Day 20

Author's Note: I'll stop with the dreams... sometime...

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She drifts through the streets, glumly looking at window displays. Cold wind whips around her, forcing her to close her jacket tighter around herself. It's been months since he's held her as she walked, shielding her from unpleasant temperatures.

Unable to bear the ice anymore, she steps inside a bookstore. Beckett looks around, happy to see a coffee shop in the corner. She steps in line behind three ladies around her age, two blondes and a red-head.

They chatter loudly, and she gives into the temptation to hear what they're saying. At this point, ignoring them is more of a hassle than listening.

"Sad that he had to die," the tallest one comments, purse in hand. Beckett gives a silent sigh. The last thing she wants to do is hear about death. "I hope the family isn't still grieving during the holidays."

Looking down at her watch, the detective realizes that it is, in fact, the holiday season. It's December fifteenth.

One of the other women nods. "And with a baby on the way. I feel bad for the kid, growing up and not knowing who his or her dad is," she comments, shaking her head.

Beckett looks down at her own rounded stomach, the proof of life finally showing up under her loose coat. She hadn't expected it, not really. But now, she couldn't imagine not having the baby. She didn't know that she wanted it until it was growing legs and arms and a head.

The red-head moves up slightly in line, still facing her friends. "You know," she says with a laugh on her voice. "Everyone thought he'd end up getting killed following around his detective wife, not in a car crash." The other two chuckle lightly and quietly, finishing their conversation. Beckett takes it all in. They're talking about her and Castle.

They're talking about him.

The line seems suffocating but too empty at that point, the love of her life not at her side for her to lean on when she's tired but still wants the flavor of coffee. He's not there to insist on paying. He's not there. He's not here. He's not anywhere.

He's gone, she remembers, eyes brimming with tears as she curses her stupid hormones. The baby kicks in reassurance, giving her something to distract herself with.

However, the distraction doesn't last long as one of the blondes raises her voice again, stating, "At least he's selling more books now. He was popular before. But now, nobody can get enough of his stuff. I guess that's how it works with all artists though, right?" she asks, not caring.

Beckett wants to punch her in the face. But because that's quite impolite, she only announces, "Excuse me, it's your turn in line," with a quiver in her voice. The group turns around to see her sorry state and moves up to place their order, apologizing.

For what, she doesn't know.

Finally she gets her vanilla decaf coffee and tries to sip it at a table in the window, observing the snowfall. But her thoughts get in the way, and she can't sit alone without remembering him, needing him.

She makes sure the cover is on her drink tightly before stepping out into the streets and walking towards the loft. She doesn't want to celebrate the holidays, she knows that. But he was the one who convinced her to celebrate four years ago. And now, shouldn't she honor him by celebrating in style? No matter what she thinks, it always leads back to the fact that Castle is never coming back.

She bolts up from her warm pillow, her sleepy state immediately cringing at the sudden temperature change. Looking down, she remembers that she really is pregnant.

And Castle's side of the bed is still cold.