A/N: This is just a brief incursion into Kate's thoughts in the aftermath of Castle's disappearance at the end of 'For Better, For Worse' (Ep. 6x23). The usual disclaimers apply.
I carry him.
I hear his laughter resonate through these rooms. His laughter is beautiful; it speaks of pure, unfettered delight. I feel his boundless joy as it stirs mine. I roll my eyes at his silliness, pretending to be the mature one, but he knows. I can tell from the knowing mischief in his eyes that he knows. We're like children together, giddy, effortlessly amused, easily entertained. Like children.
Except when we're not, when it's all burning passion and intensity, when his warm hands play over me with the loving confidence of a virtuoso performer. When I rise over him and he looks up at me with a kind of wonder, a reverence that makes me feel overwhelmingly cherished. When I feel his weight on me, his body surrounding mine, engulfing me in a safety that I've only ever found with him. His scent still lingers in our sheets, in the bed where we lay, where his skin slid, smooth and firm, against mine. Like it will again… soon.
I can almost feel his touch, his hand in the small of my back, his thumb moving slowly, rhythmically against my skin. I can almost feel his hand brush against mine, our fingers tangling briefly before separating again, but always going back to find each other, like we always do. Always. I can almost taste his lips, the heated sweetness that held me captive from the very first time we kissed. I can almost taste it. Almost. But almost is not nearly enough. Nothing will be enough until I can hold him again.
I see him so clearly. Not just the blueness of his eyes or the breadth of his shoulders. I see him – the man behind the self-assured grin – the imperfections and vulnerabilities that I treasure because he allows me to see them. I see his dreams of more laughter and adventure, of more solved mysteries and inexplicable magic. I see his hopes for all the people he loves, for their – no, our – happiness and fulfilment. Those hopes and dreams are going to come true. They have to… they're mine too.
I hear the words he's given me, the words that were his gift to me long before we met. The words that helped me find hope again when my world was dark and hollow. (I haven't told him that yet, but I will.) Words spoken with quiet confidence, with unshakeable certainty, in that deep, vibrant voice that still echoes in my ears. His words give me hope now, and faith that we'll have our happy ending, that the story of our lives together is only just beginning.
People ask how I'm doing. "How are you holding up?" It bemuses me, that question. I know they have to ask. I would too, in their shoes, and I appreciate their concern. There's no glib, polite answer to the question, and yet I answer it quickly, without telling them the whole truth, because there's no time for more. He fills my thoughts, my plans and intentions. And right now, there's only one plan, one intention – to find him, and then to love and be loved by him for the rest of my life.
I know I will, because I carry him. And the truth is, at times like this, when I'm lost and in need of an anchor, he carries me.
A/N: Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.