Castle woke us surprised and disoriented. Under his fingertips he felt the grit of the alleyway, sand, dirt and God knows what else. The sun shone down upon his face, warming him up and bringing some positivity to his muddles thoughts. He opened his eyes slowly, savouring the feeling of being alive. The warmth, the authenticity of the dirt between his fingertips, the feeling of brick against his back. H was out of the freezers cold embrace and he was glad.
Beckett, Rick's eyes shot open and with a jolt he scanned for her familiar form. His blue eyes were desperate and for a moment he forgot he was in hell – dead like he thought she was. Upon his recognition he immediately abandon his search. There was no way she would be in Hell, God would never allow. He wasn't a very religious man, but he was sure of some certainties and he knew that good people did not go to Hell.
He deserved it, he reasoned, more than Beckett ever did. She was persistent in her hunt for the truth about mother's murder. Even when her family was crumbling she stayed strong through her father's alcoholism. She was Castle's protector, even when it seemed unfair to him, he respected that. She was an amazing role model for Alexis and more like a mother than any of his ex-wives.
Eyes resuming the search, he saw her propped up against the same wall, looking at him with those green eyes he missed so much. The smile which pulled at her lips was genuine, not of sadness or guilt but happiness. Her face was so expressive, he had realised, and her smile evoked a warmth in him that outshone the sun.
He could almost forget the paleness of her features as he struggled through the surgery. All the positive memories came swimming back through the gloom. The image of her sleeping on his couch, curled in a tight ball and wrapped in a soft blanket despite his offering of the spare room. The sounds of bullets whizzing by and hitting empty trashcans as they escaped danger. The small of coffee filling the small breakroom and the rings which the scalding liquid left on the white mugs. The teasing smell of General Toa's chicken after a long shift at the precinct.
They were all her, and her impact on his life. Kate was a riddle, and a piece of himself that he could never find. Not through writing, or his family, but through her he had found himself complete for the first time.