Wide Awake

An Always Alternate-Scene

"I'm wide awake and so alive

Ringing like a bell
Tell me this is paradise
And not someplace I fell
Cause I keep on fallin' down"

~ Car Crash, Matt Nathanson

She doesn't sleep.

Their fight echoes in her ears, along with a dozen other scenarios flitting through her mind. Scenarios where she had backed down – or he had – or where their fight hadn't escalated to the point it did; scenarios where she'd told him the truth of her heart instead of throwing his back at him.

That isn't what happened, though. None of it is, and instead he'd walked out with a definitive slam of her front door.

And she doesn't sleep. She stares at the ceiling and waits until the hours have ticked past insanity and become respectable – somewhat respectable – enough to slide from her bed and don her armor for the day.

The precinct isn't her first stop, though. Instead, her feet propel her to another destination, somewhere she hasn't been in far too long. A place she hasn't been able to go in almost a year. Not since the glint and pop of a rifle shattered the peaceful calm of a bright spring day and turned her world on its head again.

Her chest tightens with each step along the carefully manicured path and she has to fight not to stumble and trip when one of the grounds keepers she had clocked as soon as she stepped through the gates slams the door to their truck. Instead she releases a breath from behind clenched teeth, willing herself to move forward, to round the final corner.

A gasp escapes her lungs when she does and her hand flies first to her lips and then to the holster at her hip. She's not alone anymore; a figure stands just ahead with their back to her, head bent, and broad shoulders bowed. They're unexpected but not a stranger, and her heart throbs against her sternum.

"Castle," she exhales, pressing the heel of her hand to the center of her chest. "What are you doing here?"

He spins, looking for all the world like a kid caught somewhere he's been forbidden to go. The guilt in his eyes fades a second later, though, replaced by defiance.

"It seemed right."

It's not an explanation at all, but she knows what he means somehow. After all, she's here too, needing to remind herself who and what she's fighting for; why she is the person she is.

"I'll go," he says off her silence. She watches his eyes dart between the headstone and back to her, his jaw tight.

"Is this the first time?" she blurts out as he steps away. "That you've come here, I mean."

He hesitates, shaking his head after a moment. "I've… a few times," he pauses. "Last summer while you were recovering, after Smith called me the first time. A couple of other times, too."

There's enough subtext in his words that she winces; every time he's come here, he'd needed something from her that she hadn't been able to give. And now, after the blowout they'd had last night and walking away, he's here again.

"Castle," she starts, fighting past the tightness in her throat.

He shakes his head, cutting her off. There's a resignation, a despair she's so rarely seen from him etched in the lines of his face. "I hope – I hope this works out for you, Kate."

Her hand catches his as he attempts to move past her, holding firm when he flexes his fingers in her grip.

"I need to do this, Rick. For her," she says, jerking her chin toward the headstone, tracing her eyes over her mother's name. "For me. I can't keep looking over my shoulder hoping this guy won't come out of nowhere and take me down. I have to end this – I will end this."

His eyes flash, coming to life once more as they bore into hers.

"And I can't watch as you get put in the ground too, Beckett," he hisses. "I can't watch your headstone go right next to hers. And if you really can't see that – that there's more for you than dying for your cause, dying for her–"

He pulls his hand away, pressing his lips to her forehead and taking a step back.

"Good luck, Kate. I mean that."

He leaves her without another word, his steps halted and stiff but his back ramrod straight as she tracks him until he's out of sight.

"Mom," she whispers pulling her mother's ring from beneath her shirt, studying the way the light hits the stones. Her eyes water, spilling over without her consent. She swipes at a tear, smearing the wetness down her nose. The ring dangling from her fingers blurs as another tear comes, followed by a third.

"I'm going to get this done," she breathes, sniffing. "I will."

Kate Beckett swallows hard, clearing her throat. Squaring her shoulders, she tucks the ring back under her shirt and scrubs her hands over her face, eliminating the last trace of her tears. "See you soon, Mom."

When she leaves the cemetery, she doesn't look back.

"I went back," he confesses into her hair later that night. She looks up, curious what he means. "To the cemetery," he adds. "Not to… I felt like she needed to know my side. Why I'd… why I had to walk away."

"You were right to walk away. I was… you were right about it all." Kate's lips pucker against his skin. "I made a mess of things and I'm so sorry, Castle."

Her partner's lips find her forehead, tender and soft. "Just don't make me have to visit you there, too. What ever else you do, don't make me do that. Please."

"I won't," she assures, slipping a hand around the back of his neck and drawing him to her. "No more chasing it. I can live with it as it is now; I'm living now."

Castle's smile deepens as his tension and his concern for her seems to fall away.

"Okay. I can live with that, too."

She grins, framing his face with her hands and stroking the stubble on his cheeks. "Yeah?"

His mouth touches hers in a quick kiss, testing the waters before coming back again. She hums in appreciation, shifting against his sheets, allowing the weight of his hips to press her deeper into the mattress.

"Yeah, Beckett," he murmurs, nipping at her lower lip. "God, yes."

"Good. Now, do you want to sleep? Maybe catch a power nap?" she asks, grinning into his kiss, delighting in the hand he skims down her thigh, the way he hikes her leg high around her waist. The way his touch warms her and claims her as his after too damn long.

"Are you kidding?" he asks, chuckling at her lopsided smirk and the game she's so obviously playing with him this time around. "Not a chance, Kate. I'm wide awake."

"Me too," she breathes against his mouth, arching into him. "Oh, me too."

Yes, every nerve and cell in her body is awake and alive, singing at his touch. And it feels amazing.

Happy Always-Anniversary, everyone! Thank you for reading!