caught in the act
Speculation about “Still” based off of the promos and my own headcanon. Spoilers from both the ABC and CTV promos, you have been warned. “And too late, too late, she whispers an answer she’ll never have the chance to say to him, the words he’ll never get to hear from a future they’ll never have…”
There are tears coming now. Slow, you know. The tears she hadn’t wanted to shed, the tears had had been building up since well, since she stepped on this thing and the beep went off. Wanted to stay strong, like she always did. Stay strong as she talked about what she’d actually thought when she first met him- something along the lines of OH MY GOD IT’S HIM IT’S HIM AND i’mtakinghiminforquestioning but EXCUSE ME FAVORITE AUTHOR. About how she had broken up with Demming and was going to tell him that she’d come to the Hamptons with him. How different things would be now if she had. How she loved his insane theories, how she loved his annoying habits and how he always reorganized her books every time he was over so that his were at the forefront. How he’d waited and waited for her to call, how she’d been too afraid to dig all of that up again when the love and him were so intertwined still with the shooting and the trauma and the pain. How she hated to do it to him, but hated to have him see her so weak. They went through everything together, every last inch of their history they could fit into the scarce time she… well…
“How much time?” she manages to get out, stronger than she had expected, dodging Castle’s agonized gaze as the bomb squad rep came in. He was shifting around a bit, avoiding Castle’s expectant gaze and her teary eyes. Bad news.
“Just under two minutes,” he says quietly, “We think it’d be best if Mr. Castle were to leave the room as soon as possible.”
“No,” Castle says, “No, I’m not leaving her.”
“I’m not letting you throw your life away,” she says, meeting his eyes again, “I can’t let you stay here.”
“What are you going to do to stop me?” he says weakly, blue eyes agonized and clouded over already with grief and the hint of tears, “I won’t leave you alone here with that thing.”
“Castle,” she pleads, “Think of Alexis, your mother. Promise me you’ll go. I’ll…” she swallowed, “I’ll be okay. For me. Just promise me you’ll… you’ll go.”
“I…”
“A minute and a half, Mr. Castle.”
“Rick, please.”
“…fine,” he forces out after a long silence, “For you, I’d do anything, Kate. But…”
“I know,” she whispers, “We’ve had a good run, Castle. But it’s time to say goodbye.”
“One minute. We’ve got to go.”
“I love you, Kate,” he manages out, “Always have and always will.”
“I know,” she says, not knowing if she’ll be able to get on past this, “I know.”
He turns and leaves, eyes never leaving her as he disappears around the door frame. Last time she’ll see his beautiful eyes, that ruggedly handsome face, hear that storyteller’s voice-
And somehow the beeps have already counted down her seconds to 10.
And too late, too late, she whispers an answer she’ll never have the chance to say to him, the words he’ll never get to hear from a future they’ll never have-
“I love you.”
—
Looks like this is it, Beckett.
With tears careening down your face and a whole lot of regrets hanging over your head- you’re going to be an exploded pile of mush in a couple of seconds. You should probably be a bit worried. Considering you’ve got five beeps left to go.
But all she did was look up at that dull ceiling, close her eyes… and feel an overarching feeling of a quasi-peace with herself. I mean, a pressure-triggered bomb in their suspect’s apartment isn’t really what she’d been expecting would kill her, but she hadn’t expected to get shot at a funeral, or almost freeze to death, or have her apartment blown up, or having to diffuse a nuclear bomb that would destroy New York, or almost get eaten by a tiger, or to almost drown in the Hudson River… or to fall in love with Richard Castle. That was all stuff she hadn’t expected. Everyday life was full of things like that- maybe not as grand as that, but it was.
And some days, well that surprise is getting killed by a bomb.
Speaking of.
4 beeps to go.
Guess they were right about that whole time slowing down when you’re about to die thing. Though in past experiences it was never quite to this extent. And she was pretty much an expert on almost dying, you can take her word for it.
3 to go.
Well, maybe the only thing that unsettled her was that unlived future with Castle. The engagement speech he didn’t get to give, the wedding they never got to hold, the kids they never got to have- and as much as she was scared of it, everybody knew that was where this was going. This would’ve been her it. Her one and done. Her happily ever after. But you know, at least she got almost a year of it.
Right. One year anniversary would’ve been in under a month.
Wonder if he’d find his present, the one she’d stuffed behind her stilettos.
2 to go.
Wasn’t really much more to think about.
She’d miss her dad. God, she hoped they’d look after her Dad. The boys too. Lanie. Even Gates.
Wonder if this would feel anything like getting shot.
1.
Guess this is goodbye.
It’s been fun, world.
It’ll be nice to see Mom again if that’s a thing that happens when you die. Hope she’s not disappointed in me.
And cue the gigantic explosion-
—-
…and she was still here. Excuse me, world, she had been prepared and everything. Why was she still here? Was this some sort of weird afterlife? Was her brain not processing the fact that she was inevitably dead?
Delayed explosion, maybe?
Hurried footsteps outside in the hallway made her turn and look, seeing Castle barge into the room, followed by the harried bomb squad guy. She looks dazedly at them, not comprehending the whole I’m-not-dead? feeling quite yet. Not like she hadn’t had it before- I mean, after being alive after getting shot and almost being blown up by a nuclear bomb and almost drowning etc. etc. etc., it was a familiar feeling. But it hadn’t sunk in. At all.
Until that is all of a sudden Castle was given some sort of all clear and he came flying at her, drawing her up into a massive hug and crushing her to him as if he couldn’t get her any closer.
“I’m… alive?” she questions, mind still not having quite caught up.
“You’re alive,” he says, setting her down to crush her to him in a kiss, “You’re alive.”
“I’m alive,” she repeats, a small laugh coming up from somewhere in that overwhelmingly relieved heart of hers, “I’m alive!”
“Alive!” he parrots back at her, “Alive.”
They just sort of stand there for ages just saying ALIVE back at each other like two little kids who only know the one word, crushed into each other in an embrace. And no matter how unimaginably awkward it must be for the team, who she vaguely registers has now entered and are now waiting for the two of them to finally break apart, she doesn’t let go.
Alive.
She was alive.
From putting together the abc and ctv promo, I have this idea:
Beckett makes Castle leave the room when it gets close to the bomb going off and then she whispers “I love you” and he doesn’t hear her…
because we all know Marlowe and his magnificent writing team would do something like that
There are tears coming now. Slow, you know. The tears she hadn’t wanted to shed, the tears had had been building up since well, since she stepped on this thing and the beep went off. Wanted to stay strong, like she always did. Stay strong as she talked about what she’d actually thought when she first met him- something along the lines of OH MY GOD IT’S HIM IT’S HIM ANDi’mtakinghiminforquestioning but EXCUSE ME FAVORITE AUTHOR. About how she had broken up with Demming and was going to tell him that she’d come to the Hamptons with him. How different things would be now if she had. How she loved his insane theories, how she loved his annoying habits and how he always reorganized her books every time he was over so that his were at the forefront. How he’d waited and waited for her to call, how she’d been too afraid to dig all of that up again when the love and him were so intertwined still with the shooting and the trauma and the pain. How she hated to do it to him, but hated to have him see her so weak. They went through everything together, every last inch of their history they could fit into the scarce time she… well…
“How much time?” she manages to get out, stronger than she had expected, dodging Castle’s agonized gaze as the bomb squad rep came in. He was shifting around a bit, avoiding Castle’s expectant gaze and her teary eyes. Bad news.
“Just under two minutes,” he says quietly, “We think it’d be best if Mr. Castle were to leave the room as soon as possible.”
“No,” Castle says, “No, I’m not leaving her.”
“I’m not letting you throw your life away,” she says, meeting his eyes again, “I can’t let you stay here.”
“What are you going to do to stop me?” he says weakly, blue eyes agonized and clouded over already with grief and the hint of tears, “I won’t leave you alone here with that thing.”
“Castle,” she pleads, “Think of Alexis, your mother. Promise me you’ll go. I’ll…” she swallowed, “I’ll be okay. For me. Just promise me you’ll… you’ll go.”
“I…”
“A minute and a half, Mr. Castle.”
“Rick, please.”
“…fine,” he forces out after a long silence, “For you, I’d do anything, Kate. But…”
“I know,” she whispers, “We’ve had a good run, Castle. But it’s time to say goodbye.”
“One minute. We’ve got to go.”
“I love you, Kate,” he manages out, “Always have and always will.”
“I know,” she says, not knowing if she’ll be able to get on past this, “I know.”
He turns and leaves, eyes never leaving her as he disappears around the door frame. Last time she’ll see his beautiful eyes, that ruggedly handsome face, hear that storyteller’s voice-
And somehow the beeps have already counted down her seconds to 10.
And too late, too late, she whispers an answer she’ll never have the chance to say to him, the words he’ll never get to hear from a future they’ll never have-
“I love you.”
(via ladycopwiththebedroomvoice)
castle and beckett in bed.“Daddy?”
Castle lifts his head and spies a messy mop of hair, big watery eyes staring up at them.
“Hey, buddy.”
WHAT IS AIR?
“Shhh buddy, we don’t want to wake mommy”
“Now, what’s wrong?”
“I… I… I had a bad dream and you and mommy and Alexis and grandma and there was this big scary dragon zombie and-“
“How about I take you up to your room and tell you a story to chase those bad dreams away?”
“…okay Daddy.”
(Source: heat-rises)
…cause if you have a vivid imagination you can just change the wheelchair for a cradle and then you’ll have Richard Castle checking on their newborn baby girl
He’s not really sure what woke him up. Baby wasn’t crying, Kate was nightmare-free tonight- had been for three weeks now, and they were extremely happy about that. At least the well, the normal nightmares. The ones caused by the case and that bastard and… no. That’s done now. Behind them. Only nightmares that plagued both of them, providing she was telling the truth (which she probably was. Nightmares of evil dragons made her sleep differently, act differently, tunnel into him like he could protect her from all evil. Parenting nightmares just led to a talk in the morning about how he did it), were parenting nightmares. Of playground bullies and a world ripe with harsh words, not backalley bruisers and a world bristling with the shine of guns and rifles. Of actual accidents, not so-called “accidents”. Of losing track of your kid in a crowded place, not your life.
But yes. He doesn’t really know why he woke up.
Oh wait. Right. Parenting nightmare. Or kind of a hybrid? Hybrid between the two. Just… waking up in the morning to find that their little princess had been snatched from her castle (it was 3 AM, he was allowed to be cheesy) by the evil dragon and was never seen again by the king and queen.
He couldn’t help but feel uneasy, still. She was so young, barely three months old, so innocent, so precious. Losing her.. it would be like Alexis and Paris all over again. And Kate?
Unsettled, he got up, needing the proof to calm himself down. Tried to get up with as little motion as possible as to not wake up Kate. He tiptoed over towards the cradle, placed in their room for now. Nursery had heating problems and they couldn’t put her in that frigid place.
He peered over the pale purple cradle to peek in on the sleeping (thank god), baby girl. Alive and as real as real can be. A tiny little fist was clenched into the blanket, already so strong like her mother. Hair took after her mom too- a mass of brown hair all piled on top of her head. Her eyes took after his, for now, intensely blue. Still might change yet. Wouldn’t mind if she had her mom’s constantly color-changing ones, or his blue ones. Heard that Ryan and Esposito were betting on it. Wasn’t sure if the whole precinct was in on it this time like another couple of bets that involved him and Kate. Oh yes. The getting-together bet was only the first of many, apparently.
Contented with the reality, he padded back over to the bed, trying to stealthily slide back under the covers to resume his spot curled up next to his partner.
“Should’ve woken me up,” she said, voice slurring from sleepiness as she made a vague attempt to turn towards him.”
“She was fine,” he said back, “Go back to sleep. It was for… it was for me.”
She blinked slowly, hazy with sleep, before giving a tiny nod and turning back around, curling back into him. They’d talked about those dreams before. They’d both pulled them, the getting up to just watch her. Their baby girl.
He wrapped his arm back around her stomach, settling back into their normal position. As sleep began to claim him, he finally began to feel… well, safe. Nobody was taking her away, his wife or his baby girl or his first baby girl. They were safe.
They were safe.
(Source: replacefearwithcuri0sity, via 17troopper)
*praying for future babysitting scenes*
(Beckett standing in the kitchen watching Castle playing peek-a-boo with baby Ryan, dreaming about their future Castle babies)
“Oh no, Ryan, really it’s nothing,” she said, “You two go have a good time. You deserve the night off.”
“If you say so,” he said hesitantly, “I just…”
“Scared to leave her without you two for the first time?” she asked, met by his nod a moment later, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Castle doesn’t try to see if babies can fly or read her one of his books as a bedtime story or something.”
He nodded, though the apprehension was still clear, “Guess we have to do this sometime. Thanks again, Beckett.”
He turned to leave the apartment doorway where he’d been hovering for a good couple of minutes towards his wife (who looked beautiful, as always. Never would’ve even thought she’d been pregnant).
“Have a good time!” she called after him as he disappeared down the hallway, closing the door with a soft click.
Now, to make sure Castle really wasn’t trying to see if the baby had superhuman strength or the ability or fly or something.
She followed the loud, innocent giggles to the kitchen, where a scene that made her stop in her tracks was unfolding. There was the little blue-eyed bundle of adorable that was little Julia, and there was the big blue-eyed man of her heart next to her. Playing peek-a-boo, by the looks of things. The little one was enchanted by the disappearing man as he ducked behind the mystifying invisibility cloak that was his hands, bright blue eyes dazedly looking around as he vanished again, only to reappear seconds later.
Paused in the entryway to the Ryans’ kitchen, she couldn’t help but be transported to some fantasy in a different kitchen in a different time, with a different little bright-eyed baby giggling there. A girl or boy, didn’t matter. Boy? Maybe. Totally didn’t have a little boy already completely pictured in her mind from doing this before. Nah. But a little brown-haired boy with the piercing blue eyes of his father, or maybe green ones. Coming home from a long day of work and murder and death to a scene like this, with the little boy staring at his daddy, laughing (with his laugh? she hoped so), as he seemed to magically disappear into thin air. Going out to the park or something, seeing the wonder in his little face as he took in everything for the first time. The pride in his father’s face as he looked at his little son, or daughter. Again, didn’t matter. And then maybe another one, two little ones running up to greet her as she came home…
“Hey,” said Castle with a smile, breaking her out of the little dream, “You there, Kate?”
“What?” she said, shaking her head to clear it of little feet and little hands, days of laughter and wonder, holidays full of excitement and spirit again, “Yeah.”
He looked at her intently, as if he was reading her mind, “I was thinking about that too,” he said after a moment of studying her face, “But we can wait as long as you need, Kate. We don’t need to rush anything.”
She looked up at him, cradling the bundle of baby in one arm and the other curling around to grasp her hand. Wait. She didn’t want to. But they should. They’d been talking about it for a while, the whole marriage, baby thing. She’d already moved in. Probably any day now he’d cave and propose, when the moment was right. She finally nodded, realizing she’d been lost in thought again, “Yeah. Don’t need to… rush.”
The baby gurgled, swinging a little arm to swipe at her hair. She smiled, the tiny fist curling around one of her curls, and took the baby from Castle’s arms. As she cooed at the little one, the ghost of that brown-haired, blue-eyed baby came back to her mind.
But they didn’t need to rush. It would come with time. And they had all the time in the world.
(via yes-sir-captain-tightpants)
Go!
Now that the hustle and bustle of the day has slowed down, Jim decides to take a moment to himself. He steps out on the balcony, stopping when he sees the other man looking out at the ocean below. He almost turns to go back inside, but at the last second he changes his mind and walks up beside the man he knows as Jackson Hunt.
The two men stand in silence next each other, neither knowing what to say. They’d been introduced that morning, but other than a polite greeting, they’d said nothing and parted ways after shaking hands. It wasn’t that they disliked one another, they just both had a lot on their minds.
“It was a nice ceremony.” Jim finally says after several moments.
“Hmm,” Jackson nods. “It was. Your daughter was radiant.”
“Thank you,” Jim smiles, “your son looked dashing in his tux.”
“They make a beautiful couple, don’t they?”
“Indeed they do,” Jim agrees. “and I have to admit that now that they are hitched, I’m hoping we’ll have some grand babies soon.” he shrugs. “Well, your second, my first.”
Jackson laughs. “I’ll drink to that.”
He raises his glass of champagne, and Jim clinks his glass of sparkling cider to it. They take a sip and then turn back to the ocean, both fathers swept up in the joy they feel for their children.
And they get that second slash first grandchild some time later. It’s a girl, a girl with her father’s blindingly blue eyes and her mother’s strength and luscious brown curls. His father can’t visit in the hospital, to be expected, but Jim visits. Visits every day he can. And he can’t stop smiling, none of them can.
The day they all come home, Jim helping carry one or two things family and friends had dropped off, Castle refusing to leave the new mother’s side, and the mother herself holding a blanketful of baby and insisting she doesn’t need his help to “walk a few feet, god, Rick I’m not made of glass-“, they arrive to quite the soiree. His mother’s gone all out, again. Again, not surprising in the least. A massive, brightly colored banner hangs in the foyer welcoming the new baby girl to her home, and what looks like a feast is set up on the dining room table. His mother, grand as always, welcomes everyone to sit down- especially Kate, you wonderful darling do sit down with that beautiful little girl- and cooes at their little girl. Their little girl.
His other little girl, his first little girl, comes up to the table with a smile, hugging him and then, after further congratulations, is called over to help her grandmother with some things in the kitchen. Perhaps Alexis could save the meal from having a main dish of salt.
He goes into the office to drop off a few things and sees an oddly shaped package lying on his desk. Huh? He circles around to look at it, seeing familiar wrapping to another mysterious package from a long time ago. He couldn’t have.
A scribbled post-it note from his mother says that it was dropped off that morning, addressed to him. Opening it up quickly, he can’t help but smile a bit. It’s a handful of children’s books, each having to do with castles or with spies or with detectives or with mysteries. A small scrawled out note lies on top of the top one- one about a bear who lost his hat- that reads: Thought the new baby girl Castle should get a head start on the family business. Best wishes.
He reads the note over again and smiles, putting the note back on top of the small stack of books. He’d have to show Kate later. Walking back out into the main part of the loft, that seemingly permanent smile can’t help but widen at the sight. His mother holds their little girl aloft, the little thing looking at her grandmother with a look of sheer wonder and joy. Jim and Alexis talk about medical school together over his mother’s (hopefully edible) cooking while Kate… Kate’s looking at her baby and his mother with a wonder that matches that of her baby. An amazement and joy that was unparalleled by anything else in the world- that awe and adoration a parent has for their child. A family. That’s what this was.
Family.
This is your promised fluff! I’ve had a great time doing this this year.
Now, this is a bit of spaz on my part, as I haven’t really written much in a while due to severe writer’s block, but Merry Christmas anyway!
Fluff after the break.
It’s her first full day as a detective. A homicide detective. She’d made it. She’d made detective. It was still so unreal, you know? Okay, so maybe it had been her intention all along to get into homicide and get detective so she could solve the case, have the resources to solve the case. But it was still shocking. As the precinct had been echoing with, she was extremely young- apparently the youngest woman to make detective. Beat some IA girl by a few weeks. Not like she cared about that. Right now, she was too busy buzzing with energy.
That whole buzz wasn’t helped by the fact that she was pretty sure this must be her tenth cup of coffee this morning. And it’s been about two hours since she woke up. Oops? But really. First day. Exciting. Not enough sleep. Never enough sleep. Self-inflicted sleep deprivation: too busy being awake and thinking too much about everything. Therefore, coffee. And she may or may not have been too excited to think this morning, so the one she had in hand right now was black. Not like she noticed much- plenty on her mind without paying attention to how unfortunately bitter the coffee was. Coffee was coffee was coffee, nothing that special about it.
Downing the last of the cup she had in hand with a grimace, she quickly chucked it into the nearby trash can before walking through the doors.
Here goes nothing.
—————————
She pulled up to the unassuming brownstone, suppressing a yawn as she brought her Crown Vic to a stop. She hadn’t had the time to get her usual dosage of caffeine this morning due to the ridiculously long line at the cafe she typically stopped at. That and the thoroughly distracting cover art she’d discovered after waking up this morning. Knowing the team and the precinct? Oh god, she was never going to live that down. And what would her dad think?
With a sigh, she doublechecked her gun and her badge before getting out of the car. Time for another day of endless rambling by the one and only irritating wrtier extraordinaire. Soon enough she saw the perpetrator of the cover art crime walking towards her, a pastry and two (what?) coffees in hand.
“Morning!” he called, energetic as always, “One grande two-pump sugar-free vanilla and a bear claw.”
She gaped at him for a moment, “How did you know m-“
“I’m a novelist, it’s my job to notice things,” he interrupted.
Richard Castle knew her coffee order. Richard freaking Castle had bothered to learn her coffee order. Damn. That little fangirl inside couldn’t help but spaz a bit over that and oh my god, Beckett, pull yourself together. You’re not supposed to be flattered by him, idiot. Remember the whole naked-Nikki-Heat-on-the-cover? Remember? Irritated. You’re irritated. Pulling all of the hopelessly fangirling parts of her back in, she responded with a normal cutting remark for the two of them. Yes, normal is good. Pathetic fangirling is not.
“It’s Sunday morning, shouldn’t you be slinking home from some scandalous liaison?” she said.
“Would you be jealous if I was?”
Yes, her fangirl said.
“In your dreams,” her rationality said.
“Actually in my dreams you’re never jealous. In my dreams you just-“
She stuffed the bear claw into his face before he could speak one more word of that statement.
They walked towards the crime scene and she took a sip of the coffee he’d given her. Perfect balance of bitter and sweet, just the way she liked it. Repressing a sigh of contentment, she continued to listen to his endless prattling. And suddenly, it didn’t quite bother her so much anymore.
—————————
She’d been staring at the murder board when he came in that morning.
When he came in with only one coffee.
Her face was probably betraying all of that disappointment and sadness that she didn’t really have any right to feel. It was just coffee. It wasn’t like it was the end of the world that he didn’t bring her coffee or something. She’d gotten her own coffee for much longer than he’d been getting her coffee after all. She’d gotten spoiled, it was a treat for him to bring it right? It wasn’t like the balance of their partnership relied on that. It wasn’t like it was the symbol of their devotion to this setup-
Whoa there, Beckett.
She shook off that fog of sadness that was not helping her current state of confusion regarding the Hamptons and Tom and everything and they bounced ideas off of each other, like always. Like everything was fine. Everything was fine though: him not getting coffee for her wasn’t the end of the world, calm down.
She got up to look for something and Esposito handed her a cup of coffee, that knowing, sympathetic look on his face. And after that conversation last night? He was just being a good teammate Beckett. What is wrong with you today? She shook those emotions off again, taking it with a small thanks. She took a hesitant sip and sighed.
A little too bitter for her taste.
But coffee was just coffee.
Right?
—————————
And there, right on time, was Castle- two coffees in hand as usual. Great. She could really use it right now and-
Oh she was not.
She was.
Okay, that was something you just did not do right there. One does not simply take her coffee. She doesn’t care how famous you are, you do not simply take her coffee in the morning.
…and was she seriously?
No. You didn’t take her coffee and then brief him too. No. Not allowed. Last straw right there.
“Can we talk for a second?” she said to her partner, voice tight.
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. Possessively linking her arm through his, she dragged him into one of the empty interview rooms. Petty. She was being so very petty right now. And she didn’t even care. You didn’t take her coffee.
“She took my coffee, Castle,” she huffed.
“It’s just coffee,” he responded,staring at her like she was some mental patient or a scared animal or something. But it wasn’t just coffee. It wasn’t.
“Then what’s next? My soul?” she said before cracking and breaking out into a full rant, “Everything I do she does! Even when I’m thinking I can feel her in my head like some kind of a brain-eating parasite from one of her movies!”
“She’s a dedicated actress she just wants to do a good job…” he started gently.
Didn’t he get it? Why did he not get it? Following her around like he did was one thing, taking her coffee, her life, her everything was a completely different ball game.
“Hey guys-” interrupted Ryan with some new news about the case, just on time to stop her from going all out on Castle as usual.
But seriously.
You did not simply take Kate Beckett’s coffee.
—————————
There had to be something that made sense here. And even after hours of staring at the same, too-empty white board… it just didn’t. It still didn’t make any sense.
He walked up beside her and she looked up at his approach, smiling at the coffee cup he held out to her. The sharp edges of the white and brown, now that made sense. That she knew. And in this web of confusion, something she knew was a very welcome thing.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Did you get any sleep?” he said. He knew the answer already, she could see it in his face.
And the answer he expected is what he’d get, as sad as that made her, “Not much.”
He gave a small nod in acceptance before settling on the desk edge next to her, “Anything new on our victim?”
“We rechecked Orlando’s rap sheet and Montgomery wasn’t involved in any of his old arrests. That break-in wasn’t personal,” she said, reciting the facts she’d mulled over time and time again over her sleepless night.
“What about the call he made before he was killed?”
“It’s from a burner phone. There’s no registered owner,” she said, a defeated tone to her voice. It was just hundreds of hundreds of dead ends, all over this case. All over every single case related to the case and it was just like they were ramming blindly into a new wall every time they found anything and…
“Hey,” he said, “You’re not in this alone. I’m here.”
She gave him a small smile. She knew that. She knew that now- they were in this together, partners. There was no denying that. Her secrets were all out, they’d been dealt with. They were in this together.
“I know,” she said, taking one hand off of the coffee cup and taking his gently, thumb brushing over his knuckles. Their eyes came to meet each other knowingly, a silent conversation that had begun with that silent good morning in the coffee cup. I’ve got your back.
“Hey-” interrupted Ryan.
Dammit, Ryan.
Their hands broke apart like a startled flock of deer and the boys filled them in on the new information they’d found. But the warmth of his hand lingered in the warmth of the coffee, and she was content.
—————————
His ridiculously expensive espresso machine whirred to life, dark rich liquid pouring into the two white mugs she’d fetched. She closed her eyes, the hearty scent calming her mind, which was whirring just about as much as the coffee machine was. She’d had quite the last 24 hours to say the least.
Let’s see, a recap. Got mauled by the man who shot her (that would explain most of the throbbing, pervasive soreness all over her body), said man threw her off a roof, she almost fell off said roof, resigned from the only job- only life- she’d ever known, got completely drenched on a metal swingset in a thunderstorm (smart move there, Beckett), and had mindblowingly amazing sex with Castle (which would explain the rest of the soreness). And now here she was, clad in only one of his shirts, in his kitchen, making coffee.
…
Well then.
Definitely quite the 24 hours.
The machine came to a stop, and she went through those familiar coffee-making motions with ease. Familiarity. That certainly felt good in this haze of confusion and unfamiliar and chaos. She picked up the coffee mugs, one in each hand. Now to go say good morning to the other familiar in this equation, the man who’d been 100% unconscious when she’d woken up this morning.
She meandered into his sundrenched bedroom, smiling at the man in front of her. His normally impeccable hair was mussed by sleep and the definitely-not-sleep-related activities they’d done last night. He looked a bit confused until he spotted her, a dark arousal sweeping his sleepy stare at how she looked. She couldn’t help but smile at his smile, irrepressible happiness welling up within her.
“I made you coffee,” she said.
He took the mug from her hand as she approached his bedside.
“So it wasn’t a dream,” he said.
“No, you’re definitely not dreaming,” she answered with a laugh, settling down next to him in his sinfully soft bed, gnawing at her lip.
“You were right,” he said, voice gruff with sleep, “I had no idea.”
What? Oh. Calling back to what she said four years ago. Nice memory, Castle.
“So you liked it?” she said hesitantly. Believe it or not, it had been concerning for her. Pathetic. But here was this guy who had slept with countless other girls and where was she in that? And some of the stuff they’d done last night could really not go well with some guys you know-
“Yeah,” he said immediately.
“Even the part where…”
“Especially that part,” he affirmed, “I loved that.”
She couldn’t help the grin growing at that, “…me too.”
“So… you’re on board with this, right?” he said after a pause. Huh? “It’s not some… oh I quit my job, I almost died, I’m in crisis thing.”
What? No. No, no, no, Castle. So much no.
“No… not for me…” she said. It wasn’t to her. It wasn’t for him surely right…?
“Good, me neither,” he responded, cutting off all of those doubts immediately and then destroying them all in one fell smile.
“Okay,” she said with a smile, “Good.”
“Good,” he echoed.
“But I um… I did just quit my job… and I do have the day off…” she said, shameless at the suggestion. What? She did!
“Me… too,” he said, staring down at where she hadn’t buttoned his shirt up all the way and nudging it open.
“Really?”
“Yeah. So what would you… like to do today?” he responded, pushing the shirt off of her shoulder all the way, a distracting hand caressing her bared back.
“Um… I don’t know,” she teased, “We could read?”
“We could watch TV,” he said, playing along.
“Yeah,” she said, “We could get something to eat…”
“We could do that, yeah.”
She gently kissed him in what was more smile than kiss, fire stirring within her at just that small touch.
The coffee lay forgotten on the table, but that was okay.
She had plenty of warmth right here.
(Source: nicolecfranzen, via dathelena)
Was watching Up. Carl continues to talk to Ellie even after she dies. All I could think of was Beckett doing the same thing when Castle dies.
nope nope nopeno no no nope no no nope
It was a sunny day. A really, really sunny day. The loft was quiet, nothing but the dust spinning in the numerous sunbeams to disturb the stillness. Never quite the same after the kids moved out permanently. No big blue eyes or big green eyes staring up at her pleadingly for that last cookie, no little hands pulling on her arm to come see something, no teenagers having mental breakdowns over high school romance and stress and life. No more little feet tumbling down the stairs, no more happy shrieks of “Momma!” when she came home, no more.
But… she was content.
She made her way over to that old couch, not having changed it since that first day, so… so long ago now, when she’d first come to the loft. Oh that first time had been so magical, hadn’t it? It had just been so big. So big and so full of life and love and light… oh what a happy memory that was. Of course, then she hadn’t known what this loft would have in store for her. No idea. No idea at all.
She glanced over to the chair next to the battered couch, smiling at the man sitting in it.
“How was your walk today, Kate?” he said with that typical warm smile.
“It was great, Rick,” she said, closing her eyes and letting her own smile break out across her face, “Actually ran into Jenny and Kevin on my way back. Did you know that Seamus- little Seamus!- just got nominated for his fourth Emmy for his composing? My, they’re all grown up now. I remember… I remember when he was just a baby, curled up in his Mom’s arms at the Precinct for the first time. How long ago was that? Actually don’t answer that. Oh we’re all getting so old!”
“We aren’t getting old,” he scoffed,” Just more… distinguished.”
“Distinguished? Your choice of words for today, Rick?” she chuckled, “I’d have to say old.”
“Downer.”
“Realist.”
“No, still think you’re a downer.”
She laughed, “Are we really doing this right now, Rick? I was in the middle of telling a story.”
“Isn’t that usual more of my forte?” he said, and she could just hear the grin on his face.
“Let me have my moment, writer boy.”
“Fine… and don’t call me writer boy.”
“Fine. What was I talking about again? Oh right. Jenny and Kevin. We didn’t really say much besides the kids. I brought up how Alexis’s daughters are doing though. They grew up so fast. I still see Ellie as that little girl tugging at my hand and insisting I come see her present for her Momma and tell her if it was good or not. I still see Molly as that tiny girl trailing after her big sister as they romped around the living room. They’ve all grown up. Ellie’s gotten married! She was so beautiful, Rick. Just like Alexis was.”
“Just like you were, too.”
She cracked a smile, “I don’t know if I beat those beauties, even if you think so Rick. And then… Kevin brought up Lanie and Javi. Those two… as much as they used to bicker they’re happy as can be. What did we used to call them? Espo- no… Lan- no that’s not right. Es… Esplanie! That was it. Esplanie. And you used to say…. you used to say it worked because they were always “esplanie-ing” things,” she smiled again at the memory. Oh, how good those days had been with the gang. Even if the gang was gathered because of murder.
“That I did,” he said with a small smile, mischief glinting in those oh-so-blue eyes, “I love that you remember that.”
“I love that you love that,” she said, their old game coming back to light.
“And I love you,” he said, eyes coming up to meet hers in what Lanie (once upon a time) used to call her “hopelessly-in-love look”. She smiled, leaning in slowly for a chaste, feather-light kiss. His hand came over to brush across her face and hers came up to brush against his cheek.
And suddenly, his image began to fade.
It was slow, you know. Wasn’t just like he wasn’t there all of a sudden. But first his body seemed to sink into the twirling motes of dust outlined in the sun, then his chest, then his arms, then his face. But his eyes remained for a long time. Those piercingly blue eyes. Until they too, faded into dust and sunlight and airy space.
A mournful glance down to the coffee table showed the top of a single old invitation sticking up like the prow of a sinking ship, a white flag of surrender sticking up from the ruins of a once-proud Castle. That’s right.
In Loving Memory of
Richard Edgar Castle
(April 1st, 1969-May 7th, 2048)
That’s right.
She was alone.
(via imcleverandyoureapotato)
