Central Park was beautiful in the summer. The grass was green, flowers were blooming, and most importantly, it was bustling with people, both New Yorkers and tourists alike. Richard Castle loved sitting in the park—he often found inspiration for characters in his mystery novels from a good afternoon of Central Park people-watching. This August afternoon, he found a bench near the Kennedy Reservoir and sat down, pulling his notebook and a pen out of his bag. He felt badly, having left his 6-year-old daughter Alexis with a babysitter, but Castle had been so busy trying to raise her that he hadn't written anything in eight months. Meredith, Alexis' mother, was never around, and Castle had been raising his daughter almost exclusively by himself since her birth. The publishers were demanding new material, and Castle's funds were slowly starting to disappear. He had to write, and he had no ideas. A few hours with a babysitter won't hurt, Castle thought to himself, trying to rationalize his decision.

Two teenage boys walked by, arguing loudly, and Castle followed them with his gaze as they walked past. He would have continued watching the boys, trying to eavesdrop on their fight, but she caught his attention instead, and his eyes froze on her. She was sitting on a bench across the path from him—how long had she been there? He hadn't even noticed her. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her long chestnut hair was falling in loose curls down her back, and her large hazel eyes flickered up to meet his for a second, then quickly darted to the ground. She couldn't be very old—late teens or early twenties, he guessed—and her T-shirt and jeans were dirty and worn, hanging loosely from her slender frame. She had a blue backpack sitting on the bench beside her, and a piece of cardboard propped up at her feet. Castle squinted to read it. "Homeless and jobless," it said in large print. "Please help." How was it possible for this young woman to be homeless so early in her life? Questions began to pop up in his mind: had her parents kicked her out? How long had she been homeless? Who was she?

Castle never talked to people in the park—he only watched—but curiosity got the better of him. He had to know this girl's story. He had a feeling she would make an excellent muse. He stood up, gathered his things, and crossed the path, coming to stand in front of the girl.

"Hi," Castle said brightly. She looked up at him, startled, eyes wide. "I'm Rick. May I sit with you?"

"Was your bench not good enough?" she asked quietly, eyes going back to the ground.

"Well, you know," Castle said, "they do say that the bench is always more comfortable on the other side."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth for a moment, and she nodded silently, still not looking at him. She moved her backpack from the bench onto the ground beside her.

Castle sat down beside her, careful not to sit too close. He never had any trouble being friendly with women, but he could sense that this girl was different. He didn't want to make her feel scared or uncomfortable, and he had a feeling it would be easy to do it he wasn't careful. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Kate," she answered quietly, avoiding his gaze. "And I don't mean to be rude, but…" She paused, then raised her head to look at him. "Why are you talking to me?"

Her gaze was challenging, and the look in her beautiful hazel eyes bored a hole in his brain. She was defensive, and probably scared. Castle decided he was going to do everything he could to make her smile. "Because, Kate," he answered with as much charm as he could muster, "I was lonely, and I needed some company."

"You just got here five minutes ago," she said accusingly.

So she had been watching him before he'd seen her. Interesting, Castle thought. "You're right," he admitted. "I get lonely very quickly. I like to talk."

Kate sighed. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, returning her eyes to the ground. "It's just that…" Her face softened, brows furrowing. "I've sat here every day for three months now, and you're the first person to ever talk to me."

Castle was taken aback. "Are you serious?" he asked.

Kate nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Most people just don't even look at me. They act like I don't exist, just because I'm homeless. Some people give me a few coins or a couple of dollars every once in a while, but no one ever talks to me." She drew a shaky breath. "It just sucks, you know? I made a few stupid decisions, just like anyone else, and this was the consequence. I just feel so embarrassed. I used to be so…" She stopped, unable to speak anymore, and buried her face in her hands.

Castle placed a hand gently on her shoulder as she began to softly cry. Kate didn't allow herself to cry for very long, though. She soon raised her head, wiping her eyes. "Sorry about that," she said softly.

"Don't apologize. It's okay," Castle answered gently, thinking. He knew Kate needed more than just someone to talk to. She was a virtual stranger, yet he had a deep desire to take care of her. He'd never felt this way about someone so soon after meeting them. Come to think about it, he'd never felt this way about anyone before. Ever.

After a moment, Rick spoke. "Kate, I have a question." She looked up at him. "When's the last time you had a good meal?"

Kate lowered her eyes. "I just stay out here during the day," she said. "There's a shelter on 87th that I stay at every night—sometimes they don't have space, but I can usually get a cot if I'm there by 6:00 each night." She took a deep breath. "Anyway," she continued, "they serve dinner each night, so I had dinner last night."

Castle grinned. "Perhaps you misunderstood," he said. "When's the last time you had a good meal?"

Kate giggled. "It's been a while," she answered, smiling shyly at him. "Shelter food isn't too good, but at least it's free."

Castle felt accomplished: he'd finally made Kate smile. He'd even gotten a laugh. She was the most charming woman he'd ever met, and she wasn't even trying to be. That's what was the most surprising to him- all of the other women he'd been with in his life, romantically or not, had been flashy and excitable, and he had charmed them with his good looks and riches. With Kate, though, it was the opposite: she was the one charming him, unintentionally, and he was falling hard. He knew he couldn't bear to leave her just yet. Besides, he thought, I still don't know her story.

"Tell you what," he said. "We both need something. You need lunch, and I need company so I don't get lonely again." Kate raised her eyebrows, almost admonishingly. "So why don't I treat you to lunch? I know of a great café not too far from here."

"Rick…" Kate sighed. "I mean, that's really nice of you, but… I don't want to be a burden. I'm fine."

"You could never be a burden," Castle responded. "It's my treat. I'll even carry your bag for you, if you want."

Kate shook her head firmly. "Bag stays with me," she stated, taking it in her hand. "But I guess I can keep you company for a while," she finished, grinning.

"Excellent!" Castle exclaimed. He offered his arm. "Shall we?" Kate took his arm, hesitantly at first, but fell into stride beside him easily as he led her to the café, where she would have her first delicious, hot meal in months.

Kate kept a tight grip on her backpack. She'd stuffed it full of her most valuable possessions when she'd been evicted from her apartment in early May. The elephants came, of course, wrapped in a sweater for protection. They'd been her mother's, and she couldn't bear to leave them. A small figure made of sticks and twine rode in the front pocket, nestled inside an extra pair of socks. He was a memory of the last full day her dad had been sober—the day they'd laid mother to rest, just six months previously. Her father's instability and addiction to alcohol made it impossible for her to live with him, and it had been four months since she'd last seen him. She knew it wasn't his fault she was homeless, but she resented the fact that his addiction kept her from having a home after the eviction, and she resented herself for being powerless to help him in her current state.

Among other various small items in the bag were three reasons Kate refused to let Castle carry it. Three books, all signed by their author, rode inside. She used to have every book he'd written, but only three were signed, so she'd chosen them to take with her, and had left the rest behind. They took up a lot of space in her backpack, but she didn't care. The books helped her get through her mom's murder initially, and for the past three months she'd read them during those long evenings at the shelter, devouring the words as if she were trying to fill a void in her heart and tracing over the sloping curves of his signature with her finger when she felt especially lonely. And now their author was saving her a third time. She owed this man so much, but had nothing to give.

"If he knew how big of a fan I really am, he might see me differently," Kate thought. He didn't seem like the type to just walk away, like everyone else did, but she was afraid that if she were just another fan to him, he'd not come back again after their lunch date. She had only just met him, and she couldn't risk having him leave so soon. So she kept her grip on the bag, determining to not let it out of her sight. Richard Castle was taking her to lunch, and she felt like she was floating among the clouds.