A/N: Originally posted as a one shot, but I will be adding on to for a two shot minimum/three shot max. Not sure yet. Previously filed under my one shot collection.
Prompt Response. Suggestive themes. AU. Caskett meet in a bar while they're traveling. They go to the hotel and stay together and start to talk and know more about each other all night long, but as the morning comes, both have a flight to catch to their own country back, each on an opposite side of the world and have to deal with the fact that they're deeply in love. -
Altered a bit and just btw, go listen to Elton John's "Don't go breaking my heart" and Van Morrison's "Days Like This" before reading, or while reading if you don't know them. It'll make sense in a bit LOL.
Flights. Unbelievably unreliable. That's all Kate mused about checking into her hotel in downtown Manhattan, hours significantly later than she had planned on arriving. Her luck with flying always struck out, always. Lost luggage, seat mix ups, missing boarding pass – each time had its own grievance. This had to be the worst yet. Her homecoming hardly seemed like the welcome she wanted.
"Is that the only available room? Eighth floor, seriously?" she asked the front desk. Javier, the receptionist grimaced in response, extending out to her the key card.
"Sorry, yeah. Enjoy your stay?" His eyes squinted, waiting on her response, but she just snatched the key. Looking around, scoping out the lobby, she judged it to fashion a guess on the quality of their rooms. Some couches, a coffee bar, piano, and fireplace counted amongst the niceties she saw – and it made do. Hopefully the rooms would par. When she spotted the elevator, her eyes made out a sign saying OUT OF SERVICE stuck on the doors. Her head took a slow turn back to Javier, glaring that much more when she met his eyes.
"Would you–would you like us to help you take your belongings–"
She nodded curtly more than once with lids tightened over her greens, prompting him to go and call the bellboy Kevin to assist. "I'll trust you to take them up for me undamaged and intact please," she said handing off all her bags. "I'd like to make this trip only twice, so I'll be back later."
"You won't be joining us for dinner at eight?" he called out trying to sort the luggage with Kevin. She didn't look back.
"I'll settle for a good scotch thanks," she dismissed halfway out the door.
Going back out, she got ambushed by the rain, enabling her hand to shoot up and hail for a cab. She could barely make out a few feet radius around, with all the sheets of water crashing down. It took a bit before a cab emerged from the grey canvas before her, and by then her clothes had darkened a few shades, clearly soaked with the skies tears.
"You're lucky I saw you out there, probably would've been better off walkin'," the Cabbie said when she got in.
"I realized that," she said a little breathless. "It's been a while, and cabin fatigue is starting to set in." She shook out her hair with a hand, droplets flying left and right of her as her body drenched the seats.
"So where we off to? Do you know where you're goin'?"
"Closest place you know with liquor."
Less than five minutes later, the car pulled to a stop. At the corner of her eye, the raindrops broke up the faint light through the window from the sign The Old Haunt.
"This is it," the man said. Hesitant, whether for the rain or for the appeal of the bar, she slapped some money into his hands before darting out and back into the rain, blindly searching for the handle of the door.
Whipping it open, she fell in on the step down, startled for a moment as she recaptured her balance. It looked nothing too special, but nothing too terrible either. The atmosphere, despite a few select individuals obnoxiously blocking her path, almost pleased her. Even looked somewhat familiar.
She took a seat at the farthest end of the bar, distancing herself from the partygoers and their celebration as much as possible. Without her headache and the trouble with her flight, she should've been relaxing after seeing her mom. Instead she came hours late, seeking for relief and nothing else, and that's what she would get.
"What can I get ya hon?" the bartender asked. Thank God she seemed pleasant enough.
"Your best scotch, on the rocks please," she said propping up her temple on her fist. She shut her eyes, squeezing her lids together in a rhythm as if trying to soothe them. Her patience continued to thin as the background noise beat against her ears, the pulsation in her head throbbing, pounding away her veins. The release from the scotch spilling down her throat could really–
"Here you go," a man said. Reaching for her drink on the counter, she looked up to blues, shallow sea blues staring down at her with curved brows and half a smile. "That's unexpected," he added, setting his hands on the bar top.
"Sorry?" she questioned before drinking. The moment the glass split her lips, the swig she took eased up her cheeks and forehead, her body a little more lax than moments earlier.
"A woman of your caliber, it's–it's refreshing to see with something like scotch rather than a Cosmo, Mojito, or Daq."
Her eyes curved quizzically. "Caliber?"
His eyes nearly disappeared in his chuckle, just looking on her as she finished off her drink. "Modest too, huh?"
"No, just thirsty as hell," she said with a smirk.
"Thirsty?" he started, observing the droplets still descending from her hair and clothes. "You didn't get your share walking out there in the rain?"
"I took a cab," she said, her fingers tapping around her glass.
"Wow you're not from around here huh? You might as well have walked."
"I am, it's just been a while–look are you a bartender too or should I be calling her back over?"
"No-no, I'll get it," he said turning on his heel. He grabbed for her glass and sloshed in another dose. Handing it back with a smile, her eyes fixated on him with some scrutiny. "So what's your name?"
"Kate," she said dipping the glass back again.
"Kate what?" He leaned onto the counter, his head rested on his hand as he waited, but she nodded no.
"Sorry to disappoint, that's kind of a third date thing."
"So this is our first then?"
Shit. How long had he been smiling at her? Didn't he have any other customers to pay attention to? She bit back her bottom lip at the thought. "I don't think so. I'd probably need your name first, make sure you're not some serial killer, you know? Then again you could lie to me too."
It was like his grin couldn't waver. "I'm Rick. Rick Castle."
"Well geez Rick Castle, why'd you last name me, now I gotta give you mine," she said throwing back the rest of her drink. "It's Kate Beckett."
"For the record, I'm a writer, not a serial killer. Though, I have explored the mind of one," he admitted. She sat up straight now, more poised for conversation even without refilling her scotch.
He went on to tell her about his career as a writer, all the crime books he'd written and the acclaim for them all. She could detect the hint of bragging in his voice, but he came off more cute about it than cocky, like a little boy showing off to the girl he eyed in school. He enthused about the high life, but stressed the pains more, commenting on his active travels and no time to truly settle down.
"I'm hitting up Australia tomorrow for a book tour actually. I just stopped over for the night to meet up with friends," he said, pushing back on his flopping dark hair.
"You're here for the night? From London, you're just stopping by? Just…because? You're kidding right?" Her tone washed him with surprise, eyes a little wider and mouth slightly open. "I'm on my way to see my mother and that took quite the endeavor just to get here," she finished somewhat reluctant.
"You're flying commercial. Keep that in mind."
"I'm sorry, I don't happen to have a private jet lying around," she mocked. "The weather's terrible anyhow, they wouldn't fly–you wouldn't fly."
"Oh we would fly," he insisted.
"Stop, you would not–"
"–yes-s-s, yes, you know why? Because I would fly, me, I would."
Grinning wide at him, she could only shake her head. He kept his gaze on her, but it broke when Eddie, the piano man, started a tune that got Rick jumping.
"Oh my–Eddie!" He darted around the bar, beckoning Kate to come along. She rushed over, shuffling behind him, trying to discern the song from the introduction, but she couldn't just catch it yet.
"Can you sing?" he looked over at her with eyes bugged out.
She stuttered, trying not to laugh at his excitement and his face, mostly his face. "Kinda sorta," she managed to get out.
"Good," he said looking back at Eddie. And in that moment, right before Rick started to sing, she heard the rest of the song flowing back to her.
"Don't go breakin' my heart," he belted out. His force and energy busted her into laughter, missing her first lyric reply. He just looked at her, still moving forward with fervor, not waiting for her to start. She couldn't pull herself together until he reached the next stanza. "Don't go breakin' my heart!"
She came in with the same power, trying to maintain the same energy as him. He acted out the lyrics of Elton John, and she joined too beside him, moving around like fools lost in the song.
What came over her, she had no idea. No reserve kept her from dancing and prancing around with him to the rhythm of the piano, filling up the bar along with their voices, all the customers looking on them both. Hand in hand they twirled around, him pulling her in to sway and dip her back as they struggled to keep on singing. By this point, her headache seemed so far away, maybe lost in those gorgeous blues she couldn't avert her eyes from.
Dancing along with him, the full breadth of his chest nearly shielded her smaller frame, his arms locked around her as they kept to the beat. With her hand clasped to his, she touched his wrist with hers, the pulse in both of them in perfect sync. At the end of their number, both caught their breath as claps resounded, whistles echoing alongside cheers in Rick's name. Noting this, he raised up her hand that still clung to his, the other hand gesturing to her face. "Kate Beckett, everyone!" he called out.
She widened stern eyes at him, but he urged her to bow as their audience called out both their names. After a moment, her smile broke out, and she bowed with him for the crowd.
When everything settled down, he walked them over to a table to sit and reclaim their energy. She hadn't done anything like that in some time, so recovery took a bit of sitting, and water.
"She 'kinda, sorta' sings," he said shaking his head. She opened her lips to question him but he cut her off. "If that's your mediocre singing, I'd love to pay for a show when you're actually trying."
"I was," she said, suppressing a smile just a bit.
"Like I said, modest too."
Biting at her lips, she finally looked away, cheeks flushing just a little. How he held his stare over her, like he needn't look anywhere else ever again. Every time her greens returned to his blues, they were there, just waiting. To avoid too much of it, she tried for conversation again…not that they truly even needed it.
"Shouldn't you be working the bar? You know, instead of singing and dancing with me? Are you really gonna leave it to that one girl–"
"It's really her job, Kate. Not mine. I can just get away with touching everything–it's kinda my thing."
"You're allowed to do that?" she said going for the water brought to them.
"I own the place, so yeah, it comes with some perks."
Her lips scrunched at his words as she set the glass back down. Holding back a smile, he admired the one in her eyes with such attention. She was gorgeous, just gorgeous. Her hair waved and draped over her shoulders in a waterfall of golden brown, in disarray from the rain and all their dancing, but still highlighting her face in all its beauty.
He was so lost in her.
"Is this your first time back in Manhattan? Since whenever you left?" he said finishing off his water.
"Not my first, but I seldom come, I seldom get to."
"You–so you–" reading into her words, he choked trying to respond. "Is that so?" He finally got out.
"Shut up," she pointed a finger at him.
"I'm sorry," he started giggling, "you left that up for grabs–"
"–seriously?" she added with a snicker of her own. Struggling to recollect himself, he focused back on what he wanted to ask.
"Central Park, have you been in a while?" She nodded no, but as soon as she did he stood up, offering his arm to her. "The rain should've lifted up by now. If not, well, let's do it anyway."
A stranger. Strangers. She was about to go off with some man she just had drinks with and sang and danced with. What on earth was she doing? Was she really about to go off with him in a city she barely remembered?
"Okay," she said standing up. She took his arm, and he walked them out and into the night, a lightness in both of their steps as they set out for Central Park.
And the sky? The sky relieved it's tears, a thousand twinkles in its eye taking their place so as to light the way.
–
They strolled along in the moonlight, the pavement smacking under their feet from the residue of the storm earlier. The sound filled the silences between them, which weren't many in fact. Once they left the bar, they conversed more freely without the burden of others around, of other ears and voices. Each topic trailed along an intimate line, a boundary, pushed inch by inch with every new avenue discussed.
Kate started off first, explaining that she hadn't met with her mother in almost six years due to work. As a homicide detective, she waited for something new to happen every day, and usually something did, demanding her time more than anything else in her life. She lived in L.A., and had for about ten years, and out of the six, she had no chances to come back home.
"How come she can't come over to visit you? No money? You wanna use my jet?" He grinned at her. She struggled to return one back, a wince lingering instead as she thought on it.
"It's not like that," she said. It was rather strange…her willingness to share this with him, no reservations to stop her. "She died ten years ago."
"Oh. God, I'm sorry–"
"No don't worry about it, you didn't know. I didn't really clarify that visiting meant something more or less, so."
He let it process as they continued, now concerned on where to step and where not to. She seemed so held together, it was hard to determine if she had those cracks, and if she did, which ones would shatter her if messed with. Mulling over it for too long, she noted his silence, then reassured him that it could be talked about.
"I just–I don't wanna mess with that if–"
"I wouldn't have told you if I didn't trust you," she cut in. Her words stopped him, but she failed to notice for a few steps. "What?"
"You trust me?"
"Just a little. You're still not a serial killer, right? You haven't brought me here to finish up the job?" she teased. Her casual tone eased him, allowing his legs to move forward again, almost passing her.
"You have low standards," he muttered. Still hearing this, her hand flew to slap his shoulder as they continued on.
Passing through, basking in the moonlight, they exchanged more stories, some secrets, and even some scars. There was an odd freedom in confessing the darkest parts of you to a complete stranger. Both realized that as they furthered the conversation. The continued flow surprised them, but both refused to comment in fear of disturbing it. They just kept on, writing out their hearts to each other.
After so long of walking, Rick's phone started to go off, and a little ginger haired girl appeared on it, which she surmised was Alexis, his daughter he had spoken of frequently in his stories. Walking side by side, she could pick up the conversation with her when he answered.
"Hi pumpkin," he greeted her.
"Happy birthday, dad!"
Birthday? What? Eyes rounded out, completely taken aback, she faced him directly by walking backwards, mouthing to him when he glanced at her.
"It's your birthday?" she tried to ask. Still listening to Alexis, he tried to answer her too.
"You're gonna fall," he whispered, warning as she trotted backwards on the pathway. She turned her head every now and again to check, still mostly keeping eyes on him as he continued talking to his little girl. "I wish you were here too, sweetie."
He linked eyes with Kate, and each time he caught hers they looked a little more tender, a little more affectionate in her gaze on him. She seemed to forget to look ahead after a while, relying on him to guide her as they continued their way. Only neither of them saw the slight dip in the road, which caught her heel and tipped her back, but he lurched forward to scoop up her back before she could tumble to the ground.
It differed from their dance before in many ways as he just held her there. This had been the closest their faces had gotten, and reflexively her hands sought for his neck for support, gripped to the sides the moment he caught her. It took a couple moments before he stood up straight, carrying them back onto their feet.
"I love you too – see you soon. Okay. Bye," he finished.
"It's your birthday?" she tried again. He just nodded at her. "Why aren't you with her?"
"Her mother claimed her for the week, unfortunately."
"For your birthday? Kinda bitchy, don't you think?"
"She knows she's entitled. It's hard for me to say no to her." Rick went on to explain their relationship – a passionate love affair made permanent with a shot gun wedding, which eventually resulted in divorce six years into the marriage.
"What happened?" she asked.
"We uh…we just didn't mesh in all the important ways. We cared, we definitely cared. She struggled to keep up with parenting Alexis after the first couple years, aching to get back to her acting. I let her, because she had supported me with my first book you know, she helped a lot with start up. But after a while she used it to get away with missing other things, especially for Alexis, so I came to a decision that it just wasn't working out. Ended up that a special friend, some director guy had been keeping her away in L.A."
She fell silent, absorbing all the information, meditating on all of it. This time she mulled over his words, almost too long, before he stepped back in to speak again.
"Now this time I've silenced you," he said grinning. "It's okay Kate, that was years ago, Alexis is older now and we're doing just fine."
"So you raised her by yourself?"
"For the most part, yeah, my mother tagged alongside me. We live here, in Manhattan, but I'm traveling a lot lately with promoting the book, so we've barely seen home since the end of last year. This is my first night back."
"Oh now I feel awful, it's your birthday and you left your celebration at the bar? Is that what that was?"
"Yes," he said with a chuckle. "But notice that I've been gone for almost two hours now, and no one seems to have called up or done anything about it. Put alcohol in front of them, they'll forget why they're there in the first place."
"Isn't that the point?" she said cocking her brow. He nodded with a scoff, sliding his hands in his pockets, more relaxed than he'd felt in seven months. How could this woman, how, how could she do this to him? He bowed his head, shaking it at the thought. "What?"
"Nothing," he breathed out. When he looked up to the sky, a couple droplets spat in his eye, followed by a series more of them, and then sheets. The storm picked up once more with a low grumble, the force of the rain drowning out their voices. "Where are you staying?"
–
They sought refuge at Kate's hotel, dashing in and laughing from the rain, leaving tiny puddles all over the entrance floor. Stepping in she nodded at Javier again, and Kevin too who sat with him behind the desk. They exchanged looks with each other over Rick, the man that somehow got her to smile, transforming the unpleasant version of her they'd seen earlier.
Sitting down by the fireplace they warmed up, lamely trying to dry themselves with its heat despite being positively drenched. The light illuminated most of the lobby, darkened by the storm outside, setting aglow both their faces, the fire reflected in his seas and her evergreens, unquenchable. He sat on the floor leaning back against the couch, while she got comfy on it. They continued their talk, exchanging more stories when they resurfaced in their minds, or when one's story triggered the other's, going back and forth like delayed hits in a ping pong match. He'd make her laugh, then she'd make him. She'd surprise him, and then he'd surprise her.
After another two hours of warming up, Kate stripped off her jacket and sweater to reveal her skin, fair and seemingly unblemished. Yet glancing sideways, Rick distinguished the scars along her arms, and even around her chest. He looked on them with a hint of concern, his brows slightly drawn together as his eyes ran over her body, not going unnoticed by her.
"I get banged up a bit in what I do," she answered looking down at him, the question never having to form on his tongue. He stuttered a bit starting, worried she thought he felt ill of it.
"N-no," he began, "that's not…you don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just-just–"
"–admiring the view?" she teased. He managed a grin, nodding in agreement.
"How did someone like you end up in a profession like that? Not that it's not respectable, I have the utmost respect for our policemen you know, despite my arrests before–"
She put forth a hand to stop his apologetic rambling so she could explain. "This wasn't the plan, not at all. I had bigger dreams, you know? I always pictured myself in law, maybe as a lawyer defending it, or defending someone with it, but never enforcing it. See, my mother was murdered. They caught the guy, or so they say, but it was sloppy at best. I hated how the detectives handled the case. And I just…"
A fleck of tears gathered in the corner of her eye, sparkling in the firelight like a smaller flame as she continued. "Even now, when I go to see her, that animosity still thrives in me, it's still alive. And I'm not always sure if it's because of what they did, or what they didn't do. Sometimes I worry the story is still unwritten, and there's more truth that they haven't allowed to surface. Only I can't muster up the will to actually go through it myself. It'd be too painful I think. That's why I left home, here. That's why I do what I do. I told myself, I didn't want anyone else to feel the way I did, the way I still do."
Damn could she tell a story. Not for a second, even when her eyes left his, did his leave her. She kept him closed in, pulled in, tight to her body and every part of her that she bore to him. His mind filtered through for the words to offer her, something to remedy the wounds still raw inside.
"You know what we writers say on that, right?" She managed a half a smile with a nod no, a puzzled look settled over her. "The selfish heart knows to take what it wants. The good heart knows to give and take all that it needs. The selfless heart knows to give what it can't have."
One thumb ran under her bottom lids, scratching the tears off as she looked down at him. "All writers, huh?" she smirked.
"Maybe just me," he admitted. She scoffed, but let out a couple chuckles to chase after it. Was this happy? Had she really forgotten what that felt like?
In an attempt to pick up the mood, he scanned the room and spotted the piano, making eyes at and urging her to come over with him for another number. Lifting the lid, his hand slipped and slapped a handful of keys, grabbing the attention of Javier behind the desk.
"Sir–"
"We-we'll be–we'll be quiet, I promise." Kate bit back her laughter as they sat down together on the bench, searching for the song. It took a moment before he approved of something fitting.
"Ah okay, this is perfect for today," he said.
The tips of his fingers tapped the keys with a flow, a certain kind of love as he played Van Morrison's Days Like This. Her chest fluttered hearing him play, falling back into the car in those summer days riding with her mother, cruising to the song.
Swaying together, singing together, synchronized and blended as they listened to each other, they inadvertently put on a show for Javier and Kevin, who watched them perform favorite songs for the next couple hours. Both boys made bets on when they would kiss. To their dismay, after waiting out until almost three o'clock, no action had taken place before Kate registered the time.
"Oh God, already?" she said catching the hands on her watch.
"What time is your flight?" he spoke slow, pulling his fingers off of the keys. He held back his disappointment, refusing to let her hear it or see it. But she didn't need to.
She felt it too.
"Twelve back to L.A. I'm visiting her around nine? Probably checking out after and heading off to the airport."
She watched him nod in understanding before closing the lid on the piano. "Walk you to your room?"
"You don't have to. I wouldn't push, it's on the eighth floor, and no working elevators," she said gesturing to them. When they glanced over they caught the two guys staring briefly, looking elsewhere stupidly until they ignored them again. Rick went and shimmied his way out of the tight space between the bench and piano, and walked towards the neon sign directing to the stairs.
"That settled it," he responded off her look, "because chances are you're gonna pass out by the seventh flight, and from there I'll just carry you."
She grabbed her clothes, and ran to catch up with him. "And if you give out, what do I do then?"
"Call front desk boy and bellboy to save me," he said as they entered the stairwell.
The trek proved quite the try, and by the time they reached the eighth, they leaned up against each other for support walking out onto the floor. Luckily her room required just a few more feet as they tempered their breaths, regaining balance on the flat plane. At her door, she faced him, extending out a hand to shake and bid him goodbye.
"Thanks for making this stint here–a little more bearable," she said. Taking her hand to shake, he nodded.
"Thanks for a good unexpected birthday night. I had a good time."
The handshake lingered, slowed but reluctant to stop completely, as both knew that the moment one of them let go, it would all be over. Neither wanted to step forward, to make that move, not unless…unless it would be received.
"I–um, I think I'm about to do something stupid," he confessed. She rolled in her lips, eyes flicking down briefly towards his as he spoke. "Really, really stupid."
"How are you so sure it's stupid?" she played.
"Because it's impulsive, and I know it – I get it from my mother, I think."
"Okay – if you're trying to make a move, that's probably the last thing you wanna say right now."
"Right. You're right, I don't know what I'm saying–"
Entertained and pleased with his daze, she pulled his hand in, bringing him to taste, setting her hands around his neck with his lips locked onto hers. In the rush, he took a step forward, backing them up against the door, leaving little room for her to move. Hands roamed, groping, searching for the places that elicited harder breaths and groans, sweeping across each others skin with fingertips and lips.
"Where's your key," he breathed down her neck.
"Back-back-back," she whispered clinging to his neck. He ran a hand behind, teasing as he slipped his hand down and into the back pocket to grab the card. Hoisting her up onto his waist, she choked, tightening her legs around him as he slid the key in to open the door, and carried her inside.
He bent down and rested her on the bed, proceeding to peel off their clothes, warming each exposed part of her with his mouth and breath, but causing more shivers instead. He tended to her, enveloping all of her with his body, securing her underneath him as they began to rock.
"Will you still be here when I wake," he said running his hand through her hair, sweeping it away to see her face.
"Cross my heart," she said faint, before he dove into her again.
And he did it again, again, and again, loving her for the rest of the twilight and into day break, the sunlight kissing them good morning when they fell asleep in each other's arms.
–
They ended up sleeping for only an hour or so, waking up around seven. When he turned around, an empty space sat instead, the wrinkles in the sheets still fresh from where her skin rested before. He sat up, reached out, and touched it, for a moment wondering if maybe, maybe it was too good, just too great. Too wonderful to be real.
But the electronic lock sounded, music to his ears as he remembered it from before, the true sound of hope as he watched Kate emerge behind the wall, carrying two cups of coffee, dressed in his blouse and her pants from the night before.
"I just grabbed it," she answered to his look, "didn't wanna bother looking for what you did with my shirt."
He chuckled as she handed him his coffee before crawling back into bed, resting her legs across his lap as she leaned back on the headboard. They drank together, watching the sun continue to spill into the room, shining on the love still emanating from their faces.
"Why do I feel like I've known you forever?" he asked. Playful, she fashioned rolling eyes like a little girl that didn't know what her father was talking about.
"Maybe you have. In some other universe we know each other, and our bond is so strong it brought us together in this one."
"You don't believe a word of that," he said with a knowing tone.
"Aw, you do know me," she said pinching his cheek. He just smiled in response, but then she reached for his open hand, squeezing it in hers. "I do believe in this though. Us. Last night. This morning. I know I haven't been this happy in…"
"Yeah, same."
They both thought on it, but didn't want to. They couldn't. Still, one of them had to bring it up.
"What time is your flight?" she asked.
"Also twelve," he said. They both pursed their lips at the thought. He rubbed her calf back and forth, soothing her as the idea of separating started to settle.
So close and so far.
"We can keep in touch," she offered up.
"Always," he agreed more confident, "there's FaceTime, there's Skype, calling, texting…"
Looking at each other, they both caught each other's hard swallows, the distress festering; like thrashing waves in his blues, and a swan song trembling between her lips. She kept silent, and he mentally tried to shake it off, forging a braver face through a joke.
"…then again, I'm not sure I wanna keep up correspondence with someone who lies to me," he teased. A smirk slid back on his lips, while she questioned his accusation.
"What are you talking about?"
"I seldom come? Really? That was seldom?"
Her lips shrank, cheeks carved out to hold back a laugh, shaking her head at him. After sipping away most of the coffee, she got up and set it down, going to undress. "I'm gonna go get ready. Um…do you wanna come with me?"
His mouth motioned to speak, parted slightly, but he hesitated. "Okay–I'm going to take caution here and wait for clarification on what you meant by that," he said with wide eyes.
"Go with me to see her. I'd like someone there, if you don't mind."
"Of course," he said nodding. "Anything you need."
With a smile she went for the bathroom, a moment hanging before her head peered back around the corner. "If I needed you in here would you–" without another word he bounced up and off the bed, moving her towards the bathroom as he dressed her down again, this time out of his clothes.
After their happy shower, they went off to the cemetery, taking some detours as Kate struggled to remember how to get there. But it didn't take too long, as the more they walked around, the faster her memories returned.
Thankfully the sky looked a little nicer today. With some clouds left behind, gone astray, they dispersed the sunlight, warming the air just a little more, permitting better visit conditions than Kate had anticipated. Rick sat a little ways away from where she went to sit, kneeling over beside her mother's grave. He could make out the engraving Johanna Beckett from a distance, but everything else he closed his ears from. He just watched her for almost an hour, in and out of soft tears, some laughs to tag along too. He discovered some aches as he lay in wait just thinking…If there was only something he could do for her.
"…I know I haven't–I haven't been back here. You don't deserve that. You really don't and…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, mom." Her breaths shook as she exhaled, fighting to keep composure, fighting not to break down completely. The shadows of the clouds continued to pass over, bringing and taking the darkness with them. "I'm just. I'm hurting, you know? Every day it's with me. But then it keeps everybody out. Dad and me…we don't. I mean, we haven't as much as we should have. I can't hold down a relationship for the life of me, I mean just barely. Maybe I'm afraid. I'm scared someone will just, come and add injury to old wounds that haven't really healed.
"Or is it simpler…am I over complicating things? Have I just forgotten how to love? Am I too broken to do that, to give away and trust someone else with a part of me, mangled wounds and all? Or am I just waiting for someone? I can't figure it out. But I know I'm doin' something wrong here. I just…I need you to show me. What do I keep missing?"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she redirected the tears falling from her ducts, scattering them as much as possible. She washed her face with dry hands, rubbing her skin in frustration. When she looked up again, a single ray of light out of the shower that came down through the clouds led her eyes up to him, to Rick, who blocked out the shine from his eyes, but shot a bright smile at her.
She bowed her head, not caring for the tears anymore, relishing the peace she touched in her heart, in her soul, before glancing up at the sky. "Okay, mom. Okay."
"You good?" he asked when she walked back over. She nodded curtly, just looking into those eyes of his again, channeling all the times she did just that the night before, channeling how she felt. He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over it, touching the dampness of it. "You sure?"
"I'm fine. More than fine. But I have a question for you."
"Go for it," he said. Organizing her thoughts, she slung her arms around his neck, hanging on him like a little girl.
"When are you back here in Manhattan?"
"Well…I've got four cities to cover in Australia. So, a month? A month and a half max, depending how much I like it there."
"And then you'll be back?"
"Yeah…why?" he asked with half a smile.
"Well you better be back soon. Cause I'll be waiting for you over at The Old Haunt, waiting for my scotch and another duet."
"Kate Beckett is coming home?" he said grabbing for her waist.
Leaning in, she finished with a kiss, "Kate Beckett is coming home."
–
The plane ride back, she slept along the way with a copy of Richard Castle's Derrick Storm novel cradled in her lap. She promised she would set out to read before he tested her on it when she would return to Manhattan. They made their bets on her passing, both a little more confident as they had something to look forward to.
Going back to her apartment, she settled in, backtracking all the events that happened in the last twenty four hours. She was going home. In a month she was going back home. This place would empty again, and she'd be off to restart her life, a life with Rick. She thought of nothing else.
He didn't help matters when he shot her an email reminding her to pack everything. He even sent a picture of the scotch he drank, two glasses poured on the rocks.
Someone's gotta drink your share.
Guess what Mama told me?
Face gleaming, she typed away her response.
I heard, you told me – there's days like this.