Back to Where We Have Never Been

A/N: So, I have said this before in other A/Ns, but it is worth repeating: you guys rock. I am so happy you are enjoying this story. I know it is AU, but I am trying to keep it as close to being in character as possible. As always, love hearing what to you think and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Chapter 2

Kate stopped and leaned back against the rough brick wall the moment she turned the corner of the block.

What the fuck had just happened? Did she just agree to a date with Richard Castle?

Yes, it was a platonic date, but still. Kate shook her head as she rested her back against the dirty wall. She hadn't wanted to say yes. In fact, she had done everything she could think of, short of actually telling him to go away and leave her alone, to make him know she was not interested.

Why hadn't she just told him to go away?

She sighed again and took the last, cold, swig of her coffee from her cup, the cup he had returned to her, before tossing it into the trashcan on the corner. She could always just not show up. He didn't know her last name, her phone number or where she was staying. They had agreed to meet at a bar at a certain time. She could very well just not go and forget that this day ever happened. She chewed on her lip gently. The problem was that she wanted to go. As much as the man had pestered her and she couldn't stand his writing, she wanted to go and see what he wanted with her.

He had approached her, he had chased her, he had continued on long past other man would have given up. He had done all of this for a platonic dinner date, a chance to "pick her brain". Kate didn't get it. The least she could do was show up and find out what exactly he wanted her help with. If he tried anything she could just leave.

Kate nodded her head at her decision. That's what she would do. Now she just had to figure out why, exactly, she was doing this in the first place.

Pushing herself off of the wall, Kate set out to wander the few blocks back to her parent's apartment and the welcoming thoughts of breakfast.

She chose to take the elevator up when she made it back to the building and wandered slowly down the hall and through the door to the apartment, ear buds stuffed in her ears, music turned up to drown out the sounds of the world around her. Frank had probably said something to her as she made her way through the lobby but she hadn't heard. She was still stuck in her head, replaying the surreal events of the past hour.

After she had gotten her coffee she had briefly stopped by the business and economics section followed by the world politics shelf to pick up a couple of titles Mark had texted to her that she should read. When the market crashed in 2008, Mark had been finishing up his dissertation and was ecstatic about the chance to study such an important turn of events in global economics. While the rest of the world had mourned and panicked, Mark had celebrated. Kate, as much as she loved him and as much as she had listened, had tried and failed to follow many of his theories. Sometimes, it was like they were speaking to each other in foreign tongues: literature to economics. English to math. So, they tried to teach each other. These books were yet another lesson that Kate promised herself she would get through before he came back to town.

She had been looking through the shelves of fiction and literature when she felt him watching her. She had heard him whisper something, a single word that she had had the feeling she wasn't supposed to have heard and it had caught her attention. Well, that and the wide-eyed, panicked look she had received when she had glanced up and he had realized she had heard him. She hadn't seen that look on a man's face since Brian Messer in the tenth grade had fumbled trying to ask her to the spring dance.

She had tried to ignore him, pulling out every trick in the book to get her to leave her alone but he just kept coming back. She had ignored him, insulted him, belittled his work, walked away and he had just kept coming back, like a boomerang. An insistent, annoying, really good smelling boomerang.

Kate shook her head again. No. Bad Kate.

And what was with the bad pick-up lines?

"Katie!"

Kate jumped as she felt a hand clap down on her shoulder and spun around in time to see her father raise his hands in surrender.

"Dad? What? Why would you do that?" Kate wheezed out as she struggled to catch the breath that had just been startled out of her.

She yanked the earphones out of her ears and glared as her father began to laugh at her reaction.

"Your mother and I have been calling you over and over. You didn't hear."

Kate looked around. She was standing in the middle of her parent's living room, bag still in hand. "Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought. What's up?"

"We were just wondering where you were, you missed breakfast," Johanna called as she wandered out from the kitchen, using a towel to dry her hands.

"I, what? What time is it?" Kate looked up at her mother, confused. She hadn't been gone for that long.

"It's after eleven, sweetheart."

Kate felt her jaw drop. Seriously?

"I, um, sorry. I ran into someone. We got to talking. I must have lost track of time."

Kate shook her head again as she turned towards her room. She continued in a mumble. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll be out in a few minutes."

She wandered silently into her room, missing the questioning look that passed between her parents. She toed off her shoes as she laid the bag of newly purchased books on the bed and wound the headphones around her iPod and placed it gently on the nightstand.

She shook her head one last time as she stripped off her tank top and shorts and stepped into the shower. Great, now, Richard Castle had made her miss breakfast.

"Hey, babe." Kate smiled as she heard her fiancé's voice float through the speaker. "How's New York."

Kate sighed and snuggled deeper into her bed. It was eleven o'clock at night and she was just going to sleep, meaning that Mark was just waking up in Moscow. "New York is interesting. My parents are doing well. My father said it was, and I quote, "about damn time that man proposed to you" when I showed him the ring. My mother said she can't wait to see you. How's Russia? Any major events take place in the past forty-eight hours that I should know about?"

Mark chuckled on the other end of the phone. "No, nothing too interesting."

Kate paused at his tone. There was something there, something was wrong. "Mark? What's up, you sound funny."

"What? Oh, nothing. Just tired, still waking up, you know?"

Kate nodded her head slowly even though he couldn't see her. "Okay. Sure."

She still didn't believe him.

"Kate, I promise, nothing is up. So, you have any plans for the next couple of days?"

Kate bit her lip at the topic change but simply let out a resigned sigh. She wouldn't get anything else out if him, especially over the phone. She couldn't read his expression; he wouldn't see her glare. The buffer of distance definitely gave him the advantage in this conversation.

Her thoughts drifted to the events of the morning and her impending "date" with Richard Castle, self proclaimed Master of the Macabre. She let out a soft snort at the inane title before letting her thoughts move back to the man waiting patiently on the other end of the phone for her to answer. She could tell him, it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong.

"Actually," she started with a small chuckle. "I am meeting Richard Castle for dinner tomorrow."

Kate brought a hand up over her eyes, looking out with one through a slit in her fingers as silence met her on the other end.

"Mark? You still there?"

"Richard Castle?" He finally replied. "The author?"

"Yeah," Kate continued with another small laugh. "It's a really weird story, actually. I stopped by a bookstore after my run this morning and I ran into him inside. We started talking and he said he wanted to have dinner with me, pick my brain about something."

"It sounds like he was trying to pick you up, not pick your brain," Mark argued. Kate could hear the slight tinge of jealousy in his voice. It was kind of cute, if annoying at the same time.

"Trust me, I made it more than clear that I was not available but he said that he wasn't trying anything he just wanted to talk, get my opinion about something for his books, I think. I don't know, it was weird, but I am meeting him at some writer's bar tomorrow night. I figure, I can at least find out what he wants."

Mark sighed into the phone and Kate could tell that he was still annoyed. "Well, have fun I guess. I've got to go, I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll see you in a few days."

"Yep. Bye, babe."

Kate slid the phone onto her side table and sighed before rolling over onto her side, pillowing her hands under her head and drawing her knees up towards her chest. Well, that had gone well.

She wasn't worried about Mark's small twinge of jealousy. That was how he was, and she just always chose to ignore it, doing whatever she wanted instead. He couldn't control her and he knew it.

She was worried, though, about his avoidance of her questions. He was never evasive. She sighed and nestled her head a little farther into her pillow. She was probably just thinking too much into it. She would press him more when she could see him face to face, when she had the advantage. Everything would be fine. Just fine.

Kate took a deep breath as she walked down the steps to the entrance of The Old Haunt and steeled herself as she pulled open the heavy wooden door. She had to admit, the place had an air about it, a feeling of history and a warm glow filled her belly as she took a deep breath, taking in the scents of stale beer and mixed nuts.

Why exactly was she doing this again?

She had spent the last thirty hours trying to come up with some sort of sound reasoning behind her actions. Every time she had come up blank. Nada. Nothing. Niet.

She glanced down at her outfit one last time. Her hair was down, falling in soft curls. She was wearing dark washed jeans and a simple red flowing tank top under a light blazer. Her four-inch 'don't fuck with me' stiletto heels completed the ensemble. It's not like she cared what she looked like for this meeting; she just wanted him to know that she didn't care what she looked like for this meeting. That is exactly what this outfit said. Well, maybe except for the heels. Those were just for fun and so that he no longer had the advantage of height. She had seen the way he had been gazing down at her in the bookstore, trying to disarm and charm her. Well, two could play at that game and it was her time to take the offensive instead of playing defense.

Kate groaned to herself, when had she started to think in sports metaphors?

Satisfied with her outfit, she turned her attention to her surroundings. There was a piano in the back corner, an older gentleman playing a lively jazz melody. It was a quiet place, a couple of patrons at the bar, a few more gathered around various tables.

He looked up the minute she spotted him at the table and their eyes locked across the room. Kate's breath caught in her chest as a broad smile crossed his face and she found herself moving towards him.

"You came," he stated as he rose from the booth, motioning for her to sit on the bench.

"You're observant," she responded before she could filter her words. She was here, and she had to admit it was cute how excited he was to see her. The least she could do was be civil.

"Ah, so you're always this way, huh?" Rick grinned in reply to her glib comment.

Kate couldn't help but let a small smile crack. "I have been called a smart ass more than once, Mr. Castle. That is a fact."

"Rick. Please, call me Rick. It sounds weird to be called Mr. while having dinner with a beautiful woman."

Kate paused, her eyebrow rising slightly as she looked at him. "Are you going to continue to hit on me because I have already told you it isn't going to work?"

"Not a pass, a fact."

Kate huffed out a sigh. "Rick…"

She paused again, feeling the way his name felt as it rolled off her tongue. That wasn't right. Her nose scrunched up slightly as her mouth pursed. No, that wasn't going to work.

"Fine, Castle. So, why exactly did you want to meet me?"

Castle smiled at the nickname as he raised a hand and signaled to the bartender, effectively ignoring her question. "You like beer?"

She replied with a single jerking nod and he held up two fingers, smiling as the bartender nodded in reply and flipped up two glasses. With in seconds both glasses were on the table in front of them.

"So, you like the place? It has a certain charm, right."

Kate opened her mouth to question him again, but ended up snapping it shut and nodding instead.

"Yes, it is very nice. There seems to be a certain air about it, a history."

Castle beamed at her answer, leaning forward slightly. "This place has been around for years, at first it was a blacksmith before it became a bordello. It was only during Prohibition that it turned into a bar- a speakeasy. It almost went under about a year ago when the owner was murdered. Gnarly story really, I heard about it through a buddy of mine and ended up buying it instead of letting it go to the bank."

Kate felt her eye brows raise of their own volition. "You own this bar?"

"Yep," Castle preened as he took a gulp of beer.

"I wrote my first novel in that booth right over there," he continued as he pointed to a table over her shoulder. "I couldn't just let this place get turned into a co-ed hang out. It has history, it should stay that way."

Kate felt herself soften a little bit. That was sort of sweet.

"Of course, telling women that you own a bar is also a great pick-up line."

Kate's smile fell and her face went blank. And, he was back.

She shifted in her seat again, pushing a clump of hair behind her ear. "So, why exactly did you want to meet with me, again?"

He folded his hands on the table in front of him as he let out a resigned sigh. She wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. "I want you to critique my work."

Kate paused, her pint of beer half way to her lips. He what? "Excuse me?"

He sighed as he deflated slightly in his chair, a hand coming up to run through his hair, making it stand up in various directions.

"I haven't written in months. Everything that I have written lately has been complete crap. I know what you are going to say, anything I have ever written is crap and that may be the truth but I want to make my work better. I want to do more than just tell cheap stories with substandard plot lines and two-dimensional characters. I want you to help me make my work less tawdry, as you put it."

Kate continued to stare at him, her drink now forgotten on the table, a small ring of perspiration beginning to form at its base.

"Why me? You don't even know me."

Castle took in a deep breath. "Katherine Beckett, Professor of Russian Literature at Stanford University which is also your alma mater. You earned your bachelor degree in 2002 from Stanford. You double majored in English and comparative religion with a minor in political science. You went on to earn your Master's and subsequently your PhD. You graduated in 2008 from UCLA with your doctorate of philosophy in comparative literature. You debated slightly between French and Russian before finally deciding on the latter. You are said to be one of the best in your field, someone to watch. You have written a number of papers and given even more presentations blasting American Literature and popular fiction. Because of this, it is safe to assume that you hate my guts, well my literary guts at least."

Kate's eyebrows, which had continued to rise during his entire recitation of her CV, finally froze just below her hairline. "How did you…?"

Castle shrugged as he brought his beer to his lips. "I Googled you."

Kate shook her head again, giving him a small disbelieving glare. It seemed she was doing that a lot lately. "So, why…?"

"Why do I want you to look at my stuff?" He finished and she huffed.

She would get out a full sentence at some point during the evening.

"Because I know you will give me an honest opinion. Besides, I like you. You're spunky."

Castle's fingers tapped on the tabletop nervously as she continued to stare at him: weighing him, measuring him, trying to figure out his game.

She began to speak slowly, her fingertips pressed into the wooden table. The beers he had ordered for them sat forgotten, condensation slowly forming and dripping to coat the finished wood.

"So, let me get this straight…" she began, her eyes traveling to meet his from where they had been studying the patterns in the wood. She had an expression on her face that crossed between confusion and exasperation. It caused a series of small lines to form between her eyes and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth them down. "You want me to perform a critical analysis of your book because I already hate your work."

"And because you're spunky," he piped up. "Don't forget that."

"Spunky. Right."

She gave a brisk nod of her head before pressing down on her hands and pushing herself out of the seat. "Goodbye, Mr. Castle."

Castle watched bewildered as she turned back towards the door and started down the aisle.

"What? Wait!" He called as he scrambled out of his own seat and followed her into the warm New York evening. The sun was starting to set and a hazy glow covered the city street.

"Why?" He continued his one-word alliterate questions as he tagged along down the street, jogging slightly to catch up to her brisk pace.

When he had first seen her heels, the way they made her legs even longer, stronger, he had let out a slight whimper. Frat boys probably signed up for her classes just to stare at her and, in the end, gladly took the incomplete or failing grade just because it was worth it. But now he saw a secondary reason for the heels: they made her legs longer and therefore she could walk faster.

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and whirled around to face him, giving him a strange sense of déjà vu from the morning before. "Because I already have a job Mr. Castle, one that I am about to go back to in a couple of weeks. And I have a life that I would like to focus on for the rest of my vacation. So, if you would excuse me, I am going to go now and I would implore you not to follow me."

Castle watched as she turned and continued to walk away from him, reaching to pull a phone out of her pocket as she wound her way through the other pedestrians. She shook her head, flipping her hair to lie over one shoulder and he felt his heart sank.

"Wait!" He called again as he ran up behind her and reached out with one hand to catch hers.

He felt a small shock shoot up his arm at the touch, making his skin tingle and glow. Kate stopped suddenly causing him to come inches from running into her back. He felt her body go ridged and lungs take up a small gasp of air.

She turned once again, to look at him but this time there was no anger or amusement, only confusion.

She had felt it, too.

"If you change your mind," he explained softly, reaching into his pocket with his free hand to pull out a slip of paper. "Call me."

She reached up slowly, her eyes never leaving his and softly grasped the torn corner of paper with a barely visible nod of her head.

He dropped her hand with one last squeeze of her fingers, his thumb glancing softly across her skin, and turned to walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, leaving her frozen in the middle of the street.