Here's the idea as presented by DeadPigeon: Take 3 completely unconnected words (the more incongruous the better) submitted by someone else and make a maximum 1,000 word story based on them.
Three Story Words: Desert, Cipher, Secretary
Words Submitted by: actuallyido
Chapter Rating: K+
Word Count: 946
Story Completion Time: 45 minutes
A/N: Up until chapter 8 we have been operating under the inference that Castle and Beckett are together and then living together. This is not that.
The words hitch dry and gritty in the desert of his throat. He can't bring himself to look back at the murder board. Cannot look at what it clearly looks like up there. He knows Kate must see it. He can't look at her either. Not yet. Castle swallows the words that stick; their sharp edges burn down his esophagus.
"Anything new on our dead secretary?" Esposito asks. He mustn't see it. If he had made the connection then he wouldn't be so easy with Kate. Wouldn't be talking about their victim like she was just their ordinary case. Well, this woman was just an ordinary case but that's not how it felt.
Castle risks a sideward glance at her face just in time to see the slash of dark hair cover ashen cheek as Kate turns. She makes it all the way to the doors of the stairway before Castle's able to make his legs work in pursuit.
"What'd you say?" He hears Ryan mutter to his partner as he makes his way after Kate. This isn't Espo's fault but hopefully Ryan will see the problem and clue the other man in.
By the time he makes it to the stairs Kate is nowhere to been seen. Damn. Up or down? She could have fled the precinct or could be headed for the roof. The little exit to the roof opening on the 10'x10' pea gravel covered space in between central units isn't supposed to be accessed by anyone besides maintenance but he has a feeling that's where she's headed. She wants space not people so not the street then.
He doesn't have to go that far to find her. She's sitting on the top step, back against the metal door. Kate doesn't flinch, doesn't speak when he pushes at her with his hip and scoots her against the wall so there is enough room for his broad frame next to her. He still doesn't have the right words for her.
It's not the same. This dead secretary in an ally with three stab wounds is not her mother. This dark haired woman was not assassinated. Murdered, yes, but not killed by a professional. Dick Coonan is dead. He didn't do this. It is a horrid, bloody coincidence. Surely that doesn't make it any easier on the woman next to him on the step. Knowing it didn't make it any easier to look at even for Castle so knowing that must not do a thing to ease Kate's pain.
He can't tell her that. He can't push and ask her to talk to him about it. She knows he gets it and that will have to be enough. He'll sit there with her until she either pushes him away or the silent streak of moisture dries on her face.
They sit for a long time and she doesn't push him away but the moisture never slows. How long they sit in silence he doesn't know but long enough for his butt to fall asleep. It's so quiet he would swear he can hear every tear drop and absorb into her slacks. He covers the growing spot on her knee with his hand, warming the wet fabric, willing it dry. The salty drops fall off her chin and hit the back of his palm instead. That's okay. He'll catch her tears always. Take on her pain and make it his own.
A few stuttering deep breaths and the drops on his hand stop. Castle runs his hand across her knees, down her calf and hooks her kneecap with the crook of his arm pulling her legs firmly against him. She knocks her head against his shoulder in return with a puff of breath that sounds suspiciously more like a laugh than a sigh.
He pulls back to get the first good look at her face. He doesn't know what he's expecting. He's praying it's not shame or shyness like it would have been even a year ago. It will hurt like hell if she still feels like she needs to hide this part of herself from him or be embarrassed. But no, it's neither of those. Heavy wet lashes lift and he has a clear look in her eyes. The feelings are all there, written in a cipher that only he can read. Just for him. He doesn't have to hear it. This is enough for now. As long as they both feel it.
The pink in the whites of her eyes make the irises a vibrant green. It's a beautiful shade and if tears are what cause it then he hopes he never sees that color again.
"Thank you." It's no more than a whisper but being so close to her face in such an empty stairwell the words sound loud and bounce like a slinky down the steps away from him.
He wants to say always. It's on his tongue. But she knows that. They both know.
He twists and tilts his head instead and flicks the thumb of his freehand across the baby soft and swollen skin under her eyes dragging a fingerprint of wet with the every swipe.
"Yeah." He brushes the words along her cheeks.
She gives him a small blessing of a smile. Castle stands and extends a hand.
"You ready?"
Kate exhales, stands and takes his hand.
She holds it until they make it down to their floor and lets it go finally with a squeeze. She pushes Kate down and Detective Beckett rises to the surface. Her heels click at a clip as she makes her way back to the board.
Strong, assertive, "Hey, Espo. What do we got?"