This popped into my head the other morning and demanded to be written. I may continue this, if the fancy strikes me. It's a drabble, so I apologize if it seems abrupt.
. . . . . .
Alexis is so mature, so serious, that Beckett's not surprised when she doesn't cry at the hospital. But she's paper-white; Beckett's reminded of herself twelve years ago, acting brave for the cops, and instinctively she opens her arms. Alexis melts into the hug and it's so natural, almost like they're—but she can't think that right now, not when he's in the ER, not with Josh waiting at home, not when there's a kid who's already had two moms leave. But as Martha embraces them both, Beckett can't help feeling there are worse things than being a Castle.