. She spots him staring at her and sucks on the cigarette once, then blows out the smoke. It works strangely easing for Rick and he feels as though his burden is being lifted from his shoulders just by the vision of a woman smoking a cigarette.

Rick grins at the brunette and continues playing, never looking away from her. As he finishes and she slowly claps five times along with others, she's being slowly extricated from his sight as the flood of bodies charges towards him to clap his shoulder or to flaunt hands and boobs in his face. He feels fear surge through him, realizes he's frightened of not ever seeing the woman again, so he stands up, briefly thanks the crowd and politely brushes off attempts from people to get him to have a drink with them. He storms over to the place where the woman was standing only moments ago and she's not there anymore.

Rick curses under his breath and makes his way through the throngs of people, searching for the brown hair and captivating eyes.

There is a flurry of brown somewhere on his left and he turns around and finally sees her leaning against a wall in the back. She looks a bit lonely with only her backpack by her side and the cigarette now already finished and her hands hidden in the pockets of her grey cardigan.

She spots him then, shoots him a lazy smile and closes her eyes.

As he approaches her, he can see her throat moving and he guesses she's humming along to a song that's playing in the background.

She looks like an angel.

"Nice playing there," she says suddenly, still with eyes tightly shut. Rick stutters for a moment and then clears his throat.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I guess." The woman finally opens her eyes and they're laughing at him, although her mouth stays closed and in a firm line. She only nods, then tilts her head to the side and Rick can see that her cheeks are painted a rosy color. He figures she might be blushing, but he doesn't know exactly why.

"So you're from America, huh?" he asks, because he has absolutely no idea how to start a conversation another way. The woman smirks at him.

"Yeah. You too, right?"

"Yep. Proud American right here," he answers and then mentally slaps himself.

What are you doing, Rick!?

"Nice to hear that," she replies with almost serious eyes and he thinks she might really mean that.

"Yeah. So uh… What brings you to Paris?" he tries after a minute.

"Nothing. Just… Exploring. You know how it is," she says, but Rick senses she's hiding something. He's not about to go and push her so she uncovers all her secrets to him, though. So he stays silent. For about three seconds.

"Yeah, I know." She gives him a warm smile and pulls one of her hands out of the pocket, presents him with a cigarette pack turned towards him.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"Um… Sure. Yeah," he says casually (at least tries to sound casual – he's not sure she really believes him) and pulls a cigarette out. The woman does the same and lights it, then shoves the lighter in front of his face. Rick quickly puts the cigarette into his mouth and she lights it. As Rick inhales the smoke though, he starts coughing and almost chokes on his own saliva. He's pretty sure he's burned his lungs out when he feels the woman's fingers on his wrist, wrapping like wool over his pulse. He stops coughing and shifts his gaze to the woman's eyes and she's chuckling at him.

"You sure you smoke?" she teases and Rick swears he can see a hint of a tongue behind her teeth.

"I do, I just – it's been a long time," he tells her. It's the truth; the last time he smoked cigarette was the summer before college.

"Mhm," she hums, unconvinced, then releases his arm from her hold. He instantly misses the warmth of her palm, her fingertips and as she pushes her fist back into the pocket and leans against the wall again, he leans back too, right next to her side.

They stay quiet like that for a few minutes. Rick finally gets used to the burn of the cigarette smoke, the way it scorches and sizzles down his throat and behind his tongue.

If he's being honest, he has missed the way cigarettes had always made him feel – lightheaded and relaxed, more in tune with his inner music and the rhythm of the world, than when he didn't smoke.

As they both finish their cigarettes and put them out, dump them into the ash tray, the woman turns to him and he's speechless.

There is an annoying warmth inside of Kate's belly as the man stares at her, a flutter of excitement rushing through her at the way he's leaning against the wall and slightly bowing forwards to her.

She notices he's a head taller than her. He's almost looming over her, almost everywhere around her now. Kate feels a pang in her stomach and realizes it's fear. She cannot afford having someone like him only for one night and then leaving him. She can see he's different. She's not capable of anything more than a fleeting affair and she sees in his eyes he doesn't deserve to be heartbroken. She shouldn't be looking for hope in here. Not in him.

So she straightens and prepares to leave.

"I have to go," she tells him slowly, with her eyes lowered to the ground. He immediately straightens up too as confusion clouds his eyes.

"What? Why?"

"I have – I have a train to catch. I gotta go." She picks up her backpack and zips it, taps her cardigan pocket, then lifts her eyes to his.

"Don't go," he says. She sighs and rubs her forehead with her fingers.

"I have to."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry," she says, then extracts her hand out of her pocket again, now holding a single cigarette. She holds it out to him and he takes it, capturing her thumb along with it. There's a single collision of his stuttering heartbeat and the spark that flows through him at the contact and then she's pulling back and saying 'Goodbye' and he's so not done with her yet, but she's already shuffling through the crowd. He takes a step forward to catch her, but then Adelene suddenly shows up in front of him and kisses him on the mouth. He's rigid at first, but then he responds and as she pulls away and pulls him after her, leading him into a cab and to her apartment, he starts to feel dirt all over himself, like a suffocating blanket. His body might participate in what happens in the next two hours, but his heart's not in it not even a little bit. He keeps seeing the brunette as Adelene moves above him, he tries to whisper the woman's name as he hovers over Adelene's lips, but he can't because he doesn't know it and he feels so damn stupid he leaves after round two, when Adelene falls soundly asleep.

As he wanders the Parisian streets for the next half an hour, he startles when he looks up and sees the sign for the train station hanging above his head.

Tadam! Yeah, it's like 2 AM here, so I guess sorry if you didn't like it, ok? Ok.

I'm gonna go sleep now. Probably a good idea.

Btw, you guys can totally PM me suggestions of places in Europe I could mention. That would be grool. (;

Ariela