Author's Notes: 18 years of Ava's life, 100 words a year.
Chapter 6: Snapshots
0-11 months:
The breeze comes off the ocean, the night chilled.
Their daughter is tucked inside Castle's zipped sweatshirt, head resting on his shoulder as they walk. She fists the hood occasionally before dozing, tiny puffs escaping her parted lips.
Kate can't keep her eyes off them. Ava looks just like her when she was a baby, but she's all Castle. The way she eases into life; the dramatics when she wants something. She gets excited like him, will be as mischievous.
She's memorized everything about her child until she's surprised by something else, until she falls in love all over again.
Age 1:
"Can you say probable cause, AJ," Castle coos, as Ava bounces on his stomach.
Kate doesn't even look up from the paper. "It's not gonna work."
"Beckett, I am teaching your daughter cop words. How do you not approve of this?"
She doesn't have the chance to answer before Ava shakes her head. "No."
"Told you."
"What about onomatopoeia? Do you like Daddy's job more?"
Ava squeals. "Ahpeea."
"Close enough. You wanna be a writer? Stay home and do nothing while Mommy does all the hard work?"
Kate rolls her eyes. "I have such sympathy for Alexis' childhood right now."
Age 2:
It's Castle who notices it first.
He looks up from his laptop to find Ava running across the room, perched on her tiptoes. It's not the first time, he realizes.
Or the second or even the third.
He smiles, tapping on Kate's foot that is perched in his lap. She looks up just in time to see Ava run across again, giggling. It's light and free and pure: the innocence of childhood.
"Why is she walking like that?"
"Your shoes," Castle points out. "She's anticipating the heel."
He's not sure he's ever seen Kate look so proud. "That's my girl."
Age 3:
The snow is deep, an endless amount of white falling from the sky.
Ava's bundled in his arms, staring up at the sky in amazement. She holds her tongue out, fresh flakes melting onto the tip.
She giggles when he lays them down; she sinks against the snow.
"AJ, look." He moves his arms and legs, his youngest watching joyfully. "It's a snow angel."
"Angel," she breathes, following his movements. "Angel, angel."
Castle stops moving and watches her. It makes him miss Alexis, makes him wish Kate was here.
"Daddy, more!"
It's an hour before they leave, chilled and happy.
Age 4:
"Stop milk! Stay."
Early morning sunlight streams through the windows as Kate opens an eye. There's a large bowl in Ava's tiny hands, cereal sloshing over the sides. Her tongue peeks out of her mouth in concentration, making sure not to spill.
The kitchen must be a mess. Milk on the counter, Special K and Frosted Flakes crushed onto the ground.
Kate doesn't care.
"Mommy," she whispers, "made breakfast!"
"You did? Thank you, baby." She takes the bowl, settling Ava in her lap. "Wake up Dad and tell him."
The cereal nearly topples over when Ava startles Castle into consciousness.
Age 5:
On stage, her daughter dances with grace and ease.
Kate leans over, lips to Castle's ear. "Twenty bucks says that by this time next year she's no longer dancing."
He slides a hand over her thigh and grins at her. "No way. Look at her. She's a pro."
He never does see the parts of Ava that are purely him. "She's also a Castle. She can't hide the boredom on her face. I'm telling you this time next year, she'll be done."
"It's the song. It's boring."
It takes less than a hundred days for Kate to win this bet.
Age 6:
There's a picture on Castle's desk from the premiere of Frozen Heat. A photographer he knows had sent it to him weeks after, the lights and red carpet not nearly as bright as the shine in Ava's eyes.
It's a night he remembers daily.
The hand on her hip that Ava emulated from Natalie Rhodes. The squeeze of her hand in his. They had walked into the Dolby Theatre and for once she was quiet, taking everything in.
It was only when they sat that she spoke, tugging on his sleeve. "Daddy. I wanna be you when I grow up."
Age 7:
"Where's Dad?" Ava asks, walking out of school.
"Writing." Kate takes her backpack, slings it over her shoulder. "So, Ave, I hear you danced on your desk today."
The thing about Ava is that even when she knows she's done wrong, she fights as if she's always been right. "But Mom, it was an awesome song and Mrs. Ford walked out of the room so like don't leave kids alone."
She almost laughs; Ava sounds like a Beckett lawyer.
"Not the point. Don't dance on tables. You'll give Dad a heart attack."
"It's Dad. That's why I'm crazy!"
Verdict: Ava.
Age 8:
"He needs a name." The puppy licks Ava's face and she giggles. He's so cute. "What about Wolfie? Cause he looks like a wolf."
Dad gasps. "Where's the originality, AJ?"
"It's her dog, Castle. She can name him whatever she wants."
"No, Dad's right. Um, well, who am I named after?"
This look crosses Mom's face like she's remembering. "One of Grandma's favorite actresses and Gram named Dad after a Broadway composer."
She has it. Not original, but she likes it. "Charlie. Cause I love Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
The dog barks, jumps into her lap.
Charlie, it is.
Age 9:
Boys are stupid. So, so stupid.
There's a knock on her door, but her mother is already walking in. She sits on her bed, clears the hair from her face.
"What happened at school?"
"Kevin gave me a giant heart for Valentine's Day and everyone laughed."
Her mom is pulling her out of bed, down the long, winding staircase and into their bedroom. There's a giant teddy bear on the chair holding a heart.
"Dad got this for me. Boys never stop being embarrassing, baby. You just learn to live with it."
"What if I don't want to?"
"You will."
Age 10:
The first year Ava goes to sleepaway camp, he panics.
He spends the first two weeks obsessively checking his phone and email. He leaves for a tour during week three, sending postcards from the states he's visited, and hates his job when he's stuck in Seattle on visiting day due a storm.
Ava, of course, doesn't care. She's too immersed in boys and go-karts and fashion and it both warms him and saddens him that his baby is getting older.
He goes away with Kate, writes four chapters, counts down the days.
She's taller when she returns.
The panic continues.
Age 11:
Kate brushes the polish over Ava's toes, magenta filling the nail. The summer heat washes over them, the waves crashing and it's the closest thing to perfect she's ever known.
"It doesn't have to be for a long time," Ava reasons. "Around the block. Mom, come on."
"You're not getting on my Harley, Ave. Stop asking."
"It's not like I'm asking to drive."
The daughter of Kate Beckett and Richard Castle – even at eleven- is daring and opinioned and so much them that Kate can't help but laugh.
"We'll discuss when you turn twenty-one."
"I'm so not waiting that long."
Age 12:
Her first kiss tastes like the salt in the air, the sweat of summer, and the wintergreen gum that Connor always chews.
There's too much tongue and her hands fumble; he laughs when they break apart, his breath hitting the corner of her mouth and she can smell her own gum, spicy and hot. He slides a hand through her tangled hair and then she giggles, sounds mixing with the roar of the ocean.
This is Connor and it's weird but then his mouth is on hers again and it's better, smoother.
She thinks she's gonna like this kissing thing.
Age 13:
"That's so unfair! You promised I could go to Ella's with Addison and just because Dad is getting some stupid award he's won like a thousand times for his stupid books-"
"Enough!" Kate yells; she suddenly wishes she could call her mother, apologize for the brat she was. "You're not going to Ella's. You either go with us or I'll call Grandpa and have him stay with you."
"I'm not a baby."
"Then stop acting like one. Awards or home. You're not going out."
"I hate you!" Ava screams, slamming the door shut.
Motherhood.
Not for the faint of heart.
Age 14:
The books surround her; all twelve of them, a silhouette of a woman who looks so much like her mother.
It's almost seven. She's been up all night, pouring over her father's words, and it's the first time Ava really sees her in a different light; in awe of her instead of constant annoyance.
She's on book five when her mom clears her throat, eyebrow raised because she knows Ava hasn't slept.
"I didn't..." Ava pauses. "I'm sorry I called these stupid."
There are laugh lines around her eyes when she smiles. She reads the dedication on one. "You're forgiven."
Age 15:
She wakes to Ava tracing patterns on her arm; serious, lost, so unlike herself.
And then Kate understands, feels the pounding in her heart. She of all people knows the look of loss.
"Claire?"
Ava chokes out a sob for the passing of her second mother. "Addie called." She curls into Kate like she's a child. "What was it like? Losing your mom at nineteen?"
It's like regret and an ache that never fully heals. It's a lifetime of knowing your world will never be the same.
She kisses her daughter, holds on tightly.
For this, she has no answers.
Age 16:
The first time he reads his daughter's words in novel form, he's stunned into silence.
She's good. He should have known; she'd spent her entire childhood making up tales, created short stories when she was bored.
But this is different.
This is real, heartbreaking, and he looks up to see the shine in her eyes, the way her teeth bite her lip in nervousness.
"I know I'm not as good as you-" she starts.
He cuts her off with a kiss to her forehead.
"No," he admits and he can't wait to tell his wife. "You might actually be better."
Age 17:
The lights from the Eiffel Tower shine over the Seine as they walk, night falling down around them.
"Why'd you finally say yes? You and Dad never agree to Fashion Week."
Kate wraps her arm around Ava's waist, pulling her close. "You deserve it. You're getting a book published at seventeen-"
"Because of Dad."
"Because together you wrote something incredible. We're so proud of you, Ave."
"Proud enough to use Dad's Amex to buy me pretty things?"
She starts to shake her head.
Although.
"I think we can afford a couple pairs of congratulatory shoes."
Ava grins. "If we must."
Age 18:
Her novel is a failure.
Months after release, it's nowhere close to the bestseller list, even with Richard Castle's name on it as co-author. Ava wallows, swears she's never going to write again. She spends time locked in her room to avoid her parents, ignores calls from her sister, watches a marathon of trashy TV to forget.
Her phone rings after midnight.
"Please tell me you just saw Mekenna Finley's interview on Seacrest," Addison screeches.
"Wow, you sound excited. Did-"
"She talked about your book! She read it after her dad died. Babe, I think you're about to become famous."
Thank you to everyone who gave me a memory and helped with the years.
Comments and thoughts are always appreciated.