"Yeah?" he looks up from his book and smiles at Kate. "What’s up?"
She doesn’t respond as she continues to make her way out the door and over to him. He notices that she looks shocked and that she’s carrying something, so he focuses on her hands.
"Kate," he closes his book and sets it down before he stands up, his eyes never leaving what she’s holding delicately. "is that what I think it is?"
"What do you think it is?"
"Well, it looks an awful lot like a pregnancy test."
She comes to a stop directly in front of him. “Then yes,” she waits for him to look up and meet her eyes with his, “it is what you think it is.”
"And?" his voice comes out as a whisper.
"Castle I know that we’re on our honeymoon and this isn’t the best time and we haven’t planned for this yet and-"
"Kate," he interrupts gently, "what does the test say?"
She nods. “What do you think about that?”
Castle steps closer and wraps his arms around her. “I think it’s wonderful. What about you?”
"At first, when it showed positive, I was terrified. Then about a second later I got really excited. Castle," she moves even closer, erasing all space between them, "I want this."
"Me too," he presses his smile to hers.
Kate walks him backwards to his chair and without breaking contact Castle sits down and slides back so she has room to straddle his lap. A few minutes later he pulls away and looks down between them.
"I want to see it," he tells her. She holds it up and he brings one hand around to take it from her. He examines it for awhile, the grin on his face growing ever wider. "We’re having a baby," he looks at her.
"We’re having a baby," she echoes with a grin of her own. She reaches around him and moves his book to the table by the chair, then takes the test from him and sets it on top of the book. "How about we celebrate?" she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes lightly.
Castle tightens his hold on her as he lays back so he can pull her down with him. “I think that is a great idea, Mrs. Castle, mother of my second child.”
Kate chuckles as she leans down to kiss him.
FINALLY finished this!!! (It got slightly out of hand… I apologize!)
Castle, Beckett & meeting in the ER
“You’re an idiot, dad.”
Alexis sighs and slightly shakes her head; though, looking at her father, she can’t completely hide her concern.
Rick is pressing a bundle of gauze to the large laceration at his left temple. His broad grin, however, is awfully self-satisfied. “Maybe, but at least I’m an idiot who now knows the aerodynamics of juggling knives.”
Alexis rolls her eyes, pushing Rick gently into a free seat. “All I know is that this is the third time this month you end up in ER. Don’t you think your research is getting a little bit out of hand?”
He shrugs. “I’m just dedicated.”
“That you are,” she mutters and checks her watch, stoically holding back her yawning. “Listen, do you think I can leave you for a bit? I’m gonna get a coffee and call grandma, tell her where we are and everything… you can text me when you got your stitches?”
“Hey,” he replies, slightly offended, “I think I can handle that much on my own…”
The face she makes speaks for itself.
Rick leans back in his seat as Alexis walks away. His temple does sting, but it’s not even half bad. In fact… he does even feel a bit curious. He didn’t have the opportunity to examine the laceration, given the fact that he was bleeding and Alexis was slightly freaking out.
Maybe he can get a short glimpse right now…
I want to make url graphics so if you want one reblog this (-:
what if season 7 started with Kate waking up from a coma only to realize that seasons 4, 5, & 6 were all a dream after her shooting and promptly began making out with a bewildered Castle’s face? someone write me this fanfic
I’ve legit had this on my fic ideas list for over a year. I thought it’d be a fun/interesting AU to write. Great minds!
Kate falls into bed, sobs wracking her body. The wedding dress lays across a chair, neatly discarded. He’s gone. He left her. His body charred, those shining eyes closed forever. She falls asleep from exhaustion and despair sometime around three in the morning…
…and wakes feeling like she has slept forever. The bright light in the room burns through her eyelids as they struggle to open, and she thinks she might just keep them closed a little longer. Why open them. She won’t see him. She won’t ever see him again. If she keeps them closed, she can pretend he’s still here.
Her brain is hazy still, shrouded in a sadness she can’t brush away, and her heart aches.
It actually, physically hurts. She lost him. She might not survive this.
She can still hear his voice. She hopes she never forgets it.
A squeeze of her hand follows the sound of her name being uttered by his voice, and it confuses her.
“I think she’s waking up.”
But she doesn’t want to wake up, doesn’t want to face a world without him in it.
She forces her eyes open, and the white of the room is as blinding as she anticipated behind closed lids. She blinks fiercely against it, the white light, white walls, white sheets. She blinks, agitated and afraid now. This isn’t her room.
“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice soothes.
It’s not okay. It will never be okay again.
She turns towards the sound of his voice, sees her hand encased in his, his shirt, his face. His shining eyes. His upturned lips.
“Castle?” she breathes out in confusion.
“Welcome back, Beckett,” he says gently.
“What?” she asks, voice hoarse, tears threatening to fall. He’s alive? “You died.”
Concern darkens his eyes for a moment, before he holds her hand a little tighter and says, “No, I’m fine,” he assures her. “But you were shot, at Montgomery’s funeral. A sniper—”
“I remember,” she interrupts. “But that was almost three years ago.”
“No,” he says, brow furrowed. “Three days ago.”
“What?” she repeats again. And then she’s really looking at him. She slips her hand out from his and reaches up to cup his jaw. Her thumb brushes across his cheek, and the first tears slip down her cheeks. “You didn’t die.”
He’s silent, uncharacteristically so, for a moment while he holds her eyes, the pad of her thumb still caressing his skin. “No one died, Kate,” he tells her gently. “Everyone lived.”
“Three days?” she asks, her voice uneven, her damaged heart still broken.
“You’ve been asleep.”
“I dreamed it all?”
He leans into her touch. “What did you dream?”
A rainy evening; making love against your bedroom door; finding out about Bracken; learning how to let myself be loved so completely I couldn’t imagine this life without you; an engagement ring; saying yes; almost losing you; planning our future; thinking about children; almost losing myself; taking down Bracken; the beginning of the rest of our lives together; a car in flames… “You died.”
“I didn’t,” he promises.
The relief of the reality of the dream is overpowered by the pain of realizing all that happiness they’d shared hadn’t even been real. But he’s alive, and there’s hope, because she remembers his words. She remembers the damp grass, the smell of the sodden earth, and she remembers his voice.
“You love me?” she asks.
He doesn’t look away. He holds her gaze, and nods. “You heard me?”
“Did you mean it.”
“Say it again,” she pleads.
“I love you, Kate.”
Her hand slips behind his neck, and she draws him to her, until their lips meet. He kisses her gently, mindful of the damage to her heart, the hole in her chest. She sobs against his lips; she cries for all she thought they’d had, and all she thought she had lost. She cries from the joy of still having a chance to live it.
And for the first time.
It all happened in an instant.
In a heartbeat.
The same speed as a speeding bullet, one might say.
One moment he was on the podium, listening to her eulogy and hoping - for the first time since their God-awful fight and Montgomery’s sacrifice, there was hope in her words, in her eyes. A truce. Forgiveness. Acknowledgement of this thing between them that she had hitherto refuses to even glance at, that he had to bury because in spite of however strong his feelings were for her, she was with another man.
Then the flash of light caught his eye, the only warning - but it was enough.
The deafening crack of a gunshot echoed around the peaceful cemetery, but he was already on the move.
Somehow, he just knew.
Knocking her to the ground in a tackle, it took a moment for the pain to even register - but then it was all he could think about, burning through him like fire.
She pushed up against him, and he tried get off her, to obey her sharp command to let her move, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate, and the tongues of pain licked further across his torso, paralysing him.
Leaving him to die.
It wasn’t until he saw her raise her fingers to view the sticky red substance pouring out of him that either really registered what had happened.
Somehow, she managed to roll him so that she could hover over him, her eyes so helpless and panicked as she gazed down at him, tears welling in her eyes. He tried to raise one hand to brush them away, but his arms weren’t obeying his commands.
He needed to remind her to look after Alexis. But she knew, didn’t she? She had promised once before, and he knew, he knew he could trust her to remember.
A sense of peace washed over him, even in spite of the pain, in spite of her tears and her voice pleading with him to hold on.
How was she so far away, even while she was touching him?
He had to tell her, just once. Just once, and the last niggling thought would be laid to rest. If this is how he had to die, at least he got to be in Kate Beckett’s arms just once.
He had to find the words, and he could be at peace.
Locking onto her eyes, he forced his mouth to cooperate, speaking out the words he had treasured in his heart since the day he saw her appartment go up in flames.
"Kate… I love you. I love you, Kate," he whispered.
Then everything went black.
A/N: Thanks, Anon, for the prompt! I’ve always wanted to write this scene! And for the record, even though it ends here, I never once pictured him dying - any more so than Kate did under the same circumstances in canon. This is an injury fic that ends at a point of high-tension, not a death!fic.
His voice breaks as he whispers softly into her ear. He runs his fingers through her short cropped hair, her pale skin a stark contrast to her vibrant gold brown locks. The soft beeping of the monitors echo around the room, no longer all consuming as it use to be. They are now almost a comforting sound for Castle, a sound that tells him she’s still holding on, that she’s still fighting that internal battle with herself.
It’s been four months, four long lonely months and the hope that has burning with him, is slowly dwindling and he hates himself for even thinking it.
“I can’t do this on my own.” He whispers into the small room.
The lights are dim and the small swishing sound of the Kate’s respirator is a new addition. An addition that he has yet to get accustom to, something he does not want to accept. She had been breathing on her own for the past four months, but then yesterday her heart decided it just couldn’t. Now, she lies still motionless as she’s always been, but with more tubes and monitors than she originally started with.
“Aiden looks like you.” Castle whispers, his thumb making small circles on her wrists, “He’s getting so big, only four months old and already he’s twice his size.”
This is all part of his routine now, he goes home takes care of their newborn son, and then for a few hours a day he comes back to the hospital and spends his time filling her with stories about their son. The doctors say they don’t know if she will wake up, but Castle has refused any of their suggestions to take her to a long time facility. She did not survive a bullet to the chest, bombs and psycho killers to let child birth take her away from him, from their son.
“You need to wake up, Kate.” He pleads his grip tightening around her fingers, “You have a son that needs you. Seven months of you pouring over those child care books can’t be for nothing.”
He breathes in a ragged breath as his voice breaks yet again, taking in her pale form, the blue tabs of the respirator pulling against her skin, “I need you Kate. I don’t….I can’t do this on my own again. We’re supposed to do this together. We made a promise, Kate. All those months ago standing in a dirty garbage crate, you said you wouldn’t leave me to raise our child on my own. You promised me. I can’t do this on my own.”
He breaks down into a sob, pressing his forehead against the side of the bed. Some days, the anger over the situation is overwhelming, and he finds himself lashing out at her still form, preferring to take it out on her, instead of their family. Their family who has all but moved into the loft to help him taking care of their son. But, no matter how much help he has gotten, he still feels alone. He needs his wife. Their son needs his mother.
He just wants her to come home.
Castle sighs deeply, wiping away the stray tears as he gets to his feet, Aiden should be waking up from his nap soon and Castle wants to be there when he does. He looks at his sleeping wife, his heart constricting like it usually does when he lays eyes on all the tubes and he presses a kiss on her cheek, mindful of all tubes as he does.
“I love you, Kate.” He whispers the same words every day for the past four months and continues to do so until she finally listens to him, “Please wake up.”
Let’s just pretend this wasn’t sitting in my ask box forever. Thank you so much for the prompt and I hope you like it. :)
"Tell Daddy we’ll meet at the food court in fifteen minutes, okay?"
Mason nodded, his light brown curls flopping into his bright blue eyes. He would definitely need a haircut before his first day of school. Beckett smiled and leaned down to kiss her son on the head before walking back out into the mall.
Beginnings + Daybreak
Castle Theme Party | Challenge 01
Title: The Morning After The Night Before
Word Count: 575
Summary: This is the first day of the rest of her life.
Always up for prompts, anon. Hope you like it! =)
"Come on, Jo. Come to Daddy." Castle held out his arms and wiggled his fingers in a futile attempt to get his daughter to let go of the coffee table and walk towards him.
"No, come to me, Jojo," Alexis said with a big smile.
"At this rate she’s not going to come to either of you." Martha was sitting on the sofa going through a costume catalog for her acting students’ latest production. She glanced up to see the one-year-old girl looking back and forth between her father and big sister as though trying to choose which one to appease.
Her name was Johanna Beth and she was the spitting image of her mother save for her father’s bright blue eyes. She had been pulling herself up on furniture for a few months now and had been taking shaky steps with her small hands guiding her along the coffee table for the past week. It was only a matter of time before she tried to walk on her own and Castle was determined to make it happen.
"Castle," Kate looks at the proffered mug, "that smells like tea."
"That’s because it is tea,” he replies.
"But I don’t want tea. I asked you for a coffee."
"You’ve had enough coffee for today. Do you really think our fetus needs a ton of caffeine? He or she is going to be hyper enough anyway."
"That’s your fault. You’re the hyper one."
"I could make you a hot chocolate."
"I want coffee, Castle. Are you really going to deny your pregnant wife what she wants?"
"I’ll go make you some decaf."
"How about half-caf?"
"How about a decaf vanilla latte?"
Kate sighs and looks up as she mulls over the offer. “Fair enough,” she looks back at him, “but you’ll have to make it up to me by taking me to the comfort food truck after work.”
"I can do that," he grins. "And Kate?"
"That binder isn’t really hiding your adorable baby bump, and everyone knows about our impending offspring, so you might as well show it off."
"Castle," she points to the break room. "Coffee. Now."
"Yes ma’am," he winks at her and heads off to make her drink.
Once he’s out of earshot Kate looks down at the slight bulge that is their growing baby. “Your father is insufferable sometimes,” she smiles, “but you’re the luckiest kid in the world to have him as your dad.”