"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present." - Francis Bacon
Her alarm goes off too early. Always, always too early. She reaches over, fumbling for her phone to silence the blaring noise.
She takes a moment, burrowing back under the pile of blankets, to rest in the morning darkness. For a minute, she wishes she could drift back to sleep. At least until the sun rises and normal people are awake.
Kate hasn't had that luxury in years so she swings her legs out from her bed, her toes curling against the chilly tile floor as she heads toward the tiny bathroom attached to her bedroom. The water in the sink takes a minute to warm up enough for her to wash her face, flicking water from her fingers on her way back toward the closet.
She forgoes the pretty blouses and sundresses for a pair of bright red shorts and a navy and white striped t-shirt, tying her hair up in a ponytail and slipping her feet into a pair of worn-in boat shoes.
The sun has just barely started to rise when she steps outside onto the path around the little house she calls her own. Overhead, she can hear the grinding gears of the lighthouse as the beam of light cuts through the morning fog. Might need some grease today, she thinks, as she unlocks the storage at the base.
Kate takes the folded flag from the top shelf, holding the soft fabric against her chest as she props the lighthouse door open with a rock, letting the sea-salted air whip past her as she moves to the flag pole. She clips the flag to the rope, pulling it up until it halts at the top, looping the extra rope around the shoehorn so that it stays secure.
When she turns to look out over the parking lot toward the path down to the beach, she finds a single car with their headlights running. It gives her pause. No one has ever been at the lighthouse this early and, for a moment, she wishes she had her gun again, her fingers drifting toward her hip.
But she doesn't carry a gun anymore, that life in her past, so Kate memorizes the license plate and continues her morning chores while keeping an eye on her early visitor.
The car is gone when she comes down the twisting stairs with her can of grease.
It's two days before the silver car shows up again, this time around noon when the cliffs are crowded with tourists and locals making their way down to the public beach. But it's the same license plate and she can see the outline of a man's figure through the tinted windows.
This time, though, the driver gets out, wandering toward the beach entrance.
He's handsome, hands in the pockets of his jeans with a open button-up over a ratty t-shirt. Kate almost goes over to him but the daughter of one of her neighbors comes running at her and instead of talking to the stranger, Kate bends down to scoop Giselle into her arms, blowing raspberries in the girl's neck as the girl shrieks with laughter.
It's pouring.
She still isn't sure where the rain came from since the sky had been a bright, cloudless blue all day but now the water is sheeting down sideways in the wind. Kate watches from the safety of her lighthouse as beachgoers run for their cars with blankets over their heads, the rain sprinkling her legs with cold droplets.
And there's the man again, struggling with the door of his car.
Kate hears his curse through the howling wind, sees him kick the wheel of the sedan.
After five minutes of watching him pace the parking lot, alone with mud on his pants and his clothes soaked through, she flips the hood of her jacket up and dashes out toward him. He startles when she grabs his shirt and starts dragging him toward her home.
"What are you-?"
"Just come with me," she shouts over the wind, jogging through the rain until she reaches her front door. She flings the door open, shoves the man inside, and fights with the weather to shut the door behind them.
He stands there, a puddle forming on the wood floor at his feet as he stares at her. "Thanks?"
"Yeah," Kate says, taking her rain jacket off and hanging it on the wall rack. "What happened out there?"
"Locked my keys and phone in the car," he mumbles, watching her as she kicks off her shoes. "Who are you?"
She ducks into the laundry room, reappearing in an oversized NYU sweatshirt with a bundle of clothes in her arms which she shoves into his hands. "Kate. And you are?"
"Rick."
Kate leads him into the kitchen, nodding toward the bathroom. "Those should fit," she says, gesturing at the clothes. "My ex was about your size but if they don't, we can figure something out so you don't catch a cold sitting in those wet clothes."
He goes into the bathroom, still stuck with a look of confusion painted on his dripping face.
She pushes the sleeves of her sweatshirt to her elbows as she pops one of the Keurig pods into the coffee maker, flipping the machine on so the water heats up. On her tiptoes, she pulls down two mugs from the cabinet, setting them on her countertop before leaning against the fridge to wait for the man to come out.
After a couple of minutes, Rick reemerges. The sweatpants are loose, cinched tight at his waist but the t-shirt clings to his arms and Kate can't stop herself from casting her gaze over him.
"I don't know where you want me to put these," he says, holding up his soaked jeans and sweater.
Kate takes them from his hands, tossing them into the dryer and starting the cycle.
"I'm making coffee," she tells Rick. "You want some?"
She doesn't wait for his answer before she sticks one of the mugs under the machine and hits the button to start the water filtering through the grounds.
"Who are you?" he asks again.
Kate fixes him with a look as she switches out the mugs. "Kate. We did this already, you know."
"No, no. I mean, who are you? Like, what are you doing here?"
She takes the milk from her fridge, adding a splash to her mug, putting the jug away when he shakes his head at her offer. "I own the lighthouse." The coffee burns her tongue when she takes the first sip, watching him carefully. "Besides, you're the one who has been showing up here fairly regularly for the last week. Should be asking you what you're doing here."
Rick shrugs, blowing on the surface of his coffee. "Just visiting the area."
"Sure," she responds skeptically.
"Not lying," he insists, following her to the living room couch. "Promise."
She puts away her interrogation skills in favor of flipping on the news and watching with him as the meteorologist forecasts that the storm will blow through quickly but leaving a chance of flooding along the coast. Kate can hear the breakers crashing against the cliffsides outside her windows, the wind cutting around the structure of her house and the tower lighting the angry waters.
After the weather report, he takes her offered landline phone and calls OnStar to get the car remote unlocked.
When the dryer beeps, Kate unfolds from the couch to retrieve his clothes. He changes back into the dried jeans and sweater, returning the borrowed clothes to the laundry room just as the storm moves out leaving just the grey sky.
"Thank you for the coffee and shelter, Kate," he says, hand on the doorknob to leave.
She leans against the hall, her sweatshirt sleeves covering her palm when she reaches out to shake his hand. "Don't be a stranger, okay? I like having visitors out here."
Kate makes sure he gets to his car, sliding into the driver's seat and hearing the engine turn over before she waves from the doorway.
She's up in the gallery with a throw blanket around her shoulders when she hears him calling her name from below. Two minutes after she answers, he pushes open the door next to her.
"Hey," he greets, waving a bottle of wine and two mugs toward her. "Brought you a thank you present for letting a strange man take cover in your house. Hope you like red."
Kate grins, wiggling the already loose cork from the neck of the bottle and reaching for one of the mugs in his hand. She pours, examining the bottle as Rick settles beside her. "Wait," she shouts, shoving the wine back toward him. "That's a fifty dollar bottle of wine. I can't accept-"
"You can," he responds easily, pouring some into his mug and tucking the bottle back along the paned glass holding the turning light. "A small token of my appreciation in a time when the universe hasn't been too kind to me."
"You rich or something?" she asks, taking a small sip and letting the heavy flavor of the wine smooth over her mouth before flipping half of her blanket up and onto his shoulder in invitation.
Rick shrugs, moving closer until their hips kiss so he can wrap the blanket over his back. "I'm doing okay. Might get tight once the alimony payment comes due." He takes a drink from his mug, looking out over the sunset-lit waves. "Of course, once I get this manuscript in and the publisher cuts my advance check, I'll be back buying cases of this wine."
Kate pauses, mug cupped in her hands as she traces a careful eye over his face. "You're a writer?"
"I hardly think one book makes me a writer," he scoffs.
"Anything I might have read?"
"Not likely. The reviews called it 'a poor attempt at Patterson's greatness' if I recall correctly."
She lets a small smile spread across her face, tilting her head to knock it against his. "Oh, I don't know, Mr. Castle. I didn't think it was half that bad."
He nearly drops the cup over the railing into the crashing waves. "How… You recognize me?"
"My mother loved that book," she shares, tugging the blanket to cover her bare toes. "It was the last thing on her bedside table when she died and reading it made me feel like…" She shakes her head, tracing her thumbnail over the curved handle of the mug. "It's stupid but it made me feel like she was still here."
Rick reaches over, taking her hand into his. "Not stupid. Human."
They sit in silence as the sun slips under the covers of the ocean and the sky turns inky at the horizon, drinking the expensive wine and cuddling under the flannel blanket. Kate doesn't let herself look at it too closely, afraid that this magnetism between them will pull them together too quickly and they'll burn out fast and bright. But it's hard to ignore, even after just a couple of hours spent in his company, that there's something there.
"So," he murmurs in deference to the late hour. "If I'm here hiding from my failed marriage, why are you here taking care of a lighthouse?"
Kate swallows, considering whether she's ready to tell this story to him. "It was Mom's dream, owning a lighthouse out here. And when she died, I felt like it was my duty to help fulfill that. So I found one that was in need of some repairs and dove in. Been here almost two years now." Her breath shudders out and Kate forces a smile. "Now that I've appropriately lowered the mood, would-"
"Want to go out to dinner with me?" he cuts in. From the look on his face, even he didn't expect the words to come tumbling out.
So she returns the gesture with a similarly unexpected one.
"Sure."
He doesn't let go of her hand for the rest of the night and she finds that she doesn't mind at all.
Six months later, he proposes in the same spot, the sun just rising over the Atlantic Ocean.
And in the timid colors of dawn, she lets him slide the ring onto her finger before they circle down the stairs to create a little celebratory light of their own.
Based on a prompt from the Castlefanfics Prompt Challenge: AU - Ocean.