AN: I haven't written in forever so I hope this isn't too terrible! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, comments, etc. This is a S2 AU set post Tick, Tick, Tick.../Boom. Inspired by this picture: sunrisefromindigo dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 146800562737
a little less broken
The glass is cold to the touch, like ice against her fingertips. It sends a chill racing down her spine, makes her regret padding out here with bare feet and uncovered arms, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweats and a shirt that's at least three sizes too big for her.
It's not like she has much choice in the matter though. All of her clothes went up in flames two weeks ago and shopping hasn't exactly been high on her list of things to do. Between solving murders and apartment searching, she's barely had time to process all that's happened, much less to begin rebuilding her wardrobe.
She knows she shouldn't be out here now, tiptoeing across Castle's living room to catch a glimpse of the falling snow like she's eight years old again. But she hasn't been sleeping well lately, fire licking at her body every time she closes her eyes, images of what could have happened had Castle not called her at just the right time. Even worse are the images of Castle being the one trapped instead, the loft exploding in front of her while she looks on stunned and helpless. And if there's one thing Kate Beckett cannot handle, it's feeling helpless.
She doesn't want to think about how much it scares her - the idea of losing him - how easily it could have been him rather than her dodging fallen beams, smoke filling up his lungs. So instead she finds herself avoiding sleep, doing anything she can to evade the nightmares - scrolling through her phone at all hours of the night, scribbling notes in bed, anything to calm her racing mind. Anything to feel a little less broken.
Tonight is no different.
She'd been hoping to get to bed early, exhausted from a long day of chasing leads that led nowhere and a particularly harrowing afternoon spent in the box. For once sleep had come easy. But like almost every night over the past several weeks, she'd woken after only a few hours with covers flung from the bed, heart pounding, and the explosion ripping through her so intensely she'd have sworn it was real.
Afterwards, the darkness was just too much. Too suffocating. So here she finds herself, sneaking out of her room long past midnight in Castle's clothes - in Castle's home - drawn to the window by the blanket of white that now coats the city.
She's always had a thing for nighttime snows – the untouched perfection that accompanies them, a peacefulness so rarely found in the city. Like the world stops for just a moment – frozen.
She leans against the windowpane and inhales the cool air. She watches as her breath fogs against the glass, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene before her. It's almost ethereal - the glow of the lights - the empty streets.
"Beautiful."
She startles at the low timber of his voice, the warmth of him suddenly at her back.
"Sorry," he whispers, placing a hand on her arm. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."
Normally she'd shrug him off, pretend that she'd known he was there all along. Tonight she doesn't have the fight in her, the sparks of his touch winding their way along her forearm into her chest, making her breath catch. And of course he notices.
"You okay, Beckett?"
She sighs and turns to meet his eyes, surprised at their seriousness, at the depth of compassion that lies within them. For a moment, she's overwhelmed with the temptation to confess her fears, to just let go of it all.
She'll never understand his effect on her. How he makes her weak and stronger still. How hard and fast she wants to run and yet doesn't want to at all. Because somehow, standing beside him in the two a.m. light, his presence makes it that much easier to breathe again.
She swallows, finally forces herself to break his gaze as she turns back toward the window. "I'm just tired, Castle," she says softly. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
"What?!" he scoffs. "Are you kidding? Why didn't you wake me, Beckett?! I could have missed the third snow of the season!"
Even though she knows he's joking - that he's just trying to lighten the mood (and is it only the third snow of the season?), she can't help but laugh. "Really, Castle? The third snow of the season? Do I even want to know what's so special about that?"
He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Well, you know what they say…third times a charm and all."
"You're ridiculous." She rolls her eyes at him and forces her pulse to steady as they both fall silent.
Moments pass and she begins to lose track of time, lulled by the warmth of his shoulder resting lightly against her own and the sheet of white that continues to build on top of parked cars and city sidewalks.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she should drag herself to bed, but she's still reluctant, still jarred from the nightmare that was all too real. She doesn't want to let go of this rare moment of calm.
"You know," he says, after a while, his voice thoughtful, "You don't always have to be so strong, Kate."
He pauses for a moment and she can see the same compassion in his eyes as before, but this time it's mixed with a newfound determination.
"These last few weeks – I know they've been difficult. I – I thought I lost you, Kate…"
His voice cracks and she bites her lip, waiting him out, all the while her heart races with the knowledge of everything she feels, how much the very same thought affects her.
"I just…I want you to know that I'm here." He punctuates the sentence by placing his hand over hers, his gaze burning into her. "I'm always here."
She stares down at his hand, only waits a second before turning hers over and lacing their fingers together, the decision much easier than she ever would have imagined.
"I know," she replies softly. "I know, Castle."
She leans her head against his shoulder, lets go of his hand and allows him to pull her into his side as she stares out into the night. The warmth of his body and the cadence of his breathing calms her in ways she doesn't quite understand. But she thinks she could stay this way forever.
And maybe she couldn't have done this in the light of day, with her defenses up and the world spinning around her. But here in the shelter of the night, with tiny snowflakes glancing across the windowpane, she's grateful for her weakness – for her in letting him in.
"It really is beautiful."
"Yeah, it is," he replies, eyes on her alone. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."