Prompt: (from castlefanficprompts on tumblr) "Beckett gets another tattoo, in honour of her mom after Veritas." See tumblr for the image of the tattoo that accompanied the prompt.
Silent tears stream down Kate Beckett's cheeks. She squeezes her fiancé's hand in a death grip, her knuckles white, as Jeff the tattoo artist moves his needle steadily across her skin.
Jeff almost stopped when he noticed her crying a few minutes ago; his hand paused, the buzzing needle poised above her neck, and his eyes cut over to Castle's, questioning. But Rick gave him a quick nod of reassurance, and the tattooist raised his eyebrows in an expressive facial shrug and turned back to his task. He works with quiet efficiency, inscribing the lines and curves onto Beckett's body, a scrap of paper towel in his other hand whisking away the droplets of blood as they ooze up along the needle's path.
Castle is keeping a close eye on Beckett, gauging her emotional state from moment to moment. He's ready to tell Jeff to stop if needed, but so far he knows that she's okay, despite the tears seeping continuously from beneath her closed eyelids. If he had to guess, he'd say she doesn't even notice the scratch of the needle as it scrapes the ink into her skin. The pain she's feeling is not physical.
The tattoo is almost finished. Castle leans forward slightly, bringing his face closer to Beckett's.
"It's beautiful," he murmurs into her ear. "You're gonna love it."
Her eyes pop open at the sound of his voice, her gaze cutting sharply toward him, and she belatedly realizes how hard she's clutching his hand. She slowly eases her grip, eyes blinking an apology at him, even as she keeps her upper body motionless, careful not to disturb Jeff's canvas.
"She would have loved it," Castle adds, swiping his thumb gently across the back of Beckett's hand. She manages a tight smile and withdraws her hand, untangling her fingers from his to wipe her sweaty palm on her jeans. Castle takes the opportunity to do the same, answering her smile with his own.
"Thank you," she breathes, her hand coming to rest on his knee. He covers it with his own again, just lightly this time. She can squeeze his knee if she needs to.
"Always," he says, of course, and she smiles for real now, some of the tension slowly leaving her face.
"All done," the tattooist announces then, setting the needle gun aside, stretching his arms over his head briefly to crack his back. Beckett lets out a long breath and straightens up, rolling her neck and shoulders. Her eyes find Castle's again, a tentative question sparking in them.
"Oh," he says, but Jeff is already in motion, standing up and reaching for a pair of hand-mirrors on a table. The same two they used an hour or more ago, to confirm the proper placement of the artwork.
But angling the mirrors just right is tricky, and while Beckett and Jeff are fussing at it, Castle simply pulls out his phone.
"Here," he says softly, snapping a couple of shots and handing the device over to his fiancée. Jeff huffs sheepishly.
"I never think of that," he admits, pulling out his own phone, quickly looking to Beckett for permission before taking a few pictures of his own.
Beckett cradles Castle's phone in her palm, studying the image of her own upper back. The art is simple, etched in black and shades of gray.
Two elephants stand between her shoulder blades, the smaller one's trunk gripping the tail of the larger one. And underneath them, in Kate's own flowing cursive, the words: Omnia Vincit Amor.
"From truth to love," Castle comments, and Beckett turns her face up toward him, her eyes overflowing again.
"Hang on," Jeff protests as Beckett surges up out of the chair to wrap her arms around Castle, burying her damp face in his shoulder. He hugs her gently, careful to keep his hands away from the new tattoo. A bit of hair has escaped her bun and he slides fingertips delicately along her neck to pull the strands away from the site.
"It's right," she whispers into his shirt. "It's the right words. It wasn't veritas that brought her justice - it was amor."
"It's right," Castle repeats, confirming, and she hugs him even tighter.
"Ma'am, I'm going to put this bandage on now," Jeff is saying, and Beckett nods against Castle's chest, pulling in a deep shuddering breath, working to compose herself.
"Go ahead," Castle says, and watches, still holding Beckett in his arms, while Jeff smears petroleum jelly over the new tattoo, then carefully covers it with a piece of gauze secured with medical tape.
"Aftercare instructions," the artist says, handing Castle a slip of paper and a small tube of antibiotic ointment. "She can't sleep on her back for a few nights."
"No problem," Castle nods. He pockets the items and peels Beckett away from his body to look into her face.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." She gives him a shaky smile, then turns it toward Jeff. "Thank you so much. It's perfect."
"No problem," Jeff replies. "Sorry about your mom."
Beckett takes another slow breath. "Thank you. But we got him." She turns back toward Castle again. "We got him."
"Hey," Castle adds, a grin beginning to break across his face, as Jeff turns to start cleaning up his workspace. "Look."
Beckett follows his gaze toward the tattoo artist's work table and the accoutrements laid out on it: the needle gun, the little pots of ink, the box of single-use latex gloves, the gauze, the scraps of bloodstained paper towel. All lying atop a sheet of week-old newspaper.
Beckett looks, and looks again, and a laugh bursts from her throat, startling Jeff. He twists around to stare as Castle's low chuckle joins Beckett's.
SENATOR BRACKEN ARRESTED, reads the front-page headline, above a picture of a scowling Bracken. Words and photo in stark black ink, on newsprint now smeared with traces of Kate Beckett's blood.
The symbolism clears all hint of melancholy from Beckett's face, and her eyes are twinkling as she picks up her purse and reaches for her fiancé's hand.
"Come on, Castle," she says brightly, twining her fingers with his again. "Let's go plan a wedding."