AN: This is what happens when I have dinner with my relatives.
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.
He knew this day was coming; he's known it for a while now. His mobility on the stairs had started to slow weeks ago. It had become harder to breathe as the days progressed and he felt a sense of impending doom. Rick knew he could be over dramatic, except for one thing, the dreams.
When he slept, he dreamt about coffins. Or more specifically, caskets containing him. He found it eerie that he looked down at his serene, motionless body. Then again, he knew he would be at peace when the time came. He was never frightened by the dreams. In fact, he sometimes relished in them, especially the ones containing her.
She was always as beautiful as the day she breathed her last breath. The offending bullet wounds that caused her death no where in sight. Dressed in a white, gossamer gown, his wife called to him like a siren with her hand stretched out, beckoning him to come with her. Her hazel eyes always shining with love and adoration and a joyful smile played on her lips. He always tried to follow her, he did, but he could never get close enough before he woke up.
Now, as he laid in bed, he could feel his breathing grow heavier and his vision foggier by the moment. Sitting on the bed beside him, he thought he could make out a figure dressed in white. She was smiling gently at him, trying to hold his hand as he began to breathe his last. She lifted her hand and stroked his hair; it only felt like a slight breeze to him. As his heart stopped beating and his eyes fluttered shut, the figure's smile grew wider and he heard a soft chuckle.
"You finally coming, Castle?"
AN: So, promised myself I would never do this, but I did. It was more spur of the moment, so it's not really detailed and clean so to speak. The discussion at dinner was about dreams people have right before they die. As always, constructive criticism is welcome.