A/N: Thanks for the reviews and alerts, all. Means a lot.

Chapter Two

For Kate to say she couldn't sleep would be inaccurate. Her issue was more along the lines of not wanting to sleep.

More often than not since her mother's death, she'd had dreams about things she didn't want to deal with quite yet. Detective Raglan knocking at their door. Moments later, when she learned that her mother was gone. The numbness that immediately followed. Her sleeping subconscious had made a habit of bringing these memories to the forefront of her mind.

Kate didn't want to deal with them tonight. With this in mind, she had declared sleep her enemy and was evading it rather successfully.

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She stepped out of the bisque winter air as she entered the building that contained her new adviser's office. When it came to weather, Stanford and Vassar seemed nothing alike. She couldn't quite decide if she was going to miss the California sun or not. Generally, she was a fan of it, but this cold New York winter fit her mood perfectly.

Shortly after entering the building she found her adviser's office. Dr. Montgomery, his name was. She knocked at the door.

"Kate Beckett," he said, "Come in."

"Hi, Dr. Montgomery," she greeted him.

"Please, call me Roy," he said as they sat down, "So, Stanford to Vassar. What made you go from one find establishment to another?"

"Just personal preference," she replied, "My par – father lives in the city."

Roy nodded, "English and pre-law double major. So, do you find time to sleep with that?"

She smiled, "I get by."

They talked for a bit longer and discussed her schedule for the upcoming semester. By the time they were finished, Kate had decided that she liked Roy.

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Kate walked toward one of the buildings that didn't particularly resemble a dorm, hoping to find coffee. Once she stepped inside, there was a flyer that caught her attention.

Room for rent. Extraordinary House. Call Rick for details.

Kate stared at the photo. She had to agree that this house looked pretty extraordinary. It was beautiful enough to be directly out of some sort of fairy tale but normal enough to be real. It was an older house, and she could tell it had character.

She wrote down the number that was listed, planning on calling as soon as she found coffee and a payphone.

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"Hi, is Rick there?"

"The one and only. Who's this?"

"My name's Kate. I saw your flyer about the house."

"Ooooh, yeah. So you're interested?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Great. I'll be around pretty much all day for the next days if you want to stop by and see the place."

"Ok. Mind if I stop by later today? I'm on campus now."

"Sounds good. The address is 47 Alexander Road. See you soon, Kate."

"Goodbye, Rick."

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Several hours after he'd received Kate's phone call, Rick heard the closing of a car door. Shortly after this, his doorbell rang.

"Kate," he said.

"Hi."

"Come on in," he said, leading her to his half-decorated living room, "So, you're at Vassar too?"

"Yeah. Just transferred."

"Oh, where from?"

"Stanford."

"That's quite the switch."

"It's complicated," she said before he could ask about it. From her tone, he knew that the topic was closed.

"What good story isn't?" he asked, in spite of the vibe he was getting from her. When she said nothing else, he continued, "Anyway, what's your major?"

"You know, I was kind of under the impression that we'd mainly be talking about housing."

She was so matter-of-fact. Skeptical. It was the opposite of what Rick was, but he felt himself drawn to her nonetheless.

"We'll get there," he smiled, "I promise. But if we're possibly going to be living together, I figured it would be better to not start out as total strangers."

She gave him a small smile, "I guess you have a point. Kate Beckett. English and pre-law. Lived my entire life in the city until last semester."

"Intriguing," he replied, "Rick Castle. My major is English, exclusively. Born in LA but I've lived in New York since I was five."

"Your last name is really Castle?"

He smirked, "It's complicated."

"I'm sure it's something along the lines of you being unsatisfied with your birth name, so you changed it in order to fulfill your needs as an aspiring literary genius."

His mouth fell open, "How the heck did you deduce all that?"

"You ooze self-importance, and you told me you were an English major, not to mention all of the notebooks you've got stacked by the side of the couch – those are too many to only be for academics. But really, the dead give-away was the form that you've got lying next the notebooks."

Rick looked to where had gestured. Sure enough, it was a copy of the form he'd filled out when he'd legally changed his name.

"You're good," he acknowledged, "And for the record, I'm not usually this disorganized."

"Moving can be a disorganized process."

"I'm with you there," he said, "So, Kate Beckett, would you like to be a part of this disorganized process with me?"

She hesitated.

"Plenty of space. You'll be able to escape from me pulling your pigtails. Well, you may be, anyway."

"Alright, Rick. Count me in."