A/N: So, I still haven't forgotten about this story. I'm still updating it. And hopefully you're still reading it. I suppose you probably are if you're seeing this note. This is kind of an important chapter, so... let me know what you think! That nice little review box at the bottom of the page is there for a reason. :)
"Many a true love has had its start right on the spot where I stand."
"You going to the bonfire tonight, Sugar?"
His peaceful dinner by himself had turned into a social event when Babette, a tiny but very friendly woman, and her husband Morey, who seemed about twice her height and rarely spoke, joined him. But he'd gotten some more insight about the town from Babette, so it hadn't been a complete loss. "I thought it was tomorrow?"
"It goes on all weekend, but they light the fire tonight. It's a whole ceremony. We're going if you want to come with."
He struggled to find a polite way to decline. As nice as these people were, he didn't particularly want to spend the whole evening with them. "I think I'll hang back here and do a little writing," he said, although he had no plans of doing that, "but maybe I'll see you there later."
Babette nodded. "Oh, you do that, Sugar. Gotta keep those books coming."
Apparently that was enough to dismiss the couple, for which he was grateful. He did want to go to the bonfire and check out the spectacle, more research for his book, but he couldn't properly observe in a group. He needed to be alone, to have some sort of anonymity.
But anonymity didn't seem to be a realistic goal in Stars Hollow. As soon as he left the inn, it seemed, every person he passed wanted to talk to him. They all seemed to know who he was. Some wanted autographs, others cameos in upcoming books, and three different women (one of whom had to be in her seventies, at least) wanted to know if he was dating "the real Nikki Heat." And this was all before he got to the town square.
There, at least, everyone seemed to have a distraction. He was able to weave around the edges of the crowd, catching snippets of conversations and getting a feel for the town as a whole, without it being focused through the lens of any one person. One unusual thing he noticed was that, with the town gathered like this, there didn't really seem to be subgroups. A conversation between two people could be entered by a third who didn't seem to be connected in any way, and no one thought twice about it. Everyone seemed perfectly free and comfortable conversing with everyone else. He could imagine how quickly gossip would spread in a place like this. He made a mental note of it, thinking that it could become a useful plot tool.
He managed to poke through the crowd a bit without being stopped. As he got into the heart of the square, he noticed that quite a few people seemed to be holding cups. He hardly had the chance to wonder what that was about before a woman he'd already met – Patty, he remembered – called to him from behind a table.
"Well well, the famous Rick Castle found his way to our little festival." He cringed, wishing she'd keep the volume down. He was still trying to blend in, after all. "I heard you were staying," she continued, "but I didn't know you'd be here. Babette told me you had some writing to do first."
Apparently his idea about news spreading fast here had been accurate. "I managed to pull myself away." He looked at the table, which was covered with cups full of some slightly red, mostly unidentifiable liquid. "What do you have there?"
"It's my famous Founder's Day punch. Fifty cents a cup, and worth every penny."
He located his wallet and fished out a dollar. "Keep the change," he said. "Maybe I'll come back for another later."
She laughed, which he didn't completely understand, but thanked him and handed him a cup. He took his first sip a bit too quickly and had to fight to keep from spitting it out again. He swallowed with some effort. "What is that?"
"Secret recipe," Patty said with a wink.
He shook his head and walked away from the table with a wave, pretty sure that he wouldn't be going back for another cup. He'd had strong punch before, hell, he was famous for his own, but… wow. Between the coffee and the punch, this was not a town that did things halfway. That in mind, he was curious to see what other surprises this evening would offer.
He spotted Babette in the crowd (actually he spotted Morey and heard Babette) and carefully skirted around them without being spotted. But Babette's voice carried, and a snippet of dialogue caught his interest.
"One of the bus boys heard Lorelai telling Sookie. Five rooms cancelled, and on Firelight Weekend! I don't know what the reason could be, Morey and I were just there for dinner and it was just as gorgeous as ever. Wonderful food. These people don't know what they're missin'!"
He frowned as he continued walking. Lorelai hadn't seemed to have any problem finding a room for him last minute. He wondered if this was why. Judging from the quality of everything from the inn's décor to the food they'd been serving, it didn't seem like they were struggling financially, and with this being such an important weekend for the town, it seemed strange that the small inn wouldn't be totally booked. It made much more sense that it had been at one point, and then something had changed. But what? Why would five people cancel their reservations at the last minute? His writer's instincts told him that it couldn't be insignificant. There had to be a reason – had to be a story. He just had to find it.
After another few minutes of meandering, he recognized another face in the crowd, and this time not one he wanted to avoid. She was with someone, a man, and after another second's contemplation he recognized him as the man from the diner, her husband. That slowed him down for a fraction of a second, but by that time she'd spotted him and was waving him over.
"Hey," she greeted him. "Richard Castle, this is my husband Luke Danes."
"Rick," he corrected her, addressing both of them, as he extended his hand which Luke shook politely, if not exactly warmly.
"Nice to meet you," he said, without a smile, but not in an unfriendly way.
"I had dinner at the inn," he told her. "It was every bit as delicious as advertised."
She smiled. "Oh yeah, Sookie's great. I'll tell her you gave her a positive review, she'll be thrilled."
"Do that." He decided to pry a little, to see if she could give him any insight into the mystery of the cancelled rooms. "I was surprised at how few people were there, though. I mean, it's quite a busy weekend here, I'd expect a lot of tourists."
She blushed noticeably. "Yeah, just one of those weird things."
That was not helpful. "This is a yearly thing, right? Do you usually get a lot of visitors?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess." She changed the subject. "I see you found Patty's punch. Surprised you can still see straight."
He glanced at the liquid in his cup, taking her hint and stopping his prodding. "Yeah, for now. What does she put in this stuff?"
"She won't tell, but right now the favorite guess is paint thinner and fermented cherry juice."
He sniffed the punch again and nodded. "Seems about right."
The huge white gazebo that seemed to serve as the town's centerpiece was also the focus of the festivities tonight. Inside was a podium where a gray-haired man, assisted by a younger guy who looked somewhat familiar, fussed with a microphone. After a few minutes of this, the younger man gave a thumbs up and the older one tapped his microphone, the sound of which reverberated through the square.
"Good evening, fellow townsfolk," he began. Castle almost laughed, and he noticed Luke scoff. Who did this guy think he was? And an even better question, who was he? "As mayor and town selectman of Stars Hollow," he continued, clearing up that matter, although it still left Castle wondering what the hell a town selectman was, "this is one of my very favorite times of year. Tonight kicks off the celebration of the night that our beloved town was founded. Now, as we all know, the lovers who founded our fine town built a bonfire their first nights here. And while the reason for that fire has been heavily debated," he paused, glaring in the direction of the punch table, "we can all agree that there was a fire. And now is the time for the most important moment of the celebration: the ceremonial lighting of the bonfire." He turned to the younger man who Castle had recognized from earlier. "Kirk?"
As soon as he heard the name, Castle was able to place him. This was the tow truck driver who had so ungracefully taken his beloved Ferrari to the shop, somehow damaging it in the process. His blank expression when the mayor looked at him did nothing to re-instill Castle's confidence.
"Don't tell me—" the older man began, his face falling.
"Every damn year, Taylor!" Luke yelled.
Lorelai giggled. "Some things never let you down."
The mayor – Taylor, apparently – sighed. "Thank you, Luke, for your always helpful comments." His voice dripped sarcasm. "Did anyone bring matches?"
Castle raised his eyebrows. "They're lighting a bonfire and they don't have matches? What are they gonna do, rub two sticks together?"
"They tried that once," Lorelai said. "About ten years ago. Eventually someone got frustrated and went to the store for a lighter."
"Quite a town," Castle mused.
Luke took a small lighter out of his pocket and tossed it toward the gazebo so that it bounced lightly off of Taylor's arm.
"Hey—" he started, but relaxed visibly upon seeing the object. "Thank you," he sighed, "whoever did that."
"Nice throw," Castle said.
Luke shrugged. "I was aiming for his head. Can't have everything."
Taylor handed the lighter to Kirk, who moved to the bonfire, which was actually closer to where they were standing than the gazebo, but struggled with it for a good five minutes before getting it lit. This prompted a very frustrated Luke to take a few steps forward, take the lighter away from Kirk and light the fire himself.
"This is better anyway," Lorelai whispered. "Kirk and fire are not a good combination."
The lighting was actually quite a sight. It started with a single strip of newspaper, reading "Stars Hollow," which then caught more paper, a chain that continued until the wood started to catch. Eventually the whole town was gathered around the blaze, which seemed to give everyone a nice, soft glow.
But Taylor was still in the gazebo, and he still had his microphone. "Now is the time for the story of our town's founding," he announced. "It is a story of bravery, of overcoming the odds, and, above all, of true love. With that, I will turn the microphone over to our very own Patricia LaCosta, better known as Miss Patty, to recount this beloved story."
"You'll love this," Lorelai whispered.
Patty must have abandoned her punch stand, because she now stood in the gazebo where even after he'd introduced her it looked like she had to somewhat forcibly extract the microphone from Taylor's hands. She started the story automatically, with the air of someone who had told it many times before.
"This," she began, "is a story of true love. A beautiful girl from one county, a handsome boy from another. They meet, and they fall in love."
Simple beginning, he thought. It could've used some detail. What were their names? How did they meet?
"Separated by distance and by parents who did not approve of the union," Patty continued, "the young couple dreamed of a day that they could be together. They wrote each other beautiful letters, letters of longing and passion, letters full of promises and plans for the future."
What was this, some cheap small-town version of Romeo and Juliet?
"Soon, the separation proved too much for either of them to bear, so one night, cold and black, with no light to guide them, they both snuck out of their homes and ran away as fast as they could. It was so dark out that they were both soon lost, and it seemed as if they would never find each other. Finally, the girl dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her lovely face. 'Oh my love, where are you? How will I find you?'"
Yes. Definitely Romeo and Juliet. He wondered if Miss Patty had made up this story. She certainly seemed to be respected enough in the community to have pulled it off, and there was something about the way that she spoke. Although the story could've been written better, it was delivered well. She was a good storyteller. Maybe not, though. Maybe the story had been passed down for years, and she was simply its orator.
"Suddenly, a band of stars appeared in the sky. These stars shone so brightly, they lit up the entire countryside. The girl jumped to her feet and followed the path of the stars until finally she found herself standing right where the town gazebo is today, and there waiting for her was her one true love, who had also been led here by the blanket of friendly stars."
He smiled. For a town called Stars Hollow, he supposed it was a pretty good origin story. It could've done with a little spicing up, but the town clearly loved it. As he looked around at the townspeople, they all seemed to be hanging onto Patty's every word.
Except one person. Through the building flames, he saw her. She looked like she was trying to blend in, just as he was, but she didn't quite succeed. She didn't belong here. She wasn't surrounded by townspeople, she was alone. Something about her stance was wrong. Too straight, too focused. Almost bored. She was too far away for him to see her clearly, but there was something so familiar about her silhouette.
Forgetting Lorelai and Luke completely, he edged around the bonfire, staying in the crowd as the mayor began speaking again. But he heard none of what was said, focused as he was on getting a better look at the woman. As he got closer, she turned the other direction and he still couldn't see her face. Taylor's voice cut over the crowd, distracting him.
"…one thing is clear," he said, concluding his speech. "Destiny intervened. And without the love of these two people, without their determination to find each other again, the town that we all know and love would not be here today."
A round of applause erupted, and finally the woman turned in his direction, even meeting his eyes. As soon as they locked, his heart sped up. He knew her immediately. Beckett.