katherine beckett you need to stop giving me all these feelings

Going Up

l saw you trying to hit the “door close” button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we’re stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don’t know what to say other than “you started it” AU

~~~~

Kate rolls up the sleeve of her light brown overcoat in the cab, glancing at her watch which states that she’s already three minutes late for her first day at her new job. With a large exhale, she covers the watch with the fabric once more (out of sight, out of mind) and places her hands palm down on her navy blue slacks, wiping off the small amounts of perspiration on her bouncing legs.

After a look through the windscreen, she lets out another breath, considering the option of giving the cab driver all the money in her purse, and possibly her firstborn, if he would stop letting pedestrians cross the street and slowing to a complete halt at stop lights.

As soon as they reach the destination, Kate shoves a cluster of bills into the cabbie’s hands, unsure whether it’s more or less than the correct amount, and jogs to the entrance, her laptop bag rhythmically hitting against the top of her thighs with each stride.

Once inside the building, which is buzzing with ringing phones and animated conversations, she hurriedly glances around the office, looking for any signs that will point her in the right direction.

“Can I help you?” A woman at the reception desk pipes up, her expression showing no sympathy for the new employee.

“Yeah,” Kate managed to huff out, clearing her throat before speaking again due to its croakiness, “I’m the new civil rights attorney. I have a meeting with Roy Montgomery.”

With one hand, the worker scrolls on the computer in front of her, seemingly noting that Kate’s in a rush and deliberately spending extra time reading each letter.

“Katherine Beckett?” She asks, Kate nodding her head after the first syllable, “Room 147. First, let me print you off a badge.”

Kate rolls her eyes once the employee isn’t looking, almost positive that she isn’t in need of a piece of paper if she’s already hired, and as soon as the small white rectangle is handed to her, she grabs a lanyard from the box on the desk, chucking it over her head and hurrying off.

She runs to the elevator as quickly as she can without possibly spraining her ankle in her new five-inch heels, immediately pressing the button for the seventeenth floor.

“Hold the elevator!” A voice exclaims from her left.

Kate grimaces at the words, and in a hasty decision, leans over to hit the ‘door close’ button, then straightening up as if nothing occurred.

However, she knows she’s lost when a figure emerges in front of her, glaring with his blue eyes. He rushes in with a millisecond to spare, the right door nudging his arm as it swoops closed, making his to-go coffee spill over his dark maroon shirt and black pants. Kate simply stares at the wood panelling on the wall to help keep her lips pressed together so a chuckle doesn’t bubble up, the accident at least making her day a little brighter.

Her head whips around when she hears sudden beeping sounds.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Kate remarks, swatting the other person’s hand away, but it’s already made it to every button between floors one to sixteen.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

three word prompt: end the story

“Castle?”

He turns his gaze from the setting sun, the cresting waves glittering beneath the caress of fading light, the perfect ending, in favor of seeing Kate trekking through the sand. His wife approaches him with upturned lips, question in her gaze and eyebrows hitching towards her hairline.

“Hey,” he greets, extending his hand to her waist once she’s close enough.

Kate drifts into his side, her arms already snaking around his waist. Her eyes are gold in the dying light, familiar streaks of green and traces of amber illuminating her irises, far more striking than the mosaic of colors in the sky.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

Castle casts one last glance towards the ocean, the sun sinking below the horizon, and sighs.

“It’s been a perfect couple of days.” Kate’s knuckles dig into the base of his spine, attempting to ease the ache, but it worsens with each passing second. “I don’t want it to end.”

Rick returns his attention to his wife, finds her watching him with a sad smile and a glittering gaze that has his chest swelling with denial.

“Kate, it doesn’t have to end.”

“Castle-“

“There’s more to our story. I can write more, I have plans, ideas to explore, we can still-“

One of her hands rises to his jaw, her thumb at his lips, trapping the words as her fingers scale his cheek, the cool band of her wedding ring kissing his skin. He crashes his forehead forward to rest against hers, squeezes his eyes shut.

“We’ve had seven years, Rick,” she whispers, and he clutches at her back, at the t-shirt she wears.

“We just got married,” he croaks, fisting the fabric in his fingers. It’s cool on the shoreline, the edge of the ocean at their feet and the water frigid with each stretch it makes towards their bare feet. He wants to guide her back inside, wrap her in something warmer, but she’s been wearing his clothes all day, lounging beside him with his ring on her finger and his shirt clinging to her frame, his sweatpants at her hips. “Kate, this is just - it’s just the beginning. A new beginning for us-“

“Your daughter needs you now, your mother,” she reminds him, her voice so soft, a soothing balm to his heart, a pain that splinters it deeper. He’s beginning to choke on his grief. “Rick. Baby-“

He shakes his head and feels Kate nudging in closer, her lips at his jaw, butterfly kisses traveling up his cheek.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she murmurs, stroking the paper thin skin beneath his eye. “But you gave us a beautiful story. The perfect ending.”

“I don’t want it to end,” he protests, growls, his eyes flaring open, but Kate’s won’t meet his anymore, her lashes drawn like curtains.

His eyes are stinging, no amount of blinking able to dispel the growing threat of tears, and Kate’s hands cup his face as she lifts on her toes in the sand, stains her mouth to his lips one last time. Castle hauls her body in close, banding his arms secure around her slim frame and savoring the perfect fit they make.

Something so perfect, it has to be real.

Her tears fall to his forearms, the trickle of moisture too real to be imagination, every part of her too tangible to be the fantasy he’s created over the last seven years.

“Maybe - maybe someday you can come back to me,” she breathes, and how can she break his heart? How can a character he created crumble his heart in her hands? The ache in his chest, the tremble of his bones - there’s no way he could imagine this sort of pain, is there? “But for now, it’s time to end the story.”

“Kate-”

The weight of her, the warmth in his arms, is fading, going cold.

“I love you. Please, just remember that.”

“Don’t do this,” he chokes out, tightening his arms around her, but they’re empty, clinging to nothing but the sea air. “Don’t, Kate, please-“

“Always.”

Castle jerks awake, his eyes flying open to the blurred sight of the ceiling, his head throbbing and his chest burning with the pain of caving in. His entire body inhabited by a fierce and sudden hollowness that hasn’t existed for years, spaces Katherine Beckett filled.

“Richard, darling, are you awake yet?” his mother’s voice rings out through the loft. “If you still want to accompany me to the airport to pick up Alexis, I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”

Seven years ago, after Storm had come to an end, after Finite Laughter had flopped, he had needed something, someone, and it had been her. A character idea turned into more, a dream he couldn’t let go of.

He’d buried himself in creating Kate Beckett, writing himself into her story, into the life he wanted and the one her character deserved. He had never submitted the works to his publisher, despite Kate’s insistence, never shared her existence with anyone, and with good reason.

He had fallen in love with her and even he had deemed himself insane for it. But she had become so real, so tangible, the vision of her clear every time he closed his eyes, her voice in his head transferring to the word document on his laptop with hardly any effort at all.

God, he was a grown man with an imaginary friend. An imaginary wife whom he’s dreamt of before, but never has she told him goodbye, disappeared from his mind with such a finality.

It can’t be the end.

“Richard, if you’re going with me to pick up your daughter, I need to know.”

Castle sits up in the bed, stripping the sweat dampened shirt from his frame and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. His notebook sits on the edge of his nightstand and he turns to the last page, the final entry, a conversation had with Kate in his head.

Wedding vows.

“Mother?” he calls, striding into his closet and dressing in a hurry. “How long until Alexis’s flight arrives?”

Martha Rodgers sashays through his office - well, what once was his office - with a curious glimmer in her bright blue eyes while he tugs a sweater over his head.

“In about an hour, so we should-“

“Could we make a stop on the way?”

Her brow arches, but his mother shrugs. “Of course, kiddo. Tell me when you’re ready and we’ll go.”

Rick does his best not to think as he combs his fingers through his hair, blends the hint of gel through the strands, and shoves his notepad deep into the pocket of his jeans before bounding out into the living room. It’s just an idea, probably a bad idea, a stupid idea, but his only hope. A hope that will most likely leave him feeling even more empty than the dream had left him, but he has to make sure.

“Well, you look nice,” his mother praises, retrieving her purse from the sofa with a smile. “This stop we’re making must be important.”

“It could be,” he hedges, already starting for the door, hoping to instill a sense of urgency within her. 

He can’t just give up on Kate, can’t just chalk her up to nothing more than a creation of his subconscious or words on a page. Too many details, details he never would have come up with, that he can’t simply disregard.

His knee bounces on the cab ride over after he’s given the driver the address and his mother sighs, tries more than once to calm his jittering habit.

“Richard, you know I don’t mean to poke my nose into your business, but why on earth are we going to a police station?”

Castle wipes his damp palms on the thighs of his jeans. “I had a new story idea.”

“Oh! Are you going to meet with that detective you shadowed a few years ago?”

Rick cuts his eyes to his mother, breathes through the stutter of his heart. “Who?”

“What was his name… McNulty?” his mother inquires, but Castle slumps in his seat, shakes his head.

“No, someone else.”

His mother covers the hand splayed at his thigh. “Whatever’s going on with you today, darling, I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Rick musters a tired smile for his mother and flips his palm beneath hers, gives her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I hope so.”

Castle promises to be quick once the cab slows to a stop outside the station, jogging into the lobby and requesting her name. He’s never looked her up, never searched for her on the internet, too paranoid to learn if there really was  Katherine Beckett out there somewhere in the world, if there wasn’t.

“Detective? No, sir, that’s Captain Beckett,” the sergeant on duty informs him after Rick has passed the security check. “Does she know you’re stopping by?”

Castle refrains from the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. Kate actually exists. 

Well, someone with her name and job description does, but no way is he going to consider it a coincidence. 

“Uh, no. But I have… I have important information regarding a case two of her detectives are working, and I had just hoped to deliver it to her in person,” he explains, earning a narrowed look from the man, but he must deem him as safe, because the next thing Rick knows, he’s taking the elevator to the third floor.

He holds his breath the entire ride up, even once the doors have parted and he’s stepping onto the homicide floor, just as he’d always imagined it. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath, catching sight of Ryan and Esposito first, but his blood runs cold as his eyes scan further, landing on an open office window.

Behind the glass, Kate Beckett, a woman he’s known without ever meeting for the last seven years, sits at her desk, studying an open file.

“Hey, can we help you?” Esposito questions the second they notice him starting for the office, but Castle doesn’t slow. 

“Sir? Hey, stop,” Ryan calls next, the two of them abandoning the whiteboard they had been working on to intercept him, but Castle manages to curl his fingers around the handle to her office door before they can. “Hey!”

He stumbles into the captain’s office, earning the startled jerk of her attention, the momentary lock of her eyes with his.

“Kate.”

“Do you not know the meaning of stop, bro?” Esposito growls, snagging Castle by the arm and attempting to drag him out the door, but Kate is already rising from her chair. 

“Wait, please, I just need to talk to Beckett-”

“You know this guy, Captain?” Ryan asks, his hand hovering over the cuffs at his waist.

Esposito’s grip on his forearm is bruising and his heart is beating so loud, his entire body shakes with it, but she’s staring at him, hooded eyes assessing him slowly. She isn’t saying no.

“Yes, I know him,” she finally announces, stepping around her desk and nodding to her boys. “Thank you both, but could you give us a minute?”

Ryan and Espo hesitate, but the hand on his arm falls away, and the presence at his side disappears, both men easing out of the room and shutting the door behind them. Castle can feel their gazes lingering, but he can’t manage to concentrate on anything more than the task of breathing and the sight of Kate standing in front of him. Completely and wholly real.

“Richard Castle,” she states, formal, and his heart sinks. 

“Listen, I know you may not really know me and this is going to sound crazy, but I-”

Kate steps forward, her arms crossed and her brow arched, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“Thought I told you to end the story, Rick. Not make it a reality.”

His breath hitches, his heart bruised and battered against his ribs by now, but it is nothing compared to the cascade of joy and disbelief through his system. There are so many questions, so much logic being defied in that very moment, and his mind is demanding an immediate explanation, but he doesn’t care how or why. Can’t find the will to care about any of it if he can somehow have her.

“It’s not my story without you.”

anonymous asked:

I know some people in this fandom dislike Beckett but wanting Castle to cheat on her and get Hailey knocked up or have Castle leave Beckett just cause she can't have a baby. Is reaching a all time low not to mention its a out of character plot and kinda a soap opera plot Castle is a crime/comedy/romance show it's not a soap opera if you hate one of the main characters so much stop watching it. God I hate this fandom some times

I mean, let’s be real honest here, Richard Castle willingly and knowingly cheating on his wife is not only character assassination, it’s show suicide. There is absolutely no scenario short of things like an evil twin, a human clone, honest to God “I don’t remember you or that we are married”, or some other trope straight out of a bad soap opera that would make that accurate. I don’t know what the hell certain sections of this fanbase think they are playing at, but we clearly aren’t watching the same show and haven’t been since its inception. 

Richard Castle is a man who has been cheated on. He walked in on Meredith in bed with her director when Alexis was a baby (Always Buy Retail) and, presumably, saw his marriage completely disintegrate into something that couldn’t be put back together. His daughter, the love of his life for twenty-one years, grew up in a broken home and if you honestly think Castle is the sort of person who actively cheered for that you need your head examined. 

Over the course of the series he’s admired beautiful women, but this concept that he’s going to hop into bed with one not named Kate Beckett is the stupidest and most juvenile line of thinking. I know it’s hard to understand to people who think relationship are inherently supposed to be fucked up and consist of two people always at odds and sniping at each other about what they did wrong, but you CAN actually look at another member of the opposite, or even the same, sex, find them attractive and not want to throw them up against the nearest flat surface and have your wicked way with them. Beckett has freely admired just as many men over the series (Josh and Demming not included, though if you count them she’s shown her appreciation for males not named Castle far more than Castle has shown for women not named Beckett.), but somehow she’s so rarely tossed into the deep end for thinking someone is attractive. To my knowledge, no one shouted about how she was going to fall into bed with Danny Valentine last season when he flirted with her and she flirted right back. 

And, honestly, if people seriously think he’s gonna leave Beckett because she might decide she doesn’t want a baby or can’t have one? I’d like to refer you to the opening scene of 7x14 where there are a couple of lines that freely dispute that notion because Richard Castle does not give a shit if they have children, and that it’s up to Kate to decide when and if they do. Also, for people who think he’s forcing her into it? The first time there is a mention of future children is from Simon Doyle who says they are going to have three. Beckett’s surprise is not because they have children, but because they have three of them. 

Richard Castle loves Katherine Beckett. He loves her enough that he’s risked his life for her multiple times, he loves her enough to wait for a year just for the hope that she might scale her wall of fear and love him back, he loves her enough to come back and work with her after she broke his heart. He loves her enough to take a bullet for her in a world where she DIDN’T love him back. And if you think that he’d so easily and so readily drop her then I feel sorry for you because you apparently don’t understand the bond and the depth of the emotion and love that these two people have with one another. 

So, yeah, I’m with you Anon. It’s despicable, and frankly its ridiculous how people are so determined to undermine Castle’s character. I suppose everyone needs a villain, but I’d disagree with you that its prominently people who hate Beckett and want her to go away. I’d say its the opposite and its people who hate Castle because he’s boring (lol okay) and think Beckett can do better because of something inane like Castle is holding her back from reaching her full potential (do NOT get me started). Or, alternately, they hate Nathan Fillion and shove that dislike onto the character because Nathan doesn’t wax poetic about how much he loves the show or Stana Katic and that he’s not sporting twelve pack set of abs and two percent body fat.  

Prompt Fic Continued

anonymous asked:

They slept together after Ryan’s wedding but never talked about it. Kate finds out she is pregnant but doesn’t know how to tell him, especially after the events of 47 seconds.

——-

post 47 Seconds and The Limey

—–

previously on prompt…

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes out. “Oh, God. That is not what I meant to say.”

Sorry really doesn’t fix that kind of - and well, now he gets it, right? “But you make some good sense,” he says, offering a smile. It’s hard to pull off. He’s not sure he did pull it off. “That’s a really good point. We’re still pretty - our communication isn’t so great. And getting married when we’re already this messed up…”

Well this just sucks.

This is not beautiful or joyful or anything. This is just one wound after another, and you would think he’s figured it out by now. That he would just stop risking himself for love because the hurt is just - it sours everything.

After his messy divorce with Gina, he really ought to have learned, but instead he turned around and fell in love with the first woman to test him. A detective whom he has knocked up and is all wrong for and yet-

“Okay, yes. Yes, Castle, marry me.”

——-

She holds her breath.

His mouth opens and then slams shut, a grim determination in his eyes. So she opens her mouth to salvage what she’s blundered into, but he holds up a finger.

“Wait a second. Wait right here.”

And then she’s gaping after him as he extricates himself from the couch and runs off, back towards his office (his bedroom?) and away from her.

Well, that was really stupid.

She just - basically told him he’s terrible at marriage and then demanded he marry her anyway. She is so bad at this, so fundamentally bad at this. Her therapist could have warned her, could have said, Kate, think about perhaps not opening your mouth; write it down first. Not that writing it down would have given any better idea what to say.

I’m pregnant, it’s yours, I want it, do you? That was really the extent of her thinking. That was all she had to go on, because he’s been so hurtful lately, because he’s been acting like she’s nothing to him-

Because he’s been trying not to love her, he said. Because she lied about what she remembers and she ran away that night before the dawn even hit her face, and because putting those two things together seems pretty bad, pretty dire, actually so no wonder that’s what he thought.

So they’re a wash. Is that it? They tried it and they don’t work, and unfortunately, this kid will have to bear the consequences. Or - well, she will. Because he’s a good father and she would never keep him from his kid, and she’ll have to see him every day of this kid’s life, see him and know she messed it up, that it could have been really great because they did love each other, they do, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough. She should leave.

She half stands, but her legs are wavering as she remembers the whole point of this.

She can’t leave. There’s a baby. And that has to be - settled somehow. A schedule or a calendar, a tentative agreement or some kind of truce. She’s already set the next appointment and she should at least tell him when it is, even if the idea of listening to the heartbeat with him there is about as soul-crushing a thing as she can imagine.

Rick Castle there but not in any way she can have.

“Kate.”

She glances up, swiping at her eyes, and she knows that she must look a huddled, pathetic mess on his couch. She feels pathetic. She feels like the character in one of those melodramatic Gothic novels who can’t seem to fight for herself or her love or anything.

And that is not her. She’s not that person. So no more. No more.

Kate jerks to her feet, and her old instinct to run is so finely ingrained in her muscles that she actually makes a faltering step to the door before she can manage to stop herself. No running. Running is actually impossible now; she’s anchored to him in a way that neither of them can refuse.

She twists back and paces towards him, and she grabs his hand in both of hers (momentarily startled by the width of his palm and the thickness of his fingers, sense memory of a night in a hotel, time stolen out of time-)

“Kate? I was just going to-”

“Stop,” she rushes out. “I’ve done a really terrible job of this. And I think I-” She shakes her head, squeezes her eyes shut, promises herself she’s going to stop prevaricating, stop padding her sentences with all these conditions and concessions and hesitations. She’s just going for it. “I know that I hurt you. I’ve hurt you. You hurt me too; that’s life. But - but it’s a life I want. It’s better with you, even when it hurts me, and that was never something I thought I would ever say and mean. So - well, yay for therapy, right?”

His fingers flex in hers, a little relieved laugh in his throat. “Yay for therapy.” His smile starts up again, and with it, her heart.

With it, her heart.

All the ways he’s touched her. Before she ever met him, he touched her - those novels, the words he wrote, the way good shined and evil was dragged into the light. And then as her partner these last few years, doggedly sticking by her side. And so whatever else they’ve done, there’s this. There’s-

“Oh, my God, Castle, I’m pregnant.”

He laughs then, eyes brighter, and he’s so happy. She’s made him so happy. “Yeah, so I hear.” He dives back into his pocket and pulls out the ultrasound photo and that smile of his just gets absolutely ridiculous.

He could break her whole heart with it.

“I love you,” she blurts out.

He drops to his knees. Literally.

Kate lets out a noise, grabbing for him. She misses and winds up hanging tightly to his one hand in hers, as if to soften his landing, and then she realizes he meant to do that.

And he’s holding - what? - some kind of ring, something shiny-gold and flat-band - up with the ultrasound photo in his hand. “Katherine Houghton-”

“How do you know my middle name?”

He laughs and leans forward, his forehead pressed into the back of her hand, his laughter spilling across her fingers. “Of course, you would. You would ruin my moment. Our moment. Detective Kate Beckett, you have been the most frustrating, intelligent, maddening, beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and I already feel honored to have made a baby with you - don’t laugh; I do - and you have already made me the happiest man, twice over, once when you told me we should get a room and now twice-”

“This is sounding sordid,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes.

“Hush, Beckett, I’m doing something here.”

“Badly.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“Ouch,” she says, but she doesn’t feel it. Doesn’t at all feel it. It’s not a sting, it’s comical and sweet and poignant; it’s them, and he’s proposing to her. “But don’t let me stop you. Get to the point.”

“Finally, woman. The point is - we are great together, I think we both know we’ve wanted this, and as crazy as it might have seem to jump ahead, I’m asking you - please, will do me the honor of saying yes just one more time?”

“Yes.”

He lets out an explosive breath - he must have been expecting her to fight him - but he pushes the band down over her finger and it doesn’t really fit, but it’s pretty sweet. Actually, she thinks it’s the band from the middle of a flashlight.

“Where’d this come from?” She spins it with her thumb as he gets off his knees, but he doesn’t give her a chance to speculate.

Castle wraps her up in his arms, sweeping her off her feet so that she grunts and winds an arm around his waist to hang on. “I love you, Kate. I do - oh, look at that, practicing already. I do.”

She bites her lip, tilting her head back to peer at him. She just - they just - they’ve had one night (after which she ran off in the pre-dawn gray) and now they’re going to get married. And have a baby.

“This is going to be great. And you know, I don’t care when - fast or wait until after - but I want you to have your dream wedding, Kate. Or whatever you want. But you’ll - move in with me, right? And we’ll work on our communication, because I never want a repeat of the last few weeks-”

She ceases his overflow of words - with her mouth. She takes them right off his lips and they taste clean, like water bubbling in a fountain, and she swallows the groan he releases as well.

He moves to cradle the back of her head and she suddenly loses his support. She slides slowly down his body, fists clutched in his shirt at his waist. His fingers tighten at her skull and his nose nudges into her, lips moving to skim her own. She gasps for breath, awareness flooding through her, and he presses her back, his mouth on hers as if diving deep again.

She clutches at his back and feels his hand at her shirt, skimming open buttons, one after another, her heart thundering under his fingers.  

He touches the hollow at her neck, bare now, and then trails down her sternum.

They both startle when he gets to the bullet scar, and his palm flattens between her breasts, covering the place. His mouth parts from hers, his forehead against hers, their breath fast and mingling in the twin thud of heartbeats.

Slowly, he uncovers the wound, the puckered skin she’s stopped trying to hide.

His thumb traces a half-circle around it, and she remembers, vividly, the look in his eyes that morning as he hovered over her, when his hand first touched the spot and came away with blood and he knew.

She remembers that knowledge on his face, pale and drawn, the urgency of his voice.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes between them. His hand is heavy at her breast, the eroticism of his touch making her tremble. “This it the worst timing. I don’t know what this looks like, I don’t know that I can even - keep this baby safe. The sniper is still out there, and there’s no reason at all for them to let me live-”

“Kate,” he croaks. “Kate, I should have said - I should have told you before now. Oh, God, there’s something you should know.”

She freezes, her fists tightening in his shirt, and he runs his hand up to her neck, cups her jaw. He doesn’t let go of her.

“Kate, I’ve done something. I made a deal for your life.”

—–

Castle Ficlet: Waiting to Hope 1/1

Waiting to Hope

Post-8x22

I’ve had this in my head since a couple of days after the finale, and I’m happy that I was able to get it out in time for CastleFanficMonday.


The moment his phone vibrates in his pocket, breaking the pre-meeting silence, he knows something is wrong. He isn’t one to get many calls when he’s overseas, and the fact that it’s barely eight thirty in New York only cements the dread building in his belly.

“Jim Beckett?”

It’s polite, official, and his heart jumps into his throat, strangling his response.

“This is Jim.”

“Mr. Beckett, this is Dr. Bird from New York Presbyterian Hospital. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Katherine Beckett?”

Oh god, Katie.

“I - yes, I am. But her husband -”

“Is unavailable. Which is why we’re calling you. Now, I know this will be tough to hear, but -”

The rest is a blur; he makes every attempt to listen, to understand what this doctor is telling him about his daughter, but the words ‘shot’ and 'emergency surgery’ are enough to drown out everything else. Consent to do whatever they need to do falls out of his mouth without hesitation and the call disconnects long before he registers that the doctor is gone.

His hands tremble as he smooths his palms over his slacks, looking around the empty conference room. This client meeting is important for the firm, but he can’t stay any longer. Not with his daughter fighting for her life back in New York and Rick - his son-in-law - unavailable.

He’s been a lawyer long enough to be able to read between the lines. If Rick isn’t there to make medical decisions for Katie, then he’s in trouble too. There is no way he would be anywhere other than his wife’s side if it were possible. Not after everything they had been through in the last few months.

“Jim? What is it?”

Clearing his throat, he lifts his head to find his associate in the doorway to the empty conference room.

“I - I’m sorry, Dan. I need to go. My daughter - the hospital - I need to get back to New York.”

Dan nods, stepping forward to help him out of the chair he doesn’t even remember collapsing into. “Of course. I’ll handle things here and let Stephen know. Take a cab, call the airline, put it on the company card if it gets you the seat.”

“Alright. I’ll reimburse everything if it comes to that.”

“You won’t. Go back to the hotel and get what you need, then get out of here.”

It isn’t until he’s in the cab, fidgeting and fighting the urge to ask the driver if it’s possible to go faster, that it occurs to him to call Rick’s mother. Surely Martha knows something. Surely Martha is able to be there while he spends the next nine hours in an airport and crammed onto a plane.

As his finger hovers over her contact information, the woman’s photo pops up and the handset buzzes against his palm.

She’s calling him.

He doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. Rude as it may be, he’s sure Martha will forgive his lack of manners.

“Martha, what the hell is happening? How the hell was my daughter shot? And where is Rick?”

“They were both shot, Jim. Kevin and Javier found them at home and they had been - the doctors won’t tell me anything about Katherine, but Richard - it may have hit his lung. They’re both in surgery, that’s all I know.” Even the best acting training can’t keep the tremor from Martha’s voice.

Oh God.

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kristungen  asked:

AU: Neighbors who only meet because I cannot get this stupid jar open, can you help?

Castle grunted as he struggled with the jar of tomato sauce, his muscles flexing as he attempted to get it open so he could start heating it up…to no avail.

“Whatcha doin’, Daddy?” his six-year-old daughter, Alexis, asked, hopping up onto a stool at the kitchen island. Castle puffed out a breath as he turned to her and showed her the stubborn jar. Alexis giggled and held out her hand. “Let me try,” she said and Castle bit back a grin as he handed the jar over to her.

Alexis took a deep breath and then attempted to twist the top off, groaning a little as it refused to budge, her little round face turning beet red with her exertions. She sighed as she relaxed her muscles and placed the jar onto the counter. “It’s no use,” she said, forlornly. “Our pasta is gonna be plain tonight.”

“Not on my watch,” Castle said, grabbing the jar and making his way towards the door, Alexis right on his heels.

“Where are you going?” the girl asked, running to catch up to his long strides.

“I think the new neighbor might be able to open it up,” Castle told her. “He looked pretty strong.” He stepped out into the hall and went two doors down to apartment 4, knocking before Alexis could even catch up.

“Daddy,” she huffed, “the new neighbor isn’t a man; she’s a–”

“Hello?” a woman’s voice pulled Castle’s gaze towards the doorway, door now open, where a young woman with choppy, reddish-brown hair was standing, one elegant eyebrow raised over a startlingly glass green eye. “Can I help you?” she asked when he failed to say anything in return. 

Castle held up the jar. “Can you open this?” he asked and her eyes widened as she stared at the jar, then down at the little redheaded girl, who peeked out shyly from behind her father’s legs. Kate offered her a gentle smile, before looking back up at Castle, who still held the jar out to her.

“You couldn’t do it?” she asked, teasingly, as she took the jar from his hands.

“I’m not too ashamed to admit that I’m not the strongest man alive,” Castle huffed in reply, crossing his arms over his chest. The woman rolled her eyes and attempted to twist the cap off. Again, it would not budge and she took a deep breath. 

“I’ll be right back,” she told them, and then disappeared into her apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“She’s pretty,” Alexis whispered into his leg and all Castle could do was nod, mutely, as he waited for her to return. 

She did, less than a minute later, with a dish towel in hand and the open jar in the other. Castle’s and Alexis’s eyes both widened at the sight. “How did you–what–how?” he stuttered and the woman laughed, holding up the towel, which still had the top held in her grasp.

“Just needed a little traction,” she said. “I’m surprised you don’t know that, being a dad and all.” She smiled down at Alexis again and the girl beamed back this time, showing off her two missing front teeth. The woman chuckled.

“Your dad teach you that?” Castle asked, accepting the jar and top with a soft thanks.

“My mom, actually,” she replied. “She was a pretty wonderful cook.”

“Do you take after her?” Castle gave her a charming grin and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she said, “but not as good as she was.”

He didn’t miss the past tense in her statement and he could feel that there was more to the story than she was revealing right now, but he found himself wanting to know more. 

“I’m sure you’re an amazing cook,” he replied, easily. “In fact, I bet you’re a great cook.”

“Are you trying to get me to cook for you?” the woman asked. 

“Perhaps…is it working?”

She laughed. “Not at all,” she said. “I don’t cook for strangers.”

Castle stuck out his hand. “Richard Edgar Castle,” he said, “nice to meet you. This here is my talking monkey, Alexis,” he motioned to the redhead, who pinched his side, making him giggle. The woman laughed and grasped his hand with her own, sending a shock up his arm–one which she either didn’t feel or was good at hiding.

“Katherine Beckett,” she replied. “You can call me Kate.”

“You can call me Rick,” he countered and she nodded.

“You can call me Alexis,” the young girl piped up and Kate smiled down at her, offering her hand to shake. The little girl took it and gave an impressive squeeze.

“Nice to meet both of you,” she said. “Now I’ll let you get back to your dinner.” She gave them a little wave and was about to close the door, but Castle stopped her before she could.

“Actually,” he said, “would you and your boyfriend like to join us?”

“Boyfriend?” Kate asked, lifting her perfectly sculpted brow again. “What boyfriend?”

“That, uh, Latino guy that was moving things in last week; isn’t her your–”

“No,” Kate interrupted, shaking her head adamantly. “Javi is a work friend; not a boyfriend. He was just helping me move a couple of things.”

Castle felt himself perk up at that and was unable to hide the delight on his face. “Oh,” he said. “Well, in that case, would you–sans boyfriend–like to join us for dinner? We have plenty to eat between just the two of us.”

“And our leftovers always go bad before we can finish them,” Alexis added, sticking her tongue out.

Kate laughed. “I would love to,” she said, “but I have a ton of paperwork to get done before work tomorrow; can I take a rain check?”

“Of course,” Castle replied, nodding. “Is tomorrow any better?”

“If I don’t catch a case,” Kate sighed.

“Lawyer?” he asked.

“Homicide Detective,” she corrected and his eyebrows reached his hairline. There was definitely a story there. “But I’ll try to make it back by six, so…six thirty?”

“Deal,” Castle said with a decisive nod. “See ya then…hopefully.” Kate gave him a brilliant grin and nodded.

“Fingers crossed,” she said, lifting up her hand to show him that her middle and index fingers were, indeed, twisted around one another. Alexis giggled and Castle chuckled, both doing the same. “Good night, guys,” she said, giving them one more beautiful smile before shutting the door.

“I like her,” Alexis said as she followed her father back to their apartment.

“So do I,” he agreed, grinning to himself as he felt a familiar twitch in his fingers. “So do I.”

If you want me to fill a prompt, then go here to find the one you want me to fill and I will get them done ASAP.

Castle Fanfic: Out of the Blue 7/13

Thank you for continuing to stick with me on this journey! I won’t keep you from the chapter for much longer, but if you’ve missed any of the story or just want to read it again, it’s up here.

Out of the Blue - Chapter 7

The look on her face says it all.

This is the last house on their list, the last one they’d both circled, and something about it just doesn’t work. They haven’t even made their way through the entire place, but her eyes tell him she’d be fine walking out right now.

His thumb skirts over her back, feeling the heat of her skin even through the loose cotton. The weather in New York has been mild for this time of year, but here in DC it’s a lot like stepping into a sauna and not being able to leave. Kate’s pulled her hair into a bun, just to keep it off her neck, and she shivers when he blows a line of cool air across her skin.

Their realtor pauses down the hall, waiting for them to catch up. She’s been keeping up a stream of careful chatter about the house and the virtues of the neighborhood; it looks like the suburbs, but it’s close to transportation, the people are friendly, and the schools are thriving, all good points.

It’s a gorgeous house, but it’s just not them.

Still, he smiles politely as she rattles off some tips on taking the current owner’s loud wallpaper down and turn the upstairs study into a nursery. Kate nods beside him, even though he’s pretty sure she has at least partially tuned the woman out. She gets the same look on her face when he dives a little too deep into his conspiracy theories. It’s her placating face.

The tour’s over soon enough, and they find themselves standing in the heat, discussing where to go from here. Kate covers her eyes with the flat of her hand, glancing around quickly before settling on telling Connie they’ll be in touch once they’ve had the chance to talk things over. He agrees quietly, giving their realtor’s hand a firm shake before leading Kate to the rental he’d picked up at the airport when his flight landed on Thursday.

The car’s probably unnecessary, but it means they can come and go as they please instead of having to ride with Connie.

It also has the benefit of an insanely good air conditioner. Thank god.

Kate echoes his sentiment with a groan that’s entirely obscene. His answering hum is probably close to the same level, but neither of them seem to care. In fact, they both train their vents onto their faces and shut their eyes. It looks strange for them to just sit there, he knows, but anyone spying on them will have to deal with it for a few minutes.

“Thank you, Castle,” she murmurs finally. She smiles when he peeks an eye open, continuing, “For not knocking me up earlier in the year, thus causing me to be extremely pregnant during a heat wave like this.”

He chuckles, partially from her conviction and partially because she said ‘heat wave.’ It’s the little things sometimes.

“Glad to be of service, Beckett.”

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