Testament, Epilogue-A Caskett AU set between seasons 3 and 4 (7 chapters)
Title: Testament, Epilogue
Rating: T
Summary: "He fiddles with the parts of the percolator. Reaches back into childhood and lets his fingers remember how this goes. How many scoops in a pot for two. He counts out the water, twice as long as she did yesterday, and waits for the dark liquid to climb high into the crystal knob, smiling to himself when he hears her step behind him at just that moment."
A/N: And the brief epilogue. Set in the time gap in Rise 4 x 01.
He wakes before her. Lies there a long while, loving the pins and needles in the arm slipped under the pillow to raise her head a little. Loving that her face is mashed completely against his chest and the way the heat of her body makes his skin sticky with sweat.
But needs to move eventually. Needs the bathroom and . . . God . . . mouthwash or something. He needs coffee and a plan. Clean underwear and clothes and a phone charger, if he's going to stay with her. And he is going to stay with her.
So he eases himself out from under. Bunches up the blanket to stand in for parts of his own body as he works them free. He tucks pillows around her carefully. Carefully, so of course she shifts extravagantly, undoing all his work the second his feet hit the floor. She winces in her sleep, but her knees tuck up and her fists are propped under hips and she settles.
He feels more at home in the kitchen today. More at home in his own skin. He fiddles with the parts of the percolator. Reaches back into childhood and lets his fingers remember how this goes. How many scoops in a pot for two. He counts out the water, twice as long as she did yesterday, and waits for the dark liquid to climb high into the crystal knob, smiling to himself when he hears her step behind him at just that moment.
He turns to tell her it'll be just a second. To hold his hand out and help her up on the stool to wait. But she's standing far across the room, clinging to the wall.
"Kate?" He takes a step toward her and another.
"Home," she says. "Castle, I want to go home."
"Home?" It's like a foreign word in his mouth. A wonderful foreign word, and she nods. "Thank God. Oh, thank God, Beckett." He's wrapped around her without remembering how he closed the distance between. Without remembering the steps in between. He's kissing her in daylight, and she doesn't seem to mind. The spell doesn't seem to have been broken, though she pulls back all too soon. "What?"
"Well . . ." She's looking up at him, shyly. Almost that coy version of demanding that's hers and hers alone, but she's out of practice. "I kind of need a ride."
It doesn't take much time.
He makes them breakfast. Annoys her by "supervising" as she eats. She bats him, away and declines his gracious offer to hand feed her, and it's not quite them. It couldn't possibly be, not so soon, but it's another few steps closer.
And after that, there's really nothing to do. She has a few things to roll neatly into a duffle bag while he empties the fridge. It's busy work, really. A task he sets himself so that he'll leave her alone for any number of good reasons, but there's not much to do there, either. They've more or less managed to eat her out of house and home in just two meals, and he wants to crow about it.
She doesn't want any of the books-not even one for the car-and he doesn't blame her, the way they must have stared her down for weeks. He hopes she'll sleep anyway. He has a hopeful little fantasy that she'll rest on the way and open her eyes to the city at just the right time of day. Just when she feels best, and she won't have any regrets.
He steps out on to the porch as she's taking a last look around the cabin. He figures she might want a moment to make any silent goodbyes or whatever, but follows right away. She's practically on his heels, pulling the door shut behind her. She's clumsy as feels around for the key. She locks up and snaps the magnetic box back to the metal underside.
She turns and he sees what's behind the awkward movement. The box she's holding tight in one hand. He'd forgotten. In the space of one day-one night with her in his arms-he'd actually forgotten.
She's gotten rid of the packaging. Of the awful, official, mistaken letter, and it's just the hinged case she holds out to him. He takes the cue. He lifts the lid and extracts the watch, feeling the weight of it in his palm. Welcoming it for just a moment before he takes her left hand and fastens the band around her wrist. A full notch tighter than before, he notices from the bend in the leather. A full notch, because there's a long way to go. A long way.
"Better," he says, holding on to her hand. Holding the glass face up so it catches the sun.
"Better," she agrees quietly, but she pushes the hinged box toward him. She shakes free of his hold to wrap his hands around it. "Hold on to this for me?"
It's just a simple jeweler's box now. Empty but for the note he knows must still be in there, tucked underneath or behind. It's nothing he understands, but he doesn't have to. Not at all once, because they have time.
He smiles at her. Kisses her in daylight. In full view of the whole, wide world. "Tight as I can."
A/N: Thank you for your patience and for the support for this story from those who read and those of you who commented to offered feedback and support. That's it for me for the foreseeable future, but I am grateful to you all for getting me through the end of this story.
Rating: T
Summary: "He fiddles with the parts of the percolator. Reaches back into childhood and lets his fingers remember how this goes. How many scoops in a pot for two. He counts out the water, twice as long as she did yesterday, and waits for the dark liquid to climb high into the crystal knob, smiling to himself when he hears her step behind him at just that moment."
A/N: And the brief epilogue. Set in the time gap in Rise 4 x 01.
He wakes before her. Lies there a long while, loving the pins and needles in the arm slipped under the pillow to raise her head a little. Loving that her face is mashed completely against his chest and the way the heat of her body makes his skin sticky with sweat.
But needs to move eventually. Needs the bathroom and . . . God . . . mouthwash or something. He needs coffee and a plan. Clean underwear and clothes and a phone charger, if he's going to stay with her. And he is going to stay with her.
So he eases himself out from under. Bunches up the blanket to stand in for parts of his own body as he works them free. He tucks pillows around her carefully. Carefully, so of course she shifts extravagantly, undoing all his work the second his feet hit the floor. She winces in her sleep, but her knees tuck up and her fists are propped under hips and she settles.
He feels more at home in the kitchen today. More at home in his own skin. He fiddles with the parts of the percolator. Reaches back into childhood and lets his fingers remember how this goes. How many scoops in a pot for two. He counts out the water, twice as long as she did yesterday, and waits for the dark liquid to climb high into the crystal knob, smiling to himself when he hears her step behind him at just that moment.
He turns to tell her it'll be just a second. To hold his hand out and help her up on the stool to wait. But she's standing far across the room, clinging to the wall.
"Kate?" He takes a step toward her and another.
"Home," she says. "Castle, I want to go home."
"Home?" It's like a foreign word in his mouth. A wonderful foreign word, and she nods. "Thank God. Oh, thank God, Beckett." He's wrapped around her without remembering how he closed the distance between. Without remembering the steps in between. He's kissing her in daylight, and she doesn't seem to mind. The spell doesn't seem to have been broken, though she pulls back all too soon. "What?"
"Well . . ." She's looking up at him, shyly. Almost that coy version of demanding that's hers and hers alone, but she's out of practice. "I kind of need a ride."
It doesn't take much time.
He makes them breakfast. Annoys her by "supervising" as she eats. She bats him, away and declines his gracious offer to hand feed her, and it's not quite them. It couldn't possibly be, not so soon, but it's another few steps closer.
And after that, there's really nothing to do. She has a few things to roll neatly into a duffle bag while he empties the fridge. It's busy work, really. A task he sets himself so that he'll leave her alone for any number of good reasons, but there's not much to do there, either. They've more or less managed to eat her out of house and home in just two meals, and he wants to crow about it.
She doesn't want any of the books-not even one for the car-and he doesn't blame her, the way they must have stared her down for weeks. He hopes she'll sleep anyway. He has a hopeful little fantasy that she'll rest on the way and open her eyes to the city at just the right time of day. Just when she feels best, and she won't have any regrets.
He steps out on to the porch as she's taking a last look around the cabin. He figures she might want a moment to make any silent goodbyes or whatever, but follows right away. She's practically on his heels, pulling the door shut behind her. She's clumsy as feels around for the key. She locks up and snaps the magnetic box back to the metal underside.
She turns and he sees what's behind the awkward movement. The box she's holding tight in one hand. He'd forgotten. In the space of one day-one night with her in his arms-he'd actually forgotten.
She's gotten rid of the packaging. Of the awful, official, mistaken letter, and it's just the hinged case she holds out to him. He takes the cue. He lifts the lid and extracts the watch, feeling the weight of it in his palm. Welcoming it for just a moment before he takes her left hand and fastens the band around her wrist. A full notch tighter than before, he notices from the bend in the leather. A full notch, because there's a long way to go. A long way.
"Better," he says, holding on to her hand. Holding the glass face up so it catches the sun.
"Better," she agrees quietly, but she pushes the hinged box toward him. She shakes free of his hold to wrap his hands around it. "Hold on to this for me?"
It's just a simple jeweler's box now. Empty but for the note he knows must still be in there, tucked underneath or behind. It's nothing he understands, but he doesn't have to. Not at all once, because they have time.
He smiles at her. Kisses her in daylight. In full view of the whole, wide world. "Tight as I can."
A/N: Thank you for your patience and for the support for this story from those who read and those of you who commented to offered feedback and support. That's it for me for the foreseeable future, but I am grateful to you all for getting me through the end of this story.