A/N: Surprise!
Disclaimer: Not mine. That's no surprise.
Chapter 7
He hadn't seen it in so long, but there it was, lying on his table in their study. The black leather bound book that held their story sat right in the centre of the heap of papers strewn a little more carelessly on this desk. He knew she liked to read it every now and then. Sometimes it would be after a hard day at work. Sometimes it would be after an argument with him; like she needed to remind herself that they had come so far, through so many hardships. Her eyes would twinkle then, and the corners of her mouth would lift, as would her eyes towards his only to see the twinkle reflected back at her. When he saw her reading it, he would remember too and then they would work through whatever it was that had made them momentarily forget.
Sometimes though, she would just read it for the sake of reading it – because she liked stories; because she loved their story. But she always made sure to keep it in its place on their bookshelf, and so to see it lying in the middle of his messy desk after a long day of paperwork for both of them worried him a little. Maybe she was more tired than he'd thought.
He moved towards it, glancing subconsciously at their bedroom where he knew she'd be getting ready to call it a night. A smile tugged at his lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled as his hand moved over the book in a caress that he otherwise used only on her – this was her; this was them. He'd penned it down – or well, he typed it all out himself but he couldn't help but look at it with a reverence of a kind that befitted ancient objects of beauty which people associated with holiness. It was a treasure, and so, why not?
He opened it and almost laughed as the pages fluttered because of a gentle breeze that escaped from the air conditioning vent. It was like in the movies, where the protagonist would stumble exactly onto the right spot and have a moment of epiphany. The pages only feebly danced before they settled back down again, but it was magical enough for him.
He scanned each page which held the words that were so familiar to him, his words for them; and turned them till he reached the last page which seemed like the rest, but it wasn't. It wasn't. It was a tad bit crispier, a fraction whiter than the cream of the earlier pages, with its edges perfectly intact and the words as yet foreign to him. He sat down and pulled it closer to himself and began to read.
I knew where it was headed – it was headed to a place that until then had only been a part of my dreams. Every girl dreams of a tall, dark and handsome prince charming on his noble steed asking for her hand in marriage. It's been reiterated to me that I'm not every girl, but I've had this dream too. He's right though, in that not every girl has this dream come true for them. I'm one of the lucky few.
I don't have to wish upon a lucky star, nor blow out flames dancing atop pieces of wax, nor toss coins into enchanted waters. I only have to wish upon him, trust him; trust us.
It was a rough ride, till it wasn't, for us as the previous chapters might lead one to imagine. Eventually the path became better, because together we picked up the debris and cleared the road. That's not to say that neither of us stumbled. We did. The beauty of it would be the vice grip with which the other held on. If we stumbled together, we'd right ourselves together. Falling was possible. Not getting up however was not an option. And if it was? – it wasn't one we would chose.
He's the yin to my yang, the cream to my coffee, my better half, my soul mate, my perfect. He says the same thing about me, and I used to scoff at his cheesiness but he would make the argument that it's true because I couldn't refute it. Innocent until proven guilty. Right until proven wrong. So I agree, because if it's not false; it's true. It's our truth. We fit. Richard Castle and Kate Beckett are each other's missing pieces.
Armed with this truth when he asked me to marry him, of course I said yes and I thought that I would never again feel happiness of that intensity – when it was our combined joy so openly permeating the air around us. I was wrong.
We were happier on the day of our wedding. He whispered into my ear that very night that I was all he could see. Like he had gotten tunnel vision. I wouldn't have believed him if I hadn't known exactly what he meant. But I did. He was all I saw as my father led me down the aisle. I don't remember the walk. In my memories I just glide down till I'm beside him, till I take his hand or he takes mine. I don't really remember who reached out for whom, but I have a sneaking suspicion that we met halfway reaching out for each other, perfectly synchronized. Our wedding was perfectly synchronized like a maestro's performance where every key and every note was struck so exactly that it couldn't be any better than in that moment.
So I was proven wrong then about the happiest moment being when he asked me to marry him. I thought that clearly, it was then – the day we had been united in holy matrimony that would come out on top.
A long time ago he used to quip about how cute I looked when I was mad at him for being right, or annoyed at myself for being proven wrong. I used to cast him a glare that gradually lost its effectiveness unless I was really serious about it. He still says I'm cute when I'm angry – pokes at the furrow in my brow till I huff, scoff or glare. Of course that only amuses him more. He doesn't bother pointing out the times that I'm proven wrong though because I've admitted to him that maybe – just maybe sometimes it's worth it.
It was worth it when I was proven wrong again. Our wedding day had been a day of utter bliss. But was it the happiest day? I don't know.
It felt like happiest day when I saw a smiley face on the white stick. And then for what felt for the longest duration of time, I was a nervous wreck till I told him about it. Then it was the happiest day, it had to be judging by the look on his face. Well, his face and the fact that he picked me up and spun me around till I got so dizzy that he had to set me down on the bed and lay down beside me, our expressions probably twins in their mirth.
Then it felt like the happiest day as I held his hand so tightly that it might have cut off his circulation. When I realized and tried to take my hand back, he didn't let go. He just squeezed in return as his other hand wiped the tears from my eyes, and as my free hand wiped his. We were crying because the joy of it was overwhelming. Each little beat that was rapidly followed by another – it was so much.
He says I'm harder to deal with now than I was when he first started out at the precinct. I don't take offense – at least when the mood swings leave me alone – because I know he says it in jest. In reality, he's been by my side every step of the way. He's held me and fallen asleep with me in the middle of the night on the bathroom floor. He's come along with me to buy unflattering moo moos which I wear sometimes because they're so much more comfortable. He's put up with my grumbling at having to be behind a desk instead of behind a gun. He's cooked things for me that would seem disgusting to normal people – then again, he enjoys those too, so it wasn't much of a task for him. I didn't think I'd ever crave for smorlettes. Then again maybe it isn't me who's craving it, maybe it's the part of him inside me.
He's been the perfect father to his daughter – our daughter – as we've faced so many life altering changes. I couldn't dream of a better husband if I tried. He couldn't write a better husband if he tried.
In a few months, we'll have another happiest moment. I don't want to grade them anymore. We've always beaten the odds. Always bent the rules. Words mean different things to us than they do to others. "Always" is our promise. Coffees are our morning kisses – aside from the actual morning kisses. Apples and cherries are so much more than fruits. 'Happiest' is a superlative that has many siblings. It's the story of our lives – of our life together. Together, we make our story the happiest.
He took in a ragged breath and let out a stuttered sigh as he closed the book and looked at her glowing form leaning against the door frame to their room. She pushed off it and made her way towards him, with her right palm resting on her now large belly and her thumb rubbing gentle circles.
Turning his chair to face her, he wrapped his arms around her and though they couldn't completely encompass her anymore he was just as happy, maybe happier that he held two precious treasures so close to his heart. He listened for movement, hoped that his second offspring would channel the soccer player – or better yet – ninja within itself and let his pop know he's in there, kickin' it like a boss.
Kate carded his hair through her hands and he shivered under her touch – so soft and so intimate – he still found it miraculous, magical to be the lucky one and her only done. With a smile on his face, he turned and placed a sweet kiss to her belly. "Thank you," he said as he looked up at her. She graced him with her beaming smile.
"I'd say 'Always' but that thing is so full of sap already that I'm finding it nauseating."
He rewarded her with a hearty chuckle that vibrated through her and set her slightly achy spine tingling. "I'm pretty sure it's Rick junior that's responsible for the nausea."
She swatted his arm gently. "Don't go blaming our son. If it's anyone's fault, it's yours."
"My fault?" he asked in mock indignation, "They're your hormones."
"My hormones that are in a state of utter chaos thanks to you."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, shush. You love it."
She pinched his ear and narrowed her eyes as she asked him, "Did you just shush me? And roll your eyes? Richard Castle, I invented the eye roll."
"Ow ow ow! Apples! Apples! I love your hormones. They're the best chemical messengers ever."
She released his ear and laughed at him as he tried to rub the pain away.
"Oh, you're messing with me. That's just mean, Beckett. I don't know when you're actually mad versus when it's the mood swings anymore," he said with a pout.
She bent enough to place a kiss to his reddened ear in apology. "Sorry. You're right."
"That you have the best hormones ever?"
This time she rolled her eyes. "You're right about my loving it."
"Loving your hormones?"
"Castle!" she huffed in annoyance.
"Kidding, kidding. You love being pregnant. Umm.. Except when you're throwing up – though it's been a while, come to think of it."
"Thank God for the little favors. But yes, I love being a mom. I love being your wife. I love what we've created," she said with a radiant smile.
"Our happiest moments," he whispered.
She nodded and added softly, "I love our story. I love you."
"I love you, too," he replied with a smile which grew so much and matched hers when they felt their little ninja kick.
"Come on. Time for bed," she said as she turned around and headed towards their room. "And we're not calling him Rick junior."
"How 'bout Nick? 'ick' from Rick and 'Nic' like Nikki," he suggested as he got up to follow her.
"You want our son to have the 'ick' from Rick?" She said with her eyebrow raised and a laugh straining her voice.
"Aww come on! It's perfect! Fate, Kate."
She rolled her eyes and cast him a bemused expression that he thought was filled with adoration.
"Nicholas. Hmm. Maybe we could use it as a middle name." In truth, she loved the name. They'd had this conversation before, but it was always fun to tease him. Though they hadn't zeroed in on a name yet, she knew that she was considering this one.
"Or use it as a first name and use something else as a middle name."
"I don't know, Rick. There are a lot of good options out there."
"Well, we're not naming him Kevin or Javier or a combination of the two; no matter how many times those two beg about it."
She chuckled. Yeah, she couldn't see their son being a 'Kavi' or 'Jevin' either.
And so they went to bed discussing all the potential names – some really absurd suggestions from Rick – till they fell into a peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of their next happiest moments.
A/N: Where did this come from? I don't know. Maybe it was Feli's comment on twitter. Maybe I was just in the mood to write and couldn't write a whole new story. Maybe I felt the need to write a little magic for chapter 7. I'm not sure. If she seems too sappy and completely unlike herself – uh .. sorry, what can I say? She's pregnant ;).. It's the mood swings. Anyway, I hope you like it; but I'll understand if you don't. Thanks for reading. : ) x
