When Johanna Beckett wins a contest to meet her favorite writer, Richard Castle, she's thrilled. Oppositely, her daughter simply doesn't see the appeal. One simple meet becomes the catalyst for a series of events none of them could have foreseen. Castle Summer 2016 Ficathon Entry.

The format of this story is a little different but was for me challenging and interesting. There will be 12 chapters, each taking place on one day in one month of a year.

Thank you to Angie dtrekker for my awesome fic art!

March 22nd

"Oh my goodness—this is just so exciting! I can't believe we're finally here!" Johanna Beckett gushed and grabbed on to her daughter's arm as they stepped into the well-lit private side room of a midtown Manhattan eatery. The room held a dozen high-top tables each with three chairs. They were lined with white tablecloths and a small white vase each of which contained a single pink or purple flower. At the back of the room sat a longer, shorter table also adorned in white. Instead of seating, it had chaffing dishes and silver trays, presumably holding the hors d'oeuvres for the event.

"We're going to meet Richard Castle in-" She paused to glance at her watch and emitted a happy squeak upon doing so. "-nine minutes!"

Kate glanced over at the woman whose steely lawyerly stare was once infamous across the five boroughs. "Calm down, Mom." She sighed and tucked her sunglasses into her shoulder bag. "He's just a person."

"I know that…" Johanna said in a tone that only sounded half convinced. "But it's Richard Castle! And he'll be here—right here."

"Yes, I know." Kate sighed, leaning her elbow against a nearby table and scanning her eyes around the room. Honestly, she could not even begin to fathom the number of times she'd heard the name "Richard Castle" during chats with her mother in the prior six weeks—ever since the contest winners were announced. His name peppered every non-work-related conversation, every shared meal. At first, it was sweet. Her mother was not that excitable of a person. At least, Kate had never seen her swoon so dramatically before. But as the event grew closer, she found it harder and harder not to scream, "Enough already!"

Johanna clicked her tongue with irritation. "I just don't understand why you're not even a little bit excited. Don't you want to ask him things? Hear about his inspiration? Motivation?"

Kate shrugged. To be entirely honest, she never saw the appeal in meeting celebrities whether they were actors, singers, or writers, like Castle was. This was perhaps in part because her only previous experience in meeting a well-known singer at a shopping mall when she was thirteen had gone horribly awry when she'd been overwhelmed by the vocalist's rudeness. Still, to her celebrities were just regular people. They could be horrible or nice or fall anywhere in between but she didn't have a strong desire to find out for herself where many of them fell on the spectrum.

For most of her adult life, Kate thought her parents felt the same—at least, until her mother forwarded the email for the Meet Richard Castle contest. The rules were simple enough: five lucky fans would win an opportunity for an afternoon with the writer. They could enter once per day for the two week duration of the contest and all that was needed was their name and an email address. Her mother's email stated that she had entered and Kate should too so they could double their chances as each of the five winners was allowed to bring one guest. Kate had entered a handful of times, but only at her mother's prompting.

Low and behold a week after the contest closed Kate was munching on her mid-afternoon snack of mixed nuts when she heard her mother scream from inside her office. Concerned it was another rat seeking refuge from the winter chill, she hurried inside only to find her mother clapping her hands with glee and proclaiming, "I won, Katie! I won! We're going to meet Richard Castle!"

Kate was, of course, genuinely happy for her mother seeing as Johanna had wanted this so much, and she insisted that she did not need to be her guest; her mother could choose another one of her Castle-fan friends to attend, but Johanna said she wanted to share this event with her daughter. How could she say no to that?

"I don't know, Mom. What if he's a jerk? Won't that ruin his books for you?"

Johanna laughed as though her daughter had asked what would happen if the writer showed up sporting floppy ears and a tail. "He's not a jerk, Kate. I've seen his interviews; he seems like a very nice man."

Kate opened her mouth to counter her mother's statement with the argument that he could have been putting on a front for the interview, but then thought better of it. She wouldn't spoil the illusion for her mother. If Castle was going to do that, he'd have to do it for himself.

As the minutes ticked down the other contest winners arrived: six women, all of whom appeared her mother's age or older, and one man, who kept a navy blue baseball cap low over his eyes. Kate immediately wondered if that was due to nerves or shame that he was the only male fan of the bunch—not to mention the only one who did not appear to have brought a "plus one."

Promptly at two p.m., a representative from Castle's publisher, Black Pawn, stepped into the room to announce the man of the hour and to pass out the signed copies of his latest novel, Storm Fall, to each of the attendees. When the blonde woman stepped aside, the writer entered the room to a round of soft gasps and applause from five of the nine attendees.

Despite being first in the room, Kate and her mother were at the end of the receiving line. As Kate watched her mother wring her hands and continually straighten the collar of her shirt, she felt the odd sensation of being a teenager again—half her actual age—and fearful that her parent would embarrass her by saying something inappropriate or awkward. Fortunately, that had not actually happened during her youth, but that didn't erase the anxiety.

As the writer drew nearer, Kate took him in. He didn't look much different than he did in the photo on the back of his novels. The corners of eyes had a few more lines, his temples dotted with freckles as though he'd just escaped the New York winter in favor of a sunnier destination. Mostly, though, his size surprised her. He was quite tall—over six foot easily—and had surprisingly broad shoulders, qualities which could not be easily discerned by a two inch square photograph.

"Hello, what's your name?"

Kate witness her mother giggle—giggle!—when she shook hands with the writer. Knowing she was close enough for them to see her, she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly! He was just a person.

"Johanna Beckett. It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Castle."

"Johanna. It's nice to meet you and please call me Rick."

Kate switched her gaze from her mother's joy-filled face to that of the writer just at the same time as he was looking at her. She met his sky blue eyes and felt her heart seize in her chest. Which was—oh—very unexpected. For fifteen seconds they stared at one another, their gazes never moving until he blinked and turned to her mother. "And, ah, who is this? Your younger sister, I imagine."

Johanna chortled and shook her head. "My daughter, Kate."

Kate extended her hand and prepared for her well-perfected, professional lawyerly greeting, but when the man's hand slipped into hers she felt her wrist go limp and a shiver go up her spine. Strange. She quickly shook off the feeling and said, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Castle. I enjoy your books."

He released her hand and gave her a nod. "Thank you; that's always nice to hear." Shifting his eyes back to her mother, the writer asked, "So what is it that you ladies do?"

"We're both lawyers. We have a nonprofit legal aid office."

The writer looked between them for a moment, his expression surprised. Then, a grin broke out on his face. "Mother and daughter saving the world one case at a time—I love it and I definitely want to talk more about it!" With that, he excused himself and walked towards the other guests now clustered around the table displaying the food.

Johanna nudged her daughter with her elbow. "There, see—he was very nice."

Kate shook her head. "I didn't expect him to not be nice. We're contest winners. What's he going to do? Walk in and tell us we're idiots? But it's just so…fake."

Johanna planted her right fist at her hip. "How do you know he's not genuinely nice?"

Kate merely shrugged and switched her purse from her right shoulder to her left.

Stepping around to face her daughter and momentarily ignoring the celebrity in the room, Johanna asked, "What's gotten into you today, Katie? You haven't been this cynical since you signed those divorce papers. Ah, it is him, isn't it?" she asked when her daughter's upper lip twitched involuntarily.

"Yes," Kate said, her fist closing a bit tighter around the strap of her purse. "Chris texted me this morning to ask if I'd seen his SCUBA mask." She threw her hands up and shook her head. "Because that's something I wouldn't have noticed lying around my apartment in the past nine months."

"Did you have it?"

"Of course not. Unless he somehow snuck it into the boxes of my old law books, which I didn't look through, I don't have it. If he needs to SCUBA while on a vacation with what's-her-name he can buy himself a new damned mask."

Johanna sucked in a breath. "Careful, dear; you sound a bit jealous."

Kate let out a bark of laughter. "Jealous? Absolutely not—just annoyed."

Very annoyed, in fact. The last thing she wanted to do was be up practically before the sunrise on a day she did not have to be in the office or on a courtroom. Yet, there she had been, peacefully drifting in and out of slumber when her phone chirped three times in quick succession. She'd lazily reached for it, but upon seeing the name of her ex-husband flash on the screen her blood had begun to boil. She had not heard one single word from him since their last meeting at the divorce attorney nearly ten months earlier. Not one single word! Well, okay, he had posted "Happy Birthday" on her Facebook wall in November, but did not exactly count as communication. Not that she minded—with the way things ended they were better off.

"Chris simply isn't in my life anymore and I'd like to keep it that way."

Johanna nodded. "Fair enough, but could you at least pretend like you're having a good time—for me?"

A genuine smile crossed Kate's face. "Sure Mom."

After stepping away from the nice though slightly peculiar male fan in the room, Richard Castle's gaze fell directly on the woman standing off to the side, her elbows propped on the top edge of the table, her eyes on the Blackberry in her hands. His eyes drank her in: black knee-high boots, dark jeans delightfully snug across her backside, cream colored sweater. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a color that strayed towards chestnut brown but definitely had hints of auburn when the natural light hit it. She was gorgeous. She was mysterious. Simply put: he was intrigued.

For the prior ninety minutes Castle had barely a moment to himself, which was perfectly fine; he knew that from the moment he agreed to the meet-and-greet. Eight of his fans had come up to him, thanked him for his time, praised him and he appreciated their accolades greatly. Yet, he remained curious as to the ninth in the room and why she hadn't been lined up with the others. Sure, it could have been explained away as shyness, but he doubted that was the case, particularly not after speaking with her mother.

Deciding to find out for himself, Castle walked over to her, stood a foot away and cleared his throat. "Am I boring you?"

The woman jumped and her phone clattered on the table. When she turned to face him, he smiled at her. Her cheeks turned pink and his smile grew wider.

"You startled me!"

"Sorry."

"No; it's fine and I, ah, apologize." She slipped her phone into the front pocket of the bag on her arm and dusted her fingertips over her forehead. "I received a message from a client."

He shook his head. "No apology needed; your clients depend on you I'm sure. I was speaking to your mother about your work—it's fascinating."

From the moment he heard about it, he envisioned it. Mother and daughter toiling late into the night surrounded by volumes and volumes of musty-smelling law books. They took on case after case, doing all that they could, occasionally even sacrificing commitments in their personal life. After speaking with the elder Beckett, Castle realized his musings were not far off. With little more than a ten minute conversation he came to the conclusion that both women were extraordinary. "She speaks very highly of you."

Kate let out a light laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, she's my mother."

He bobbed his head as it was certainly customary for parents to be prideful when it came to their children. Unfortunately, his own experiences didn't fit the mold. "Yes, but if that were my mother, she'd be pointing out all the articles that criticized my last book and would say, 'See, Richard; there's always room for improvement.'"

Kate let out a laugh and his heart swelled. "She sounds fun."

He sighed and rested his forearm against the table beside them. "Oh she's a trip. May I make an observation?" He waited for her affirmation and when she gave it he said, "I find it interesting that you're the only person here who has not actively sought me out this afternoon, yet you're the person I wished to speak with the most."

Her eyes grew wide. "Me? Why?"

Though he could have probably listed a dozen reasons, he went with the two at the top of his list. "You're beautiful and interesting."

The blush in her cheeks returned and she dipped her eyes for a moment before looking back to him. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Castle, but I don't think I'm all that interesting…and truth be told I didn't want to take up your time when everyone else here was so excited to speak with you."

He tilted his head to the side at her words. Despite not having many of these events, Castle had yet to meet a less than enthusiastic attendee. Curious, he asked, "Whereas you were not? It's okay; you can tell me the truth. I won't be offended."

She shook her head. "It's not that. I just meant…" Her voice drifted off and her jaw hung open for fifteen seconds before she quickly continued with, "I'm not as big of a fan as my mother. She's been talking about this for weeks."

Fair enough, he thought to himself. She didn't have to worship the ground he walked on for him to be intrigued by her. So her mother was the bigger fan—that made sense. He had been given the list of contest winners and Johanna's name had been on it. Kate was the guest, which was perfectly all right, but he could not help but wonder how familiar she was with his works. "May I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"What's your favorite book of mine?"

She laughed. "Um…I'm not sure."

"Just pick one. One of the Derrick Storms, perhaps?" Castle liked asking his fans to choose a favorite novel of his; it was a litmus test of sorts. Which book the fan chose was not as important to him as why they chose it. Their reasoning typically gave him good insight into what sort of person they were—or so he'd found in his experience. For instance, he found a high correlation between the women who preferred the relationship between Storm and Clara Strike and women who spoke very little in his presence and seemed, for lack of a better term, star struck. Those who favored his early works tended to be the most interesting to talk to, and he generally found those that listed Hell Hath No Fury as their favorite to be those he didn't want to interact with for too long.

He watched the lovely woman's face contort into a cringe and she confessed, "I'm sorry I haven't read those but, um, Flowers for Your Grave is really good. I read that one twice. I though the surprise twist at the end was very good and the plot worked very well—even on the second time around."

He bobbed his head. With only one of his works earlier than Flowers Castle's theory had been confirmed once again. "Thank you. And thank you for your honesty."

She glanced away from him and when she turned back she was scraping her teeth over her bottom lip. "See, this is why I didn't want to waste your time."

"This wasn't a waste; far from it." He promised. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Beckett"

She accepted the hand he held out to her and shook it firmly. "You too, Mr. Castle."

Castle hummed to himself as he walked away to say his final goodbyes to the remaining party attendees. He certainly was pleased to have met Kate Beckett—and her mother. Though he suspected she may have been the slightest bit embarrassed when he put her on the spot and she was forced to confess her familiarity—or lack thereof—to his works in his mind she needn't have been. He did appreciate her truthfulness and he was still equally intrigued. As he caught sight of the daughter approaching her mother, smiles on both their faces, he decided.

They would see each other again; he would make sure of it.