The Air Tonight

The wind is warm against her cheeks, it whips around her, sweeps her hair back and she can't keep the smile off her face. She closes her eyes and inhales the salty air. It's late spring, one of those perfect evenings where the sky is clear and the temperature promises the beginning of summer. The slightest traces of champagne from dinner still zip through her veins. It leaves her feeling giddy, excited that he agreed to her spontaneous suggestion to drive up here for the weekend; and she reaches for his hand, laces her fingers over his on the gearshift.

His smile mirrors her own as he brings her hand to his lips, presses a soft kiss against her wrist.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?"

She quirks her head at him, watches the way the emotions swirl through his eyes before he returns them to the road. He's been looking at her this way all evening, ever since she walked into the living room wearing the deep green dress she knows is one of his favorites. She's not sure what it is about this night but there's something electric in the air between them. She's never felt so alive under his gaze and she lets the feeling wrap around her, engulf her senses along with the smell of the ocean and the touch of his skin against hers where their hands are still joined.

"You're not so hard on the eyes either, Mr. Castle," she returns. And it's true. She's every bit as entranced by him. He's wearing a crisp blue shirt that makes his eyes seem endless and she can see the faintest traces of a five o clock shadow on his face. She's sure it's related to the fact that she accidently let it slip once how sexy she finds it when they've been working a case and he's too busy to shave. She was embarrassed at the time but now she doesn't regret it one bit because he looks good. Really, really good and though she'd never admit it in a million years, there are moments like these when it still shocks her that she's dating Richard Castle. She's dating this man who captured her mind with his words long before they ever met, long before the case that brought them together, before he refused to leave her alone and gradually weaseled his way into her heart, became her best friend. And it's not only that she's dating him, but it's also that she's probably the happiest, the most content she's been in as long as she can remember. She's not entirely sure how she managed to get here, how they've made it to this point but she's never been more grateful for someone's presence in her life as she is for his.

She stares at the houses they drive by, a mixture of gated mansions and more modest cottages tucked behind trees, giving them their own private ocean views. It's late but every so often they pass one that's still lit and he must be rubbing off on her because she lets her mind wander, imagining what others are doing on this warm summer night, envisioning the possible scenes. Are they dressed up too, warm from the humid breeze, sipping on drinks as they entertain guests? Are they carrying sleeping kids from the couch to their beds after they passed out there, exhausted from a day in the sun? Or are they alone, curled up with a good book, too engrossed in the pages to put it away just yet?

"I was eighteen the first time I came to the Hamptons," he says, interrupting her thoughts. "It was a weekend during the fall of my first semester of college. One of the guys that lived down the hall invited a couple of us. His family owned a house here."

He pauses for a moment, remembering, and she hums, giving him permission to continue. She suddenly wants to know this about him - wants to know what sparked his interest in this place.

"I was so excited, Kate. I'd always wanted to come here. Every now and then Mother would get invited for a weekend with her director friends and return with all these glamorous stories from parties she'd attended, people she'd met, bonfires on the beach and oyster roasts. It all sounded so exciting, like something out of The Great Gatsby, this dream life of the rich and famous. Our money came and went depending on whether she was in between roles. I think she felt bad sometimes that she couldn't give me that life, so she gave me stories instead and I could picture it all so vividly, this magical place I'd built up in my head. And I just remember promising myself after one of those trips she came back from, one day I'd get us here – that one day I'd be able to take my children on vacations to the beach, give them the excitement I used to feel whenever she'd tell me those stories. I wanted to have stories of my own."

Kate relaxes into the seat, enjoying the deep cadence of his voice. His words and the night air seep into her skin, ignite her senses as she listens, imagines a younger Castle, his mind composing scenes long before he knew how to express them on the page. "Was it what you expected?"

"Not exactly. We were typical guys, drank most of the weekend away, got burnt from spending all day out in the water. We got ourselves kicked out of one of the local bars when they realized we had fake IDs so we wound up hanging out at the house mostly after that. But I still think about this one night. Everyone else had passed out but I couldn't sleep. All these words were stuck in my head and I wandered down to the ocean with a pen and a pad of paper and I just wrote and wrote for hours. At first I was worried it'd be too dark but Kate, I wish you could have seen it, the moon was so bright. It was the first time I'd been out of the city in ages – somewhere quiet, somewhere you could actually see the stars, hear yourself think and just breathe. And that was that moment I fell in love with the Hamptons. Not for the glamour or the parties or the money but for the peace it brought me."

"That's beautiful, Castle." She smiles, a hint of teasing in her eyes. "You sure the parties didn't have anything to do with it though?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that I didn't party…every time I came up here."

She laughs, thinks to herself again just how different he is from the man she thought he was when they'd first met. Sometimes she wonders what it would have been like to have met him sooner, whether they'd have still fallen in love, started a life together. She doubts the timing would have been right, but it's when he tells her stories like this that she realizes he's always been this man deep down inside, under the carefully constructed persona and the immaturity of his younger days. She thinks, even then, she would have loved that part of him.

"What about you?" He asks, running his thumb along her hand. "Did your parents ever bring you here?"

She recalls the summer trips she took with her family, the little house they'd rent, and the nights she'd sit out on the wrap around porch for hours just watching the waves, not so much unlike the memory he just shared.

"Yeah they did. We didn't have our own house but every summer since I was eleven they'd rent this cottage right on the ocean. It was my favorite part of summer. My parents were always so busy with cases but for that one week they'd put everything aside, no calls from work, no distractions. Some of my favorite memories of my mom were those trips."

She smiles wistfully before continuing.

"My parents would go for walks every evening. They invited me but I always said no. My dad would wink at my mom and say, 'Come on, Jo, let's leave Katie alone so she can spy on Mr. Franklin.' He was always teasing me, trying to convince me that the house next door was haunted and telling me if I paid close enough attention I just might catch a glimpse of the old owner's ghost."

"Wait! You vacationed next to a haunted house every summer since you were eleven and you didn't tell me?!" He interrupts her to turn and stare, his lips turned down into a pout.

"It wasn't haunted, Castle. I said he teased me about it. Now are you going to let me finish my story or not?" She nudges him playfully, eyes sparkling.

"Will you tell me more about the haunted house?"

She rolls her eyes at him.

"Sorry, sorry. Please continue."

"Thank you. So apparently, Mr. Franklin, the original owner of the house next door to the cottage we rented died in a big storm up here one summer. His wife noticed that their seven-year-old son wasn't in the house when their power went out and she called for him. He went outside to look for him and saw him in the water. He was able to pull his son back in but he drowned when he got caught in a bad rip current. My dad was always messing with me trying to tell me the house was haunted and at night people claimed they'd seen Mr. Franklin's ghost out in the water nearby, especially on nights when it was supposed to storm. Obviously, I never saw anything. I'm pretty sure my dad just wanted to see if he could freak me out. I was a stubbornly logical kid."

"Logical kid, Beckett?"

She sees him quirk an eyebrow, a habit she's pretty sure he's picked up from her over the years and something about that warms her heart. She laughs. "Ghosts don't exist. Haven't I proven that to you yet over the many cases we've solved with explanations that were not supernatural?"

He huffs at her. "One day, Beckett. One day I'll convince you."

"Keep dreaming, Castle." She pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "Anyway, my parents would go for walks and I'd camp out on the porch and watch them until they were too small to see. It wasn't that I didn't want to go. It was just something that seemed special and I didn't want to intrude on it. My mom's eyes would light up when my dad grabbed her hand and he would pull her along through the sand with the biggest smile on his face. They looked so happy, Castle. And I remember thinking that they deserved those moments away to themselves, that those moments belonged to them."

"I know you miss her, Kate. But I'm so glad you have these memories."

She swallows back the emotion that clogs in her throat at his words. She does miss her mom. She misses her every single day, so badly sometimes that it physically aches; but she also knows how lucky she is to have had nineteen years of moments with her. That the time she spent with her mom isn't something everyone is lucky enough to have. She thinks of Castle and how he relied on stories his mother told him of the Hamptons. Of how he never had family vacations like she did, may never know his father the way she knows hers, and of how he'll never have the same kind of memories from growing up.

That's when she realizes just how badly she wants this with him. She wants a family with him, children, those walks on the beach. Stubbornly logical kids with blue eyes and brown hair and Castle's imagination. They can cook dinners together, sit barefoot under the stars, their feet dangling in the pool while they listen to the sound of the surf. They can do a hundred different things, new things, creating memories and moments of their own. She can't change the past but the future is suddenly clear. It's striking and vivid and hits her with a force so hard that she can hardly contain the excitement that bubbles through her when she imagines it all.

"What are you thinking about?" He's staring at her, watching her curiously, and she remembers she never responded to him, so caught up in her thoughts.

"Us," she responds simply, letting a smile unfurl across her face. She watches as the breeze ruffles his hair. It's disheveled in a way that stirs a lazy arousal in her stomach and she's glad they're not far from his house now.

"I'd be worried if you weren't flashing your bedroom eyes at me right now, Beckett. It's the stubble isn't it? I knew not shaving tonight was a good idea." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs, a deep and throaty thing. He's not that far off base.

"I'm never going to live that one down am I?"

"Nope, never." He puffs his chest out proudly.

She rolls her eyes in amusement, reveling in the affection she feels for him, as they settle back into a comfortable silence; the faintest sounds of the ocean crashing not far off the road create the perfect soundtrack to the end of their drive.

They're not so unlike in their need for solitude, his from all the words that build up in his head and hers from the long days of chasing leads and details of cases that sometimes go unsolved. But there's something about this place that calms her deeply. She looks up at the sky, the scattering of stars that shimmer and shine; and for a moment the world feels infinite, like anything is possible and any problems, any lingering sadness from the past is somehow smaller in comparison.

"I'm glad we're here, Castle."

"Me too, Kate." He squeezes her hand. "Me too."

Thoughts?