AN: Fun fact: Jenny can't count. This will be 11 chapters, not 10. Woo?
She's pulling the keys out of the ignition when her phone buzzes and she slides it out of the console. It's a text from Castle with the exact location of the park and she smiles, snapping a photo of the entrance, the chains of the swings gleaming with morning sunlight.
Nice memory, Detective. How badly do you wish you knew the plan for today?
Kate watches the family of four that walks through the gate, listens to the screaming delight of children. It might have been almost five years ago but she can still picture them on that day, the way he spoke about Alexis as if all the women, all the millions, all the success was nothing compared to raising his daughter.
You're not as smart as you think you are.
His response comes seconds later. And yet, I still know where you're going next and you don't. There's a little icon of a yellowed face sticking out his tongue and she rolls her eyes.
You're incorrigible.
I like how that rolls off your tongue. Incorrrrrrrrigible.
She smiles. She should get out of the car, find the next piece of his game. She wonders if she's supposed to locate the letter herself under a garbage can or a swing set or knowing him in the stroller of a random child or if someone is there waiting. Since when do I roll my R's? She thinks of that night in bed when she showed him all the ways her tongue could work around consonants and vowels, what it did to him in the days after. You know what? Don't answer that. I'm going to find my next letter. Love you.
The phone is back in her pocket as she jogs across the street. The park is crowded, the warm spring air bringing out parents and kids, and Kate scans the throng of people looking for something, someone to give her the next letter. She spots the flash of redhair that belongs to his daughter and smiles, making her way across the park.
Alexis looks more like her mother than she does Castle, but right now - sitting alone on a bench with her brow furrowed in concentration as she reads - there is no doubt she is Rick Castle's daughter. Kate sits down in the empty space beside her and the girl looks up, startled, until her entire face transforms. The furrow between her brows smoothes and she smiles, closing the book.
"He was worried you wouldn't remember which park it was."
Kate smiles, recalling the text messages, knows that he must have responded since her last one. She can feel Alexis watching her, the silence between them comfortable. She considers asking for the letter but she waits, content to just sit next to the young woman. She likes this time they share, the moments when Castle isn't around and it's just the two of them.
"Dad took me here all the time when I was younger. When I was five I fell right over there," Alexis says, pointing to the monkey bars. "All these moms around us freaked out, panicked as if I was their child and the blood was some indication I was dying. But Dad didn't freak, at least not in front of me. He did whatever he could to make me laugh on the way to the hospital, but I know he wished he had someone with him, someone to calm him once I was home that night asleep. My mom wouldn't have been that person. She's so dramatic, she would have made it about her. Had Gina been around then she would have tried, but she's a control freak and would have handled it with precision but not emotion." Alexis pulls an envelope from her bag, holding it between her fingers. "You would have calmed him, Kate. That's what you do for him. You made him grow up. He's the most amazing father in the world, but you made him better."
She can feel the burn in her eyes, the tightening of her chest at his daughter's words. "Alexis-"
"For you." She hands over the envelope, standing. "You've made him happier than I've ever seen him, so thank you. I have to head to class but I'll see you later."
Alexis gives one more smile before walking off, leaving Kate alone. The emotion rushes through her andshe slides her finger under the flap, leaning back against the bench. Years from now she wants to remember this day. The two little girls giggling on the swings, their tiny hands clasped tightly together as they move back and forth in perfect unison. The warmth of the breeze against her bare arms. Alexis' speech nestling next to her heart. She stares at the letter, torn between prolonging the moment and needing to know what awaits her in the end.
The first thing I want to say is simple. It lacks meaning when it's said day in and day out, but I hope you know how much I mean it:
Thank you.
See, five years ago when I started to follow you around I really thought you'd get me kicked out that first day. You hated me so much back then, Beckett. While I was signing my life away to the city of Manhattan, something about not being able to sue if I was shot or killed or stubbed my toe while walking down the street on the NYPD's time, I'm pretty sure you were probably going through every possible scenario in which it would be justifiable to shoot me yourself. You should have seen the looks you gave me, like no one person had ever annoyed and aggravated you so much. (For the record, you still give me those looks sometimes. I love you too, Kate.)
Then we came to this park. I was talking about Alexis, about how taking care of her and spending time with her when she was growing up were the best days of my life to that point. You looked at me like I was a totally different person, like I was capable of more. And then I ruined it with some lame joke or crass pun and your face fell back into the mask of barely restrained abhorrence. For about five seconds you saw me as something more and I immediately wanted you to look at me like that again. I wanted to see the utter surprise in your eyes when I did something you'd never expect from me. I wanted to see you smile at a time when you didn't do it as easily as you do now. It didn't happen often at first but every time I mentioned Alexis, I saw it. The way your lips would curve as if you were remembering pieces of your own childhood. You were so beautiful in those moments, Kate; moments when you thought I wasn't looking. But I was. I always was.
Over time you started to treat me differently. You'd still roll your eyes, you'd still get annoyed, but we became - for lack of a better explanation - us. I found myself going to you for advice about my daughter. It was gradual. I wasn't aware that it was happening until one day I didn't know how to handle a situation with Alexis and you did. You became my partner in every aspect of my life (although it took long enough on the sex. Come on, you were thinking it too.) and I am so grateful for that, Kate. I am so grateful for everything you've given me, from advice about decoding the mysteries of teenage girls to teaching me that there are still people out there who can surprise you in the best possible ways.
This park was our start. The start of us becoming different people for each other, because of each other.
Now onto the next place. Corner of Canal and Centre Street.
Fun, isn't it?
Kate reads the letter again and then folds it back up, careful to maintain the already existing creases, tucks it gently back into the envelope. She's not a sentimental person by nature - though Castle would argue, loudly, against that self-assessment - but she wants to make certain that every piece of evidence of his love remains intact today. She grips the envelope tightly, presses it to her thigh as she indulges in people watching for just a moment more, committing the scene to memory. Her eyes drift over the park slowly, taking in the gossiping nannies, the gaggles of playing children, the playground equipment shining brightly in the midmorning sun.
Movement from her right catches her attention and she turns, a smile breaking out across her lips. A small brunette boy runs in wide zig zags across the manicured grass, a harassed but laughing man chasing after him. Peals of delighted laughter ring through the air when the man catches his son and pulls the wriggling toddler off the ground, blowing loud raspberries against his little round tummy. The man catches her watching and smiles as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, fingers wrapped securely around his ankles.
Kate watches them move away, the little boy babbling happily, his tiny fingers curling in his father's hair. Sighing softly, Kate stands and heads for her car - her future - the joyous shrieks of laughing children ringing in her ears.