Because I watched "After The Storm" again yesterday.

It started two days ago.

Hot, glowing inner flames that ignited the second she walked through Castle's front door. The heat certainly lingered, rolling throughout the night, right up until Ryan brought the case back to her.

It smothered her. She had to push through the smoke and haze, find Castle's hand and hang on. It surrounded her, hid the rest of the world from view and all she could see was him and the case. Then the bomb in the floor went off.

And the flame sparked again.

As they moved through the case, the fire moved with her, within her. It grew and flared in her chest as they spoke to Smith, scalding her muscles and throat when things turned sour…again. It made the very little contents in her stomach smolder and churn with fear and her face warm with anxiety.

Then they found the bank account, and a name. Actual tangible proof that someone collected on her captain's mistakes, and hired her mother's killer. It was as if someone lit a match and set everything she had ablaze.

She knew it was pushing a certain line when she walked out of her apartment that morning, leaving Castle dozing in her bed. She hated that she was doing it…that she had to do it, but she went anyway, letting that fire push her forward.

Her fingers touched his back as she dropped the phone in his pocket. The heat seared through her skin at the contact, tingling and jolting in her fingertips. Wasn't that a sign of the devil? It spread through her like a wildfire when they came face-to-face.

It powered her, fed her anger as she listened to his lies and excuses. She knew the truth, and that knowledge kept the flame inside of her lit. Fueled her drive for justice.

Somewhere between his story and insult of her character she realized what she had to do. She was the better person here. She was the one who stood for good and honesty, and didn't – wouldn't let people like him push her around. So she swallowed the heat, redirected the energy, made a deal for her life – for everyone's lives – and walked away.

It wasn't her first instinct. No, after years of waiting and wondering the first thing she wanted to do was snap the man's neck. But knowing what she could have for herself, she didn't know if she could live knowing what she'd done.

Slowly, the burning eased, the flames smothered as she tried to come to terms with the reality of…everything.

Now, as she listens to the sounds of the city outside of his window, curled in his fancy sheets and strong arms, she's warm. It's an altogether different kind of fire. Burning because of him, for him. For what they can be together.

And she finds that this smoldering, loving heat is a much better use of her passion.

I don't know. It just happened, much like everything else I post. Let me know what you think!

If you're waiting for To Shatter Illusions, I'm sorry. I never wanted to be that author, but apparently between school and my blog and everything else, I only have the brain capacity for one-shots. So, the story's on a sort-of hiatus.

Tappin
=)