Coming Home
A pre-scene to "Still" episode 5.21
She should be driving home to her own apartment. Castle has a chapter due, and she should be driving home to her own apartment. That's what they agreed; she'd go to work at the 12th and he'd go to work at the loft, and then maybe they'd make it out to the Hamptons again for the weekend.
She should be driving home to her own apartment, but that was before she caught this case, this freaking bomber, and she's rattled.
She should be driving home to her own apartment, but some jackhole made a bomb, blew up an apartment and turned an unsuspecting records clerk into a million bits of bone and gristle.
She should be driving home to her own apartment but instead she's driving to the loft because it's late at night and being alone is not what she needs right now. She needs to see him_ needs to feel the bone and sinew and connected aliveness of his body.
She should be driving home to her own apartment but the thing is she hates bombs. Sure a bullet can go almost anywhere, but a bomb is pretty much guaranteed to go everywhere. Bombs are stupid; bombs are indiscriminate; and claw foot bathtubs and bank vaults aside, a bomb will take its target and a wasteland of collateral damage as well. She has rituals for when she's rattled; for when cases stir her up and get through her defenses, but all her rituals are solitary ones, and somehow now they just won't answer. So instead of driving home, picking up her bike and riding out toward Connecticut so she can feel the wind pummeling her body and smell the green furze of new growth on all the trees as she rockets by, or sinking into the hottest bath her body can handle, she's driving to the loft where she can feel him solid and warm beside her.
It's after 2 AM when she turns her key silently in the lock, and slips into the loft on stealth mode. She's surprised to see a dim light on in the kitchen. She locks the door behind her, pulls off her boots and coat and pads into the kitchen to turn off the light above the stove. Then she sees a light ghosting through the book case from the study. She grins, thinking he might have fallen asleep at his computer, but when she enters the room she sees a battery operated tea light flickering on his desk. She picks it up, and using it as a tiny lantern, pushes open the door to the bedroom. There are gentle flickers coming from the closet, the bathroom, and even the nightstand on what has become her side of the bed_ a miniature trail of lights to guide her. What a sweet and silly gesture….and she isn't even supposed to be here…
Castle is face down in the pillows, sprawled across most of the bed. He doesn't even twitch as she eases the door closed. She peels off her clothes in the closet, throwing on the first sleep wear that comes to hand, then heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash the remains of the day off her face. The undulating light of the faux candles turn her reflection in the mirror ghostlike and surreal, causing the anxiety that dogged her all the way home to raise its ugly little head. She shivers and tamps it back down before crossing to the bed and sliding under the covers.
He rouses just a little.
"Beckett?" he murmurs.
"Expecting someone else?" she teases softly.
"Nuh uh," he slurs, "jus' you," and he reaches out with one tired arm to pull her closer.
"I wasn't even supposed to be here tonight…" she presses.
"Mmm hmmm," his voice is low and heavy with sleep, "but I'm an optimist… and here you are…"
She runs her hand across his forehead, around his eye to cup his cheek. His eyelids flutter as if he'd like to open them, but instead he sighs and slips under into deeper slumber. Just the sound of him breathing is enough to calm the stutter in her heart. He's heavy and warm in the bed beside her, like an anchor tethering her to the ground…to reality…to the future.