Anonymous asked: Indy. Fanfic. please. please. please. please. please :)

Hi Anon! I hope you like this!

Monochrome

A Start All Over Again prequel

For the third morning in a row, a dull, pathetic whine woke her from her slumber, bringing her back to consciousness far sooner than she needed to be.

"Dog wants out," she mumbled, burrowing deeper into her pillow, tugging the covers higher on her shoulders with a clumsy hand. She'd gotten in late last night, had taken Indy for a walk then. "Your turn."

When the whining continued, Kate's eyes slid open, the sharp twinge of disappointment flooding her system. Right. She had almost managed to forget – had forgotten – that the other side of the bed was now empty. Her co-walker no longer warmed the pillow beside hers. There would be no more taking turns, now it was just her.

Castle was gone. He'd moved the last of his things out just under a week ago, waiting to leave for good until she got home from work, wanting to make sure they would have the chance to say goodbye. A part of her was grateful to have had the extra few hours with him, but she couldn't help but think it had hurt more that way; watching him play with Indy, kissing him for the last time, and then watching as he shouldered his bag and left without looking back.

Indy whimpered again, pulling Kate from her memory, forcing her to focus on something other than her melancholy.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she sighed, rolling over and pushing herself up. Scratching a hand through her hair, she gave herself a moment to shake off the remaining fuzziness of her slumber. "I know you're used to mornings with him, but can you maybe think about waking up to pee a little bit later from now on?"

Her dog's only answer was to careen around the edge of the bed to meet her.

"Yeah," she said, stretching a hand to brush Indy's fur. "I know, baby. We'll work on it."

They just needed a new routine. Something that didn't involve expecting to wake up to a kiss and the delicious aroma of coffee that had been prepared while Rick took Indy on her walk. Something that didn't involve wallowing over the void Rick Castle had left in their lives.

The latter was easier said than done, of course.

Indy's head bumped her fingertips again, warning her that she needed to get moving. Princess Indigo would not be kept waiting for much longer.

"Don't suppose you started the coffee before you came to wake me up, huh?" she asked, heaving herself from her mattress and squinting in the darkness to find something warm to throw on over her pajamas. Her dog cocked her head, nudging Kate toward the chair she usually tossed her things onto each night.

"I'll take that as a no," she answered on Indy's behalf, wry. "Okay, go on. I'll be right behind you."

At the dismissal, Indy skittered across the bedroom, heading into the living area, toward the hook with her leash by the front door. They've trained Indy well, Kate thought, pulling a sweatshirt over her head and shoving her feet into her shoes. Now she just needed to train the dog to sleep in – especially on her days off – instead of waking up at four forty the way Rick almost always had.

Leaving her bedroom, Kate tossed a wistful glance into the kitchen; coffee would just have to wait until they got back. Maybe she would get lucky and be able to go back to sleep for a little while anyway, since, unlike the day before, she didn't have to be up in an hour. That was one of the perks to being on call, though she had planned to go in anyway and finish up her paperwork.

Maybe she would see if she could sneak Indy into the precinct for a few hours, and then she could spend the rest of the day out with the dog. Either way, she had little inclination to stick around at home and contemplate the spaces that her ex had once filled.

Kate sighed, rubbing her forehead. She needed to go back to bed, rest, and get a handle on herself; every damn thought she had for the next eternity could not be about Richard Castle. She loved him, he loved her, and they'd decided it was best to preserve that love instead of forcing it to weather the strain and struggle of reassignment and separation. That was that.

"All right, Indy, let's go," she murmured, grabbing her keys and lifting the leash from the hook, igniting her dog's excitement once again.

Thirty minutes later she led Indigo back inside, keeping the dog on the leash long enough to grab a towel and wipe her paws. Between the dew and the dirt, Indy needed to be wiped down (and probably more, but that wasn't a battle to be fought at five AM). She especially needed the clean-up if Kate was going to let her up on the bed once the coffee was ready. (She would, they both knew it.)

"Okay," she said finally, her voice practically booming through the apartment. "Go get in bed. Da-Daddy's side," she added around the crack in her voice.

God, she'd felt so silly the first time it slipped out, so domestically cliché, but Castle had eaten it up so she'd allowed the name to keep springing to her lips. She hadn't shied away – much – from his gleeful assertions that she was 'Mommy.' They really had been a family, though.

Now she was a single dog parent, missing her partner in crime.

Indy bounded past her legs, disappearing into the bedroom without looking back. Kate wasn't sure if she would find the dog on her pillow or at the foot of the comforter, but she had no doubt that she would find her on the bed.

Sure enough, when she returned to her room with a steaming mug of coffee, her sweet dog was sacked out with her head on the pillow where Rick had once slept. Kate smothered a chuckle, kicking off her shoes and leaving her hoodie – Castle's hoodie, she had realized once they were walking – as she slid underneath the covers once again.

Indy blinked, giving her sleepy eyes. Sure, now the dog wanted to sleep. Now that Beckett was up and had made coffee strong enough to revive a tranquilized elephant.

Oh well, that was fine. She might manage to doze off again too, even with the coffee. And if not, she would just read while the rest of the day caught up to her. She would let Indigo's sleep-running amuse her if she wound up unable to pay attention to the words in front of her.

Then, once it was a more reasonable hour, they would have breakfast – and yes, she would share her toast with Indigo – and head to work, making the most of their day even in the absence of bright blue eyes, a boyish smile, firm arms, and soft whispers of love. All she had to do was put one foot in front of the other and it would get easier.

Maybe not today, sitting here wrapped in his sweater, their dog sleeping by her side, but eventually it would be fine.