Note: None of these characters are mine

How I Came To Be Yours

"Kate? Kate, sweetie, you have to wake up."

Kate grumbled, and shifted away from the hand that was shaking her shoulder. She kept her eyes shut trying to hold onto the dream she'd been having.

"Kate, I'm serious. You're going to be late."

"Two more minutes, Mom."

"Oh, Kate, honey."

Kate's eyes popped open. She found herself staring up at her college roommate and the last three weeks came rushing back to her.

"Sweetie, if you miss another class, they'll fail you. And if you fail these classes, you'll never graduate on time. Come on, get up." Her roommate left the room quietly, clicking the door shut behind her.

Kate rubbed her face with her hands, not surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears. She'd been doing that a lot lately, crying in her sleep. She threw off her blankets, but made no move to climb out of the bed.

She really shouldn't be back here. Not yet. Maybe not ever. College, which she'd taken so much joy in, had lost all of its appeal. It had only been three weeks since they'd come home to the officers on the doorstep; three weeks since her life had ground to a halt. She didn't want to be here, among her carefree peers, but it was this or home, where her father was drowning his sorrows. She was falling apart. She couldn't sit around to watch him fall apart too.

"I'm serious, Kate," the holler from the hallway broke into her thoughts. "Don't think I won't drag you out of that bed!"

She groaned, but tossed her legs over the side of the bed and thumped to the floor, loud enough to assure her (incredibly patient) roommate that she was up and moving. She heard the apartment door click, signaling that she was finally alone.

Not bothering to find slippers, she padded barefoot out of the room and into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. Until a month ago, she hadn't been a coffee drinker. A sip here and there, maybe, but tea had been her preference. Now, the caffeine was the only thing dragging her through each long, empty day.

Pouring a mug of the black sludge, she wandered back into her room, glancing at the stack of textbooks on her desk. She'd been toying with the idea of committing to a major in contemporary English and Russian fiction, but now the idea struck her as hopelessly naive. Reading novels for four years while her mother was lifeless, tucked away six feet under. Childish, all of this, really. Playing the schoolgirl part when any moment your life could be ripped to pieces.

She knew she couldn't stay here today. Her roommate, well meaning as she was, had threatened to call the school counselor and the campus ministry offices if she spent one more day like she'd been doing (staring at the ceiling, blank-faced). She was pretty sure that, faced with a counselor, she'd lose it. Not let-me-bare-my-deep-dark-secrets-to-you lose it, but screw-school-I'm-going-to-go-find-something-reckless-to-do lose it. And, well, someone in the family had to keep some semblance of a life going. Apparently that job had fallen to her.

Digging through the pile of clothes on her desk chair, she grabbed a pair of jeans and the first long-sleeved shirt she could find. She got dressed slowly, and pulled the socks she'd worn a few days ago out of the toes of her boots. Grabbing her bag, she headed out of the apartment, only to step outside and find it snowing. Right, it was February. She vaguely considered skipping a coat altogether (a little frostbite never hurt anyone, and she was already numb as it was), but there was no need to draw attention to herself. Sighing, she trudged back up two flights of stairs, and grabbed her coat off the back of the door.

Outside, she set off in the direction that would take her away from campus as quickly as possible. The murder had been big news, and college kids were dumb. Don't they know to leave someone be after something like that? Everyone wanted to talk, everyone wanted to offer comfort. Comfort would suffocate her, or worse, make her cry, which would lead to more comfort. No, that damn vicious circle was better off avoided.

As she left campus, she was pleased to find rush hour was full swing in the city. She hadn't thought to look at a clock before she left. Breathing easier in her anonymity, she melded into the crowd, letting it carry her along wherever it wished.

She walked for a few hours before the cold became unbearable. Glancing around, she spotted a bookstore down the block. Inside, it was warm and bustling, filled with tourists who had stopped in to thaw.

She slipped along the edge of the shelves towards the back of the store, where it was slightly quieter. She stopped in front of a shelf, and, closing her eyes, she selected a book at random. It was something she and her mother had done on countless afternoons, in bookstores like this as well as in front of the bookshelves in their own living room. Kate let the memory slide through her mind unhindered, choosing not to remember that those days were gone forever.

Carrying the book and a cup of coffee from the store's café, she found an obscure, empty isle. She slid to the floor, leaning back against the shelves.

Setting her coffee down next to her, she finally looked at the book she'd chosen. It was a mystery, judging by the cover, which read:

In a Hail of Bullets

Richard Castle

A small round sticker had been stuck on the cover proclaiming "signed by the author!" She flipped the book open to the first page, and saw that it indeed had been signed. On the back cover, the young author's picture smiled up at her. She'd never heard of him before, not surprisingly. Mystery novels didn't appeal to her. She preferred the classics. But the rules of her mother's blind book selection game dictated that you read at least the first ten pages of your selection.

She turned to the beginning of the first chapter and began to read.

"Excuse me miss, may I get you another coffee?"

Kate's head whipped up, startled. An awkward teen in an apron stood above her, no doubt sent out from the café in an attempt to draw more tourists in.

"Um, no, thanks." The kid nodded and walked off.

Kate looked down at the book. She was 150 pages in. Lately, each minute she was forced to endure had plodded by at a painfully slow pace, but 150 pages worth of minutes that had just slipped by without her noticing. Taking a sip of her now very cold coffee, she turned to page 151 and resumed reading.

Two hours later, she read the last sentence. As she closed the book, she found her eyes tearing up. The relief of the last three hours had been enormous, and now it was over. Back to the reality of her life that had been smashed to pieces so small she'd never fit them back together again.

Using the bookshelf as leverage, she stood, feeling her joints creak from sitting on the floor for so long. She made her way back to the mystery section to put the book back in its place.

As she slipped the book back onto the shelf amongst the other Cs, something caught her eye. Next to her book was another by the same author. She pulled it off the shelf and checked the back cover, just to make sure her eyes weren't fooling her. The same young face stared back up at her.

Taking the book, she turned to head towards the cash registers, but as she reached the end of the row she paused. After a moment, she walked back down the row and snatched In a Hail of Bullets off the shelf as well. It might just become a favorite.

She stood in the queue for the cashier for a few moments, thumbing through the next novel while she waited.

"Next?"

Kate stepped up to the smiling old woman behind the desk and passed her the two books.

"Ah, yes, Richard Castle. Quite the up and coming young man."

Kate just nodded, digging in her bag for her wallet. Small talk really wasn't her thing lately.

"Will you be coming to his signing on Saturday?"

This caught Kate's attention. "Signing?"

"Yes, dear." The woman gestured towards a large sign posted near the door. "He'll be doing a reading here and then signing copies of his third novel. It comes out the same day."

A smile slipped its way onto Kate's face. It was the very first smile she'd smiled in weeks, and it took her by surprise.

"Um, yes. Yes. I'll be there."

The woman smiled back at her, and handed her books over the counter, as well as a small flyer for Saturday's event.

As Kate wandered back towards campus, she didn't feel the cold, despite the heavily falling snow. The flyer she'd stuck in her pocket seemed to be giving off some sort of gently radiating heat. A tiny spark of hope that might just thaw through the numbness that had taken hold.

Thanks for reading!