A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile...
- Don McLean, "American Pie"

The next morning at 9:00 on the dot, Kate Beckett was in a booth at the Starbucks across from Symphony Hall. She had her shoulder bag full of music scores, her violin case, a cinnamon roll, and a vanilla latte. Barely had she settled into the booth and taken her first sip before Rick Castle came in, glancing around. He spotted her and smiled as he hustled over.

"Morning. Hope I'm not too late. Traffic," he said in a rush, setting his coat and briefcase down on the seat opposite her.

"Nope, you're fine," she replied offhandedly. "I just got here myself."

"Great. Be right back."

A few minutes later, having gotten himself a coffee and a chocolate croissant, Castle settled into the booth and gave her his smooth smile. "Thanks for meeting me. I thought the rehearsal went well yesterday, didn't you?"

She studied him for a moment. His expression and posture screamed self-confidence - he was leaning back, legs crossed casually, taking up the whole side of the booth - but something in his eyes was telling her a different story. For some reason she felt a strong urge to mess with him.

"Yeah," she agreed at last, matching his casual tone with her own, "it was a good rehearsal. These musicians really know what they're doing. The music practically plays itself."

He sat up a little straighter, mouth opening - but then checked himself, frowning at her. "Oh. You're teasing me, eh?" He snorted briefly and shook a sugar packet into his coffee. "Nice to see you have a sense of humor." But, turning serious again, he looked at her a little tentatively and added, "Honestly, though? I mean, I know I missed a few entrance cues, and that kind of thing, but it went pretty well overall, right?"

Kate relented and gave him an affirming nod. It was oddly charming to see the ever-confident Castle showing some uncertainty, and the impulse to yank his chain that she had felt a moment ago had dissipated.

"You did fine," she told him calmly. "Sure, you missed a few cues, and some of your tempos were off, but everyone understands that this isn't your usual area. And no one's perfect." She grinned a little. "Even Perlmutter misses an entrance once in a while."

"Okay. Good." He relaxed visibly and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks for being straight with me, Beckett."

"I'm Beckett now?" she asked, amused. She took a small bite of her pastry, watching him.

"Well, you don't call Perlmutter 'Sidney,' do you?" he smirked.

"I doubt anyone has called him that since his mother," she laughed. It was true that a lot of the orchestra members used each other's last names, but she had mostly encouraged them to call her Kate. Still, something about Castle using just her last name - as everyone used his - was appealing.

"So yeah, you're Beckett," he nodded, tasting his coffee and adding another sugar. "Youngest female concertmaster of a major symphony orchestra in the US. Impressive record, Beckett."

She stared at him. "What did you do, check up on me?"

"Looked up your records at Juilliard," he shrugged.

"You what?" she exclaimed, affronted. What on earth was he doing? "How did you know I went to Juilliard?"

"Lucky guess. I was curious about your background. I mean, your mother was..." at that he gave her an apologetic look, "...who she was, and yet here you are, playing the violin, youngest woman concertmaster, et cetera."

Kate really didn't know what to think. "Those alumni records are supposed to be confidential," she groused, and Castle shrugged again, a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, I know a guy." While she was still trying to figure out what that could mean, he added, "Anyway, I couldn't get hold of your old violin teacher, Mike Royce, was it? But I did talk to your mom's voice coach, Roy Montgomery."

"You ... you spoke to Roy?"

"Yeah, he doesn't take private students any more, but he's still on the faculty as an advisor. He remembered you very well." Castle paused, looking at her with a strange expression. "He said you were as good a singer as your mom. Said he was all set to come out of retirement to teach you."

Kate breathed slowly, carefully, looking down into her coffee cup. What was this man trying to do to her? "Roy said that? Really?" she couldn't help asking, her voice low and a little shaky.

"Yeah, sounded like he was psyched for it, but then your mom, uh, passed away, and you switched to violin."

She closed her eyes briefly, memories flashing through her mind: her mom and Roy at the piano, rehearsing a song; Roy at Johanna's funeral, solemn and damp-eyed.

"I'm sorry," Castle said suddenly, and when she looked up, his eyes were wide. "I, um, that's none of my business."

She took another slow breath and recovered her composure. Maybe Castle was just trying to get under her skin, in which case, she couldn't let him succeed. "You're right, it isn't," she said, summoning a bit of bite in her tone. "I thought you wanted to go over your plan for the rehearsal."

"Right. Of course." His gaze lingered on her for another moment, searching. Then he blinked and looked away, opening his briefcase. "I made some notes, but I wanted to get your thoughts too." He pulled out his score and set it on the table between them.

They spent half an hour going over the orchestral score, discussing which movements were most critical to rehearse and which particular spots might be tricky. Midway through the process, Castle picked up his coffee cup for a sip, and grimaced when he found it cold.

"I'm going to get another. Can I get you anything?" He spotted her receipt on the table and, before she could react, snatched it up and read it. "Skim latte, double sugar-free vanilla. Got it." And he was gone before she had a chance to protest.

"You don't have to buy me coffee," Kate said when he returned with two cups. He set one down in front of her, and shrugged, giving his easy smile.

"I know." He flipped over the next page in the score. "Let's talk about And He Shall Purify. Was my tempo too slow? It seemed to drag in the second half."

Kate frowned briefly, but what the hell, the coffee was already bought; she might as well drink it.

She took a sip and said, "The singers will slow down over those long melismas if you don't keep them moving. You could take it a hair faster, but mostly you just need to keep the beat and not let them slow it down." She flipped another page in the score and pointed to one of the spots she had in mind. "Like here. The tenors will drag if you let them. It's pretty much the same story in the big ensemble number at the end of A Rose For Everafter," she continued, warming to the subject. "You've got those melismas in the chorus parts that slow everything down in the moments when the soloists aren't keeping them to tempo."

"You know my operas?" Castle said in surprise, and she startled, suddenly realizing what she had said. She ducked her head, her cheeks heating up.

"I might have heard bits and pieces," she mumbled, and knew that the lie was completely transparent. She kicked herself mentally for the slip.

But Castle, surprisingly, chose not to gloat or tease. "Cool," was all he said, and he turned the pages to the next spot.

The time slipped by, and suddenly Kate realized that it was almost 9:45 and the coffee shop was filling up with orchestra members grabbing a quick cup on their way to the rehearsal. Several of them greeted her and Castle, and she sighed internally as she saw the speculative looks coming her way.

It probably wouldn't be long until the gossip mill started churning, and everyone would know that Kate had been holed up in a Starbucks booth with the famous Castle. Of course, the fact that they were very obviously working on the music would probably be omitted from the whispering.

Oh well. There was nothing she could do about it at this point, and she could only hope that the busybodies would lose interest once they saw that nothing was actually going on. With that thought, she drained her second cup and stood.

"We should get over there. It's almost time."

Castle had watched with interest as Beckett noticed and reacted to her fellow orchestra members coming through the coffee shop. He quickly concluded that she was thinking about what it looked like, the two of them huddled up together while they were technically off the clock. Beckett probably thought that she was maintaining a neutral expression, but he could read the thoughts moving across her face; she was bothered by the idea that people might talk about them, but she squared her shoulders and resolved to ignore it and get on with things.

Castle himself was not at all upset by the idea that people might jump to conclusions about what he was doing with Kate Beckett. He was used to being the subject of that kind of speculation, and had long since been won over to his publicist's attitude that 'there's no such thing as bad publicity,' at least when it came to being seen around town with beautiful women. If people wanted to speculate about his love life, let them.

It occurred to him, though, as he watched Beckett tighten her lips and gather up her belongings, that she wasn't in a position to take such a cavalier attitude toward the gossip as he was. Castle might be brash, but he wasn't stupid; he knew how cruel the music world could be toward a woman; he knew there was a double standard. His reputation wouldn't suffer from whatever anyone might think he and Beckett were doing, but people would undoubtedly suspect her of flirting with him to advance her career. And she knew it.

But he saw the resigned look on her face, and could almost hear her thinking, Oh well, what's done is done, so he told himself the same.

He still felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach over having dug into Beckett's past. Well, no: if he were honest with himself, what he really felt guilty about was having dropped it so gracelessly into the conversation; he definitely had not been at his smoothest in that moment. Something about this woman turned him into a nearly incoherent mess. The thought made him smile slightly. Around Kate Beckett he felt like he could be his naturally goofy self, and that was fun.

Plus, she was a fan of his music, although she had tried to hide it. He'd had a difficult time suppressing his glee when she let that slip. He'd felt an urge to interrogate her in depth about what she thought of every piece of music he'd ever written, but of course, that wouldn't be very smooth either, so he had restrained himself. They would definitely be coming back to that topic in the near future, though.

With a start he realized that while he had been daydreaming, Beckett had gathered up her things and was halfway out the door. He rushed to grab his own belongings and follow her.

Beckett strode across the street toward Symphony Hall, her bag over one shoulder and her violin case over the other. Castle hurried to keep up.

"Beckett, wait."

"We're going to be late, Castle." She didn't slow her stride for him, so he matched it, pacing alongside her.

"Are you trying to ditch me?" he asked, half-joking. She gave him a sidelong glare through narrowed eyes that actually made him blanch, his steps faltering briefly before he recovered.

"Just trying to do my job," she bit out, her tone clipped. Castle reached out and touched her elbow briefly.

"Hey. Sorry if I, uh, caused you any trouble." It was the best he could do, he thought, with this woman who clearly wasn't comfortable with too much talking about feelings.

But it worked; she softened slightly, giving him a more conciliatory look.

"It's fine. I just don't like being late."

He nodded acceptance. "Okay. Well, that's my bad too, so you can just blame me." He flashed his winningest smile, and saw her fighting to keep a straight face. Oh, she didn't want him to see that he made her smile. Good, he decided. Good.

And then they were ascending the steps to Symphony Hall.

Most of the orchestra players had already assembled by the time Beckett and Castle came striding up the center aisle of the audience floor, dropping their coats on seats at the front. Beckett was relieved to see, though, that no one was waiting around impatiently; many were still getting their instruments ready, or tuning up, or chatting.

She pulled her Messiah score out of her bag and took it and her violin case up onto the stage, settling onto her seat to get herself organized. Out of the corner of her eye, while she tightened her bow and got her chin-rest positioned, she watched Castle make his way to the podium, smiling and greeting each player he passed. Again she marveled at his charisma and the way he charmed everyone, even the most jaded longtime orchestra members.

"Good morning, everyone," Castle said cheerfully as he stepped onto the podium and arranged his score on the music stand. "I hope we're all ready for a deep dive into this music. Our time is pretty short today, but I'd like to try to get through all the movements we didn't touch on yesterday, if possible. So that's the overture, the Pifa, and all of the solos."

As he spoke, he was flipping pages, and the players quickly switched into rehearsal mode; chatter stopped, those who weren't already seated made their way to their spots, faces grew serious and intent. The group was ready to begin.

Without much more preamble, they launched into the overture that marked the beginning of Messiah. Kate loved the short solo that she got to play in this movement, and gave herself over to it entirely, losing herself in the sweet melody and the way the other instruments soon blended in.

As the rehearsal proceeded, though, she went back to watching Castle's movements while he conducted. Today, instead of focusing on his body, she found her eyes drawn to his hands. Of course, she was supposed to be watching his hands anyway, but she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be blushing because of it.

She couldn't quite help herself. His hands were so broad and expressive, not just marking the beat, but molding the music in the air. It was entrancing. And something about the way those hands moved, stroking the air, pulling the music together, caused her face to heat up and her thighs to press together as she shifted in her seat.

In such a way, surrounded by glorious music, flustered by very distracting thoughts, Kate found the time flying by. Before she knew it, the rehearsal was over and the players were packing up their instruments to leave.

"So, we get a lunch break now, right?" Castle said to her, after they had both finished answering the usual assortment of questions from the orchestra members.

"Yeah." Beckett looked at her watch. "It's already twelve-fifteen, so you have about an hour and a half to go get something to eat. Chorus rehearsal starts at two."

"And what are you going to do with your ninety minutes?" he asked, just a hair too casually. "Want to show me the best place for lunch around here?"

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. Was he asking her out? It sure as hell sounded like it. Well, that had to be nipped in the bud. Never mind the fact that she had just spent the entire rehearsal thinking inappropriate thoughts about his hands; that was irrelevant; the point was that they were working together and she was not going to be drawn into the seductive pull of the famous Castle charm.

"I brought a sandwich," she said shortly, snapping her violin case shut with two sharp clicks. "And I have work to do. Research for my students," she added, not that she needed to make excuses, of course. Just to make it clear to him that she had other things to do with her life.

"Oh. You teach too? Is there anything you don't do?" he asked lightly, not seeming at all bothered by her rejection.

"Just a little bit of private tutoring on the side," she shrugged. "Fills the time."

"I see. Well, I'll find something to eat on my own, then, I guess." He smiled politely and sauntered off, leaving her staring at his back.

Beckett blew out a quick breath as she watched Castle put on his coat and depart. What the hell was she doing? Why was she letting him get to her like this? He was probably just trying to be nice. There was no way that someone like Rick Castle would be interested in a nobody like her.

Castle stepped out into the chill of the afternoon air, smiling quietly to himself. He hadn't missed the way Beckett's eyes had widened when he'd invited her to lunch. The fact that she'd refused to join him only made him more determined to break past her barriers. He'd decided not to push it, this time; he was planting seeds, and would give them a little time to germinate before he ... Okay, he wasn't quite sure where the gardening metaphor was going, but whatever. The point was, he felt pretty good about the whole situation.

He ambled down the street, scanning for a likely lunch venue, and mulling over the way Beckett had reacted when he mentioned what her mom's old voice teacher had said. He wondered whether Kate Beckett had sung a single note in the ten years since her mother's death. The haunted look in her eyes made him think that she really had given it up entirely, which was ... kind of sad, really. She clearly loved playing the violin, and she was very good at it, and yet...

A small mom-and-pop deli caught his eye, and Castle sped up slightly, feeling the rumble of hunger in his stomach. It looked like the kind of place where a single sandwich would be big enough to make three meals out of, which was perfect. With two more hours of rehearsal ahead, he had a feeling he was going to need the sustenance.