Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

A/N: If you have not read A Different Road Taken, please do so first. That is the second story in this AU and begins two days after that story concludes. You are missing quite a bit if you read this without trying that one first.

Richard Castle's Residence in Sausalito, California, Jan 4, 2012, 8 p.m. PST

"Do you miss it," she asks him. Sometimes she thinks she can read him like a book. Other times – like now – his pages are blank to her. He's been staring at the old worn out coaster, twisting it between his fingers, for the past ten or so seconds – his mind a seemingly far away. The coaster from The Old Haunt brings heart-felt memories to her partner who sits on the sofa next to her. Some of those memories are very pleasant. Some are not.

Right now, she is still caught up in the euphoria of knee-jerk, off-the-cuff decision making at its finest. Picking up and moving to California – after a two-week visit and no official promise of commitment, i.e., a ring – well, this is very un-Beckett-like.

She recalls the grilling she got from Lanie Parish just a few nights prior, at the same Old Haunt that seems to be holding him captive at the moment, while the guys made a restroom visit. All three of them.

"And they talk about women," she mused at the time, smiling then. She smiles now as the images from that night return to her.

"Girl, I am sooo excited for you," Lanie had told her, talking fast as if she had the world to tell her best friend, and only the 90 or so seconds that the boys would be gone in which to tell it.

"I know, Lanie – this is so . . . so . . . it's just so –"

"So not you," Lanie laughed, and Kate had laughed with her. "So, what exactly did writer-boy say to twist your arm into running west?" she had asked.

"Nothing really," she had told Lanie, drawing a frown and a raised eyebrow from her friend. "We just had such a wonderful. . . a magical time out there. I learned a lot about Castle; I learned even more about myself. And even more about what he and I can be, together. There is so much love, Lanie. And he and I can do so much good for people who need us there."

Lanie had rolled her eyes, giving Kate a tiny, tiny small, but continued pursuing a different road.

"So, are you two committed to each other, are you engaged? Did he give you a ring that you are hiding from me?" she asked her. "C'mon, Kate, I know you! You don't up and do anything without hashing, and rehashing and then burning the hash browns to cinders before you move on anything."

"I know, Lanie – I know. I should be uncomfortable. I should be panicking," Kate agreed. "But you know what? You know what frightens me more than anything? I'm frightened that I am not frightened. I'm frightened because I'm not uncomfortable, because I'm not panicking. This just really feels . . . right."

Lanie had thrown her head back in laughter, shaking the glass tumbler in her hand, listening to the ice cubes rattle back and forth. Whether it was the alcohol, the admission from Kate, or a combination of both wasn't clear, but the woman was caught in a serious fit of the giggles, leaving the three men just returning from the men's room to draw their own conclusions.

"Now I ask you, Javi," a slightly intoxicated Richard Castle had asked him, "Have you ever reduced Lanie to such lovely nonsense as this?" Esposito's response had been a short punch to the arm, as the table erupted in familiar laughter that had been going on for the past hour or so.

Kate's thoughts return from that night to the present moment now, as she watches Richard Castle idly fumble with the coaster.

"Earth to Castle," she says, since he has not answered her earlier question. "Rick?"

"Sorry, Kate," he tells her, his eyes snapping back to life, his head turning to face the beautiful brunette next to him. He gives her that sheepish smile that she has come to love.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

He pauses for a few seconds, turning his attention back to the old coaster from his old bar back in New York. He is smiling when his gaze finally returns back to her.

"This coaster," he says, his emotions threatening to break through. "This coaster is a reminder to me of everything I dreamed of, but wondered if I would ever have," he tells her. "I had spent many a night, for the past year or more, either on a barstool at the bar, or in our booth in the back of that bar. More nights than you probably are aware of."

She doesn't interrupt. She allows him to continue, unfettered. Clearly there is something on his mind – and they have years of mis-steps, mis-communications, mis-understandings between them. She very much wants to hear what's on his mind right now, and does not want to interrupt his train of thought.

"Many of those nights . . . hell, most of those nights were spent wishing you and I were exactly where we are right now. Together."

The way he twists and bends the coaster, with just the fingers of one hand – the faraway sound of his voice. It is both heart-rending and fascinating to her. She reaches for his free right hand, and interlocks her fingers within his.

"More nights than not, I left that bar feeling defeated. I left that bar feeling unwanted. I left that bar feeling incomplete," he tells her, his eyes on her now. "I used to wonder what it would be like to . . ."

"To what, Castle?"

He sighs, and smiles softly, looking down at her fingers entwined in his.

"To hold your hand, like this," he smiles, then moves his gaze to her waist. "To wrap my arm around your waist."

His gaze moves up to her lips.

"To kiss your lips," he says with a smile. "To wake up next to you in the middle of the night, without worrying about you running. To make breakfast for you in the morning, knowing that it's just a normal day for us."

He stands, pulling her up to him, and walks toward the back patio door, her hand still locked with his. He places the coaster in his coat pocket and he opens the door and they step unto the redwood deck, walking toward the rail overlooking the wooded back yard below. The cool breeze from the woods below brings a scent of the forest. For a moment, he closes his eyes, allowing his nose to soak in the beauty of their surroundings. It's one of the things he loves most about his home here.

"I brought this coaster back with me . . ."

"Why, Rick? Why did you bring it here?" she asks him.

"To remind me of what could have been," he says, looking out into the darkness of the trees below. "You and I could still – very easily - be back in New York, doing that damnable dance we got so good at. We could still be denying who we are, and what we feel. We could still be . . . them."

She knows exactly how he feels, she understands exactly what he is saying. It's the same feeling she had on the charter jet back to New York just a few days ago.

Two weeks together. That was it. That's all it took. It happened that fast – yet it took four long years.

"I brought this coaster back, so I would never take you for granted," he tells her.

She wants to tell him that he would never do that. She wants to tell him that this is the last thing she is worried about. She opens her mouth to tell him, but he brings a finger up to her lips, asking for her silence as they stand arm in arm along the deck's railing.

"I brought this back so I wouldn't take you – and us – for granted when I'm angry at you; when you are angry at me; when you disappoint me; when I know I have disappointed you. I have this coaster to remind me that you didn't have to say 'yes', you could have said 'no'."

Her head rests against him, her eyes burning with tears – the good kind. Figures the man would still be so good with words, whether he is still writing or not.

"I have this coaster here to remind me that no matter what we are doing, no matter what is happening for us – we've come out of the darkness. I have this coaster here in California with me, to remind me that you could very easily still be in New York, without me."

They are silent for a moment, the only sound the wind rustling in the trees below and out from the deck. The wind adds to the cold California winter night. Not the New York kind of bitter cold, but cold nonetheless. It has its own kind of cold.

"It's funny," she tells him.

"Hmm?"

"It's funny. You had to leave New York for me to open my eyes to the truth."

He nods his head, smiling – it is a thankful smile, a smile of gratitude.

"And then I had to leave New York for you to re-open your eyes to me," she continues. "Is this a California thing?" she laughs, and he laughs with her.

"We know each other in New York for four years, we see each other almost every day, we work with each other, we save each other's lives who knows how many times –"

"Nine for me, eight for you," he tells her, with a smirk.

"Seriously, Castle – you kept count? And you expect me to believe that you're ahead?"

"Not important, Beckett," he tells her with a smile. "I believe you were discussing the wonderful journey you and I have taken to get to this moment."

She slugs him in the arm, then readjusts herself against his arm. He wraps her up again, protecting her against the cold.

"Four years in New York got us nowhere. Two weeks in California . . ."

"Not true, Kate. It's like the Stonecutter," he disagrees. "With your Euro-Russian background, you have to know that story," he tells her, and she smiles, nodding her head as she recites it for him.

"Jacob Riis, Danish American social reformer," she smiles, and closes her eyes, as if reading the quote on her closed eyelids.

"When nothing seems to help, I go look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow, it will split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it . . ." she says

"But all that had gone before," they both say in unison, and break out in smiles together, as he pulls her in closer, tighter.

"You're right," she tells him. "It may seem like this all happened in just two short weeks," she says, now looking up at him again.

"But it was four years of knocking at this door, hammering away, that prepared us for those two weeks," he finishes.

He bends and kisses her softly. She tastes sweet, the hot chocolate from the house still on her breath. He reaches back into his pocket, and retrieves the coaster one more time.

"That's why I have the coaster," he says. "And that's why I can never stop being thankful that we are where we are, and not where we were. I know that's not very eloquent, but hey – I don't care. I have you."

"And all it took was leaving New York for California," she chuckles, knowing nothing could be further from the truth.

"Yeah, out of the forest and into the woods," he tells her.

"Not eloquent, you say?" she says playfully.

"Sometimes," he smiles.

Her phone buzzes, indicating a new incoming text. He sees in her eyes her hesitation. She doesn't want to break the moment. As he has said – after their four year dance, these moments are precious. She doesn't want them to end. Neither does he. But igniting a romance isn't the primary reason they are here, across the bay from San Francisco, instead of the east coast.

"Check it out," he tells her. "It might be important."

She reaches into her pocket, and retrieves her cell phone. Glancing down, she half smiles, wistfully.

"It is," she tells him, and he releases her, turning her so that her back is to him. Without thinking, she gracefully backs into him, drawing comfort from the closeness. He smiles at the natural intimacy they now share, wrapping his arms around her, placing his chin atop her head, his nostrils taking in the scent of her hair.

Four years of hammering away at the stone. Somewhere along the line, it finally cracked.

Regina: Going to see my mom tomorrow. Wanna come with me?

She smiles, and behind her, he smiles as he reads the text over her shoulder.

"Didn't take you long at all. I knew it wouldn't," he tells her. "Everything in your life, everything you have gone through, everything you have learned has prepared you for these moments that are ahead of you."

She nods her head, and lays it back against his chest, as she types out her response.

Kate: Can't wait. What time?"

A/N: So, Kate Beckett has left New York, and life as a police detective behind her, as she now embraces a new challenge. But as Castle has said, everything she has gone through and learned has prepared her for what is ahead – including her experiences as a detective in the Big Apple. As she will soon find out, it still will take more than a good heart and kind words to navigate some of these new waters. See you next chapter, hopefully.