Disclaimer: Castle and all related characters/moments/things are not mine, and belong solely to ABC.
First fic that I'm publishing to this site.
As a writer, Richard Castle always believed that hands could tell a story. There may never be a need for verbal actions, but the hands could tell you everything. They could type it, they could show you age, they could show a lifetime of adventures. In the truest silence, hands can tell you anything.
But Kate Beckett's hands, they told more than just a story. They were her heart, her soul. They soothed victims with their touch, brought down even the most hardened criminals with their actions. Her lifetime of adventure was different than most, but that's what made her "extraordinary." That's what made her touch the most delicate and fierce, the gentlest but the toughest.
So in the darkness of that hotel, in the midst of the chaos, Kate knew what needed to be done. In that instant, there was no "Beckett" and there was no "Castle." There were just two stories that needed to be told, needed to be intertwined to sooth, to calm.
She touched her hand to Castle's knee, and felt him relax. A hand that could change someone's life, and had many times before, touched another soul in that moment.
And in that moment, Castle knew everything had changed. She had reached out to him, and in one touch, told him everything that he needed to know. She was with him in this, they were in this together. She would tell him her story, and he could tell her his.
He grasped her hand, and in that instant, it became their story.
