This was a special challenge – writing a story for Adriana, whom I don't know. Adriana, I hope it leaves you with warm and cozy feelings. My deepest condolences for you and your family. Losing your dad is a terrible thing, and I hope you come to peaceful terms with it. Be sure to ask for help if it gets too hard. None of us is alone, although grief can certainly make us feel that way.

I had no idea what to write for several days, and I found that trying to figure it out brought up a certain sadness, missing my own parents who've been dead for over fifteen years now. The missing never really goes away, but it's become manageable over time. I think they would have loved Castle and Beckett. My dad was smart, blue-eyed and had a ridiculous sense of humor. Beckett is sarcastic, sharp on the outside and soft on the inside, witty, and has amazing green eyes. The best of both of them.

Surprisingly, this story is only peripherally about Castle and Beckett, but I hope you'll like it anyway. The first sentence comes from a writer's prompt I found on Twitter.

Resting the Case

A Castle Fanfiction

•••

The baby was screaming again. Johanna rolled over on her back and sighed, then sat up. "Coming, sweetie. Mommy's coming." The studio apartment was chilly... spring weather too warm to justify running the heater, too cold for a baby's comfort.

Jim reached over, stopping Johanna with a gentle hand. "My turn."

"No. Sleep. You have a trial in the morning."

He got up, not even bothering to put on a robe or slippers. He ran warm. "Who knows, I might get lucky and free-associate something brilliant in a sleep-deprived fugue state."

Johanna chuckled as he padded to the crib, and said, "Only you can talk like that at 2:45 a.m."

"And only you can understand what I'm saying," he smiled. "Hey, Katie-bug," He bent over and picked up all seven pounds of her, holding her close. "You hungry?"

Katie wasn't interested in him, but she did calm a little. He carried her back to Johanna, who lifted her shirt, latching Katie to her breast. The baby snuffled then tucked in with a will, her little fists flailing. Katherine Houghton Beckett had been born fighting, five weeks early, and only stopped for snacks and naps.

Jim chuckled. "I'm not supposed to be jealous." His wife looked gorgeous in the dim light from the street.

Johanna giggled. "Patience. She won't nurse forever, then I'm all yours."

"You sure you just want one?"

"I am right now!"

He lay back down next to her, keeping them warm, rubbing Katie's feet as he had done when she was a preemie. She'd been hooked to tubes in an incubator. Johanna had had the brains to tell the nurse he was her husband, so he could see the baby in NICU, even when Johanna was stuck in the maternity ward. It had been a nightmare time, Katie's lungs and eyes not ready for the world. She'd been born just before Thanksgiving, but they'd had her home only since the first week of January. Her feet were still no longer than his pinkie fingers, but they pushed hard against his hand. She was strong. She would grow up like her mother... a handful, and so worth it.

Almost asleep, he didn't even realize he was saying it aloud. "Will you marry me?"

"What!" Johanna whispered. "It's 1980, Jimmy! I thought we agreed we don't need a piece of paper." Her parents had been fiercely old-world. Johanna, on the other hand, was just fierce. It would have been a fight just to give Katie his last name, except that she was born early and he needed rights to visit them both in the hospital. When her mother arrived and saw him at Katie's incubator, all her rage at their scandalous living arrangement and out-of-wedlock baby completely melted away. After that she'd welcomed him, more or less. He knew she added extra garlic to his meals, just to test his bland, WASP palate. He always asked for seconds. He'd learned not to eat dinner at his inlaws' place the night before a trial.

"I know," he said. "We did say that."

"You're just having a Dark Night of the Soul."

"That's not it."

"Oh?"

"Johanna, I know. You're a free spirit, a modern woman, you don't need a man, you'll be back in law school when summer session starts. I know all that."

"Then what?"

He sighed. "I want to be a family with you. I don't want anything more than... this."

"What about what I want?" her voice had an edge. She pulled the baby from one nipple with minimal fuss and expertly latched her on the other side.

"Okay. What do you want?"

She cleared her throat. "A drink of water would be nice. My mouth's gone dry."

He chuckled. "Always count on you for a direct answer to the question I didn't ask."

"No leading the witness," she said. "Not too cold, okay?" He got up and returned from the sink with a glass of tepid water from the filter pitcher. The pipes were old. They worried about lead.

"Thank you, Darling." She drank the glass down and set it on her night stand as Jim climbed back into bed again. The baby had fallen asleep. He took her tiny form and lay her on his chest, her knees and elbows tucked against her torso like a tree frog. He smiled. "Doctor confirm she's gained weight?"

Johanna nodded. "A pound over the last six weeks. And an inch. She's catching up."

"I knew you could do it," he said proudly.

She tucked her head onto his shoulder, her arm across his waist, securing the baby's bottom. "Katie will be rolling soon and we won't be able to do this anymore," she said sadly.

"Yes, but the good news is after that, she'll be crawling. We can hire a nanny so you can get study time in." There was no questioning that Johanna would return to the university, become an attorney, change the world. With flying colors. She was a force of nature. She had rescued him from his gray flannel prison and three-martini-lunches. She'd made him bloom. It was only fair that she have her chance.

Johanna was quiet a long while; he thought she was asleep and had nearly drifted off again himself.

"Jim," she murmured.

"Yuh."

"I want to finish law school first. Get my practice started."

"Then?"

"Then Katie can be our flower girl. She'll be four. Three's too young, they always end up crying." She was right about this, of course. She had a lot of Italian cousins on her mom's side. They'd only been together two years, and had already attended three weddings. Apparently, brides travel in packs.

"So, say fall of 1983?"

"Something like that. No rush."

He reached into his bedside drawer, found the engagement ring in the front left corner, and slipped it onto her ring finger. The room was dark, her head remained on his shoulder. She didn't protest, just patted his waist gently. She didn't even look at it.

"How long have you had this?" she murmured.

"I was waiting for the right time."

She didn't answer with anything more than the very faintest snore.

He smiled up at the ceiling and whispered, "The defense rests."