It's cloudy when she leaves the loft, her arms crossed over her chest and a light cardigan tugged tight around her body. The forecast is calling for thunderstorms later on, the sky mirroring the impending rain, and she thinks maybe it reflects today.
Her thoughts wander as she walks, the breeze blowing through her hair and sending rogue curls falling into her face. She's been thinking about her mom lately, more so than usual, and images of summers with her and her father claw to the forefront. Weeks out at the cabin, the two of them sitting on the dock with their feet in the water, picking the flowers they'd find along the paths through the woods—the paths she still knows like the back of her hand.
She weaves in and out of hurried people on the sidewalks, the rush of the quickened pace a welcomed distraction for however long it may last.
It wasn't long ago when her response to these thoughts would be running to the bar, drinking until the memories fade, and a small smile graces her lips because that's not what she's doing this time.
No, because as tempting as a drink to settle her nerves may be, she's past that. Instead, she's taking matters into her own hands in a much less damaging way—by doing something she hasn't felt ready to do in too long, but probably should've done long ago.
She comes to a stop a few blocks later, feet rooted to the ground as she looks straight ahead.
Big black gates, like something right out a movie and completely unlike anything she remembers, surrounding a bunch of tombstones and green grass. It's so green, the bright blades spanning as far as the eye can see. Everything is so... big.
Taking one last deep breath, she forces herself to push open the doors, make her way slowly along the designated pathways lined with the lost lives of so many loved ones. Her eyes scan the headstones as she passes, noticing the dates of the deceased; some as early as the 1700s and others as recent as a month ago.
It's overwhelming.
The tears prickle at the backs of her eyes even before she makes it to her mother's grave, and she wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand. She knows she'll cry, it's not a surprise, but she refuses to let this get the better of her before she even gets there.
Leaves crinkle beneath her shoes, twigs snapping and cracking as she steps over them.
The cemetery is fairly empty; she doesn't see many people, only a few visiting fellow loved ones off in the distance. There's something about the vacancy that has the hairs on her arm standing on end, but she's also grateful for the lack of an audience. This is something that's easier done alone.
Her grave is just the way she left it two years and some months ago. A few flowers have bloomed nearby, adding a nice touch of color to the otherwise gray and dull space; she supposes that graves are supposed to be neutral, but that was never her mother. No, Johanna Beckett was vibrant, full of life and love, and her grave deserves to reflect that.
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and takes a deep breath, taking one last glance around to confirm that there's no one nearby before she turns back to the grave. Her mother's entire life wrapped up in one headstone, one engraved group of lettering.
Johanna Beckett. Vincit Omnia Veritas.
Truth conquers all. She's not sure how much she believes the saying her mother swore by, but she wants to. She wants to believe in it so badly, but how can she believe in the motto that got her mother killed? It's a work in progress, she tells herself.
"Hi, mom," she breathes, eyes glued to the writing. "I know I haven't been by in... a long time. I'm sorry." She shakes her head; she's never been one to talk to graves, never felt it necessary, but there's so much she has to say and no other way to do it. "I—I miss you."
She shifts on her feet. "I miss you so much." Her voice breaks as she sniffles. "It's been hard without you here, mom. Dad took it hard and I'm not—it took me a long time to find him again. And I didn't do so great either," she admits quietly. "I got into some trouble, had to go into hiding, it's a long story."
She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head because she can practically hear her mother's voice in her head. What were you thinking, Katie, honestly?
"But I'm doing so much better now," she continues. "A lot better, and it's all thanks to Castle. Yes, mom, the Richard Castle, the one whose books you absolutely loved. He brought me back to New York and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. And his daughter, Alexis." Kate smiles at the thought of the little girl. "She's eight and just a ray of light every day." She pauses, her forehead scrunching up.
Her mother would love both Castles; hell, she already loved Castle without having met him, and she knows for a fact that Alexis would be no different.
Talking to her mom for a while longer goes better than she could've imagined—she cries, but she doesn't blubber like she'd thought she would have. But after about twenty minutes, she realizes that there's something missing.
She thought this was something she needed to do by herself, and in a way it was. She talked to her mom, but now? Now, she feels like there should be someone here with her. She doesn't want to do this alone anymore.
Digging her phone from her pocket, she dials one of the only numbers she knows by heart and waits as it rings.
"Hey, Castle?"
She's sitting on the grass next to the headstone when she hears someone coming up behind her. Her head whips around and she offers a small smile when she sees Castle making his way towards her.
"Hey," she says quietly as she stands back up. "Thanks for coming."
He shakes his head. "Of course. Are you—are you okay?"
His eyes are so blue and expressive, the concern pouring out of them as he stares back at her. It's something she's gotten used to, something that's still so sweet.
"Yeah, I'm good," she promises with a smile, then turns her gaze back to the etching of her mother's name. "I haven't come back here since a week after we buried her. I felt like it was time."
Castle nods, moves beside her and joins in looking at the grave. "Truth conquers all," he murmurs. "It's nice."
"It was her life motto. She'd always come back from a case, exhausted and worn out, but she'd just keep going. 'Truth conquers all, Katie,' she'd tell me," she says, her voice lowering to a whisper. "'Truth conquers all.'"
"She sounds like a smart woman."
Kate grins, eyes getting watery again. "She was," she agrees. "She really was. I know she's knocking me upside the head from the grave at how my past few years have gone."
"But you're here now," he reminds. "She'd be so proud of you."
"I know." She nods. "But I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, which is why I wanted you to come here, to introduce you."
Castle's eyes light up, a smile creeping onto his face. "I—Really?"
"Really."
"I'm honored," he says, tearing his gaze from her and turning it onto the grave in front of them. "Uh, hi, Mrs. Beckett—"
"She'd probably kill you herself if you called her that," Kate laughs. "Mrs. Beckett made her feel old, so she'd tell you to call her Johanna."
He laughs as he nods. "Noted," he salutes. "Hi, Johanna. I'm Rick Castle, and it's an honor to meet you. You have a wonderful daughter, one I think you'd be extremely proud of."
"Castle."
"I'm serious! Don't listen to her, okay, she's incredible and I'm amazed at how far she's come since I met her," he says, excluding any actual details as he speaks to the stone. "It was a gift that I ran into her in that bar, because ever since then she's brought nothing but joy to me and my daughter. Who adores your daughter, by the way."
Kate shakes her head, the tears in her eyes no longer of sadness as she listens to him.
They spend a bit longer standing there, regaling her mom with stories of their time together thus far, and the two of them also offer up individual stories—Kate's mostly about Tony and her few friends in Michigan, because she doesn't really want to go into any of the darker ones, and Castle's about the shenanigans he and Alexis have gotten into over the years.
Leave it to him to have her laughing right now, enjoying the moments as they come.
"Hey." He stops her as they start leaving, making their way back down the path. "Thank you for asking me to come here, for trusting me with this."
She looks up at him with a smile. "Thank you for agreeing. It means a lot that you're here."
The two stand there for a few more seconds, and she watches as Castle's gaze trails from her eyes down to her lips. Her breath catches in her throat as he leans down, his lips brushing against her cheek for a moment longer than strictly necessary. When he pulls away, he gives her a soft smile and nods towards the exit.
"Let's go home, yeah?"
Nodding, she chews on her lip. "Yeah," she breathes. "Yeah, let's go."
She notices the sky as they leave, the sun coming out from behind storm clouds, illuminating everything in sunshine. Everything lightens up, the flowers surrounding the path are bright and vibrant and promising. It's not gray anymore.
Things are looking up.
"You hungry?" he asks, breaking the silence they've created as they walk.
"Hmm?"
He grins. "Food," he repeats. "Are you hungry?"
She turns to him, careful to watch for any oncoming pedestrians as she does. "Oh, uh—yeah, actually."
It's too late for lunch, but it's not entirely out of the realm of appropriate time for an early dinner.
He nods. "What'll it be?"
There's a small pause before they both speak at the same time.
"Chinese?"
"Chinese?"
They turn to each other then, twin soft grins on their faces. His eyes crinkle at the corners and she chews on the inside of her cheek to keep her face from splitting. She wants to laugh at how ridiculous she's being—he kissed her cheek, it's not like he asked her to marry him, and yet her heart is skipping in her chest. It wasn't too much, wasn't pushy, but she feels that maybe, just maybe it was a promise for more... some day.
"Sounds to me like Chinese it is," she laughs. "Will Alexis be okay with that?"
"She's sleeping over at Paige's tonight," he reminds. She nods, remembers the girl mentioning it at some point the other day. "Mother dropped her off when I came to join you."
She hums. "Okay, so what's on the schedule for the rest of today then?"
He pauses, pulling her into the opening of an alley as they pass, her back against the bricks. Her eyes widen at the sudden movement, but he gives her a small smile. Stopping in the middle of a New York street is a no go; sometimes alleys have to do.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm okay."
"You're sure?" he asks again. "It's just, with the cemetery, I don't want to overdo anything today."
She shakes her head, lets her hand brush his arm. "I'm okay, really," she promises. "It was something I had to do, and I actually feel a lot better after going. There were things I had to get off my chest, things I needed to tell her, and now I have. I feel good."
The genuine joy in his smile has her stomach in knots.
"Good," he says then, but his eyes don't leave hers. "I'm so proud of you, Kate."
She dips her head, lets her hair fall into her face, effectively covering the flushed skin of her cheeks. It's not the first time he's said he's proud of her, but there's something in his voice this time, such pure adoration that she's not sure what to do with it.
So she settles on a murmured, "Thank you."
The look he's giving her is too much and it's only then that she realizes how close they're standing, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off of his body and feel his breath on her neck.
"So," he breathes, breaking the moment. He steps back, extending his hand to her with a soft upturn of his lips. "Chinese?"
Her hand clasps in his as she pushes off of the wall. "Chinese."
"So, movie marathon while we eat?" Castle suggests as they come up on the elevator.
The door dings and they step out, his arm outstretched in a gesture for her to go first, before making their way down the hall. They pass one of the neighbors, exchanging pleasant smiles as the older woman heads to the stairs.
Kate hums. "Depends on the movie."
"I sense the judgement in your tone," he drawls. "What's wrong with my movie collection?"
She shakes her head. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with your movie collection."
"But?"
"But," she continues. "There are only so many times I can watch Miss Congeniality." He opens his mouth but she cuts him off. "And don't say they were all for Alexis because she fell asleep during it the last two times."
He huffs, keys jingling as he puts them in the lock. "Hey now, the last one really was for Alexis!"
She rolls her eyes as she steps into the loft, turning to grab the bag of Chinese from him and place onto the island. Grabbing two glasses from the cabinet, she pours water in both—ice water, because even though there's a breeze it's still warm.
"If that's what you have to tell yourself," she laughs.
She watches him in the living room, perusing his DVD collection in his cabinet with a look of determination on his face. It's hilarious, really. He can say that Alexis wanted to watch it three nights in a row all he wants, but she knows for a fact that it's a lie.
He's a big, fat Miss Congeniality fan.
"So Miss Congeniality 2 is out too, then," he sighs dramatically.
"Castle."
"Fine. Action, horror, romance, comedy? What're you feeling?"
Kate grabs the Chinese and drinks, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she makes her way into the room to join him. She makes a detour and puts the food in the office for once they've chosen a movie, then makes her way back and sinks into the couch.
Her heart speeds up as she thinks of their near-kiss, heat rushing to her cheeks. Romance is absolutely out of the question. She has no idea what's happening, what's changed in the course of the last few days and today, but everything's coming to a head. His glances, the whispers of a kiss against her cheek, her forehead. There's so much she wants to say, to do, but she knows she isn't ready just yet.
It's just too much right now. But she wants it—it took a while to realize, but she wants it. And so she'll work for it.
"Horror or comedy," she decides.
He turns from his spot on the floor to look at her. "Quite the opposites."
She shrugs. "Both good genres."
Both safe genres.
Action is also safe, she's just not in the mood for it.
"American Pie 2?"
She shakes her head. "Pass."
"Children of the Corn?"
"Absolutely not." She shudders. "Once is more than I ever need to see that."
He nods. "It's not exactly one to repeat," he agrees. "Let's see... how about Heartbreakers?"
"Heartbreakers?" she repeats. "Don't think I know that one."
"Oh, decision made then!" he announces decisively, standing from his spot. "It's a classic. It's new, so it's a new classic, but I don't discriminate." She rolls her eyes. "Sigourney Weaver and Jennifer Love Hewitt as con artists? What could be better?"
"I can think of a few things," she laughs, shaking her head at his offended expression. "Come on, Castle, let's eat before it gets cold. We'll watch your classic."
He grins, following her into the office. "You'll love it, I'm sure of it."
She smiles at his enthusiasm as she lowers herself down into the cushions. "I'll take your word for it," she says as she grabs the Chinese. "Anything I should know going into this?"
Laughing, he takes the seat next to her and picks up his own food.
"Just enjoy it."
Her stomach hurts from laughing at this dumb movie and she crosses an arm over her torso. It's hilarious and awful, really, in a vulgar, mother-daughter con duo kind of way.
"So?" he encourages, looking at her with a wide grin.
She rolls her eyes. "You were right."
A fist pumps into the air, a loud yes! coming out of his mouth. "I knew you'd love it," he brags. "Like I said, a classic."
"Who knew multiple threats of high heels to the ass would be so funny?"
He laughs. "Ah, a true comedic masterpiece," he drawls. "What's next on the schedule? Another comedy? Horror?"
She purses her lips as she thinks. "Another comedy," she hums. It feels good to laugh this hard; she doesn't want to ruin it with a horror movie right now.
"Deal. Go choose one?"
Nodding, she uncurls her legs from beneath her and heads into the living room, finds the DVDs still sprawled out across the floor. She separates them, dragging the comedies into one pile to easily sift through.
Coyote Ugly is a contender; she remembers how much she loved that movie last year when it came out. Bring It On is also a pretty decent movie, but she's not really feeling the whole high school cheerleader thing right now.
She decides after a few minutes of debating and grabs the disc, bringing it into the office to hand over to Castle.
"Here you go," she says as he takes it.
His eyes widen. "Little Nicky?" She nods. "I didn't peg you as a Little Nicky fan."
"You pegged wrong."
He puts the movie in and they settle back into the couch, Kate's body listing ever so slightly towards his. Not too close, no, but it's closer than they were for the first movie. Nothing feels odd, though, but comfortable.
An hour into the movie Kate's head falls onto Castle's shoulder, her eyes heavy, falling closed for long periods of time before she opens them again. She keeps trying to sit back up, watch the movie, but the trip to the cemetery wore her out more than she'd realized and she's exhausted.
Castle's arm bounds around her shoulder, and she shifts. "I'm awake," she insists, her voice groggy.
"Nap, Kate," he says, pulling her tighter against his side.
"The movie," she protests weakly. Her eyes are already closed.
He smiles down at her, watches a few stray pieces of hair fall into her face. "It'll still be here when you wake up."
She hums, curling comfortably into his embrace. "'kay," she murmurs. "Thank you, little Ricky."
She's already asleep when he whispers a quiet always into her hair.
All of your sweet words are incredible, thank you.