Originally posted on my tumblr with a photo that can be seen in the cover image for this story. Written for rickcastlefromthailand on her birthday. đź’š

Care Package

Fatigue tugs at every muscle in her body, reminding her how draining the week has already been.

The worst part of being this tired is that it's only Tuesday. Which means there are still three long days to go before she has even the hope of doing anything beyond trudging into her empty apartment at the end of the day and turning on just enough light to keep her from tripping over an unpacked box on her way to bed. And at this point, she's not sure a break is even possible; she has worked every weekend since starting this job.

She had anticipated the long hours and the exhaustion - she still remembers her early days on the police force, when it was a battle every morning just to heave her aching body out of bed - what she hadn't expected was everything else. The quiet, the emptiness, the general… lack.

Being away from home - from him - is so much harder than she ever thought it would be. She's been spoiled by years of having him with her - sitting beside her desk, presenting her with a cup of coffee when he isn't able to touch his mouth to hers, and more recently in her bed. She's been made greedy by his love.

Four weeks have passed since the last time they saw each other, and she's more than a little ragged with need for the familiarity of his fingers brushing hers, for the comforting warmth of his neck as she buries her face against him, for his scent, for everything that makes him him.

They were supposed to have last weekend before he left for his book tour on Monday, but he had called at the last minute to ask for a rain check. Paula had managed to get him a couple of signings at one of hisfavorite bookstores in the state of Ohio, and the caveat had been that it had to be Saturday and Sunday or nothing. So off he went, three days early, continuing on to the first city in his west coast tour on Sunday night.

As much as she loves his books, as much as she loves the way he shares his work with his fans, it's difficult not to be frustrated with the change in itinerary.

Maybe it's selfish to even complain. After all, she is the one who decided to shake up their lives so spectacularly. She would've had the pleasure of his company all summer long if she hadn't been here. If she hadn't been the one asking him to come to her because she can't get the time off work.

It's just bad timing, adjustment pains. They'll find their groove soon. She's not giving up, and neither is he. They are going to make it work.

The mantra is nice, but it doesn't make her ache any less for him at the end of a long day.

Neither does nearly tripping over a box the size of her welcome mat and having to wedge her body against her doorframe to avoid face planting.

Ow. That smarts.

Beckett grumbles under her breath, pushing the box to one side with her foot and nudging her key into her lock.

Packages are supposed to go into a key access-only room in the front office, which has already proven to be both useful and a raging pain in the ass given how early they close and now late Kate gets home most days. She supposes the delivery man must have arrived after the office was already locked up for the night and decided to bring the package to her door instead of coming back the next day. No harm - except for the deepening throb in her shoulder, shit - no foul.

Forcing the twinge of pain aside, she heaves the box into her arms, maneuvering sideways to make it through the door, and pushes into her empty, silent apartment. Her bed beckons, but she ignores it in favor of sliding the box onto her already full dining table (okay, it serves as her desk more often than not) and slumping into the only open seat.

She takes a moment just to breathe, to find some semblance of her center, before giving into curiosity and righting the package to see where the hell it came from.

Her partner's messy scrawl greets her, proclaiming the package is intended for The Extraordinary (and Beautiful) Katherine Beckett.

Of course.

Affection pulls her lips upward; he had sent her a care package from Ohio. And from the looks of it, he probably spent double what the gift is actually worth just to get it to her sooner.

Childish glee rises in her chest. After more than a year of being with the man, she is no stranger to gifts - large and small - from Richard Castle, but for some reason this just feels different.

He's never sent her mail before.

Toeing her shoes off, she tugs one leg into the chair with her, leaning her chin on her knee as she tugs at one of the many strips of tape holding the box shut. Five minutes and twenty tries later, Kate gives in and gets the scissors from the kitchen drawer. Her fiancé is a shit sometimes; he'd practically booby trapped the damn thing.

Once the box is finally open, Beckett lifts a pile of packing material and peers at the contents underneath.

Laughter bubbles in her throat, only to be stopped by the two fingers she presses to her lips. Okay, he's forgiven for the tape thing. Sweet man.

Not only had he sent her the things she needed from the loft, he's included a few more wonderful, unexpected items.

A pound of her favorite coffee is on top of the stack, resting beside a smaller box she sets aside for the time being. The next layer consists of a note, his book - but not the one she had pre-ordered, that's being delivered here in a few days - and a stuffed elephant from the Columbus Airport. Pulling the toy from the box, she takes a moment to stroke the elephant's trunk and straighten one of its floppy ears before tucking it against her chest.

He's going to bring their kids presents after every book tour, isn't he?

The thought alone has her hiding her nose in her new friend's plush head. They haven't talked about it beyond a giddy, whispered hypothetical conversation in his bed after celebrating his proposal, but she can't help but think about what their lives will look like when the time comes.

They'll make it to that point, in time.

And being in the same place, of course.

"Okay, Castle, let's see what's in box number two," she murmurs, hoping to fill the apartment with something more than the heavy sound of silence.

Beckett sets the elephant to one side, propping him against a stack of files she should really return to the office in the morning, and reaches for the nondescript white cardboard. Thankfully, he hasn't taped this one to within an inch of its life, too, and once she gets her nail under the edge, it opens without a fuss.

She has to be careful not to pull too hard on the Styrofoam, lest the motion send the contents flying to the ground. Her caution isn't misplaced, either, because the coffee mug she unearths nearly slips out of the second half of the padding. Exhausted as she is, her reflexes are still sharp enough to catch it and cradle it between her palms.

Oh, Castle.

The mug seems plain on the outside, white and simple with a glossy finish, but the decoration inside makes her throat tighten.

The inside is painted with the New York City skyline.

She doesn't even need to read his note to know what his plan was for this care package; he's given her home, his coffee kiss, and - although not in the flesh - himself.

Exactly what she needs until she can have him beside her again.