Why, hello, dear reader. We meet again, early, this brisk Fall morn. For those with whom I am familiar, this is a sheepish greeting; I owe you chapters and ideas that have yet to reveal themselves. Though, secretly, I've kept a chapter hidden in such a case of limited writing time and henceforth, lack of production should occur, as a means of inspiration to myself, and immediate satisfaction to you FF sharks. It will be posted, soon, to be vague. To those whom I have yet to impress upon, hello. Welcome. Stay awhile, won't you?
Many have addressed this Casketty scene, though I knew, as soon as I saw it, that I would have my crack at it.
I own not Castle, nor these wonderfully developing characters. Enjoy, friends. I look forward to your feedback, and seeing you again...sooner, rather than later. ;]
[Lily Mc
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What He's Worth
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She'd lost her mind. It was the answer- she'd accept nothing less.
She'd never be the same, without him.
What was she doing, what had she been doing, all this time? He wasn't any more significant today than he had been, yesterday. Yet, he was. Because today could be-their-his, last.
All days previous to this one appeared irrelevant. All bookmarks of their partnership, all shy smiles and flirtatious hinting fell beneath the surface of the explosion that had just rocked the control van, and her heart. She was one of the first on scene.
When had she opened her heart to him, when had he broken through, standing now just outside its threshold?
None of it would matter, especially, if his body was strewn across…she blinked hard, shaking the thought.
Stunned silence brought abrupt action- storming the bank it was –and she was instantly inside the clearing smoke and debris, shouting earnestly, desperately, his name. His name- so familiar, so warm in her mouth, made the reality choking her airways now seem abstract, surreal.
He couldn't be gone.
She'd called out his name too many times-
-he could have lost consciousness, unable to call out.
He couldn't be gone. The brittle strings hanging her heart pulled taught.
She tightened her grip on her glock, prepared to make good on her promise to Trapper John, when his husky reply hit her ear drums, reverberating sweetly, there. Cheeks abash with renewed life, she skillfully broke through the black iron that remained their dividing line, absolutely relishing in his welcome-to-the-party wave and hearty laughter that rang righteously with the throbbing beats of her heart.
Once she was inside, oh, once she faced him squarely, caught the magnificent, luring sparkle behind his lighting blue eyes, the lift of his cheek against the gentle curve of his pleased visual perception, she let bloom a smile that played portal to far more than her pearly whites.
She needed to touch him, empty of words- those were his area of expertise, anyway. She kissed him with her eyes, embraced him through their closeness, touching for confirmation his finely pressed collar even after he answered her distant question of status, enjoying the delicate fibers of the cloth but mostly enjoying the painfully obvious trance-like emotional abundance relaying between their locked gazes.
Realizing his wrist bindings and cutting him loose with her police pliers, she silently mused, alight with his being- how many times she had saved his life, now, and if any one of those times really counted for anything, against the nonphysical way that he'd saved hers.