Okay, first things first: be warned, this is my first crack at anything AU. So, please keep that in mind. I've had this thought in my head for a while, so here goes nothing.

Disclaimer: Not mine. How sad.

Summary: Kate Beckett and Richard Castle may meet over a murder, the detective wanting little to do with the writer, but there are two mothers in the background urging for more.

The air was pleasantly warm for early March in New York City. The sun was out, there was a light breeze, which swept the woman's hair off of her shoulders as she made her way down the block. It was just bright enough for sunglasses, but not so blinding as to force her to keep her head down. She didn't like weather like that. She preferred to keep her eyes on the city around her.

She loved this city with all her heart. As far as Johanna Beckett was concerned, New York was the best city on Earth. There was culture in every possible facet; everywhere you looked there was something to see. No dull rolling plains or pastures, no vast expanses of little suburban houses with picket fence after picket fence lining the sidewalk. In New York she could walk to the subway, and on to work, eat any nationality's cuisine, and soak in all the life around her.

Johanna needed the life. The movement, the hustle and bustle, and vitality that came with being a New Yorker. They both did. She and Kate.

Ten years was a long time, and they just finally really had their feet firmly on the ground.

When it happened, Kate was still in school, just getting ready to leave to start her sophomore year out at Stanford. It had been one of her last nights at home, and they wanted to take her out to dinner, to her favorite pizza place. Johanna had taken that last week off to spend at home with her daughter, packing and shopping and laughing, doing all the things she needed to do before shipping Kate off to California. The pair had waited at the restaurant that night. And waited, and waited for an hour.

As the minutes ticked by they had grown more and more worried. They worried all the way home from the restaurant, not knowing what had happened, until finally, as they rounded the corner of their street, they saw the officers waiting for them on their doorstep.

Gang violence they said. A random wayward event. Not enough evidence to follow up on.

Just like that her husband of twenty years was gone. The father of her daughter. Her best friend. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Just when she had thought she could finally think straight after the funeral and dealing with…everything, Kate told her that she was joining the police academy. The semester was already shot, she argued, so what was the point of going back? It was days of yelling and tears before they reached a compromise. Johanna could deal – would have to deal – with her daughter's decision to become a cop, but only with the condition that she finish college.

Two and a half years after that dark, fateful night, Johanna sat with her parents at Kate's graduation, at NYU, where she transferred upon their agreement. Her beautiful girl had thrown herself back into school to earn her classics degree, doubling it with political science.

Jim Beckett missed his baby girl's graduation, and her rise to becoming one of the youngest female homicides the NYPD has ever seen.

It pained Johanna, even today, to think about how they'd managed ten years without him. Still, she carried on, day by day. She knew Jim would want her to try to be happy.

She kept stride, coming up to Magnolia bakery. Today was a reward, her favorite red velvet cupcakes in celebration of the quarter million dollar settlement she and her firm just settled on with a client. Johanna had firm plans to order half a dozen and share them with her favorite detective.

The second she stepped inside the doors to the shop she was in line. It was always that busy, and the cupcakes were always worth waiting for. The air was sweet with the smell of frosting and sugar, and of course, freshly baked cake. Johanna took a deep breath of it, savoring the peace.

As soon as she could she placed her order, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her toes. She never did that. But something was different about today, she could feel it. Things had really been picking up. Maybe today was a sign that the good luck would stick.

"Oh! I'll have the same order please."

Johanna heard the bold exclamation come from the woman behind her in line. She turned, with a smile on her face, and found herself face to face with Martha Rogers. The woman was standing on a pair of hot pink heels, draped in shimmering layers of a matching color and some sort of animal print. There were gold chains hanging from her neck, with coordinating hoops in her ears. She looked exactly how Johanna would've pictured such a bold personality.

"You're, you're Martha Rogers, right? I love your shows."

"Why, thank you dear!" The older woman sang, holding out her hand for Johanna to shake. "It's always a pleasure to meet someone who recognizes quality theatre."

"Yes, well," she shrugged, "unfortunately I haven't had time to see your newest. Both my daughter and I have been very busy, and we try to go together when we can." She hefted her bag further up onto her shoulder as the line moved. It was exceeding crowded in the bakery this afternoon. Thankfully, she had intentionally left her briefcase at her office, with the firm plan to relax tonight, so she didn't have to worry about it banging around in the throng of people.

Martha nodded down to Johanna's left hand, where it rested on the strap of her purse. "What about your husband? Though, I understand completely, most men have to be dragged to the theatre by their ears."

A strained smile was the best she could do. Here she was, standing in a cupcake bakery in the middle of the city, on her way home from work, as a lawyer, talking to an actress she had seen on stage at least six times. Was this really happening? She felt the walls of her throat shrink in, her voice just barely squeezing past the lump that always came when she talked of Jim. "Actually, my husband is…not with us anymore." And did she really just tell Martha Rogers that?

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear. I'm sorry if I've upset you." Martha had extended her arm again, this time to pat her shoulder in what was a very motherly gesture.

"No," Johanna assured her, "no, it's alright." She laughed, faintly, but it was there. "It's something I guess I'm just used to now. But, I've got my daughter," she smiled and nodded when the cashier handed over a small white box in return for the bills she passed across the counter, "and cupcakes." She held up the box, garnering a returning, understanding smile, from Martha.

Johanna stepped to the side so Martha could pay for her own order. She still couldn't believe she was standing here with Martha Rogers. Not the most famous name on Broadway, but she was certainly known, and known for being quite animated about everything she did. She looked around, trying to figure out how to weave through the mass of people to get to an exit. Any exit. But before she could pry her feet from their place on the floor she was being nudged in the arm.

"Come, Dear," she heard the actress say, "Why don't we sit for a minute, just talk. Tell me, a treat for something?" She held up her own box as they settled at one of the smallest tables Johanna had ever seen, in the corner of the crowded bakery.

"For my daughter and I. Like I said, we've both been rather busy, and considering we've both just closed important cases, it's time for a girls night." She thought of how they would curl up on a couch, in one of their apartments, with cupcakes and coffee. Johanna loved those nights when they'd talk about everything and nothing, and could both put work on hold.

"That sounds lovely. Are you and she close?"

"Very," Johanna smiled, "Ever since she was born. My husband used to say we were one in the same. Oh, but he loved it, though." She looked down, picking at the deep red polish that was flecking off her nails. Maybe Kate would be willing to humor her and join her for a manicure.

"He must have been a wonderful man." The look in Martha's eyes was one of true care, that mothering feeling Johanna missed after her parents moved away from the city, down to a warmer climate.

"He was," she said with a soft, listless smile. "It's been years, but I still expect him to walk through our front door every night. I'm so sorry," she shook her head with a nervous laugh, "I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you. I mean, you're, you. You must have somewhere to be."

"Nonsense!" With a dramatic flourish Martha brushed off her comment. "Sometimes you just need to talk, even to a complete stranger. And you're not taking up any of my time, so don't even worry. I was just dropping by to pick these up for my granddaughter, and my son. Similar situation, you could say. Busy with school, busy with writing," she moved her hands back and forth as if the pair in question was seated by her sides before waving to herself, "busy with a tour. It's time for a break."

"I wish I could do this for her more often. She doesn't really like to let me. My daughter is a very stubborn woman, Ms. Rogers."

"Please, call me Martha. And I know the feeling. My son is exactly the same way. Though I can't say I blame him. It's taken him a long time to get where he is. He's worked…very hard."

"Yes!" Johanna remarked, "I remember now, Richard Castle is your son, right? The novelist?"

"The one and only."

"I love his books. So does Kate, actually. I think they're part of why she was so confident, dead set, on being a detective. Let alone homicide."

"A homicide detective! Well, now that's quite an achievement for a young woman."

Johanna grinned with pride for her girl, "Yes, it is. She was the youngest to get there, too. I'm not sure anyone's ever worked harder than Katie did when she was a uniform. Boy, did she prove herself."

"It's lovely, isn't it? That feeling that no one in the world is as wonderful as your child? I'm not blind, I know that Richard didn't exactly have the ideal childhood, but he's made quite the name for himself."

"I'd say so. And you said you have a granddaughter? That must be wonderful."

"Oh it is. Alexis is…incredible. Everything I could ever imagine for Richard. I don't know what the hell Richard, or I, ever did to deserve her, but she's perfect." There was a look of genuine bliss on Martha's face as she spoke of her granddaughter. Johanna sat, fiddling with the thin gold bracelet that dangled with her wrist, and listened as Martha recounted tales of Alexis's younger days, running around playing with her son, the father.

She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever get such memories for herself. Things changed after her husband died, and Kate now had a hard time trusting men.

"It never ceases to amaze me how wonderfully Richard pulled off being a single father."

Johanna's head snapped up, her eyebrows pinched in confusion.

"Let me save you the trouble of figuring out if it's too rude to ask, Dear. Alexis's mother basically walked out on them after two years, and took off with her director. It tore Richard apart, having to watch her leave, and not knowing what to do with this little girl, but he pulled himself back together for Alexis. It was rough for a while, but he made it work." She sighed, a reflective sigh, weighted with the memory of what must have been a miserable and frustrating time, Johanna thought. Martha paused for a moment, just a few bare minutes, looking out the front window at the people of the city hurrying by. "I take it you don't have any grandchildren, then?"

"Oh, no." Johanna shook her head with a laugh, "Kate's a long way away from that. She hasn't even really been in a serious enough relationship in a while. I'm not even entirely sure she wants it right now. But," she cracked a somewhat sad, yet understanding of her daughter's opinions, smile, "sometimes I think she does, and I'm afraid she's lonely. All she does is work."

"You know what?" Martha leaned over the table, a sly look in her eyes. "I bet my son and your daughter would get along fabulously. They're both clearly very dedicated to their work, which coincidentally somewhat overlap with one another, what, with Richard writing homicides and your daughter solving them? Surely they'd find something to talk about. And they're both single," she practically sang, "So there wouldn't be any sort of conflict of interest, now would there?"

"You know, I like the way you think. Katie could use that. Someone to talk to." The two women spoke with a tone that implied much more than just getting their children together to talk, but if they didn't outright mention their conspiracy, they could truthfully deny it when the claims came later – which, they surely would. Neither of them had stupid children, they knew that. "How about this? I'll mention it to Katie later tonight, and you mention it to your son, and we'll see what comes of it?"

Martha pursed her lips in thought, eventually nodding her head to the plan. She reached into her rather large, metallic handbag and pulled out a thin leather case. "Here's my card," she slipped one out of the case and slid it across the table towards Johanna, "why don't you give me a call and let me know how things go in a few days? You understand, to give them a bit of time to, get used to the idea of each other? I have a feeling this will be no easy arrangement."

"Oh, I agree," Johanna exclaimed, slipping the card into her own wallet. She understood far too well just how difficult it would be to convince her daughter that meeting Richard Castle could be a good idea. "Katie's opinions will be anything but easy to sway. It's a good thing I'm a lawyer, I'm going to have to come up with one hell of an argument."

The laugh that was shared between the two made Johanna feel good. Alive again. How was it possible for this woman, Martha Rodgers, to have become a co-conspirator, a friend, in under an hour? It was an absurd thought. And fixing her daughter up with Richard freaking Castle? The author whose titles graced both of their bookshelves? Ridiculous. Impossible.

But it was happening.

"Then it's settled." Martha's hand fell to the table top, the multiple, extravagant rings that rested on her hand making a clink. "For our stubborn, frustrating children who we love, for their own good, we'll get them together."

"How ever do they survive without us?" Cunning smirks mirrored one another. It was a long shot, but something both women were willing to attempt for the possibility of their child's happiness. The absolute goal of the plan was unsure, whether friendship or romance, but regardless, it was clear that Kate Beckett and Richard Castle could work together, somehow.

"It's a mystery." There was some odd mixture of the tone of a chuckle and a solid statement in her comment. "What say, we get to going, then? If I sit in this shop any longer I'm liable to buy a dozen more cupcakes."

"They are delicious, aren't they?" Both stood, gathering their bags and boxes and shuffling to the door. As they stepped out onto the street they left behind the smell of sugar and warm, baking ovens, and were hit with the crisp breeze of New York in the afternoon. Johanna turned to her partner on the curb, "Well, even if nothing comes of this, I'm very glad to have met you, Martha."

"You too, Dear. Oh! How could I have been so taken. You know who I am, but I don't know you. And here we've had a whole conversation and I don't even know your name."

"It's Johanna. Johanna Beckett."

"Well, it's been lovely talking to you." Before Johanna could speak another word she was pulled into an awkward one-armed hug. "And trust me, something will come of this. If I know my son, and from what you've told me of your daughter, he'll be completely taken with her. I'd bet money on it."

"Alright," Johanna laughed, taking in the confidence on Martha's face. It was something to take a lesson from. She'd have to remember that when she proposed their idea to Kate later. Kate was the only person on the planet who could see through her arguments and fight back. When Kate was a little girl and did something deserving of punishment, Johanna would fall flat. Kate would always argue that she was just using her 'lawyer-face', and Jim would have to be the strong arm.

"I'll let you be off, then." She nodded to Martha, "I should go home and change before I have to be at Kate's later. Good luck."

"And to you, too. Go on, Darling. Have a wonderful evening." Martha ushered Johanna to turn and continue on her way.

Johanna turned to call out her reply, only to find that Martha had somehow already snagged a cab from the congested street and was climbing in. She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she had indeed just spent a good chunk of her afternoon with Martha Rodgers, actress. Martha Rodgers, mother of novelist Richard Castle.

A quick glance at her watch told her she still had a little while before she needed to head to her daughter's apartment in Chelsea. It would only take her maybe twenty minutes to get there from her own Midtown residence, so, she was going to enjoy her afternoon, for sure.

She thought of her daughter and how proud she was of everything she had accomplished. Katie was always working so hard. She deserved some fun, Johanna thought. And she thought of her husband, as she ran her thumb over the underside of her wedding ring, which still adorned her hand. She knew he would've been laughing right along with she and Martha at their plan for their children.

Yes, things were definitely looking up.

Any thoughts? Should I write more? I'd appreciate the feedback, very much.

Tappin
=)