Window of My Mind
"But it's when I close my eyes that I see clearly; through the window of my mind I see you."
Set Christmas, Season 8, inspired by Chris Hadfield's song of the same title.
The tall man pulled his hood up from under his coat to shield his neck and ears from the biting wind. His baseball cap kept his face in shadow below the security lamps of the bus station. He readjusted his bulging rucksack on his shoulder and stuck his hands in his pockets as he waited for the bay to be announced. A heavy sigh lifted his chest and left his chin drooping down in exhaustion as he leaned against the wall.
Two hours to get to the bus station; the eighteen minute walk had turned into a hike as he'd twisted and turned down side streets heading deliberately in the wrong direction. The feeling of playing badass spy, throwing off would-be followers, had faded as his bag grew heavier and heavier.
12.40am, on December 26th, and the station was a busier than you might expect. Three buses had already left since the timetable restarted at 12.10am, and the 1.00am to Syracuse was due to arrive at any moment to collect its passengers. The sense of impatient anticipation was beginning to rise among the small crowd, some heading to their families for their Christmas break, others leaving them behind to get back for work.
One in particular was heading home. Not to a place, though he had a destination. But to a person. His heart. His home.
This man, the tall man hiding his face from light and all-seeing cameras, alighted the bus and showed his ticket to the driver before he took his seat by the window about halfway down. He put his backpack on his knees and hugged it to his chest, pulling his baseball cap down over his face entirely and letting his tired eyes rest.
Rick Castle could play this part, this traveller on the road to somewhere in the middle of the night just after Christmas, with a frown on his face and a fire in his heart.
4.58am, and the bus pulled into the station at Syracuse right on time, the cutting of the engine breaking Rick from his slumber. He wiped his hand over his face to rouse himself before he fixed his cap on his head and descended from the bus. He jogged to the bathroom, and when that task was complete, he found a drinks machine, dropping the required coins into the slot for a water. The PA system announced the arrival of the 5.12am bus to Kingston, and he hurried to meet it.
Another ticket shown to another driver, another window seat, another leg of his journey home.
He dozed, his mind walking through the strange half-dreams between waking and sleeping, his imagination taking him to his journey's end far quicker than any transportation made by mortal man.
Dawn came, grey and dour, muffled groans from his fellow passengers heralding the arrival of the sun. Passing Schenectady, the long shadows of the buildings reached their dark fingers across the land, creating a life-size stage set as the bus rumbled through the landscape and into Albany for a short stop before breaking through the city boundaries and following the Hudson River on its journey south.
Finally the mountains came into view through the window, the peaks dusted with white snow, while the prairies and towns reaching up to the highway were frosted, making the green turn pale and grey. His fingers scratched against his rucksack, tapping at a rate an audio typist would be proud of, yet he did nothing to quiet them. He kept his eyes fixed on the view from the window, a small smile on his lips.
9.04am, and he was back on solid ground trying to get his knees moving once more. He drank the last of his water, crushed the bottle into a recycling can on his way out of the bathroom, and headed out of the bus station to find the taxi rank. He kept his hood up, the wind cutting down to the bone, almost worse here than back in New York in the middle of the night. He shifted his weight in the line for cabs, scoffed to himself when he thought of some prosaic line about not feeling the cold when there was warmth in his heart.
He jumped into the next cab as soon as it pulled up to the front of the line. "Cooper Lake, please."
The cabbie half turned in his seat, "Anything past Bearsville's an extra twenty bucks."
"No problem," Rick answered, with a shrug as he pulled his hood down and the cabbie turned to the front again.
"Then you got it, man."
The rest of the journey passed in silence, the view from the cab's window barely keeping his thoughts occupied until the outskirts of Bearsville, when Rick spoke up. "Hey, uh…" He cleared his throat of its rough, emotion-weary gravel, "It's on the South East side of the lake, can you just go slowly and I'll show you the lane to turn down? Then just keep it slow, it's a kind of rough track."
With a nod, the cabbie replied, "Sure, man, you got it."
Within a few minutes, Rick indicated the turn to the driver, and he shifted on the backseat to grab his wallet from his pocket. As he looked up, he saw Kate, his heart, his wife, curled up on the porch with two cups of coffee and the biggest smile he'd ever seen.
"Hey, man, you gonna get out, or just sit there cryin' at the pretty lady?" Rick wiped at his face to clear his eyes of the tears that had sprung up without him realising, just enough to see he wasn't overpaying the cabbie by too much. He jumped out of the cab with his rucksack and jogged up to Kate, throwing his cap off before he rushed into her kiss, let her feel the tracks of his tears when she cupped his cheeks with her slim fingers.
"Merry Christmas, Mrs Castle," he whispered against her lips.
"Merry Christmas, Mr Beckett," she replied with a grin.
A/N: It's been an amazing year, which really explains why I've not posted much around here. But I'm going to do my best to get on with the unfinished stuff, I promise. Merry Christmas, everyone, and a Peaceful New Year.