AN: This idea came to me not long after writing my last story (which was also set in the Hamptons) and I decided as much as I love to write them there, I may as well make this into a collection. Each chapter will be a separate oneshot set at a different point in time. A million thanks to Jess for always encouraging me and helping me make these into something worth posting! And pjrbcb, this is (finally) my response to your song prompt. So sorry it took this long. Hope you enjoy.

Wish You Were Here

The water is unusually calm tonight, an endless stretch of dark blue painted against a canopy of stars, and the two almost blend together, fade to black around the edges of the horizon. There's a chill in the air that glances over her with the faintest of touches, just enough to make her shiver and pull the sweater she wears a little tighter around her body. It's late and she should go in, crawl into the warmth of their bed, wrap herself in sheets and blankets and him. But she can't.

Not just yet.

She sinks down into the oversized white chair, pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin against them, staring out across the green expanse of lawn that extends from the Hamptons' house down to meet the sand. He brought them here tonight, loaded their family up in the car and didn't give her a choice. She'd snapped at him when he suggested she go upstairs and take a bath, try to relax; rolled her eyes and stalked off, letting the door to the back porch slam behind her as she made her way across the yard.

She regrets it now. She can still see the injured look on his face and she knows he only wants to help. He's been doing everything right. Everything. It's not his fault she's so bad at this. She just needed some air, something to ease the building pressure in her lungs before she suffocated under the weight of it all.

The week has been nothing but a blur, a steady stream of condolences, sympathetic smiles, decisions she wasn't prepared to make, and a numbness that's settled deep into her bones. She remembers the feeling all too well. The hollow pain in her chest, the emptiness, wondering if she'd ever feel whole again.

It's stirred up memories she's spent years trying to shove into the furthest recesses of her mind. How overwhelming it was to be surrounded by so many people, distant relatives, friends of the family she'd never seen before in her life. The seemingly infinite line of those who felt the need to give her a hug, tell her it would all be okay, when she knew even then, it would never be okay, nothing could ever bring back her mom. She can so clearly picture that nineteen-year-old girl who spent an hour in front of the mirror trying to cover up her tearstained cheeks and swollen eyes, just so she could put on a mask of strength. Just so they couldn't see her cry.

But through all of it, in every single memory wrapped around those awful days, her dad was right there, holding her hand, crying with her, finding moments of joy despite the pain. It didn't last forever. They'd handled their grief with different obsessions: justice and revenge, avoidance and depression; but the weeks surrounding her mom's funeral he'd be the only steady comfort in her life.

And despite the years of feeling helpless, of nights consisting of the same tired arguments and drunken slurs, of fighting to make him go to rehab, he'd gotten better. They'd gotten better, repaired their relationship, and he'd been a constant in her life ever since. A constant in their family's life, supportive of her husband long before she'd ever acknowledged how much Castle meant to her, a proud grandfather to their children.

And now he's gone.

She feels her throat tighten as the knowledge truly sinks in for the first time. Her dad is gone. It's the first time she's really stopped all week, took a breath, allowed herself to think about everything. And god, it hurts. It's an indescribable ache, one she knows she'll continue to carry with her, a longing for something she'll never have again. Both of her parents are gone now.

Gone.

The word echoes painfully throughout her mind and she grips the chair, her knuckles turning white. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe evenly, tries to fight through the sudden onset of panic and the nausea that rises in her throat. But it's as though the world is spinning around her, a chaos she can't control, and for a moment she's no longer Beckett. She's no longer the woman she's become. The one she takes pride in being - confident, together, and truly living her life. She's come so far over the years to be a wife, a daughter-in-law, a mother to two children, and a stepmother to Alexis. She has this remarkable family, an entire support system around her but right now, in this moment, she's just that nineteen-year-old girl, lost and alone.

It's been a week. Seven days since she last spoke to him. A conversation about going to a Yankees playoff game. Castle had offered to get them box seats because it was supposed to be cold the night of the game but they'd both said no. There were too many memories, too many other trips to the stadium over the years together and it just wouldn't have been the same without the crowd. The chill of mid-October, the smell of popcorn and hot dogs, the sound of Here Come the Yankees blaring over the loudspeakers. It was all part of the magic, the electricity of the event, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

The tickets still sit untouched on the kitchen counter, placed there by Castle the day before she got the call from her dad's neighbor telling her she needed to come to the hospital. She couldn't bring herself to move them, to erase those final plans, couldn't sever the last connection she would ever have to her father.

She blinks rapidly, grits her teeth to keep from crying. She's supposed to be stronger now. She's supposed to understand that this is how life goes, nothing lasts forever, and no one ever knows how much time is left. But she misses him.

She misses him so much and all she really wants is to cry and scream that it's not fair. It's not fair that she lost her mom so young. It's not fair all the years she missed with her father because of her mother's death and their grief. It's not fair that now that things have finally come together, now that they have a real family again, she's lost him too.

The watch on her wrist glints in the moonlight catching her eye, and she can swear she hears it ticking over the roar of the ocean in the background. It feels like a weight, heavy against her arm and she's drowning. Drowning in memories and moments and times that she'll never have back and she barely registers the tears that stream down her face or the strangled sound that escapes her lips.

She doesn't even realize he's there until his arms are around her, scooping her up from the chair and settling them into the other one together. He doesn't speak –doesn't try to reassure her or distract her or lighten the moment – but he holds her. He secures her against his chest and keeps her close, lets her cry. She's shaking and a mess and he has every right to be upset with her for walking out on him earlier but he's here. His shirt is soaked from her tears and she's clinging to him painfully, branding him with marks but he only continues to run his hands along her back, soothing circles across her skin over and over until she can feel her breathing gradually even out again.

She eventually pulls back so she can see his face, needs to reassure herself that they're okay and she's immediately overwhelmed by the love she finds there. No matter how far they've come, it still amazes her how he can do this. How after so many years of running and fighting and being so completely alone, he's the first and only one who can heal her, put her back together when she falls apart, forgive her so easily for being defensive. And once again she regrets how she reacted to him before because she really doesn't want to do this on her own anymore. Things are different now. He's changed her, given her a reason to see the joy in life, to move beyond the darkness. And even though it hurts, it really hurts, he somehow makes it easier to breathe through the pain.

"I'm sorry," she says softly.

He looks at her for a moment then shifts them in the chair so he can pull her close again, both of them facing the water this time. He presses a kiss into her hair and reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "I know."

They stay like that for a while. It's quiet, peaceful in the darkness of the night, only the sound of the waves and breeze surrounding them. And even though they aren't speaking, there's intimacy in this moment. He's here and yet, he's still giving her space, time to work out all the things in her head. He's not going to push her but she knows he won't leave her either; and that realization is a comfort.

She can feel herself relaxing further into his arms, the warmth he radiates shelters her from the chill in the air, and she sighs as his thumb paints indiscernible patterns across the top of her hand.

"I don't know how to do this again," she admits finally. "I thought I could handle it this time but part of me feels like I'm still just that scared, nineteen-year-old girl."

"It's okay to be scared, Kate. It's okay to cry, to throw things, whatever you need, even if it's just space. I just want to be there for you. You're not alone in this."

She thinks of how he's been there for her over the years, wonders if he understands all the ways he's saved her, and she knows she could never fully express how much it means.

She squeezes his hand in thanks, a silent affirmation of his words. "There were so many times when I didn't think he was going to make it in those years he was drinking. I'd come over to check on him, find the empty bottles and he'd be passed out in his chair by eight o' clock every evening with a game blaring on the TV. One time I remember I'd forgotten my key. I'd been working night shifts in Vice for two weeks and I thought I'd stop by, see if he wanted to get breakfast but he didn't answer his phone and I pounded on the door for at least ten minutes trying to wake him up. I nearly had a panic attack worrying that he was lying somewhere unconscious by himself; and that's when I finally had to accept that there was a possibility he wouldn't survive this. He'd been to AA and rehab already and promised me he'd quit so many times I lost count."

"But he got better."

She lets out a breath. "He got better. I drove him back to the rehab facility that day, threatened to never speak to him again if he didn't get the help he needed. God, he looked so devastated, Castle. It broke my heart to see him like that, to leave them there. I expected him to argue with me. I thought he'd be angry like all the other times I'd tried to suggest he go back; but not that day. That day he just looked broken, like he'd lost all of his will to fight. And I remember thinking that this was it. If it didn't work this time then, I was going to lose him for good."

She swipes at a tear and pauses for a moment.

"He must have stuck it out that time?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "He did. It was like something had finally gotten through to him. Like maybe he finally realized what this was doing to him, to us. He stayed for the full program, committed to it, and continued going to AA for a long time after he got out. It took a while to rebuild our relationship but I could tell he was trying." Her eyes glisten in the moonlight. "I was so proud of him."

"He was proud of you too, Kate. He worried about your work because he's your dad but he was so proud of you and the things you've accomplished."

She sniffs. "I just feel like I should be better at this." Her voice cracks and she looks down, worries her bottom lip.

"Better at what, Kate? Losing a parent? Nothing makes that easier. But you are the strongest person I've ever known and nothing you do could ever change that."

Her chest clenches. He always manages to find the right thing to say. His words fill the cracked and empty spaces inside her in ways she's never quite understood. She wants so badly to be capable of handling all of this but she knows he's right – nothing will make it easier, no matter how much she's lost already. She exhales a shaky breath, a little overwhelmed by the array of emotions she feels. "I don't know what I ever did to make you believe in me."

"Well, that's easy." He pauses and she turns to look at him, eyebrows raised as she waits. "You look, really, really good in heels." She chokes out a startled laugh and he grins suggestively.

"My shoes, Castle? That's your explanation for thinking I'm strong?"

"You have a lot of sexy shoes, Beckett. I'm defenseless against the power you wield in them."

"Mmm, you do seem to have a weakness for those red stilettos I wore to Kenzie's recital last month."

He groans and she laughs again, feels lighter, and once again is reminded of the joy he brings to her life. Her mind shifts back to her dad but instead of the darkness that seemed to close in on her before, she finds herself thinking of the last time they'd all been together.

"He was happy wasn't he...my dad? When we had brunch a couple weekends ago."

Castle runs his hands up and down her arms, a gesture that calms her, makes her feel safe. "Yeah, Kate, he was happy. I think you brought light back into his life by living yours. By giving him a family again. I've never seen him happier than when he was teaching Austin how to throw or watching Mackenzie graduate from kindergarten. He loved being a grandfather and he loved seeing you happy."

Kate smiles at the memories, lets them wash over her. They have a beautiful family, have so many memories that don't necessarily erase the pain but they do keep her from drowning in it.

"They didn't hear us earlier did they?" She hangs her head at the thought of her children seeing her outburst.

"No. They're fine. I went upstairs after you came out here and found Austin reading to Kenzie. She'd asked him to do the voices like Grandpa for her. I let him finish and then I tucked them in." He gives her shoulder a squeeze. "We have amazing kids, Kate."

"You think they'll be okay?"

"I do."

She nods absentmindedly, wondering what they're supposed to do. Tries to remember what her parents told her after her grandparents passed away. So often she wishes they had some sort of instruction manual for things like this. She hardly feels qualified to be a parent most days but then again, they've made it this far.

"Hey." His voice is low and he angles her so she's facing him again. She looks up, waits for him to continue. "I know it's not going to be easy and it's not just going to go away but we will get through this. Together okay?"

She feels the tears slip down her cheeks but she nods her head, acknowledges him, and presses a kiss to his mouth gently before resting her forehead against his. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They stay outside for another hour exchanging stories, laughing, crying, not saying anything at times, just watching the sky and the steady curl of the waves kissing the sand. And it's not a cure, it doesn't solve everything. She still misses her parents, still wonders what they'll do next. But it's somehow perfect, exactly what she needed.

It's enough.

Thoughts?