Author's Note: A long chapter dealing with Christmas Eve. I only hope it turned out okay.

Then Came Love

Chapter 48

It was Christmas Eve.

Kate smoothed a hand over her family's stockings, the ones she'd retrieved from storage just the day before, blinking back threatening tears yet again.

Her dad had offered to accompany her to the storage unit but she had demurred, assured him she would be fine on her own. Partly because she hadn't wanted to put her dad through the ordeal of seeing so many of their old family items, the ones that held such memories it was too painful for him to keep in sight and too precious to give away, and partly because she'd felt it would be easier for her to see some of those items if she didn't have an audience, even one as understanding as her dad.

The boxes had been dusty, which had provided an excuse for the tears she hadn't been able to help shedding. Her mom's so-familiar handwriting had labeled the boxes holding the holiday items, making them easy to identify, and fortunately for her, the stockings had been close to the top of the box containing their various household holiday decorations, on top of some coils of Christmas lights and carefully wrapped in tissue paper.

Now, just before she was about to leave for the loft, Kate swiped at the tears on her cheeks. Oh, the memories. She remembered so many years of watching her mom singing along to Christmas carols as she'd hung the stockings over the mantel of their home, usually as the young Katie and her dad worked together to decorate the tree.

She still wasn't entirely sure why but she had brought all three stockings back with her, even her mom's. She hadn't been able to leave her mom's stocking alone in the box, without the other two. Which was entirely irrational, she knew, but at the last moment, she'd given into her impulse to keep all three stockings together.

Her mom's stocking featured the image of a smiling gingerbread woman with a headpiece of holly and holding a candy cane while her dad's featured Santa Claus, holding a bag bulging with presents, standing on a rooftop about to jump down the chimney. Her own stocking, one which she knew her mom had carefully picked out just before the baby Katie's first Christmas, bore a small family of snowmen, parents and a child-snowman. "Just like us," her mom had used to say. Her older teenage self had rolled her eyes and grumbled a little at the childishness of the image but after all, the stocking only appeared once a year and she hadn't worked up the nerve to try to suggest getting another, less childish stocking and now, she was glad she hadn't. Because this was the stocking her mom had chosen for her, another tangible connection to her mom.

The stockings, as were typical with holiday decorations, all featured such happy images, the smiles wreathing the faces of the gingerbread woman, Santa Claus, and the snowmen family. The snowmen family of three, that really had been like them–until their family had been brutally ripped apart the day her mom had died.

The last time she'd seen these stockings had been the day after her mom's death. When she had torn the stockings down from the mantel in a fit of devastated anger. Her dad had been a hollow shell, as if the greater part of himself had died along with her mom, and she had just been… a wreck. And the cheerfulness of the images on the stockings had struck her as a cruel mockery on that day when she had been utterly convinced that she would never be happy again, that she would never feel like smiling again. She hadn't been able to bear it, had ripped the stockings down and hurled them at a wall–although, of course, being cloth, it hadn't done any harm to the stockings, which she was thankful for, now.

She hadn't looked at the stockings again, just helped her dad to pack them up and put them away in storage along with all the rest of the holiday decorations and honestly never planned to take them out again. Which she hadn't, until yesterday.

Seeing the stockings again did hurt, her chest tightening with emotion, all the memories flooding her mind. But it didn't bring on the same fit of despair as on that terrible day after her mom's death. Now, she could manage a pale, somewhat shaky smile at the images on the stockings. Now, when she and her dad had managed to find a measure of peace, yes, even of happiness, again. They could smile and laugh and remember her mom with love, tinged by grief, yes, but not the same sharp agony.

Could even try to celebrate Christmas again. Spending today and tomorrow, Christmas Day itself, with people who cared about her. She thought about how much her mom had always loved the holiday; she couldn't imagine that her mom would have wanted for her and her dad never to celebrate Christmas again. No, as her dad had said, this was what her mom would have wanted.

Kate wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and pushed herself to her feet. It was already almost noon and she had told Castle she would show up early enough to help him and Alexis with preparing dinner. She could only hope that she had worked past enough of the emotional impact of seeing the stockings again to keep her calm over the course of the day. Even if Martha and Alexis were aware of her own mixed feelings about Christmas, she really did not want to be a damper on the celebratory nature of the day.

The City, of course, was never quiet, much less on Christmas Eve when she knew there would still be a rush of last-minute shoppers, but Kate was still able to make good time on the short drive to the loft.

She paused, feeling the little flip of her heart, as she inserted her key into the door, the spare key Castle had given her just a couple days ago, placed on the small, decorative tray on the dresser in Castle's room where she usually put her dad's watch and the necklace with her mom's ring. She'd immediately looked at Castle who was unbuttoning his shirt and he'd caught her gaze. "It seemed about time you have a spare key so you can come and go as you please." He'd spoken matter-of-factly and she had only nodded and murmured agreement but hadn't been able to help the stutter of her heart.

Exchanging keys was a big step forward in a relationship. She and Will had been together for more than four months before they had reached the point of exchanging keys and even then, neither had used their respective keys much. At the time, she'd thought it was a sign that their relationship was really going somewhere, had started to think that Will might actually be–well, never mind, he wasn't and hadn't been as they'd broken up less than two months after the key exchange anyway.

It was early, still, in their relationship to be exchanging keys and yet, under the circumstances, it didn't feel all that early either. Lanie had a point, that the baby did change everything. But it wasn't only the baby either; it was just… Castle. He was different, their relationship was different than any she'd had before.

As was evident in the fact that she was about to celebrate her first Christmas of any kind in a decade with Castle and his family. She let herself into the loft to be greeted immediately by the sound of holiday music before her attention was distracted by Martha's exuberant greeting, already dressed for dinner in a dress of a vivid emerald green with accents of red and black.

"Katherine darling, there you are! And don't you look lovely."

Kate smiled as she accepted Martha's scented embrace and kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Martha. You look very nice yourself."

Martha waved a hand. "Aren't you a dear to say so. Come, put down your things. I don't know if you should be carrying such things right now."

"Oh, it's not at all heavy," she quickly assured Martha, truthfully. All she had was a single bag with the stockings and the rest of the gifts she'd bought for Castle and Alexis, having already brought over the first small batch of gifts, carefully divided to ensure that the bag did not become heavy. (See, she was slowly adjusting to her physical limitations, even if she couldn't say she liked it.)

Castle had finished whatever he'd been working on in the kitchen and crossed quickly over to her, greeting her with a kiss on her temple as he slid his arm around her waist. "You made it, and just in time for lunch."

He was wearing a red button-down, in keeping with the holiday, the color making his eyes seem to leap out, appearing all the bluer by contrast, and she couldn't help the sharp tug of attraction she felt. He had such beautiful eyes. But of course, with Martha right there, she could hardly act on it and limited herself to returning his smile and momentarily resting her cheek against his shoulder. "Sounds good. Let me just put these gifts under the tree and then I can come help."

"Lots of gifts for me, I hope," Castle quipped.

"I think I forgot about you. I knew I was forgetting someone to buy a gift for," she deadpanned.

He gave a loud, fake gasp of horror. "Must you be so mean to me, Beckett? And just when I'm about to feed you too. I don't know why I put up with you."

"It's because she's good at keeping you in line," Martha interjected dryly, dropping a quick wink at Kate.

Kate only smirked at him and shooed Castle away as she took out the gifts in the bag she'd brought and then made a quick retreat into his bedroom with another box containing her real gift for him.

Alexis came down the stairs as Kate emerged from Castle's bedroom, greeting Kate with a smile and a quick hug, and they all sat down to a lunch of soup and sandwiches. The meal, as was usual when Martha was present, largely revolved around Martha and Alexis as the main conversationalists. Not that Kate minded; Martha was, with her dramatic tendencies, not a bad raconteur and it was hard to resist the atmosphere of warmth and, yes, love, that the Castle family always radiated when they were together. In spite of the teasing and the banter, the bond between Castle and Alexis and Martha was unmistakable and now, she felt as if she were part of it too.

After lunch, while Martha and Alexis volunteered to clean up, she quietly told Castle she thought it was about time she put up her family's stockings as promised and he quickly volunteered to help her. Not because she actually needed his help, she knew, but to be there for her, supporting her.

She gave him a small, rather tight smile, as she moved to the mantel where the three stockings for Castle, Alexis, and Martha, each labeled with their respective names, already hung. Castle's stocking featured, unsurprisingly, Santa Claus and some of his elves, while Alexis's featured Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer and some of the other reindeer, and Martha's featured a Nutcracker.

Castle was the one who bent to pick up the bag with the stockings inside, handing it to her, and she pulled out her stocking first, smoothing a hand over the smiling snowmen. "This one's mine." She paused and then added, her voice not entirely steady, "My mom said she picked this one because they were a family, just like the three of us."

His expression softened, became tender with understanding, but all he said, very quietly, was, "It's very cute."

She let out a breath as she taped her stocking up on the mantel, beside Alexis's, and then her dad's stocking followed. "My dad's," she identified.

Which left only her mom's stocking still in the bag. She saw Castle's eyes drop down to see it and knew he'd realized what–whose–the stocking was. And he was the one to reach out and pick her mom's stocking up, as gently as if the stocking were some priceless and delicate artifact. "I think this should be hung up too," he told her gently, "if you're okay with it. Because she's still with you, a part of you, and we should remember that."

She lifted one hand to touch her mom's ring while her other moved in the now-familiar gesture to curve over her stomach where their baby grew. Her mom's first grandchild, she thought, her throat tightening, eyes stinging with tears. The baby too would be a part of her mom. She swallowed hard and nodded. "Thanks," was all she managed to say.

He fastened her mom's stocking on the mantelpiece, beside her dad's, and then slipped his arm around her and she leaned into him for a moment as they both looked at the stockings, of both their combined families, all together. The stockings didn't match, were clearly not a set, but she couldn't help but think that they looked good hanging together side by side.

The music playing over the speakers switched and "Silver Bells" started playing and she stiffened in spite of herself.

He felt it and glanced at her, a faint frown entering his eyes. "Is it too much, having the stockings up?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not that," she managed. "It's this song."

He blinked, tilting his head slightly as he focused on the music. "Silver Bells?"

"It's my mom's favorite Christmas song."

Oh. His lips shaped the word but he didn't speak, only nodded slowly, and then stepped away to pick up a remote, pressing a button to skip ahead to the next song, a clear contrast as it turned out to be "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." He set the remote down and then returned to her and she briefly turned her face into his shoulder as she felt him drop a kiss on her hair. The memory of seeing her parents dancing, well, swaying really, to "Silver Bells" in the living room of their old apartment years ago flashed into her mind–and it occurred to her with a little sense of surprise that she and Castle were almost mirroring her own parents' pose from all those years ago.

She lifted her face to look at him.

"You okay?" he murmured.

She was able to give him a small, reassuring smile. "Yes," she answered and it was, surprisingly, true.

His lips tipped up slightly at the corners and he bent and kissed her softly–only for them to break apart at the sound of a cough and Martha's voice. "If you two are finished, Alexis and I could use your help in the kitchen."

"Grams!" Alexis hissed under her breath but she was blushing and Kate felt herself color too. She had, amazingly, momentarily forgotten about the fact that she and Castle weren't alone.

Castle grimaced and mouthed an apology to her which Kate dismissed with a small smile and a brief squeeze of his hand.

"Sorry, Martha, I got distracted," Kate managed to apologize.

"No need to apologize, Katherine. I blame Richard anyway; he's very good at making himself a distraction."

"Thank you, mother," Castle interjected dryly but the tone was rather belied by his rather sheepish expression as he donned an apron. "And now, since we want this dinner to be edible, I think you've done enough, mother."

"Be nice, Castle," Kate reproved mildly.

Martha beamed at her. "Thank you, darling, but it's really unnecessary as I rarely listen to what Richard says."

Castle huffed and Kate smothered a laugh. The nature of Castle's exchanges with Martha took some getting used to but knowing exactly how much Castle had done for his mother, the depth of affection the barbs concealed, certainly added an extra dimension to it. This really was such a happy family, for all their teasing, and she was so glad to have been welcomed into it, even if the memories of the happy family she'd had when growing up–and had lost so abruptly–intruded at times and made the happiness bittersweet.

She had no time to dwell on the thought, though, as she was quickly recruited to help in the kitchen alongside Alexis while Martha, effectively shooed out of the kitchen by Castle, busied herself with arranging a vase full of poinsettias on the table and preparing the place settings for dinner.

As she should have predicted, helping Castle and Alexis with preparing the food for their Christmas Eve feast (and it really was going to be a feast, she could tell) made the afternoon fly by, although Castle and Alexis were both insistent making sure she took frequent breaks to get off her feet, overriding her insistence that she was fine and not tired or that fragile.

Her dad arrived promptly at 5 and this time, appeared to be expecting it when Martha greeted him with all her trademark subtlety and sedateness, that is to say, none at all. Martha pulled Jim into a hug. "Jim, how wonderful that you can join us! Merry Christmas! Come in, come in! And goodness, what is all this? You really shouldn't have!"

Her dad smiled and Kate was glad and a little relieved to note that the smile appeared to be entirely sincere, unforced. "Merry Christmas, Martha. It's good to see you again. These are just some snacks and treats for all of you."

Kate hurried forward as Martha accepted the gift basket from Jim. "Dad, you made it." She stepped into his hug, accepting his kiss on the cheek.

"Of course I did, Katie. I could hardly miss having a home-cooked meal with my daughter, could I?" He briefly squeezed her arms before he released her. Out of old habit, neither of them had acknowledged the holiday with each other but she saw her dad's eyes look past her shoulder to the Christmas tree and then to the mantelpiece and knew the moment he saw the stockings, including her mom's, hanging up alongside the others. His smile froze and then faded. He had, of course, known that she meant to retrieve the stockings but knowing was not the same thing as seeing it–and he wouldn't have expected for her mom's stocking to be included.

He blinked rapidly and her breath stalled in her chest at the spasm of grief that crossed his face. Oh, oh god, for all his brave and encouraging words to her, it was too much for him. Seeing her mom's stocking–why had she thought it would be good to include her mom's stocking?

She… forgot sometimes, or something, that Christmas was as hard–possibly, even harder–for her dad than it was for her. And her dad no longer had anyone to turn to for comfort the way she now had Castle. Her mom had always been that person for her dad, the one who comforted him and cheered him up–rather like Castle did for her, now. (Startling, and yet somehow not that startling, to realize that she might have found in Castle what her parents had had in each other. Oh god, really? Was she really thinking like this, that Castle could be, would be, her one person the way her parents had been for each other–and not just for now but for years?)

But just as she was about to speak up, about to assure her dad that if it was too much, he didn't have to stay–she knew Castle would accept her dad's excuses–her dad's lips firmed and he looked at her. "The stockings look nice," he managed.

"Dad, I…"

Her dad managed a reassuring twitch of his lips into what passed for the ghost of a smile. "It's okay, Katie. It's… good that they're being used again."

She studied him but didn't ask outright if he was really okay. She and her dad were alike in more ways than one, as she understood by now. Instead, all she told him quietly was, "I think I kind of missed seeing them, if that makes sense." Which was true too. As painful as it had been, still was, to see the stockings, it was also good, somehow. She could only think that her dad might have been right, that it would be good for them to move on with a new tradition, celebrate Christmas again. Painful, yes, but also good in a healing sort of way, like the pain of setting a broken limb to allow it to heal properly.

"I can understand that."

Her dad's gaze focused behind her and she felt, or sensed, what had caught her dad's attention a moment before Castle stepped up beside her, holding his hand out to her dad. "Jim, welcome. I'm so glad you're joining us."

Her dad grasped Castle's hand and then stepped in to clap his other hand on Castle's shoulder in a half pseudo-hug. "Thank you for inviting me, Rick."

"It was my pleasure. It's a day for family, after all. Can I get you something to drink? We have water, tea, hot apple cider, eggnog, coffee…"

"Just some water for now, thanks, Rick."

"Coming right up."

Castle retreated to the kitchen as Kate and her dad followed, allowing her dad to greet Alexis as well.

Kate tried to return to helping Castle and Alexis in the kitchen but was firmly refused, Castle telling her to join her dad and Martha as they talked and nibbled on the appetizers that had been set out in the front room. She narrowed her eyes at him a little. "Exactly what makes you think you can tell me what to do?"

Castle gave her a look of mock innocence. "Beckett, I would never. I was only asking if you would play referee before my mother says something to mortally offend your dad."

Put like that… Although she really did think Martha and her dad would be fine now. They had gotten along fine in the second half of their Thanksgiving dinner after all, once the initial awkwardness had been smoothed over. "I don't think my dad is that easily offended."

"You should go sit down, Kate," Alexis chimed in from behind Castle. "There's not that much left to do right now so you might as well. Dad and I can handle it."

"If you're sure, Alexis."

The girl gave her a bright smile. "We're sure. You've already done so much, anyway. I'll join you in a few minutes myself."

"Okay," she conceded. She could hardly argue against both Castle and Alexis. She went and joined her dad and Martha, expecting to hear them engaging in mild, impersonal pleasantries, but found to her surprise that they were engaged in a more active conversation than that. Her dad had apparently hit on the surefire way of winning Martha over yet more by asking about some of the other performances she had been in, aside from the two which he had now seen, and Martha was happily expatiating in her usual dramatic fashion on some of her memorable roles and experiences to which her dad was honestly listening. No, they didn't need a referee at all.

Her dad glanced over at her with a quick smile and reached out to pat her hand before turning his attention back to Martha. Kate relaxed in her chair, content to listen to Martha's stories as well.

As Alexis had said, it wasn't long at all before Castle was announcing that dinner was ready and they regrouped at the table for the holiday feast.

For a feast it truly was. As Castle had mentioned to her, ham was the main dish and he had even added a sprig of holly as a decorative garnish tucked along the side of the platter, but the ham was accompanied by mashed potatoes, green beans, sweet potato casserole, roasted Brussels sprouts, a quiche, salad, and bread rolls. And that didn't even mention any of the desserts which Kate knew had been prepared, including Castle's tiramisu (to her own personal delight, which she'd already expressed with a quick kiss and had every intention of thanking him more later tonight).

Dinner was as lively as could be expected of a meal with both Castle and Martha present. Later, Kate wondered if Castle had specifically had a word with his mother about avoiding much mention of Christmas but whether he had or not, the conversation flowed freely and easily with, Kate was pleased to see, her dad clearly happy to talk to Castle and Alexis while Kate herself chatted mostly with Martha.

She heard the sound of her dad's laugh mingled with that of Castle's and smiled to herself even as it occurred to her, again, with a sharp pang that her mom would have loved this so much. Her mom would have loved this holiday feast, would have loved the way Castle and his family teased each other and laughed so much. Would have loved all of this, loved Castle and Alexis and Martha too.

But her mom wasn't here.

Her smile faded but she tried to push the emotion aside, turning her attention back to Martha with as much of a smile as she could muster. Fortunately, Martha was at her dramatic best telling a funny story from her recent show and after a little while, Kate found she was able to smile and even laugh again.

And glancing over at her dad, she saw that he, at least, appeared to be enjoying himself, his eyes bright, his expression engaged as he talked to Castle and Alexis.

On second thought, Kate abruptly changed her mind about it being a good thing that her dad was becoming so comfortable with Castle and Alexis as she realized that her dad was relating a story from her own teenage years. Oh no, that was not good, not good at all. "Dad!" she burst out.

Her dad turned a gaze of limpid innocence on her. Too much innocence. "What, Katie? Am I not remembering what you said correctly?"

She tried not to visibly grit her teeth as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Da-ad."

Castle tried and failed to hold in a laugh. "It's nice to know your snark isn't some newly acquired trait, Beckett." He turned to look at Alexis. "Not that you should take that as encouragement."

Alexis smirked at him. "Too late for that."

Castle huffed and slanted a look of mock reproach at Kate. "I changed my mind, Beckett, clearly you're a bad influence."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," her dad drawled. "After all, I survived Katie's teenage years, just got a lot grayer."

"Remind me to buy you a muzzle for your birthday next year, Dad," Kate pretended to threaten.

Her dad, traitor that he was, only laughed at her. "I'd like to see you try."

"I don't think you've eaten enough, Dad," Kate changed the subject. "Why don't you have some more of the sweet potatoes?"

Subtle, it was not, but her dad, thankfully, decided not to torture her anymore and dutifully accepted another helping of the sweet potatoes and when he turned back to Alexis, he kept the conversation away from further embarrassing stories about Kate.

The rest of dinner and dessert passed in leisurely and pleasant fashion until they were all replete and vowing with varying degrees of humor not to eat again for the next week. Until Alexis, apparently, decided to momentarily revert back to childhood, excitement creeping into her voice as she turned to Castle. "Poem first and then presents?"

Castle laughed and reached out to teasingly tug a lock of her hair. "Clean up first and then the poem and then presents."

"Poem?" Kate inquired.

"Oh, I forgot you didn't know," Alexis answered even as she stood and started clearing the table. "It's one of our Christmas Eve traditions. We read "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," every Christmas Eve.* It's one of my favorites so we got into the habit of it and now we stick to it." She shot a teasing smirk at Castle as she added, "Dad really loves traditions so don't ever start something unless you're prepared for it to become a habit."

Castle feigned offense. "Oh, so now you're blaming it on me? I seem to remember a certain little redhead pleading every year for the 'Santa poem' or was that some other kid?"

Alexis only laughed as she and Castle worked together to clear the table, refusing Kate's and Jim's offers to help while Martha looked to Jim with wry humor, quipping, "What's the purpose of having children, after all, if not to let them take over the chores once they're old enough? It's the least they can do after we raise them."

Jim laughed. "Very philosophical of you, Martha."

It wasn't long before the table was cleared and Alexis was ushering everyone over to the Christmas tree before tucking herself next to Castle's side as he settled on the floor, his back against one of the armchairs.

Martha settled on the armchair next to it while Kate and her dad settled on the couch. Maybe next year, Kate thought, she would sit on the floor too, along with Castle and Alexis, but right now, in her current ungainly condition, she decided not to test her ability to get up again off the floor with anything approaching dignity.

Castle opened up a children's picture book that featured the poem's title and a picture of Santa Claus in his sleigh being pulled by reindeer, before pausing to sling an arm around Alexis's shoulder, dropping a kiss on her hair, his expression softening as it always did in his affectionate moments with Alexis.

Kate felt warmth blossom in her chest, as her mind supplied a picture of a dark-haired toddler perching in Castle's lap and begging him to read her the 'Santa poem,' as the little Alexis had apparently called it–and for a moment found it hard to breathe in the swell of emotion that walloped her. Oh, oh god, if just picturing their daughter–their daughter!—with Castle affected her like this, she couldn't imagine what seeing him with their daughter for real would do to her.

Castle cleared his throat and began, his voice shifting easily into something approaching his storytelling voice, "'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…"

Alexis took up the recitation in turn. "The stockings were hung by the chimney with care…"

They went on, easily switching off, as they read the poem aloud, although it was soon clear that Castle, at least, knew the poem by heart and Alexis too knew the poem well enough that she only referred back to the book at intervals. Unsurprisingly, both Castle and Alexis were good elocutionists and Kate found herself wondering what it would be like when Castle read stories to the Sprout or, more likely, spun his own stories to tell the Sprout. Castle must have been the best storytelling parent ever to Alexis.

A little surprisingly, or perhaps not, Castle deferred to Alexis, letting her have the fun of speaking St. Nicholas's words calling out his reindeers' names but then they both took the last line in unison, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Martha applauded lightly and after a moment, Jim joined in while Kate smiled at both Castle and Alexis.

"Wonderful as always, Alexis darling, you have inherited my talent for recitation."

Alexis dimpled at her grandmother but only said, "And now, stockings?"

Castle smirked. "You don't want to wait another hour or two, maybe even until midnight?" he teased.

"Da-ad!"

Kate suppressed a laugh as for a moment, Alexis looked and sounded much younger than her 15 years. Alexis had obviously inherited Castle's love of Christmas (and, for once, some of his impatience too).

"Fine, fine," he pretended reluctance as he pushed himself to his feet and then turned to Kate and Jim to explain, "We open just one gift, the stocking stuffers, tonight, and then the rest get opened tomorrow morning for the main event. Because somebody here was always too impatient to wait until Christmas morning to open all the gifts," he added with teasing emphasis and a not-at-all subtle tilt of his head to Alexis.

Alexis didn't miss a beat, retorting immediately, "Yeah, it was you, Dad."

Castle feigned shock. "I never! I am the soul of patience!"

"Try again, Castle," Kate snorted. "I know you too well to believe that for a second."

"Yes! Thanks, Kate," Alexis grinned and Castle threw her a narrow-eyed look that he then transferred to Kate. "You two aren't allowed to gang up on me. At least not on Christmas Eve or Christmas," he amended.

"Somehow, I don't think you'll have any luck enforcing that rule, Rick," Jim chimed in.

Castle affected a sigh. "It was worth a try. Fine, be nice, Alexis, or I won't give you your gift."

"Too late," Alexis smirked at him. "You already put it in the stocking so I can just get it myself."

Castle made a face at her but then he made his way over to the mantelpiece, pulling out a festive-looking envelope from Jim's stocking and then moving to take a small gift-wrapped box out of Martha's and presenting them to their intended recipients. Kate was next, her heart momentarily skipping a beat as he pulled another small gift-wrapped box out of her stocking–about the size of a ring box–surely he wasn't about to… but no, she thought, as she accepted the box, it was a little too wide to hold a ring. Alexis received another small gift-wrapped box and then Alexis herself presented Castle with a small gift-wrapped package from his stocking.

Castle had bought Martha a jeweled brooch and Alexis a gold necklace with a pendant of the letter A, over which they both appropriately exclaimed and thanked him, with Martha for once forgoing her usual teasing.

Kate caught the softness in his expression as he watched his mother and his daughter open their gifts and felt a pang, reminded–again–of her mom because she remembered seeing a very similar expression on her mom's face when her own childish self had been excitedly opening gifts for birthdays and Christmas.

Castle laughed when he opened his own gift, even as he thanked Alexis with a hug (as she apparently was in charge of getting Castle's stocking-stuffer)—a pair of Star Wars socks and, in keeping with the theme, a set of Star Wars-shaped USB drives, featuring Darth Vader, Yoda, Chewbacca, and R2D2.

"Thank you, Rick, I'll look forward to this," Jim spoke up and Kate glanced at him to see that he looked a little wistful but was managing a smile as he showed her four tickets to one of the Mets' home games next summer. "We'll make a day of it," her dad added to her. "You, me, Rick, and the baby too. Never too early to start her off as a baseball fan," he quipped.

Kate managed a smile. "She'll only be a couple months old, Dad, that might be a little too early but we'll talk then."

Kate took her time in opening her own gift, partly to tease Castle, but also because it struck her anew that this was the first time she and her dad had celebrated Christmas at all in more than a decade. Their first real Christmas in so long and despite the occasional pangs of melancholy, it had been… nice, good.

And her gift was a gold bracelet, featuring… "Elephants," she breathed and looked up at Castle with a somewhat wobbly smile. Two elephants, their trunks raised to form a heart, managing to be both cute and sweet at the same time.

"You have those elephant figurines on your desk so when I saw that, I thought of you," Castle looked a little uncertain.

She caught her dad's eyes as he knew that the elephant figurines on her desk had belonged to her mom and then met Castle's gaze again, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "It's beautiful, thank you."

Castle's smile was a little cautious but he returned the pressure on her hand, his eyes momentarily dipping to her lips but with their families around them, he didn't–couldn't–actually kiss her.

They would have that night, though.

And as it happened, the evening didn't last for much longer after this first round of gift-giving, just enough to exclaim and admire each other's gifts, and then Martha expressed a desire to have a glass of eggnog, which caused the group to rearrange itself, and then Jim spoke up and said he thought it was time he head home.

Jim exchanged farewells with Martha, Castle, and Alexis, thanking them for the evening and promising to return Christmas morning to open the rest of the gifts, and Kate walked her dad to the door.

"You sure you're okay getting home, Dad? You can stay; there's a guest room upstairs," she offered, echoing Castle's invitation one last time.

"I'll be fine, Katie. I'm just going to call a cab."

"If you're sure." She hesitated for a moment, studying her dad, noting the melancholy touching his expression. And couldn't quite help, even after all these years, a little flicker of worry, fear, touching her heart, because this was the first time she and her dad had celebrated Christmas in a decade and, she couldn't help but remember, the last time she and her dad had tried to celebrate the holiday, that first Christmas after her mom had died, he'd found it so painful he'd drunk himself into a stupor.

She didn't–she really didn't–think her dad would relapse again. He was doing so much better now, had been sober for so long, and she trusted him, believed in him–she did!—but for all that, even now, she couldn't entirely rid herself of the little nagging fear. (She wondered sometimes if she ever would be totally free of that fear.)

But of course, she would sooner cut off her right arm than put that fear into words to her dad. So all she said instead was, "You'll be back tomorrow morning?"

Her dad gave her a small, somewhat wistful smile, lifting a hand to lightly chuck her chin with his knuckle in one of his occasional, affectionate gestures. "Yes, I'll be back. This was a good evening, wasn't it, Katie-bug?"

"Yeah, Dad, it was."

She hugged her dad and watched as he stepped onto the elevator, before she closed the door of the loft and turned back to the atmosphere of holiday cheer that permeated Castle's home. And then went to rejoin Castle, Martha, and Alexis by the kitchen island, tucking herself against Castle's side as he slipped his arm around her and kissed her temple.

Kate let her head rest against Castle's shoulder as he reached out with his free hand to brush a strand of red hair away from Alexis's face, a gesture so natural that the girl didn't even pause in her blithe words, only gave Castle a quick, half-absent smile.

Yes, it had been a good day, a happy day, the happiness outweighing the sorrow of remembering her mom. And for the first time in more than a decade, she thought, she was actually looking forward to Christmas Day.

~To be continued…~

* The poem, for those who aren't familiar with it, is "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," or "A Visit from St. Nicholas," by Clement Clarke Moore.

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.