AN: Bonus ficlet that was not prompted in the cuddles and hugs meme and has not previously been posted. My wife and I wrote this scene sometime last year in the middle of the night through text messages while she was at work and I couldn't sleep.
Morning
Beckett woke before dawn. She stretched her arms above her head, arched her sore and injured back in a way she knew would draw a response. None came. The warm fingers that usually traced her spine, the hand that settled at the curve of her rear was absent. She turned. The sheets were cold. How long had she been alone?
She switched on the small lamp on the nightstand and sat still for a long moment, listening to the eerie silence that engulfed the apartment. No water rushing in the shower, no clatter of pans coming from the kitchen. She swung her legs off the bed, slid her feet into a pair of slippers and grabbed her robe, slowly padding through the early morning quiet.
Her first stop was the porta-crib nestled in the corner of the room, its tiny feet secure against the vast stone floor. She frowned. No beautiful sleeping baby girl. Just the pink and purple stuffed unicorn that had seen better days, and the scent of baby powder.
Her heart leapt. She told herself it was silly, no reason to worry but the silence seemed to pulsate around her, the absence of all the sounds she should be hearing stark, almost unbearable. She walked faster, hurried from the bathroom, through the study, into the wide living area.
She skidded to a halt in the center of the room. Nothing! She felt heat rising up from her shoulders to the back of her neck. Turning on her heel she scanned every detail around her. The cold stone floor, palm frond rugs, rattan furniture. All seemed to be untouched, undisturbed. Her eyes rested on the French doors leading to the balcony. She nearly deflated as she saw the outline of her husband lounging on the old antique chair. The sun was barely a sliver above the ocean.
He sat motionless, a dark silhouette against the gleam of the rising sun, and she quietly stepped toward the French doors, loathe to disturb his peace but inexorably drawn to him just the same. Before she'd even reached the doors he turned his head toward her, always attuned to her presence. Awareness prickled at the top of her spine, her need for him stark, overwhelming. Beautiful.
Castle smiled and held out a hand in invitation. Their miracle baby lay nestled in the crook of his other arm. She smiled and stepped through the door. With a whispered good morning, she lay a soft kiss on his lips.
"You're up early," she whispered, her nose brushing against his before she slid onto his thigh, curled herself against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her in place while she laid her hand on her baby's tummy, feeling the reassuring rhythm of the little girl's breathing, the rapid beat of her heart beneath her fingertips.
At her mother's touch the baby stirred, her tiny hand frantically seeking then wrapping around Beckett's finger. Castle smiled in awe as he watched two sets of identical eyes lock and hold.
"Hi Baby," Beckett smiled.
"Miss Beckett here refused to go back to sleep after her 4:00 a.m. bottle so I brought her here to watch the sun rise. Everyone should see the sun rise over Crete at least once."
Her little girl sucked Kate's index finger into her mouth, toothless gums gnawing at the fleshy pad.
"You do realize she won't remember any of it, right?" She needled, mouth pursed and eyebrow arched, unable to resist, too much fun in the way he'd react to her teasing, the fun of their banter, flaring as brightly as ever.
"Well she is your daughter. I wouldn't put it past her. You tend to remember everything. Well, at least everything I say." He said, giving her an answering eyebrow.
"No, just the stupid things," she answered with a laugh. "All the better to rib you with!"
His nostrils flared but the light sparkling against the water silenced his retort. A sense of peace settled over them as they turned and watched the dawn give birth to another perfect day.