First impressions can leave lasting memories of a person, even years later. During a planning session for the Johanna Beckett fundraiser, a certain writer flashes back to a book signing where he met a very memorable detective to be…
#oh god alex this is so old oh my god #fanfiction #now i just want to rework this thing #mine
Beckett’s realization that coffee might not just be coffee for her and Castle over the course of time. Caskett fluff.
Based off a tumblr prompt: Beckett dies after five years of being married to Castle. She watches him from above and hopes that he falls in love again.
Warning: Major Character Death.
A reworking of the ficlet written in response to the prompt an anon sent me here. Thinking of making this 2-3 chapters perhaps? Let me know what you think.
#fanfiction #mine #reworked that prompt answer #might make this longer #more chapters #perhaps #castle #castle fanfiction #kate beckett #richard castle #caskett
"Prompt! Beckett dies after 5 years of being married to Castle. She watches him from above and hopes that he falls in love again."
She stumbles in front of the gun pointed at her husband, the 3XK’s triumphant grin falling as she does. He’d left her for dead on the ground, beaten and bruised and emaciated after over a week of torture with a heavily bleeding wound to her side. But she had one last scrap of energy.
And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him take Castle from this world too.
The bullet hits her chest, awfully near to her scar, and the blazing pain seems almost dull on top of everything else. It was hard to be in more pain than she had been for the past week or however long it was, and a bullet could only add so much to the broken bones and the torn skin and the whiplashes and what not. The 3XK was one sadistic bastard.
She falls, giving in to everything as she falls to the floor. She’s conscious of someone else shooting again, another body crumpling to the floor. But it’s not Castle’s body, because he’s cradling her in his lap, frantically trying to stop the bleeding from both heart and side. She gives him a weak smile.
"Rick," she says weakly, shaking from the shock and the pain, barely getting the words out.
"No, Kate," he says desperately, a plea that she cannot fulfill, "You can’t leave me! Not now! Stay with me, I love you, stay with me, Kate."
She stares at his beautiful blue eyes, glowing in the darkness slowly encompassing her vision, and tries to commit that image to her mind, whatever of it was left. His beautiful, ruggedly handsome face. His words. He’s repeating now. Just the three words. I love you. I love you Kate. Just like the last time she ended up shot, huh?
Macabre thoughts for a dying person.
Though there’s hardly more macabre a situation to be in.
The last thing she sees is his blue, blue eyes as everything fades to black.
So this is the afterlife, huh?
It’s a bunch of warm gray mist. Everywhere. It’s like those dry-ice clouds they use during performances or something. But it’s everywhere, and it doesn’t just wisp away once the curtain goes up. And even though she’s lost in the fog, she feels at peace here. It’s light. Everywhere is a warm, bright light.
It’s rather lonely, this world of fog. Perhaps she’s just in the beginning. She read a book one- The Five People You Meet in Heaven- and while she was no practitioner of an organized religion, she’d always liked the idea. The protagonist had met the five people who had most influenced him in his life, and after realizing truly what each had done for him in their own personal heavens, the person got to move on to the next stage. At the end, the protagonist got his own personal heaven to live in while he waited for the person he had to teach his lesson to. Perhaps this was the beginning. Though who knew. This was the greatest mystery that no detective could ever solve. A witness-less scene, a place that no intel could get you knowledge of. The unsolvable question.
Something in her swelled at the adventure as she made her way through the fog, her prior injuries gone. There was no sense of direction in this mist world at all, at first anyway. As she walks on for who knows how long she becomes conscious of a familiar voice humming a familiar lulling song- Blackbird. Her mother had always sat with her and sung that when she was little when she had nightmares- it would both distract her and lull her off to sleep. Her mother had always been clever.
As she approaches the voice the words become clearer.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see… all your life… you were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird fly…"
She approaches the singer, an immediately recognizable woman in pale purple clothes, the first spot of color she’s seen in this afterlife.
The woman turns, a huge smile coming over her face as she turns from the curious silver basin before her. She stops singing.
She runs to her mother, arms wrapping around her physical form, strange in this ethereal place of fog and light. She shakes with happiness and tears and just… all the emotions. Everything. Thank goodness this part of the cliche was true.
"I’ve missed you so much Momma," she says, feeling like a child again in her mother’s warm embrace, "I’ve missed you so much.
"I’m so proud of you, Katie," says her mother, pulling back to look at her daughter’s face, "And how you’ve grown- how beautiful you are to see in front of me at last! I mean. I have been watching, but it’s not the same."
She gestures to the silver basin, which looked to be a large, intricate birdbath. The closest thing she could think of was the Pensieve from Harry Potter.
"It’s like a looking glass into the world," explains her mother, bringing her daughter over to peek over the edge into the crystal clear water within, "I get to spy on anyone I knew when I was alive. Good fun, this thing."
"I bet you’ve had fun," she says, laughing, "You were always eavesdropping in… the world."
"That I did," says her mother, "And yes, the whole… world thing takes some getting used to. But you’ll explore this place soon enough. I’m moving on soon enough now that you’ve arrived."
"But why? I want to stay with you… I’ve only just got you again!"
"We’ll see each other soon, Katie," says her mother, "Don’t you worry. Our paths will cross. But for now it’s time for me to join your father in the next leg of the journey, and your turn to await here for your dear ones."
"Don’t go," she says plaintively, but her mother is already moving on again with a final smile and encouragement to her daughter as she disappears into the fog, borne by some river swirling through the fog below. She cannot feel the current, not yet. But she supposes she will, someday.
After a moment of sadness, being deprived of her mother again, she turns to the basin. She knew who she wanted to see, and the basin did not disappoint. Before her swirled into view Castle, clad in full black, with Javi and Ryan and LT as they carried the… her? Her coffin. That was a weird thought. To a grave. Castle seemed to be hardly holding back tears. Iron Gates was cracking, tears falling down her face. Lanie was distraught as were Martha and Alexis. Little Ellie, the poor daughter following her mother’s legacy a little too closely, was motherless and too young to truly understand. Oh that innocence. What she would have given to have stopped that from being sullied so early. But if she had not acted, her darling girl, her Ellie, would have been an orphan.
Espo breaks down in the middle of his speech. Ryan splits it with him but he too breaks down. Lanie steps in, taking up the baton but she too can hardly get through the last part.
Rick hardly gets through his speech. She cries. His words. His words were her savior and her killer, her miracle and her catastrophe. His words were sanctuary and hell, olive branch and weapon. But today. Today they are love. He tells their story, from the first day they met to the day they married, to the days of their five years after that. Of Ellie, of all of their hardships along the way. Of her. How he talks of her. That’s where he cannot get through the words and Alexis reads some of them for him. He speaks of her courage, of her inherent need for justice for everyone. Of her love for everyone she loved, of her respect for the victims and their families. Of her kindness, of her humor, of her tenacity and determination, of her selflessness to the very end.
And he says that she will always be his always. That he will always love her as he had for a long time, as everyone in the audience knows. And gripping his speech notes as if they could bring her back if he held them tight enough, he breaks down as he makes his way back to his seat, helped by his mother and older daughter. Ellie looks on in confusion through those big blue eyes she got from her father. She cannot understand yet, why Daddy’s crying, where Mommy’s gone. Not yet. But someday.
And as Rick pulls his youngest to him tightly with a hand running through her loose brunette curls gently as he once did to her, she hopes he can find love in this family again. Find the love she got the honor of having and sharing with him for those seven years in his family- both blood and precinct. Because he deserves that- to love again. And she will always love him here until he someday in the far, far future comes to join her in this land of mist and fog.
#OH GOD I STARTED CRYING WRITING THIS #ABORT #fanfiction #mine #prompt #anon #thanks for the prompt! #castle #castle fanfiction #ANGST #ANGST ANGST ANGST #angsty fanfiction #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #Richard Castle #Kate Beckett #Caskett
Fluffy one-shot based of a tumblr prompt: Castle and Beckett watching a meteor shower in the Hamptons. Set at some point after they get married for real.
#thank you alex for putting this up!!! #shamelessly promoting my own story #fanfiction #mine
So I posted a thing to ff.net. That’s a rarity.
you guys should go read it
it’s unrelated to the finale
i’ll love you forever
"If you still want Caskett prompts: Castle and Beckett go to the Hamptons for Memorial Day weekend, but they both end up getting a cold and taking care of each other."
Oh yes I’m always up for prompts!
"I told you skinny dipping in your pool when it’s 50 degrees out was a terrible idea."
The two of them are curled up by the fireplace in his bedroom, wrapped up in blankets despite it being the start of summer. She had told him that it was a stupid idea but noooo he’d just been all “But Kaaaaatttteee” and gave her that puppy dog face and she couldn’t resist it. And he’d promised to make her some of his hot chocolate, and before she knew it they were heading outside in their robes. Which much to her carefully hidden pleasure, were matching. And this time there was no dead man to interrupt their fun.
But just as she had expected, it had been a terrible idea, and now they were both sniffly messes. What a way to spend Memorial Day weekend, huh? Not quite the weekend of living in sin she’d wanted.
"It seemed like a good one at the time," he huffs, sneezing, "And admit it- you had fun while we were doing it."
"Sure I did," she says, "Until we got out of your heated pool and had to run back to the house naked and soaked and freezing after you managed to knock the robes and the towels in with us."
He smiles sheepishly, “I got… excited.”
"Trust me, I know," she says, "And it was fun for a while. Not so much now."
He nods in a quiet agreement before looking at her in concern as a coughing fit took over. He picks up the spoon to the huge bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup in front of them, offering it up to her. She raises an eyebrow.
"I’m not a baby chick you need to feed, Castle," she says, smiling nonetheless.
"I’m the one who insisted we go skinny dipping in the cold," he insists, "And you’re sick because of it. Therefore I get to take care of you!"
She shrugs, taking the offered soup and taking the spoon, offering in the same way to her husband, who takes it the same way. They alternate in such a way until all the soup’s gone, the fire having dwindled down somewhat and the calm of the night sinking in. And they talk between sips about other times they’d been sick at inopportune moments, from the time she’d been so sick she’d missed her own birthday party (it had been a joint party with another girl sadly, so it had been held without her) to the time Castle had laryngitis right before his first big interview.
And after a long, steamy shower in his absurdly luxurious bathroom, they settle in for the night, cuddled in each other’s arms, the peace interrupted only by the occasional sniffle.
Perhaps it wasn’t the night she’d wanted. But it still turned out pretty damn great.
OMG…This is going to my next wallpaper!! AWESOME!! :)
Martha and Alexis are worried about her. She can hear them, sometimes, through the door.
They’ve all had a hellish couple of days to say the least. A father, a son, a fiance, they all lost one of the ones they held most dear. But it seems her form of grief has them worried. Guess they would be- they don’t know her in grief. You see, her and grief are old buddies. Old buddies who still drink together sometimes. And get wasted together. And get angry at themselves for getting as drunk as they did in college with the other, and angry at the other for encouraging them to get so drunk again.
She might not be literally hungover- they made sure to get rid of all alcohol in the place (her father helped clear it out. He knew better than anyone), but she felt as emotionally drained and as remorseful as if she was. But this wasn’t just one day. This was lots of days. This was day after day of crying, of holing herself up, of crying some more. Of curling up in his too-big clothes and grasping at the last traces of his scent. Of never leaving the room, not really. Of trying to count the winds as they whistle through the too-empty loft instead of the days since. Of anger, of wishing for something that could never be, of numbing sadness, of crippling melancholy. Of sadness that now had her holding Heat Wave in her trembling hands and getting hit by wave after wave of memories, the page stained with her too-frequent tears.
It was the dedication, really, that did her in. She had picked up the book just fine. She had opened it just fine. But barely a page in and there were all the tears.
"To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th."
She’s just assaulted by images. She remembers her initial rage over the cover art- the same day he’d gotten her a coffee for the first time. She’d been amazed that he knew her order, and furious about the cover. They were such babies then. Before the bombs, before the tigers, before the Hudson Rivers and the traitors, the corrupt and the crazy. Hadn’t been through anything but yet he’d already saved her life once. He’d saved her from the beginning though really, his words at least. They’d been what got her through her mom’s murder. In books, murders made sense. Murders had answers. And though she had closure now for her mom’s case maybe… maybe she could still be saved by his words. That had been her reasoning.
She remembers that first book party. That time she thought it’d all be over, that this man she was warming up to was going to leave. She’d worn that blue dress that she definitely had not spent hours looking for because she wanted to impress someone. Who was definitely not that someone. No.
Hell, it had been. What use pretending now?
And she remembers how much she had been shocked and awed that that man had written that as his dedication, and that he thought her extraordinary. Those words. His words. How many words he had used since, how many words they should’ve yet been able to share. The words she had prepared for that day. The words written, the words said. The words whispered, the words argued. So many words. But it was words that had saved her.
And she reads on and on, drawn back into Nikki’s world, perhaps they’ll save her again. She still cries, don’t get her wrong. The ink smudges in some places due to the excess of tears.
Nothing will replace him. But perhaps his words can save her.
You learn to live without.
Or well, function without.
That’s what she’s doing really, functioning at the most basic level she can. She took the three weeks. The three weeks she should’ve spent with Rick on that beautiful island. The three weeks they should have had. And she spends them crying, and forcing herself through basic tasks, and falling onto the shoulder of her old friend, grief, who’s come back to visit. She cries and mourns and does her best to console Alexis and Martha. Her dad is around to help. He knows all too well what can happen because of grief and he wasn’t about to let them drown as he once had. But soon enough, soon enough she has to face the world. Her free time is up.
Her first day at work is hell.
The entire precinct is drenched in pity, in sympathy. She’s just going through the motions. Gates put her on desk duty for as long as she could. She almost wished she was out there. She almost wished to be in danger, to have something to distract herself. She almost wishes to go out on a ride through the streets on her motorcycle again, riding as recklessly as she had as a teenager. But something stops her.
His chair taunts her. His ring lays cold against her neck, hanging from the chain she thought she’d put away for good. She hadn’t. Of course she hadn’t. She had to have another chain to bear, another hole ripped into her battered heart. What had she expected, really? This world never lets you stay content for long. There’s always a new twist.
The precinct is quiet without him. There’s no crazy theories, no sudden insights, no frenzy of conjecture back and forthing between them. There’s no building theory, or coffee mugs on her desk, or good morning kisses. There’s just nothing. She finds herself making two cups of coffee anyway in the morning somehow. One with his absurd amount of cream and sugar, one with her usual. And she remembers that first coffee he ever gave her, back when she hated him, and she remembers every coffee since.
And she remembers that she swore to herself that she would not cry in the precinct.
It’s hard to keep that promise.
And thus she makes her way through her day, doing mindless desk work to pass the hours. Her boys check on her, Lanie does too. Even Gates does. LT drops by with brownies his kids had made. They mean well. They do. And she stops her train of thoughts, and breathes, and smiles for them. Because they shouldn’t have to worry about her.
They do. She knows that.
But she goes through the motions anyway. For them.
But then she gets into the confines of their room and she breaks. It all falls away again. She cuddles up into their bed and desperately clings to what’s left of his scent, bundles up in that huge gray sweatshirt of his. And she cries. Sometimes with Alexis and Martha, sometimes not. And she passes out crying. And doesn’t sleep well, and has vehement nightmares, and wakes up to the true nightmare.
And it all begins anew.
amāveram: I had loved
A few days later she gets the energy to do one thing. Small. So small. But she’s off the bed, she’s standing up, walking across the room. Opening her mom’s box, taking out a familiar chain. And she takes a ring off of her finger, the tears streaming back into her eyes. Silent, endless, heavy tears that never seem to stop.
And she fights the urge to go back into the bed and cuddle with his huge gray sweatshirt, with his pillow, to grab at whatever traces of him is left. She fights the urge to go drink herself silly, to drown in the drink. She fights the urge to just collapse to the ground and sob for another few hours. And she takes the ring, sparkling sadly in the dim light of their- her bedroom, and she gently puts it back on the chain. She hadn’t taken it off. Not since… not since…
And the tears are intensifying again and she should get on top of that but she can’t help but cry. It’s like her mother’s death all over again, really. Days and days and days of sobbing, never-ending unprompted tears. Of cuddling up with whatever she could find, of twirling the ring madly around her hands and crying as memories kept flying back into her brain. This is grief. She knows grief. Grief is an old friend of hers, an old weight upon her shoulders she knows all too well.
Her hands shake as she takes the chain, which she hadn’t worn in years, and clasps it around the back of her neck. The rings let loose a light twinkling sound as they hit each other but she can’t help but feel it’s laced with sorrow. She glances at the watch around her wrist and the two rings, still shaking as she falls back against the bed, sinking down towards the ground. Now one for the life she saved, two for the lives she lost-
Goddamnit she lost him. She lost him. She hated him for making him love him. She hated that she hated him. She hated that she loves…. loved. She’d loved him and he was gone. That asshole. How could he leave her, knowing all she’d been through? How dare he-
And she’s shaking again. Gone. Gone gone gone gone gone and nothing she could do. His last words to her ring through her head, the I love you playing on repeat as if she could save it forever. He was supposed to be her forever. Her always. It was supposed to be always.
But always never is.