Hi there!

So I've had more time this week than I have in forever. So here's another 7x01 one shot about the chair and the night janitor.

Thank you all so much for your reviews to the last chapter. It means so much to me to know you enjoy reading my stories!

Enjoy!

It's 11:07 when she feels herself nodding off in her desk chair. She's been at it all day; trying to form some kind of connection. From dusk until dawn she sits in that chair or stands at the board trying to make sense of the gigantic piece of her life that's been missing for forty five days. She's gone through every single shred of evidence, every lead, every resource she's got, and she's nearing the end of it all. Anything at all would be better than what she has at the moment which is absolutely nothing. She's just about exhausted her resources, but she doesn't plan on giving up that easily. She's gone off less before.

She catches herself before her eyes fall completely closed, physically shakes it off, and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. She drops her pen to the desk and tries to soothe some life back into her tired eyes. Then she combs through her hair with her free hand and grabs her pen again.

It's of no use, though. She drops her pen back to the desk and stares at the picture of him that she has sitting next to her elephants, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It's late and she's at a dead end. She needs him for the dead ends. But that's not possible right now. So she sits in silence for a moment or two, trying to imagine what she would be doing right now if he were with her. She can only hope they would be lying in bed, tangled in each other's arms, basking in the fact that they were finally, after six long years, husband and wife. They would talk about the journey they had been on together to get to that point and how worth every second it was. They would talk about how they both had no idea and how great it was, still. They would reminisce on the honeymoon that ended all too quickly, and how they should take another trip really, really soon. Then, he would kiss her good night and they would fall asleep to each other's heartbeats.

How much she wished it was true.

Instead, here she was sitting in the bullpen, almost midnight, trying to find where the love of her life could possibly be. They didn't get married. They didn't have a honeymoon. She hadn't fallen asleep to his heartbeat in forty five days. And once that realization entered her mind, once the heart wrenching truth rushed over her, she shook away any thoughts of sleep, picked up her pen once more, and went onto the next item on her long list of to do's. The moon was telling her to go home, but her heart told her otherwise. He would never give up looking for her if roles were reversed.

It was half an hour later when the elevator opened, the night janitor finally making it to their floor. It had become a nightly ritual. She would look up from her work, he would nod, and she would look back down. And that was that.

On most nights, it was easy to ignore him as he did his duties, but on this night in particular, she heard him approaching her, something he rarely did. She ignored it, though until she heard the legs of Castle's chair start to screech against the hardwood as if someone was dragging it away. As if someone was giving up hope that he would ever return to them.

Kate's head snapped up, her eyes finding the source of her heart dropping to her feet. "What are you doing?"

The night janitor went to speak, a hand still on the back of the chair. He had probably been told to move the thing, but Kate didn't care. This was not his place.

"Stop, just stop. Take your hand off of his chair." She didn't even mean to pull out her piece, but there it was in her shaking hand, aimed somewhere between the floor and the chair. "You have no right to touch that." She felt tears come to her eyes as she lowered the gun back to her side. "I'm, I, I'm sorry."

The night janitor backed away slowly, bowing his head and mumbling an apology to her as he went.

Kate set her gun onto her desk and let herself fall into her chair, her hands covering her face as silent tears ran down her cheeks. No one needed to move his chair because Castle was going to come back. She was going to find him if it was the last thing she did. He was alive and he was going to come home. She knew it.

She lifted her gaze back to the chair, the old, worn fabric dull in the dark of the bullpen. She could practically see him sitting there, his elbow to his knee, the other on his chin, concocting a theory so marvelously fantastic that it actually made some sort of sense in the end. She imagined the countless times he'd plopped down beside her, a travel mug hot and ready for her in his hand. He would smile and say good morning because he thought she was the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person.

What she would do to have that back. To have the most honest, caring, respectable man she's ever known back in that old, precinct chair, bringing her coffee and making up stories.

"I'm going to get you back, Castle. Wherever you are or however long it takes. I'll get you back." She carded through her hair again, trying to compose herself after her episode with the poor night janitor. Then, she stood, collected her things, and stood in front of the chair for a moment. She brought her hand to her lips, offered it a kiss, and laid her hand on the armrest. Then she turned toward the elevator without another glance. She had plenty of time to look at it the next day.

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xoxo