Back to Where We Have Never Been

A/N: Thank you for all of your kind reviews, comments and alerts! I only hope you continue to enjoy this story. As always, I love to hear what you think! :)

Chapter 1

Kate rolled over in her childhood bed and blinked as the morning sunlight hit her eyes. Her face broke into a jaw-cracking yawn as she stretched her hands up towards the headboard and let out a squeaky moan. Her mother always said that she stretched like a cat, and if cat's felt that good after their vertebrae had popped and their muscles, ligaments and tendons stretched after a good night sleep, then she was perfectly happy to be a cat. Perfectly happy. Cat. Heh. Kate smiled at her own little joke, before turning her head to look at the alarm clock. It was seven am. She had effectively slept for ten hours.

Her mother had greeted her with a warm twirling hug and a firm kiss to the cheek when she had stumbled through the door the night before, her bag caught on the door jam, forcing her to trip over her four inch heels. If it had been anywhere else, Kate might have been embarrassed, but at home, with her parents, she could overlook the blunder and just shrug it off as being Katie.

After a whirlwind of hellos and gentle ribbing over her stumble from her father, Kate had been whisked off to the kitchen by her mother, who, in true form, proceeded to scold her over being too skinny. Kate responded with a roll of her eyes and the argument that she was thirty-one years old and too old to be scolded by her mother. Johanna, in return, had twisted her ear, told her to stop being smart and ordered her to sit down and eat.

Kate sat down and ate, grumbling that she ate plenty she was just thin and she ran to keep in shape. That was bound to burn off a few calories. For a fleeting moment, she considered telling her mother she was so thin because of all of the amazing engagement sex she and Mark had been having, but a residual twinge from her ear warned her otherwise.

She did have to admit though, the food was delicious and ignored Johanna's knowing look as Kate helped herself to seconds before diving into the pan of brownies on the stove. She could feel her mother watching her as she ate, making idle conversation, asking her about the classes she was teaching, worrying about the dark circles under her eyes. Kate had answered simply, too tired to go into deep conversation, but promising to tell her stories in detail after she had finally slept.

Johanna had caught her hand as she picked at her brownie, pulling it close to examine the ring closely before grasping her daughter's hand warmly, tears in her eyes as she told her how happy she was for her and how proud. Jim had simply leaned over and kissed Kate on the forehead, telling her that he was proud of her and happy that Mark had finally proposed. She had admonished him for the "finally", but had silently agreed that it was about damn time. Seven years, six of which had been living together, had definitely been long enough.

Both of Kate's parents were lawyers, they had met when they were fresh-faced entry level associates yet to be jaded by the crass world of criminals and law firms. Somehow, between the backstabbing colleagues and long coffee-infused hours, they had found each other. Jim had described it as a slow burn, a growing flame of love and trust. All growing up, Kate had yearned for a spark. An instant burst of attraction that had caught her attention: held on and never let go. Instead, she had gotten a slow burn as well, a debate that had turned into a friendship, which had led to flirting and a relationship. Love was love and she was happy. She had what her parents had, and when she saw how they still looked at each other across the table after thirty-five years together, she couldn't ask for anything more.

Kat reached down and dragged her suitcase over to the side of the bed, too comfortable to get up yet, but still wanting to pull out her running clothes. It was Saturday, meaning that her parents wouldn't be up for another hour, giving her plenty of time to go for a run and get some coffee before breakfast was ready. She sighed as she slid open the zipper. There was something about going home that always brought out the kid in her, excited over Saturday breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon. Oh, bacon. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of it. Slowly, she forced herself to slide out of bed and stretched again as her feet sank into the plush carpet and she padded her way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later she was out the door and skipping down the stairs, iPod securely in her hand, ear buds in her ears and debit card nestled securely in her shoe as she made her way out onto the already bustling sidewalk of New York City. She ran for miles, up and down the city sidewalks, winding through the blocks. Briefly, she had debated running through Central Park, but her nose has scrunched at the idea. It didn't matter the time of day she had never felt safe alone on the paths in the park. She had seen the news reports, read plenty of gory details. Kate Beckett had no intention of becoming a statistic, so, she would take her chances with the angry, high-strung Wallstreet suits instead.

She dodged one last business man, briefcase swinging, before she slowed to a walk and continued down the sidewalk, chest heaving with breath, her arms curled over her head as she cooled down. The city's temperature was already scorching and it wasn't even nine am. Kate's hair was plastered to her forehead and neck and she lifted the hem of her tank top to brush the sweat from her face.

She stopped for a moment, debating her next actions. It may be hot out but she still needed coffee. Coffee was her reward for running. If anyone ever said that operant conditioning and positive reinforcement didn't work, they had obviously never been exposed to Kate Beckett and her love of caffeinated beverages.

She glanced around again, using her hand to shield her eyes from the rising sun, now peeking over the shorter skyscrapers. There was a bookstore across the street that boasted a coffee shop as well. That was too good to pass up. Coffee and books? It was her lucky day. Besides, she had just run for over an hour, she deserved two rewards today.

Without a second thought she made her way across the crosswalk and pulled out her ear buds as she yanked the heavy wood and glass door open. The rush of air conditioning hit her overheated skin and the scents of coffee, chocolate and vanilla wafted towards her. She couldn't help but smile. Who could ask for anything more?

Richard Castle wasn't one to stroke his own ego, but every once in a while he couldn't help but do his own reconnaissance of book sales. Today was one of those days. He hadn't slept well, in fact the only sleep he had gotten was a couple of hours of tossing and turning as his blocked brain tried to squeeze some semblance of a plot line out of him. The attempt had failed and he was left plot-less and sleep deprived.

So, instead of wallowing in self-misery for hours in his office again today he had decided to do some people watching: a beloved pass-time of writers. Gaining inspiration for those surrounding him. The fact that his ego and self-esteem got a little lift every time he saw someone pick up one of his books was just an added bonus. Really.

There was already a good crowd in the bookstore when Rick arrived Saturday morning and he took in a deep breath as he stood in silent appreciation of the tomes of paper pages and ground coffee beans. He checked his twitter account and email as he waited in the line for coffee, glancing up in time to see a woman in a tank top and jogging shorts reach down into her shoe to pull out her credit card to pay the cashier and couldn't help but smile at the barista's grimace at the thought of the foot sweat covered card. The woman said something and the boy behind the counter laughed, effectively forgetting about the card and swiping it through the machine before handing it back to her. The woman walked down to the other end of the counter, her back still towards him and he turned his attention back to the line, stepping forward as his turn inched closer.

Rick wandered through the stacks, sipping the hot liquid out of cardboard cup as he tolled the aisles, looking for something, anything to peek his interest. He had skulked around a corner, watching the center display tables for a few minutes and had been appeased to see people picking up a couple of his novels. Now, he was looking for something more interesting.

He turned another corner and stopped short as he saw a woman sitting cross-legged in the middle of the aisle, her brow scrunched in concentration as she perused through the rows of books. He could tell by her clothing and the curly mass of hair thrown back in a bun on her head that she was the same woman he had seen in the coffee line, but this time he had the chance to see her face and he found himself breathless as he watched her. She was beautiful and more than that, there was something about her: an air, a confidence.

"Extraordinary," he expelled in a breath, barely audible to anyone but himself but he saw her head turn towards him anyway. Apparently the woman also had superhuman hearing.

She raised a single eyebrow at him as he continued to gawk like a star-struck teenager before turning back to her mission, pulling a single volume off of the shelf to add to the growing pile at her side.

When Rick had decided that he either had to leave or approach her to avoid looking like a complete miscreant, he took in a deep shaky breath, pasted a cocky grin onto his face, puffed out his chest slightly and took a step forward.

Her body shifted, so he could that she knew he was drawing nearer to her, but she still paid him no attention. Her gaze never left the shelf in front of her, her hand bringing her coffee cup to her lips every few seconds for another sip.

"You know, these stuffy old classics are too boring for someone was gorgeous as you," he started when she continued to ignore him after another minute.

She stilled for a moment before pushing herself off of the floor collecting her books and coffee as she rose. His face broke into a wide smile as he waited for her to look at him. Then his, self professed, charming smile, slipped as she rolled her eyes and continued to ignore him. Staring at the top shelf of the bookcase instead.

"Hi," he tried again, extending his hand slightly, "I'm Richard Castle, the author."

"I know who you are Mr. Castle," she replied slowly, her eyes never stopping their task of reading the titles. "I've seen your face on enough glossy book jackets."

"Oh, so you are a fan then."

"No. I never said I was a fan. I merely said I know who you are," she paused her shopping long enough to glance up at him with a tight smile.

Castle, watched, stunned, as the woman in front of him went back to the shelf, looking for a specific title. Her lips moved gently as she read the names silently to herself.

Had she just blown him off?

"Well, have you at least read some of them?" He continued, not sure why, but he wanted to know what the woman thought. This woman standing in front of him in a tank top and jogging shorts, hair in a messy bun and ear buds hanging around her neck, resting on her bare shoulders.

"Yes."

"And?" he prompted. "What did you think?"

Her hand paused on the shelf, sliding the spine of a book gently back into place with one finger. Her eyes flickered up to him and a small smirk covered her face.

"You don't want to know," she laughed out with a small shake of her head.

"Yes, I do," he pressed. For some reason, he truly did want to know what she thought. He didn't care about the other co-eds and housewives that were buying his books at that very moment, twittering over them standing in line. He cared about her opinion. The one woman in the store that didn't give a rat's ass who he was or that he was hitting on her. Well, trying to hit on her. It wasn't working too well.

"No. I may damage that precious ego of yours and I don't think you could handle that." Her nose crinkled up at him as her voice took on a slightly mocking tone.

Was she seriously talking down to him?

Castle felt a swell of anger bubble up from his chest. Who was she to sit in judgment of him or his ego? Fine, two could play at this game.

"Try me."

She turned to look at him, arms crossed over her chest. She was tall, but in her running shoes she still had to look up at him, her chin raised gently to lock her eyes with his. Her beautiful green eyes. Castle gulped slightly.

"Fine. You really want to know what I think? I think your plots are tawdry, your characters are underdeveloped and your killer can always be named by the second chapter. You use cheap tricks and flash to cover up your lack of literary talent and you pander yourself to the 18-45 female demographic with cheesy secondary story lines that read like a cheap romance novel. You happy?"

She brushed past him, pile of books resting in the crook of her arm, as she made her way toward the check out line. He stood, blinking, for a moment before snatching the cup of coffee she had left behind, off the shelf, and followed after her, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh, she was good.

"What's your name?" He asked as he came up behind her in line holding his arm out so that her forgotten coffee was hovering in front of her face.

"Why?" She asked as she snatched the cardboard cup from his hand and brought it automatically up to her lips. No thank you, no other acknowledgement.

Rick shrugged even though she was still facing away from him. "No one has ever told me something like that to my face before, normally I only get it from behind the shield of a critical review or from hate mail."

She glanced back at him, curiosity dancing with in the distaste and apathy flickering over her expression. She bit her lower lip as she looked him over for a moment, her eyes traveling up and down his body; studying his face to try to decipher his game. Her brow scrunched.

Finally, she sighed and angled her body sideways so she could face him more easily. Her answer was short, one syllable. Annoyed. "Kate."

"Hi Kate, I'm Rick. It is nice to meet you."

She let out a humph, her lips pursed, in reply to his wide grin and the childlike twinkle in his eye.

"So," he continued, unfazed. "What do you do for a living? You're not a book critic are you because that would be a little too cliché for me?"

She let out a small bark of a laugh at that and he could feel his grin widening.

"No, I am not a book critic. I teach literature at Stanford."

Castle couldn't help but perked up at her answer. A full sentence? Maybe she was starting to soften a little. He had that affect on women.

"Really? Any specific type of literature?"

She eyed him critically again as she inched forward in line. "Russian."

Or maybe not, she was back to the one-word answers.

"That's hot."

Kate rolled her eyes again. "Is this your attempt to hit on me? Because, trust me, it is not working."

Rick smiled. Yes it was, in both aspects.

"No, but the idea of someone as beautiful as you speaking Russian is definitely hot. I was simply stating a fact."

She had the decency to blush slightly as a she brought a hand up to roll a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She was holding the stack of books precariously in her arm while her other hand stiff grasped her coffee.

"Thanks, I think," She mumbled in reply.

Castle was about to say something else when she was called up to pay. He wandered past the line of registers, cashiers and customers to lean against the wooden doorframe, waiting for her to finish. She thanked the cashier with a smile and a wave before heading towards him and stopped short when she saw him waiting for her.

She let out an exasperated breath. "What now?"

"Have dinner with me. I would invite you out to coffee, but you already have some. So dinner. Please?"

She walked around him, pushing through the doors, and he pivoted in place to follow her out like a puppy.

She help up her left hand, wiggling her fingers a little so that the morning light flashed with the movement of the rock sized diamond on her forth finger. "Taken, Mr. Castle."

Castle felt his stomach clench as he looked at the ring. How had he missed that before? He let out a small sigh. He couldn't give up, he hadn't been this interested in a woman in years, if ever, and he had only spent ten minutes with the woman. A woman, mind you, who had been blowing him off and insulting him the entire time. Oh, man, he was sunk.

"Just as friends then. I want to pick your brain a little bit more. Please? I promise I won't try anything."

He came to a sudden stop as she whirled around on the sidewalk to face him. Looking up at him with annoyance written clearly on her face. He let out a slight whimper as he gulped at her glare. Her fiancé was probably completely whipped and perfectly happy to be so.

Castle help up his hands in mock surrender as he deflated slightly. "I promise I will be a perfect gentleman. I've just had a difficult time writing lately and well, to be honest, you intrigue me. I want to talk. That's it."

She brought her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she looked down and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, fine, but if you try anything, I can promise you I know karate."

She pointed a finger at him and he couldn't help but smile at her response, blatant, and probably not idle, threat included.

"Tomorrow?" He proposed. "There is an old writer's bar called The Old Haunt. Meet you there at 7?"

She bit her lip again, a tick that he couldn't help but find adorable, and nodded her head in agreement. "Tomorrow. Goodbye, Mr. Castle."

He watched as she turned and continued down the sidewalk, plugging her headphones back into her ears as she purposefully walked away.

"Until tomorrow, Kate," he called loud enough for her to hear and watched with a wide grin as she waved a hand in reply and dismissal.

Oh, he had it bad.