A/N: Not my first time around the block, but the first time in a longggg time. So sorry for the awkward just-getting-back-into-writing-phase, and the unoriginal, cliched plot. but you gotta start somewhere, no?

This is set sometime before the 'Secret Santa' ep. In other words, a Caskett Christmas never happened in this 'verse.
I know. I'm an awful fangirl. But give it a chance anyways. ;) It's kind of short, but more will be added on (and explained!) with the next update, if this is good enough to continue.

Reviews and critiques are always welcome. Always.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Prologue

November 27, 2012

"I want to take today off."

Rick turned to her and laughed. "I thought you were worried about being late, now you don't even wanna go in?"

She groaned, rolling into his chest. "Don't question me."

He held back another laugh and kissed her forehead, throwing his arm over her side.

She would never admit it out loud, but she adored the warmth of his embrace.

"Take today off, then. But what did you want to do instead?"

"I want to go out. Do something."

"Other than-"

"Yes, Castle, other than you." She rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Fine," he huffed, playfulness dancing through his eyes and smile. "Like what?"

"Mmm, I don't know..." she hummed against his skin, bringing a warm smile to his lips. "How 'bout we just go and like, walk around the city? It's been a while since I've been out and not on the job."

"But it's so cold outside," he moaned, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow, hiding from the mere prospect of twenty-degree weather.

"That's usually what winter entails."

She heard a muffled sound from him, to which she gave a laugh. "Come on, get up."

He groaned as Kate smacked his butt; then she herself got up, leaving the space beside him cold and empty, and smelling of her.

Rick turned his head slightly to see her stretch. "How are you so happy this early? It's disgusting," he remarked, getting a cackle in response.

He watched as she suddenly turned, making her way back across the room to him slowly, a seductive grin playing across her face. Her eyes were narrowed, but dancing in the glint of the sunlight.

Her knees hit the side of the bed, and she got on all fours to crawl over to him.

He laid still as she moved to lay on top of him, lowering her torso to touch the smooth, warm skin of his back.

She ducked her head so that her mouth met his ear, and he shivered at the contact.

"Maybe it's just because you were so electrifying last night," she purred, the 'eelll' rolling on her tongue, her warm breath caressing the side of his face.

"Oh-ho," he chuckled, flipping over before she could even realize what was happening.

She let out a shocked giggle as he attacked her neck with his lips, planting kisses on her throat and jawline, panting and grinning against her skin.

She writhed beneath him, the sound of jubilant laughter mixing with sharp intakes of breath and soft moans.

"Cas-" she half-panted out, "we're never gonna leave if you keep this up."

He gave a low, throaty chuckle for the second time. "That's the idea, Detective."

Kate began to roll her eyes, but a loud gasp escaped her as Rick's mouth found the spot where her throat met the bottom of her jaw.

"Fine," she breathed, closing her eyes as he nipped at and soothed her skin, stars clouding her vision. "But after this, you're taking me out to breakfast."

"Deal."

December 30, 2012

Kate leaned against the Crown Vic, the cold of the metal piercing through her coat.

She exhaled, her breath taking the form of swirling, cloudy puffs that dissipated into the air within seconds.

She watched the people across the street; mothers desperately attempting to keep their children reined in, businessman dressed to the nines in suits and carrying briefcases full of who-knows-what. Tourists were marveling at the happenings of post-Christmas New York City, an excited tension resonating through the air at the prospect of New Year's Eve.

Kate sighed suddenly, breaking the silence on her side of the street.

It all felt so, completely, horribly wrong.

Empty.

It was a panicky-void, as if she'd misplaced something important, but didn't quite realize what it was. As if she'd forgotten to pack some vital possession before a long trip.

An aching, searing void, as if there was just simply space in her chest, where her heart had once been.

She looked down at the ground, pushing together a small pile of snow with the toe of her shoe. Her hands burrowed deeper into her coat pockets, fingers clenched together in tight fists to stay warm.

Memories of ice and swirling cold abruptly overwhelmed her, crystalline blue coloring her vision.

Memories of feeling his body go cold beside her, the soothing pulse of the blood running through his veins slowing down.

Memories of the feelings she'd experienced; of impending, looming death, and the inescapable, haunting fact that he'd never know just how much he meant to her.

The pile of slush at her toe had grown to something of a hill, possibly even Everest from an ant's point of view.

She stared at it, not really seeing it, or seeing anything, for that matter.

She was back in that freezer, hopeless.

Despairing.

She choked on the lump in her throat.

"You...okay?"

Kate looked up to see Esposito standing to the side of her, lines of concern etched across his forehead.

She cleared her throat.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. You ready?"

He hesitated, giving her a look that told her he knew better, but was gonna let it slide just this once.

"Yeah."

"Awesome." She pushed herself off the side of the car, walking around the front of it to get to the driver's side door.

She forced herself to swallow whatever her brain was tricking her into feeling before taking a seat in front of the steering wheel.

Gets easier everyday, she thought.

Although her brain and chest screamed at her the exact opposite.

'Gets worse everyday, you idiot.'

"Beckett."

Kate's eyes shot up from the bank statements on her desk that had begun to blur together to watch Gates make her way over to her, with firm, sure strides.

"Yes?"

"Can I speak with you?"

She looked around her. "Um-"

"In my office."

"Um, yes." She gave her a slight nod and stood up to follow her across the bullpen.

Gates closed the office door as Kate crossed the threshold of the room, unsure. "I'm sure you know what this is about."

"Uh, actually, I'm not quite sure I do-"

"Detective Beckett," the Captain stopped her, and then hesitated.

Kate had to keep her eyes from widening. She'd never seen Gates uncertain in her dealings with her, or the boys before.

"I am quite sorry for your...for everything that has happened recently."

"Ah." Her eyebrows made minuscule movements of acknowledgement.

"I understand that you say you're fine, Detective, but I've seen you at your desk. You stare off into space. You're distracted."

Kate felt a pang reverberate through her chest. She opened her mouth to argue, but Gates held up a finger and continued.

"You are upset, Beckett." Her voice softened, surprising her audience of one yet again. "And that is perfectly understandable. But I can't keep letting you go out in the field like you've been doing, and risk your safety, or any one of my other officers'."

Kate looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. "I'm fine, sir. It won't happen again."

"You're right, it won't. I'm telling you right now to go home and get some rest. Work through some things. I didn't know the entire story with you two, but it's all still much too fresh for you to be here right now.''

"But, sir-"

"That's an order."

Her mouth snapped shut, and she turned a steely gaze to the floor as she turned to leave. "Yes sir."

"Kate?"

Her hand froze on the smooth metal of the doorknob, and her feet suddenly stopped moving.

"I am sorry."

"Yeah," she whispered. "Me too."

Katherine Beckett used to feel a sense of safety and of warmth when she opened her apartment door.

A sense of comfort, of home.

But now?

It might as well have been Siberia.

A mournful sigh emanating from her mouth echoed through the empty space, bouncing off the walls.

It was then, in the silence that followed, that she realized how cavernous the place felt, and just how alone she was.

A powerful sob abruptly wracked her body from the inside-out, and she crumpled to the ground in a broken heap as she grieved the very idea of love, and what it had cost her exactly, to lose.

The hours passed by, yet Kate continued to lay on the cold, unforgiving floor of her apartment, staring vacantly at the painting on her living room wall.

The doomsday painting, the one that she had immediately, mysteriously fallen in love with after feeling the strong, pervading sense of foreboding for the first time.

The doomsday painting that he had told her he loved her in front of, the painting she had screamed at him for betraying her in front of.

The painting that had eventually seen them come together as one, one beating heart and soul, time and again.

That painting had seen a lot.

So much.

If art could talk, the thought crossed her mind.

Her eyes took in the deep, muted purples and mauves that dashed the subject's clothing, the grey of the storm-clouds moving in.

All at one, the only thing she began to see were colors that blurred into one, until darkness became all her vision could perceive.

She suddenly realized how tired she was, how emotionally and physically drained.

Kate mentally talked herself into getting up, and getting into bed.

She told herself it'd be beneficial, that she needed a good night's rest, considering how fitful and sleep-less the last few nights had been.

She pushed aside the looming thought that she hadn't been able to sleep in her bed for the past few weeks, because it still smelled of him.

It still screamed of his absence.

The fact that he was gone, for good.

She shook her head, resolute in her decision to get some sleep, and was just making her way to her bedroom when there was suddenly a knock at her front door.

Kate groaned as she froze in place, closing her eyes in frustration and fatigue.

Her foot pivoted, circling her body around so that it pointed at the door.

She sighed once, and then made firm steps to the door, trying her best to distort her face into one that looked like it hadn't been drowned in tears on the floor. "Coming!"

It was probably just one of the boys, she thought, coming to check up on her-

"Hey," came the greeting, as the door finished flinging open.

As if nothing had happened.

And, just like that, Kate Beckett's world came crashing down all over again, for the third time that month.

"Castle?"