Snowed In

Chapter 1

She hated Thursdays. It was just a reminder that it wasn't yet Friday. One more day before the weekend. Not that she got to enjoy the weekend much anymore. It was the price she paid for her rapid rise. She had put in the hard work and long hours necessary to become the youngest woman to make detective in the history of the New York Police Department. If having no life outside of work was what it took, then Kate Beckett was more than willing to make that sacrifice.

This hadn't always been her intended career path. No. Untouched by the shadow of tragedy and grief, a young Kate had aspirations of following her parents into a career of practicing law, eventually becoming the first female Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court. Those dreams had been shattered on a faithful January when her mother had been killed, and her murder left unsolved. Kate had then made an abrupt pivot, left Stanford and enrolled in NYU, getting a degree in criminology and then signing up for the NYPD Police Academy.

From then on, her path was clear.

Justice was her calling. Her mission in life. She would provide to others that which she had been denied.

It was grueling work, wading through the filth and witnessing the worst of humanity. Staring down the darkness. And sometimes she came up short. There were no happy endings in her story. Only consolation. But when she could provide some resolution to those left behind, Kate Beckett found her reward.

Sure, some aspects of her life left much to be desired, but she found enough fulfillment and purpose in her work that she didn't need anything else. It didn't stop her friends and family from pestering her to go out and have fun. Not like she hadn't tried that. Once with FBI Agent Will Sorenson. That lasted six months before he accepted a job offer in Boston without telling her. And more recently with a fellow detective, Tom Demming in the robbery division. She'd broke that off after three months. He got serious far too quickly for her. He'd wanted more. She didn't. Perhaps someday she might, but at the moment she just wasn't ready for that sort of thing.

And right now, it was just easier not having to juggle her hectic life without also thinking of how it affected someone else. Lonely, sure, but easier.

Which brought her back to Thursdays.

Having just sat down at her desk, Kate was dreading the inevitable conversation with her best friend. Lanie would not so subtly inquire if she had any plans for Friday night. She'd say no, and Lanie would then insist on them hitting up a bar or club for some drinks and dancing, with the intention of landing a hot guy to take home for the night. Kate would much prefer to spend the evening soaking in a hot tub, with a glass of red wine, and a good book.

"Morning, Beckett."

She jerked her head up to see Detective Javier Esposito, one of her colleagues strolling towards his desk.

"Espo," she nodded in greeting.

"Ryan in yet?" he asked, pointing to his partner's desk.

Kate shook her head. The youngest member of their team had been running late for the past week and a half.

Esposito scowled. "He's gotten soft with this new one."

"You mean Jenny?" Kate corrected, giving him a pointed look.

He just grunted. "Yeah, Jenny," he spat out the name like it was a curse. "She monopolizes all his time."

"Aww… you missing your bromance, Espo?" Kate mocked, stifling a grin at the annoyed look on his face.

"What!?" Esposito tensed, his macho street cred on the line. "No. Just worried for him, that's all."

Kate pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Men were ridiculous.

"Dude's lucky we don't have an active case," Esposito persisted, plopping down into his chair and having to reach out to grab the edge of his desk to prevent it from sliding backwards. "I still have paperwork to finish from that last one."

"Finished mine last night," Kate taunted.

He huffed. "Show off."

She stuck her tongue out. A bit childish, to be sure, but worth it for his reaction.

The shrill sound of her cellphone interrupted whatever response he was about to make. Kate shifted back and picked up the device, glancing at the ID, half expecting it to be Lanie calling to arrange lunch. But it wasn't. She froze momentarily when she saw her father's name. Jim Beckett didn't usually call her when she was at work. He knew she was busy most of the time. If he needed to get in contact with her, he'd text, never call.

Snapping out of it, Kate answered the call.
"Katie," came her father's voice, holding a slight hint of strain. Something was wrong.

"Dad? What is it?" she asked, a hint of panic touched her voice.

Her first thought was that her father had fallen off the wagon again. He'd been doing so well, had made it through rehab, and been attending weekly group meetings for the last year and a half.

"I just got off the phone with your Aunt Theresa," he said. "It's your Uncle Herb. He's had a heart attack."

XXX

Richard Castle sat impatiently, fidgeting with his iPhone as he waited for his editor to arrive. He checked the time and forced himself to relax. He was just early. He settled back into the chair in front of her desk, trying to get comfortable, but it just wasn't doing. Leaning back didn't help. Shifting his butt didn't help.

Grunting, he stood up and examined the chair. Seeing no obvious flaws, he reluctantly sat back down and continued to squirm, adjust his position in the seat. The chair may have the look of an elegant and high-end design, but it was clearly intended for torture.

The glass door behind him opened and Gina Cowell stepped into the office.

"Richard, there you are," Gina announced in that almost condescending way she'd always spoken to him, even when they had been married. She narrowed her eyes, scrutinized his appearance and made a show of sniffing the air. "And you actually showered."

"Ha, ha, very funny," he rolled his eyes, easily recalling all the reasons why they got divorced.

Gina pursed her lips in what some might have called a smirk. Yes, it was true, he hadn't bothered to shave, or comb his hair for that matter, but that scruffiness was part of his charm. Gina Cowell, on the other hand, was sophistication personified, wearing a form fitting business dress that was the color of champagne, almost matching the blonde shade of her hair, which she wore shoulder length and fashionably stylized.

"There, there, Richard," she said with a soothing tone, as if she was placating a small child. "We're still friends, yes. If not that, at least business colleagues."

"Yeah, yeah," he bobbed his head, only mildly agreeing. He watched as she walked around and sat down behind her desk, back straight, all prim and proper, as well. She was always like that. Too formal. One of the many reasons their relationship and marriage hadn't worked.

Gina made a show of checking her inbox, before refocusing on him. She folded her hands together and looked at him with an unnerving expression, at least to him. It was like a predator sizing up its prey. "You know why I called you in, right?"

He dragged his gaze away from her piercing stare and glanced down at his fiddling thumbs. "No," he lied.

She arched a meticulously sculpted eyebrow. "Come now, Richard," Gina shook her head disapprovingly. "We've seen each other naked. There's no reason to lie."

He remained stubbornly silent.

"Don't tell me you still have writer's block."

"Shhh!" he hissed, finally pulling his eyes back up to meet her stern gaze. "Don't say that. That's poison for us writers."

Gina chuckled. "Really now, Richard, don't be absurd," she leaned back, not even hiding how amused she was. "I've been editing for Black Pawn long enough that I've seen more than my fair share of writers hit a wall."

"Yeah, well… we don't like admitting it. Procrastinating, yes, but…" he couldn't even say it. "We don't speak of it."

Gina just shook her head. "Fine, you big baby. But I need you to produce some chapters for me. I haven't had anything from you since you finished Storm Fall." She paused, assessing him with knowing eyes. "I still think you made a mistake killing off Derrick Storm."

"Gina," he all but whined. "We talked about this. I just wasn't having any fun with the character anymore. He had become predictable… boring."

"Derrick Storm was your gravy train, Richard," Gina reminded. "Your readers loved him. You're absolutely positive you can't be persuaded into coming up with some sort of resurrection? He was a spy turned private investigator, so it is… possible. Certainly, your readers would be willing to believe it. And be overjoyed at another Storm adventure."

"Well, my readers deserve better than me half-assing my way through more books just so I could make Black Pawn more money."

Gina pursed her lips. "Yes, I'm glad you brought that up."

Oh shit, he thought, finally realizing the real reason for the requested in-person meeting at the Black Pawn offices.

She read his expression and offered a decent attempt at a sympathetic smile. "We've given you a year to sort yourself out, but Black Pawn would like to see better results for their investment in you. Otherwise, we'd be forced to sue you for breach of contract. And demand you return the advance you got for another book."

"Really!?" he hissed. "I've been loyal to Black Pawn. When other authors jumped at high offers and better deals with your competitors, I've stayed."

"True," she conceded. "Which is why we've given you that year." Gina paused, and her tone and expression softened. "I'm on your side, Richard. We may not be married anymore, but I'm still… fond of you."

Castle let out a long sigh. Gina may be a soul devouring vampire, yet she had a point. She had shielded him for a better part of a year from the wrath of the higher ups at Black Pawn. Yeah, she'd harped on him to write, but she didn't harass him.

He briefly closed his eyes and offered a nod. "I know, and I'm sorry I've been… difficult."

Gina raised her eyebrow.

"All right, more than difficult," he amended. "But I just need to find some sort of inspiration."

"That desperate actress wasn't enough?" Gina snarked.

Castle winced. Okay, he'd be the first to admit he had made a mistake with Ellie Monroe.

He'd been on Bobby Mann's late night talk show to promote Storm Fall and announced Black Pawn's partnership with Dark Horse Comics in producing graphic novels of the earlier Derrick Storm adventures. The other guest was an up-and-coming actress, who unashamedly flirted with him during the whole show.

The following day, after news broke of Bobby Mann's death as a result of an apparent heart attack, Ellie Monroe contacted him, suggesting she needed to talk with him, because both of them had been with Bobby Mann hours before he died. One thing led to another, and they ended up sleeping together, and again the following night. But then, after an odd interview by a police detective by the name of Ryan or Bryan—he couldn't really remember—Ellie Monroe stopped calling him. He'd shrugged it off, though he couldn't say he wasn't a little crestfallen.

It wasn't until a week later that he'd learned she'd only slept with him in hopes he'd support her bid to play Clara Strike in any potential film adaptation of the Derrick Storm books. Still, he'd had fun while it had lasted. So, he really couldn't say that he minded the way she'd used him. Sleeping with an actress was on par with his image as a playboy. Yet, deep down, where it really mattered, past all that surface stuff, it still stung. She hadn't really been interested in the real Richard Castle, just the public persona and famous author.

"Sorry," Gina said, noting his expression. "That wasn't fair."

Castle shrugged. It was what it was. "Perhaps I just need to get out of the city," he offered. "Clear my head for a few days."

Gina nodded, stroking her chin. "That sounds like a good idea. But… not to the Hamptons. Too much to distract you there."

He smirked. They may not have been the best couple, but she knew him well. Leaning forward, Castle raised his eyebrows. "And I suppose you have somewhere in mind?"

Gina smiled one of those sublime smiles that he used to find so enticing. "As a matter of fact, I do." She opened a desk drawer and took out a small pamphlet. "There's this little Bed and Breakfast upstate that I think should provide you with the necessary… isolation, shall we say, from unnecessary distractions."

*A/N: Dear readers, I needed something fun and fluffy (with maybe a little angst thrown into the mix) to help me get back into the swing of writing Caskett, so I've decided to do something for the winter ficathon that is somewhat inspired by Hallmark rom-com movies. Aiming for short chapters roughly between 1500 and 2000 words. Unlike my other stories, I'll be posting this as I write, so expect random/erratic postings. Hope you all enjoy, and glad to be back.