First, Kate goes to the bank. She doesn't have any accounts there, but it's a massive stone structure that looks safe and impenetrable. After she complies with the necessary formalities of becoming a customer, the woman gives her two tiny metal keys and escorts her down the hallway to the room where all the security boxes are kept. She places a metal box on a table for Kate and leaves. Kate puts her shoulder bag on the table and pulls out a large brown accordion file. She hesitates, holding the file in her hands, then places it into the security box, puts the box back into its space and locks it. Kate leaves the bank without a backward glance.
An hour later, she slides into a booth across from a dark-haired, square-jawed man. He lifts his eyes from his coffee and smiles at her.
"Hello, Kate. It's been a long time."
"Hi. Yes, it has been." She pulls off her coat and orders a cup of coffee.
"So, how've you been?" the man asks. "I heard about the shooting. I left flowers at the hospital for you."
"Yes, you did. I'm sorry I never called you. I was…I was not at my best. Don't take it personally. I didn't call a lot of people."
"Yeah." He takes a sip of his coffee. "So, what's going on? I can't imagine the NYPD actually requesting the help of the Bureau."
"Well, this is sort of unofficial. And personal." Kate thanks the waitress when she sets a cup of steaming hot coffee down in front of her.
He raises an eyebrow. "Sort of unofficial and personal? Go on."
Kate takes a deep breath. "It has to do with my mother's death. And my shooting." She digs into the same shoulder bag she had with her at the bank and pulls out a second accordion file, identical to the first. "This contains all the information we've dug up, but first I'll tell you the story of how my mother's death led to my being shot." Kate talks for several minutes, pausing just long enough for him to pull a pen and notepad from his coat pocket. She doesn't mention the names of her detectives or Rick; the ambiguous "we" is all he needs to know for now. When she stops talking, her voice is hoarse. She takes a sip of her lukewarm coffee and watches as Will opens the file and begins to flip through the pictures, the documents, all the evidence they'd managed to gather. Kate feels as if the weight of twenty years and the guilt of many deaths has just been removed from her shoulders. Will Sorenson, her ex-boyfriend g-man, would know how to handle this.
"Soooo…." Will runs his hands over his face. "This is one helluva conspiracy you stumbled onto. Why isn't the NYPD handling this internally? You still think there are dirty cops associated with this criminal organization?"
"I think that whoever is behind all this still has ties to the NYPD, yes," Kate replies. "I don't know who to trust, other than the people who have already been working with me. I figure the FBI will have more resources to handle this. I've gone as far as I can without putting my life or my colleagues' lives in danger."
"Yeah, I can see that." Will slides all the reports and photographs back into the file. "I know who I can talk to about this and we'll keep it as quiet as we can—until we can't."
Kate reaches over and touches his arm. "Thank you, Will. And, if it's at all possible, can you keep Montgomery's name out of it? I'd hate for his family to find out what he did." Will places his big hand over hers.
"Kate, I'll try, but if we get anywhere with this case, his actions will have to come out. Particularly if we do get hard evidence that he shot Bob Armen and not Pulgotti. That's an innocent man who's been sitting in prison for a murder he didn't commit—although, considering his mob connections, he's probably in the right place, even if he was convicted of the wrong murder."
Kate's not happy with his answer, but she knows he is right. She tries to pull her hand away, but Will captures it with his strong grip.
"You look real good, Kate, you know that? I love the long hair." He reaches out with one hand and touches the waves framing her face. Kate blushes and pulls her hand from his grasp.
"Will, I'm sorry, but I'm with someone."
"Oh, yeah? That's too bad. Anyone I know?" His tone is deliberately casual but Kate can see that he is disappointed.
"Um, actually he is." She doesn't want to get into this. She's not actually told anyone that she and Castle are officially together and an ex-boyfriend isn't the first person she wants to tell. Kate fiddles with her purse, hoping he won't ask. After a few seconds of silence, Will starts to laugh.
"No. No. Kate, really?"
"What?"
"Really? It's the writer monkey, isn't it?"
Dammit, her face is red. "So what if it is? That's not his name, by the way."
Will shakes his head. "I should have known. He pretty much dared me to take you from him when we worked that missing kid case together. I mean, I knew you had a crush on him but damn, I didn't think…" His voice trails off as he looks at her with his piercing light blue eyes.
"Are you happy? If you're happy, I'll be happy for you."
Kate looks him in the eyes and smiles. "Will, I'm very, very happy."
Castle is exhausted. It's late February and his book tour has taken him all over North America. He's been zigzagging across the continent so much that he's not sure where he is now. He looks out the big front windows of the store and sees the piles of snow. Oh, yeah. Cleveland. Specifically, a Barnes and Noble bookstore at Crocker Park. He's just spent the last three hours here, speaking and signing books. The store is now closing and Livia, Black Pawn's publicity assistant, is trying to usher him out of the store and away from lingering fans. Mostly female fans who approach him with a predatory smile that makes him want to hide under a table. He's had more than a few phone numbers and email addresses slipped to him over the course of the tour and he throws all those slips of paper away as soon he gets back to his hotel room. There's only one woman for him and he misses her terribly.
The woman talking to him now is wearing the tightest sweater he's ever seen and he has to actively force his eyes away from her chest. Not that he's attracted to her, it's that she has her breasts forced into some sort of cone-shaped bra and they're looking at him like missiles ready to launch. He's worried they'll attack him as soon as he looks away. Unfortunately, this woman has mistaken his politeness (and fear) as mutual sexual interest and she moves closer to him and places a hand on his arm. Just then, Castle's cell phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket. Kate.
"I'm sorry," Castle says to the missile breasts. "I really have to take this call. Thank you for coming out tonight and enjoy the book." He smiles his biggest author-meeting-his-crazy-fans smile and turns away, giving Livia a look of desperation. She takes the hint and courteously escorts the woman away. Castle quickly walks to the back of the store and hides in the historical romance section.
"Hi."
"Hi." Her voice is slightly distorted by the phone.
"I miss you. If I thought no one would notice I'd escape to New York to be with you." He hears her laughter and smiles.
"Yes, but then that extremely efficient assistant you have there—"
"Livia."
"—Livia would track you down and drag you back to wherever you are now."
"Cleveland. The home of rock and roll."
"Huh. Is it really?"
"They have the hall of fame to prove it."
"That's right, they do. Did you have time to visit?"
"As a matter of fact, I did today. Right now they have a huge Bruce Springsteen exhibit. That was cool. It's a very interesting place; we'll go together sometime."
"Okay." She pauses. "I met with Will today."
"Ah." Castle is happy with her decision to turn over the investigation to the FBI; he's not so happy that the FBI came in the form of Will Sorenson, a handsome, square-jawed, broad-shouldered ex-boyfriend.
"He says he'll give me periodic updates."
"Uh huh."
"Rick." Kate is amused. "Don't be jealous. He knows I'm with you."
"Oh, yeah? How?"
"I told him. Satisfied?"
Castle grunts. He doesn't trust Will. Too damned good-looking plus he has that "I'm a sexy, trustworthy guy" vibe. He's about to say as much when he sees Livia's head peeking around a display of books featuring busty women in ripped gowns clinging to bare-chested muscled men with long blonde hair. She's giving him the "let's go while the going is good" signal.
"Kate, honey, I have to go. I'll call you when I get back to the hotel."
"Okay. I love you."
Kate hears his "goodbye, I love you too" and the line goes dead. She drops the phone onto her bed and sighs. It's been a long almost two months without him. She misses him at work and finds herself staring sadly at his empty chair. Before he left, they went to one of those photo booths at the mall (she couldn't believe they actually found one) and took about a million pictures. She hides a few of them at work in her desk drawer. She also has a few in her bedroom and has gotten into the habit of looking at them before she goes to sleep. Or tries to go to sleep. Looking at the photographs of them hugging each other or kissing or making silly faces, but in some way always touching each other, makes her think about how much she misses touching him, kissing him, feeling his hands on her and those kinds of thoughts are not conducive to a good night's sleep. The last time she had herself worked into a sexual frustration, Castle called. He immediately suggested phone sex and Kate was finding that quite enjoyable until he abruptly quit midsentence. When Kate complained, he told her he realized they should at least both be in the same room when they have their first orgasms together. She conceded that he did have a point and now they try keep their phone conversations PG-rated.
Oh well. Kate goes to the kitchen and pulls a beer from the fridge and waits for him to call her back.
"Damn, girlfriend, you have been awfully gloomy lately. What's up?" Lanie spins on her bar stool and gives Kate a suspicious look. Kate decided she was staying home too much and asked Lanie to desert Esposito on a Saturday night so they could go out. Now they're out, wearing their sexy "Saturday night in SoHo" clothes and Kate can't seem to enjoy herself.
Lanie continues to question her. "Is it because a certain writer—who shall remain nameless—is out of town? Oh, but you probably don't miss him since you don't even like him. Right?"
"Lanie," Kate says. "I'm going to tell you something but you have to promise to keep it to yourself. You can't even tell Javier." Even as Kate utters those words she knows Lanie will tell him everything.
"Kate. This is girl talk. I do not need to tell that man our girl talk."
"Uh huh. Well. Rick and I are dating." She casually sips her wine as if the announcement is no big deal.
Lanie squeals and grabs by the shoulders. "You and Castle are finally getting your freak on? Girl, why didn't you tell me sooner? I thought you two were acting weird at his Christmas party—always disappearing and then reappearing with your hair messed up and your lipstick smeared. So who broke first? I want details!"
Oh, hell. She wants details. Kate's usually not very comfortable about giving out details of her personal life, even to friends. But she figures she owes Lanie, and besides, it may actually be fun sharing with her.
"Well, first, we are not 'getting our freak on.' We're still in the kissing and feeling-up-over-the-clothes phase. Well," Kate pauses, remembering several instances when his hands were technically under one piece of her clothing or another, "mostly over the clothes."
Lanie chokes on her whiskey sour. "Really? That's it? He does know you're not a virgin, right?"
"Ha, Lanie. Very ha. We don't want to rush it."
"Don't want to rush it? Girlfriend, you two have been more or less in love with each other for over three years. Don't even get me started on the lust-filled looks. I know people who've gotten married and divorced while you and Castle have been 'not rushing it.'"
"Well, we decided to wait till after he returns from the book tour," Kate says primly. Then she grins. "Of course, that doesn't mean I haven't gotten a preview of the main event."
Lanie leans in closer. "A sneak peek?"
"Let's just say it's not called the 'coming attraction' for nothing."
"Kate!" Lanie is surprised. "Congratulations, girl. I wasn't sure you had it in you."
"Well, not yet, but in a few weeks…" Kate lets her sentence trail off suggestively. Lanie whoops with laughter and yells to the bartender to bring another round.
A/N One of the fun aspects of writing fanfic (and there are many) is being able to drop in little hints of my own life. Livia, Castle's efficient publicity assistant, is a friend of mine who thinks my Castle obsession is nuts. So in revenge I am putting her in my story. Also, Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is a very cool place. The Bruce Springsteen exhibit actually ran a few years ago and it was pretty awesome. Thanks for being patient and continuing to read. Two more chapters follow that I hope to have up soon!