Her eyes are on her mother's case file as the news plays on the television in front of her. Next to her, lies the last Derek Storm novel. She was planning on reading it for the third time. Ten more minutes, she told herself, and then you read.

Looking through her mother's case files those days, after searching so long and hard for clues, well, it was now more of her staring at the page, wondering if something would finally pop out at her. She runs a hand down her short brown hair, feeling stressed and overwhelmed. But that, well, that was her normal mood.

"Millions of fans mourn the loss of their favorite author. Today, international bestselling novelist, Richard Castle was killed in a car accident while on a book tour." Katherine Beckett's eyes immediately looked up from the file, finding herself staring right into the eyes of Richard Castle. His picture, anyway. She stared at the news anchor in shock, finding herself silently cursing the woman's calm demeanor and tone. He was dead.

It hit her harder than it should have. A punch to the gut, to the chest. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. Fantasies of a life she never had flashed before her eyes. They aren't real, she told herself, yet they felt to unbelievably fresh, and as if they belonged.

In her fantasies, her hair grew, in her fantasies, the author appeared before her, there was a case she had to solve, and it involved him. Outside her fantasies, there were tears running down her face. Oh god, she thought to herself, what is happening to me?

She felt a hand caress her cheek, a kiss light on her head. She felt her heart swell into some form of love and joy that was too big for her to carry.

A sharp pain hit her in the chest, where he heart was. She felt weak, tired, but words still reached her. They belonged to a voice, that in her real life, she had only heard at book signings and interviews. "Don't leave me, please. Stay with me. Ok. Kate, I love you. I Love you Kate." So full of love, emotion.

She found herself on the floor, head between her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. What the hell is wrong with you? She thought to herself, you didn't even know him.

But in the images in her head, she did. In her head, she knew him better than anyone. He was childish, sweet, loving, caring, a concerned father. In her head, he offered to take her away to keep her safe. In her head, he held her up and kept her going when she didn't think she could handle things anymore. She saw a ring, the sparkle a brilliant shine of pure love. Always.

Always. She wasn't sure why that word popped into her mind, why it filled her with such emotion. She was hyperventilating now, feeling as if there was no air for her to take in. She hadn't felt like this in a while. She managed to block all the pain off. But with the death of this author, she just felt like all the pain was seeping through her cracks, the wall she built tumbling around her. "That wall that I was telling you about, I think that's coming down,"

Her voice. She recognized it. But as she saw herself she looked somewhat happier, her hair longer. She looked a bit older. That'll never happen, she thought to herself. "Well, I'd like to be there when it does." A response.

She hadn't noticed that her hand had crumpled up her mother's case file, almost as if it was irrelevant. She tossed it aside, the wave of emotions never letting up, sending her spiraling, words and pictures filling her mind, thoughts she never had for anyone, really, lingering, filling her. She saw herself standing on a bomb, a tear running down her face. "Rick…..I love you."

Words she would never say, that she would never be brave enough to say so casually to a guy, filled her, continous streams of never ending love. She could see her had writing a letter, stringing together words that had never been written.' I love you with all my heart. Always.'

Always. If any of this had ever happened, if the things she was were to ever have come true, would that have been their word, would that have been their promise to each other. She wondered, she contemplated, for hours. Sitting there, the news turning to some program she would never care about. All she could see were his eyes and a future that would never be.

Because Always had ended before it had even begun.

A/N: I bet that was a little confusing….yeah it was to me to write. But it was a one-shot to fill a prompt. It sounded so much easier in my head, but it was SO much harder to write.