In the early morning hours, as sunlight just barely filters in through the windows, she can't help one thought from repeating itself over and over in her mind:
This was definitely not the life she had envisioned for herself.
As a little girl, she dressed up in pink dresses layered in tulle, imagined herself as a beautiful princess out to conquer the world. She was frequently lost in daydreams where she saw her future unfold naturally in front of her, a boy and a ring and a family.
She tried on different personalities, created a world where her professional dreams constantly rotated, running the gamut from stern but caring teacher to tender-loving vet (despite her parents' persistent refusal to bring a furry creature into their home) all the way to queen of the world (tiara affixed upon her head for days at a time, firm in her outright refusal to remove it even to sleep).
As she grew up, her dreams matured with her. She considered with some seriousness going into education or medicine or psychology, before finally settling on law sometime around her final year of high school, entranced by the contradictory combination of deep-rooted history and constant evolution.
She imagined becoming the type of mother that Johanna was: indomitable in a courtroom, soft and sweet and present at home. Firm when necessary, of course, but open and loving and comforting and so very warm.
She pictured herself marrying a man like her father: patient to a fault, almost unbearably kind, fiercely intelligent, unerringly loyal.
She never thought she'd make it past 30 without having the opportunity to try to be a mother like her own was, without entering into a lifelong commitment borne of desire and love.
She could never have foreseen the horrific turn of events that her life would take, the way she would find herself careening downhill at neck-breaking speed in its wake, the pieces of her father she would fight desperately to keep together.
It never once crossed her pretty little mind that she'd suddenly and unwillingly be thrust into adulthood at the tender age of 19 after burying her mother who had been murdered.
She certainly never considered becoming a cop.
No, this was very much not what she had envisioned for herself.
But the sound of tiny feet rushing down the hall followed immediately by a, "Shhh, Mommy is still sleeping," and the whoosh of air of a child being lifted off the ground, reminds her that this life is so much more than she ever could have fathomed.
Quiet once again settles over the loft, punctuated by the far-off sounds of breakfast-making in the kitchen and the occasional giggle floating through the slightly open door.
After another long moment, she convinces herself to get out of bed, padding softly into the bathroom to get herself ready for the day.
She slips quietly into the hallway, not wanting to disturb the delicateness of the early morning atmosphere that he has no doubt been careful to create, convincing their three year old to keep his voice soft while he makes Mickey Mouse pancakes for their regular Sunday morning breakfast.
But, of course, it isn't long before he naturally becomes aware of her presence, seemingly always in tune with her every move. His face lights up immediately, his lips lifting of their own accord.
Their son catches on upon seeing his father's expression and turns around to run straight at her, colliding with her legs so hard that she almost loses her balance.
"Hey there, sweet boy. Trying to take mommy out?" Her voice is soft as she cards her fingers through his still baby soft dark, curly hair. He shakes his head against her legs, his quiet nature always offset by his physicality, by the way he bodily embraces all things, all the while being careful with his words, thoughtfully running them through his head before they cross his lips.
He's a lot like her in that way.
But when he finally looks up and makes eye contact with her, she's reminded that he is also very much his father: piercing blue eyes that simply melt her, her arms going to lift him without any conscious thought.
And as he snuggles in close against her neck and Castle makes his way over to press a soft kiss to her lips, all she can think is:
This was definitely not the life she envisioned for herself.
But boy, is she grateful.