Thought of it randomly one night and it wouldn't go away. Some plots can just be so persistent. What're you gonna do?
Anyways, in the spirit of Christmas I'm giving out little presents to those who want them. If you want to you can PM with the plot of a one-shot or drabble you'd like to see written and I'll write it. I've been wanting to say thank you to all of my wonderful readers and the only thing I'm decent at is writing so I'm going to give you stories. So if you want one and have even the most basic of plots don't even hesitate for a moment to message me.
Disclaimer: Don't own Castle, though sometimes I really wish I did so I could give certain characters a good kick in the pants.
Kids were always the hardest. They didn't know that the world they lived in was cruel and unforgiving, they weren't aware of the fact that their life would only get more and more complicated as life wore on. They had their whole lives ahead of them. And for someone to take that away from an innocent child, to rob a kid of their life so horribly, it was proof enough that human beings could be monstrous. So when you found the mangled body of an eight year-old girl in an alleyway it was impossible not to be affected by it, not to feel the pain creeping into your heart.
She couldn't stop seeing the image of that tiny girl lying motionless and bloody on the concrete, eyes staring lifelessly back at her. She knew if she tried to sleep they'd haunt her dreams, the small child's cries for help materializing in her subconscious. So she didn't sleep, instead choosing to sit by the window with a cup of coffee. The lights outside were bright as she watched people walk around on the sidewalk, coming up with a story for each of them. That was something she'd picked up from Rick. When they'd first started going out they'd spent a lot of time in Central Park just sitting on the benches and people watching. She'd pick a random person and he spun the tale of their life, which was usually a little more dramatic than she suspected that person's life actually was. Not long after she found herself doing it as she passed people on the streets, spinning stories of lost love and realized dreams.
In some ways, it brought innocence back into her world. Sometimes, when the story was just the right amount of hopeful and captivating, she could understand why Rick loved to write. Through the stories she could escape, she could try and find a semblance of hope in a grey world. But tonight the stories refused to chase away the memories of the crime scene and the distraught faces of the girl's parents. After hours of sitting in the chair trying to force them to fade away the images still remained. She took another sip of her coffee, knowing that if she allowed sleep to claim her she'd be woken up by her own screams.
It was some time before she heard the soft padding of footsteps on the stairs and she turned around to find Rick standing there, hair sticking up at odd angles and yawns groggily escaping his lips. He took one look at her, rolled his neck until he heard a satisfying pop, and made his way over to the stereo. Seconds later she heard the first notes of Michael Bublé's song Everything echoing off the walls of the loft. She watched him skeptically as he turned around, wiped the sleep from his eyes and danced over to her. He stopped right in front of her, taking both of her hands in his and smiling sweetly at her. He began to move again, swinging her arms so she was forced to dance along with him.
She looked up into his eyes, those twinkling blue orbs of his, and felt her lips twitch until a grin rested on her face. She began willingly moving along with him, spinning around as he lifted his arm over her head. They twirled and made their way around the living room, both of them laughing now. He spun her until her arms were across her stomach, effectively pressing her back into his chest as they playfully swayed. She turned her head to give him a soft kiss as the song ended and could feel him grinning against her lips. She pulled back and turned around, still staring intently at his eyes.
They'd always been good at communicating without words, using only looks to get points across. So naturally they both knew that through this shared look she was saying thank you, for everything. Eventually she stepped away from him, immediately missing the warmth of his body, and began to lightly pull him towards the stairs. He put an arm around her as they climbed towards their bedroom, playing with the hair that had escaped her bun. As they collapsed onto the bed and cuddled up to each other both of them knew there would be no nightmares tonight.
Ahem...review? Please? I'd love it ever so much.