Jess has convinced me this isn't complete and utter crap so if it is then please blame her :P There will be another chapter at some point (Also due to Jess) but I'm not sure when it'll be posted. All mistakes and typos are my own. This is a combination of angst from 47 Seconds and The Limey combined with trying to push through writers block so I'm not entirely sure where or when it's set. The title is taken from a Newton Faulkner song, I heard him perform live a couple of years ago and I love the chorus of it.
Thanks for reading, Marie x
Dream Catch Me: Chapter One
The sound of a car backfiring on the street below shocks her out of her sleep. She sits bolt upright and one hand jumps up to press against the angry scar on her chest. Her breathing is harsh and the sleep shirt she chucked on before bed is clinging damply to her skin. Part of her is thankful for the rude awakening; the events of tonight's dreams- or nightmares- are shockingly clear in her mind and she knows she would have woken screaming before long.
The sheets are cold and empty, have been for a long time, but it's times like these in which the fact becomes particularly acute. Kate Beckett can look after herself but sometimes, just sometimes, she really wants a warm pair of arms to curl up into. Her breathing is becoming less erratic and the searing pain that shot through her scar is dissipating.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gathering her courage. The room is dim but enough light seeps through from the streetlight outside her window to make out vague outlines. The furniture casts strange shadows across the bare wood floor. She's not one to jump at shadows but the lingering fear sets her on edge.
Her service piece is in the drawer next to her bed and she tucks it into the back of her sweats before padding to the kitchen- it can't hurt to be on her guard. It doesn't make her weak; it makes her cautious, wary. The Dragon is still out there lurking in the shadows.
The moonlight lends the kitchen a soft glow as she reaches to the back of the cupboard for the cocoa stashed there. Kate knows that this might be the only thing that will relax her enough to sleep. It's a trick she learnt from her Mother- both of them soothing away night terrors with mugs of the creamy rich beverage. She remembers curling up on the sofa in the early hours of the morning; Kate pressed against her Mother's side. No words were exchanged but the warmth of the cocoa and the scent of her Mother surrounding them both did a better job than any whispered conversation ever could have.
She pours the milk into a saucepan and sets it on the hob without thinking about it, her hands working independently whilst her mind wanders. The sugar and cocoa are spooned into a mug, the rich scent of chocolate filling the air as the hot milk is added. She longs to curl up on the sofa with her cocoa but oddly enough it's not her Mother she wishes was with her. Her mind's eye paints a vastly different picture.
She wishes Rick Castle would curl up with her; his broad chest comforting against her back. Both of his arms looped low around her waist as she sits in the vee of his legs. His even breaths would calm her as much as the warm mug she clutches in her hands. If she closes her eyes she can almost see it, can almost hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in her ears, can almost feel the warmth of him through the thin cotton shirt she wears.
But he's not here. It's nothing more than a fantasy. No more real than her earlier nightmare.
Kate dumps her now empty mug in the sink; the apartment around her feeling emptier than ever without Castle's phantom presence. She shivers once before steeling herself at last. Kate Beckett does not bow to ghosts- those welcome nor those not.
She makes her way to bed and slides gracefully under the sheets. Her gun is once again the drawer to one side. If anything the sheets feel emptier than when she woke but she's not some lovesick teenager. She loves Rick Castle, with all her heart, but she's old enough to realise that things are never that simple. As she drops to sleep only one thought lingers in her mind "We need to talk."
Rick Castle jolts awake with a scream still building in the back of his throat. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries frantically to catch his breath. Just a dream, it wasn't real, just a dream.
He slides out of the cold sheets and makes his way towards his office, forgoing to need to put on a shirt. His office is his sanctuary and right now he needs the familiar walls around him. Rick Castle has had his fair share of nightmares, especially since he started working with the NYPD, but this one was in a league of its own.
Rick sinks into his desk chair with a sigh- the soft leather moulding itself around him. A flick of his index finger causes the desk light to spring into life and bathes the room in golden light. It's times like these that he's glad his bedroom is on a different floor to the rest of his family, so he can't wake them too easily by moving around.
He spots the picture of him and Alexis still sitting on the corner of his desk. The adrenaline is still pumping through his veins but the memories are quick to replace the dregs of the nightmare still fresh in his mind. In the photo Alexis can't be more than three but he recalls years of trying to help her forget bad dreams and of chasing away monsters from under the bed.
For a long time his office has been Alexis' sanctuary too, a place they both came to forget the world outside. Every time she was ill or upset, not just when she had nightmares, Castle would pick a book at random from the shelves, curl up with Alexis in his lap and read to her. He read her everything when she was little: Dickens to Dante, Tolkien to Tolstoy, Douglas Adams to Jane Austen, it didn't matter which book as long he was reading it to her.
Right now Rick Castle would give anything to have someone to read to. The walls of his office seem so airy in the New York sunshine but the early morning gloom makes it feel like they're pressing in on him- backing him into a corner with no room to escape. He takes a deep calming breath to banish the dark thoughts from his mind, the relics of the dream.
His eyelids close of their own violation but it's still the walls of his office that he sees. The early morning light still peeks through the window but it lends the room a sense of hope rather than containment. Great Expectations is open on the desk in front of him but it's not his daughter's fiery hair resting against his bare chest; instead a riot of brunette curls, belonging to a worn out toddler, hide a pair of tired blue eyes. The eyes are his but the facial features are all Kate.
"My father's name being Pirrip, and my christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip."
His voice rings out across the quiet office, helping the infant to drift off to sleep. She's curled up tightly in his lap with one small fist clutching at the material of his sweatpants as if to anchor herself there. She lets out a shuddering sigh before losing the battle to keep her eyelids open, a soft smile forming on her face. Emma Beckett-Castle loves when Daddy reads to her, especially after a bad dream.
Castle's eyes blink open violently and he shakes his head quickly to try and rid himself of the images. Him and Kate having a child is nothing more than an immature fantasy now. If it was ever more than a fantasy.
He pushes himself out of the chair using his arms and moves towards the bedroom, pausing only long enough to switch the desk lamp off. The bedroom is exactly as he left it with the bedclothes thrown back and rumpled. Rick forces himself to lie down and rest his head on the pillow. There's no toddler curled against his chest, no wife pressed against his back, and his bed has never felt emptier. The cold sheets settle across his bare chest like shackles and his mind throws out one more point before sleep claims him.
"I need to talk to Kate."