A/N: Hi there :) This is basically going to be a collection of random Castle/Beckett drabbles that I'll write whenever the mood strikes me. They'll probably range anywhere from 100 words - 2,000+ words. Quick little one-shots to hold you over while your waiting for your favorite fics to be updated ;) I currently have a few long one-shots in the works that will hopefully be published within the next few weeks. I'm currently on spring break, so I have lots of time to write as of right now.
Anyways, enough of my rambling, and onto the drabble.
He slipped his hand into hers seamlessly, giving it a gentle squeeze, not wanting to disturb her current reverie. They stood there together unmoving, hands clasped, shoulders touching. She was
remembering. He was writing. He was writing stories in his head. Stories where Johanna Beckett was as alive as ever, coming around for the holidays, sitting on his couch sipping eggnog and watching on with fond eyes as her grandchildren ripped open their presents. She smiled at her daughter as she handed her a box wrapped in bright silver paper, a hand-knit scarf inside that she had spent months on. Kate wrapped the scarf around her neck, and leaned in to give her mom a hug, telling her how much she loved the gift.
Castle was suddenly pulled out of his story, his fantasy, when he felt drops of liquid fall onto his hand, still intertwined with Kate's. He gently turned her body to face his, away from Johanna Beckett's grave, and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her close as she cried, her tears staining his shirt with liquid.
He wished this was one of his books so he could rewrite the ending and give her the one she deserves.