Back to Where We Have Never Been

A/N: So, I just wanted to explain one thing. Kate is my favorite character- I love the fact that she is strong (a complete bad ass) and I try to stay true to that but one of her major weaknesses is relationships. She's not as strong when it comes to them. Also, as most people would tell you, when you've been in a relationship for a long time you don't give it up without a fight.

I hope I managed to explain myself a little bit.

Thank you to all of you for your reading and support. I was a little disappointed to read that some people were stopping reading after the last chapter but everyone is entitled to their own opinions. Thank you for sticking with me though.

This story is far from over.

Chapter 14

Kate paused from where she had been packing her suitcase when her foot hit something shoved under the bed. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she squatted down, lifting the bed skirt to see what it was. She smiled. The comic books. She pulled out the small stack and stood back up so that she could sit on the bed as she looked over them over. She had only gotten through about half of them. She flipped through the slowly, reading over the titled as she went. Her fingers paused at one in the middle and she pulled it out, placing the others on the bed beside her as she flipped the chosen one open to page one.

It was an Avengers comic that Castle had slid into her stack when she had said that she had never read any of The Avenger books. She let out a small chuckle as she remembered the gasp of horror that had left his lips and the look of mock betrayal in his eyes. He had then proceeded to shove five more books at her, carrying on about the injustice and the inhumanity of how she had not read these series. She had stood there with an amused smirk as she watched him, the occasional eye roll sneaking out.

She flipped another page and allowed herself to get drawn in to the colorful pages.

"What are you reading?"

Kate looked up, snapping out of the book as Mark walked back in from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. She gave him a small smile as she shrugged and flipped the book so he could see the cover.

"The Avengers," she replied.

"You don't read The Avengers," Mark stated as he came around to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Castle recommended it," she answered and she could feel Mark stiffen beside her. "It's pretty good."

Mark let out a sigh and Kate huffed as she felt his shoulders tense. "I don't like that guy."

"Why not? He was perfectly nice to you." Kate shot back, feeling her own hackles rise.

Mark gave her a look as he went over to his own suitcase to pick out an outfit. "Did you not see the looks he was giving you? He's in love with you."

"No he's not," Kate defended. "He's my friend."

She could feel her gut clench as she said the words. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of Richard Castle being in love with her and she pulled in a shaky breath.

"Well, at least you aren't going to see him again," Mark mumbled and Kate felt something in her snap.

Had he really just said that?

"Do you seriously think you have any right to dictate who my friends are?" She growled as she uncurled her legs and stood from the bed.

Mark paused as he rethought his last statement. "Of course not, Babe. I just meant that between Moscow and Stanford, we aren't going to be in The City much and when we are here we will be visiting your parents."

Kate stilled. Moscow and Stanford?

"Columbia said they would hold the position for me," she stated slowly. "I want to take it next fall, after we get back from Russia."

Mark looked back at her, over his shoulder as he walked back towards the bathroom. "We'll talk about it, okay? I got an email on Monday, the dean just offered up tenure for me at Stanford, said that they had a nice package for you, too."

Kate's jaw fell open as she sank onto the bed and stared at the closed bathroom door. They would talk about it? Had he not said that they would do anything she wanted? That this was her choice?

She felt her chest tighten, the muscles pulling as she forced air into her lungs, as her heart began to beat wildly. It was Thursday. Mark had been in town for two full days where he had been a perfect gentleman, as he had been when they first met. Two days and he had known about this offer all along? So, what, they were going to go to Russia and then just back to Stanford because of a sweet deal?

She felt the heat rising up her neck and she pushed herself off of the bed. She made quick work of her pajamas, pulling on the first t-shirt and jeans she found and shoved her feet into a pair of flats.

She had to get out of here.

The apartment door slammed behind her and she pushed hard against the door to the stairwell, listening with satisfaction as the sound of it closing echoed down the well behind her.

She barely registered Frank saying something to her as she sped through the lobby and out the door, turning onto the sidewalk into the stream of pedestrian traffic.

Had she really been that stupid? She wondered as she curled her body in on itself, to avoid shoulder-slamming people as she wound her way down the road. It had never been about her. Not truly anyway. She was the one with the "easy" profession. The books she studied didn't change. They were always there, always the same. His on the other hand was dynamic, a science, a delicate dance for the entire world. Hers was just art.

She could hear it in the way he talked about it, the comments he made when she would rant about some new piece of "literature" that just came out.

"It's just a book, Katie."

But it wasn't just a book, her brain shouted. It was a time capsule; a testament to how they thought at a given point in time. In two hundred years books would be all they had left to remember what things were like in 2011. Well, books and archived videos of The Kardashians. Kate shuddered at the thought.

Turning into an alley she leaned back against the wall and heaved in a breath. She wasn't going to cry. She was stronger than this.

Steel up, Kate. She told herself.

You deserve better than this.

Castle's words echoed in her head. She did deserve better than this, she deserved better than always coming second. When had this happened to her? When had she become this weak? It hadn't been like this in the beginning, she had been the aggressor; she had pulled him in. When had the tables turned and why hadn't she noticed?

She took another deep breath and leaned back. Glancing down she caught sight of the shirt she had pulled on in her haste to get out of the apartment.

Wonder woman.

She let out a small laugh and watched her finger, the diamond ring sparkling in the sunlight, as she lifted it up to be level with her face. Slowly her other hand came up and her fingers grasped the metal band, tugging it gently from her finger. She stared at it as it rested in her palm, the weight pressing down on her skin.

Her fingers curled around the ring and she pushed herself off of the wall.

The tears no longer threatened as she turned and made her way down the street, the ring clutched in her hand.

This was right.

It was time for it to be about her.

Castle stared at the cursor blinking on the screen, taunting him.

Blink. Blink. She's. Gone. Blink. Blink. She's. Gone. She's. Gone.

Blink. Blink. Blink. She's. Not. Yours.

He reached his hand up and shut the top of the laptop, the sound too loud in the silent room.

His hand rubbed down his face. He had barely slept in the past couple days. He had seen the looks that his mother and daughter had shared as he moped around the apartment in an undershirt and boxers. He hadn't cared.

He glanced over at the clock. Her flight had left an hour ago. He remembered because she had told him Monday night. She was due to fly back to California on Thursday. Then she and Mark would what? Go back to Russia? Get married? Have babies? Would she take the job at Columbia? Would he run into her on the street in ten years?

Castle growled in frustration and pushed back his chair. He couldn't do this right now. He hadn't even written anything over the past few days. No, "die, Mark, die" did not count as writing, even if he had written it over and over for pages.

He had to get away from is taunting cursor. Devil cursor. Cursor of death. Killer word processor: anything he typed would come true. People would die horrible and gruesome deaths with the press of a button.

Castle shook his head and made his way into the living room. That was a terrible story idea, even for him.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as he wandered towards the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the wooden floorboards. His footsteps felt heavy. Everything felt heavy.

Was it too early for a drink? It was five o'clock somewhere.

He paused in front of the liquor cabinet and eyed the bottle of scotch. He shook his head and snatched up the bottle of Disaronno instead. Spiked coffee was justifiable. He was a writer after all. Writers were expected to be dark, twisty and somewhat depressive alcoholics. Just look at Hemingway.

A little voice in the back of his head, that sounded any awful lot like Kate huffed. Hemingway was not a prime example of how to live your life.

He stared at the coffee pot as the dark fluid percolated down, dribbling into the glass pot. He could smell the amaretto in the mug wafting up towards his nose. He sighed. It wouldn't make it better but it might take away a little bit of the pain.

Castle's head jerked up when he heard a soft knock on the door and his heart began to pound in his chest. Was it Kate? Scenarios raced through his mind.

She and Mark were in the airport about to go through security when Kate caught a glimpse of one of his books in a shop window. She stopped to stare. A glimmer, a reminder of what could have been. Mark was calling for her, wondering what she was waiting for, the plane was about to leave. She had to hurry. She looked up at him on the other side of the security barrier and she shook her head: a silent apology. She couldn't do it. She was in love with someone else. So, she turned around and ran back through the airport, jumping into the first cab she saw, one that she stole from a little old lady and her pregnant granddaughter. She urged the driver to go faster, to take a short cut as they wound their way through the city. She ran through the lobby, impatiently waiting until the elevator deposited her outside of his door…

Castle took in a deep breath as the door swung open and he felt himself smile as he caught glimpse of familiar green eyes.

His smiled dropped, confusion taking its place on his face. He knew the eyes. They were hers, but everything else was wrong. The hair, the skin, the small smile on the woman standing in front of him were not right; they weren't Kate.

"Can I help you?" He stuttered out after a second.

The woman smiled softly at him. "Mr. Castle? My name is Johanna Beckett, I'm Kate's mother."

She extended her hand and Castle reached out to grasp it, a sense of calm settling over him as he stared at Johanna. He could understand how Kate turned out so extraordinary; it was because of the woman standing in front of him now.

"Of course, Mrs. Beckett. It is so nice to meet you," he replied as he took a step back allowing her entrance into his home.

He couldn't help but lean forward a little as he moved to close the door, glancing down into the hallway.

"Oh, sweetie, she isn't here. She's gone," Johanna said softly.

Castle couldn't help the soft sight that passed his lips as the door clicked shut softly.

She's gone. She's not yours. She's gone.

He shook his head again and turned to face the elder Beckett. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mrs. Beckett?"

Johanna took a step further into the foyer and looked around, her eyes widening slightly. Castle smiled. Kate was so much like her mother, but Johanna's expressions were much more schooled. She didn't wear her emotions like Kate did. He wouldn't want to play poker with the woman. Years of being a lawyer had perfected her poker face. Can't show your cards in a courtroom.

He blinked and forced himself out of his thoughts with a deep breath. She was speaking to him.

"Katie asked me to give this to you."

Castle looked down to see her holding out a plain white envelope, his name printed neatly on the front.

Castle.

He grasped it and let out a quiet thank you.

Johanna looked up at him, studying his tired face and disheveled hair. She reached up and tucked a clump of hair behind her ear.

So much like her daughter.

"I don't know how much I should tell you, Mr. Castle," she began.

"Rick, Mrs. Beckett. Please call me Rick. Do you want to sit down?" Castle chimed in when Johanna's voice trailed off.

"No, thank you. I'm not going to stay long. I'm just not sure how much Katie said in there," she gestured at the letter. She paused, her eyes drifting around slightly as she debated her next words. "But she and Mark broke up this morning. He left back to Russia and she headed back to California."

"She's going back to Stanford?" Castle interrupted, he felt his anxiety rising. She couldn't go back. She as supposed to be here.

Johanna gave him a calming smile and he felt his heart relax.

"No, sweetheart. She's packing up things there, putting them into storage. She said she wanted to spend some time alone, travel some. After that she will decide what she wants to do. Where she wants to go."

Johanna turned back towards the door, pausing to nod at the note in his hand. Castle followed her silently, holding the door open for her as she made her way across the threshold.

"Thank you, Mr. Castle," she stated, looking up at him.

Castle shrugged, startled. "For what?"

Johanna reached up and patted him on the cheek in a way only a mother could. "For making her smile again. I hadn't seen her that happy in a long time. She thought she was happy with Mark but they weren't right for each other. They were holding each other back instead of pushing each other forward. I don't think she saw it until she met you. I know you care about her, Rick, a fool could see that and from the look I've seen reflected in her eyes I know that you two would be great together. Just give her time. She'll come back. Katie does everything at her own pace. That stubborn girl."

Castle stood frozen as he watched Johanna Beckett make her way down the hall and disappear into the elevator.

He closed the door with a click and turned to lean against it as he looked down at the letter clutched in his hand. The once perfectly crisp corners now crumpled slightly from his fingers. He took a deep breath and slid his finger under the flap, tearing at the white paper. His fingers trembled as he pulled a single folded piece of paper out of the slit and flipped it open.

Checkmate.

The title is so much better when it is about Knight and Rook together, don't you think? After all, it is their story, right, not just hers?

Castle read the lines again and let out a chuckle as he pushed his back off of the door and padded towards his office, sinking back down into his chair, pulling his laptop back down into his lap. There were so many meanings in those few lines.

Damn woman was going to be the death of him.

He shook his head again as his fingers began to fly over the keys, the short letter propped up against a lamp on his desk.

Checkmate.

A/N2: This isn't just a story about Kate and Rick, it's about Kate figuring out who she is, what she wants. If she decided to leave Mark and ran immediately to Castle then it would be about the men in her life and not about her taking the time to figure out what she wanted, who she was. I hope that makes sense.

A/N3: Since you all might be a little less mad at me after this chapter, I ask you again to send me your prompts (see the A/N at the end of the previous chapter). :)