Nightfall

EPILOGUE

FRIDAY – 6:12 PM

The last rays of sunlight filtered over the horizon and soon vanished, night falling over the crowded and packed MetLife Stadium. However, the mass of people were not there to watch a New York Giants or Jets game, neither were they there for some concert event. No. The tiers of seats were filled, and the field teemed with bodies of New Yorkers evacuated from their city. Cots with starchy blankets littered the end zones, pressing up towards the seating. The center of the field, at the 50-yard line, stood a pavilion style tent had been propped up, with FEMA staff inside, ready to assist those searching for loved ones they had been separated from during the mayhem that had been the evacuation and the ensuing chaos that had followed.

Kate Beckett wandered the sideline, cellphone to her ear, as she listened to her father's relieved voice. Cellphone service had been restored twenty minutes prior. Medics had already seen to her injuries. The cut on her head had been washed and bandaged with butterfly stitches. Some other scraps along her arms and legs had been bandaged as well. All in all, she'd fared a lot better than some of the others New Yorkers, who were now being tended to in numerous medical tents set up in the parking lot. Lanie was out there, working. Her best friend had given Beckett an earful for worrying her, before hugging her tight and telling her to stay clear of monsters from now on. Beckett had chuckled good-naturedly and promised to do her best.

"Thank God, you're safe!" Jim Beckett exclaimed over the phone line. "Your Aunt and I have been watching the news reports. It's still all so unreal. I can't believe this happened. Theresa keeps saying it's like something out of movie."

"It was," she agreed. "And I was right in the middle of it and still had trouble believing it was happening."

"Are you sure you're okay, Katie?" he asked, clearly concerned. She could imagine his face, twisting with parental worry, like he had back when she'd first bought her motorcycle.

"I'm fine, Dad," she assured, glancing over to where she'd left Castle and Alexis. Martha was with them, and it warmed her heart to see the family reunited. The aging Broadway Diva had followed Beckett's instructions to the letter, and got herself and her friend, Holly Hillybrock, safely over the Williamsburg Bridge and into Brooklyn, where the two had encountered Esposito, Ryan, and Jenny O'Malley, Ryan's fiancée. "Really. Just a little banged up. Nothing to worry about."

She had already informed her father about Josh and what had happened to him, and briefly told him of her reaction—or lack thereof—and how that had made her feel guilty for the feelings she had for Castle. Her father had listened, as he often done when they had their Sunday brunches, and then told her that she shouldn't allow such guilt to hold her back from being happy, adding that he always suspected she cared more about the writer than she'd been willing to admit.

"If you say so," Jim relied after a beat. "But all the same, your Aunt and I will drive down as soon as the government allows."

"I'd like that," Beckett said, smiling, missing her father. "I'll see you then?"

He hummed in response. "Love you, Katiebug."

"Love you, Dad," she replied and then hung up, pocketing her phone and slowly turning around to saunter back to the cot the Castle family had been allocated.

Martha was fussing over her son, running her hands—colorful wrist bangles jangling—over his face and scalp, inspecting all the bumps and bruises he'd acquired during their escape from the city. Alexis had already suffered the inspection, and was currently grinning, laughing lightly at her father's expense. Castle spotted Beckett approaching and his eyes lit up with hope.

"Beckett, save me!" he called, beseechingly, imploring her with his eyes for rescue.

She bit her lip to stifle a laugh at his desperate expression, eyes lighting up with amusement as she watched Martha brush her fingers down his shoulders and arms.

"Oh, shush, kiddo," Martha chastised, in full mother mode. "You and your heroics. I don't know where you get it."

"From you, Mother, obviously," Castle grunted, attempting to wave away her hands, hoping his praise would soothe his fussing mother. It didn't. "I'm fine. Beckett," he glanced up at her pleading, "tell her I'm fine."

She held up her hands. "Don't look at me. I'm not getting involved."

Growling, his eyes flicked over to his giggling daughter. "Alexis?"

"You're on your own, Dad," she grinned.

"Traitor," he grumbled, and slumped his shoulders, surrendering in defeat to the chorus of giggles from Alexis and stifled laughter from Beckett. Frowning Castle just stared blankly ahead, accepting his mother's worrying.

Beckett shifted, cocking her hip to the side as she crossed her arms and watched the show. Her lips quirked up in amusement as Martha worked her way back to his face. Castle, on the other hand, had had enough, and shook his shoulders and head, jumping up and away. He held up his hands to forestall Martha's protests and the older woman demanded he sit back down, using what Beckett assumed was her sternness tone.

"I'm fine, Mother," he asserted, placing gentle hands on her shoulders to keep her seated on the cot. "I'm fine. No need to worry. You didn't fuss this much when I was five and bumped my head on a low hanging lighting rig at the theater."

Martha waved her hand dramatically and made a dismissal huff. "You just got right back up, didn't feel a thing until Irene pointed it out to you." She shrugged. "I'd say a monster attack warrants my overly motherly behavior." Martha paused, turned to Beckett, as if she were a kindred spirit. "Right, Katherine?"

"Um," Beckett opened her mouth, caught in the headlights. She really didn't want to get in the middle of things.

"Leave her out of this," Castle interjected, saving her from having to answer. "Just… relax, Mother. Drink some water. Hydrate."

And then before his mother could object any further, Castle had turned around and gently grabbed Beckett's arm, gesturing her to follow with him. She raised her eyebrows, but relented, easily spinning around and picking up her stride to match his gait as he strolled across the football field.

"Sorry about that," he said in a soft, apologetic voice.

"Don't be," she glanced at him with a smirk. "It's actually kind of sweet, the way she mothers you."

"Not her usual way, though," he pointed out. "It's… frightening, really. Still," he relented with a sigh. "I guess I can forgive her. Not every day we survive a monster attack."

"No," Beckett concurred, nodding her head. "Definitely not."

"Thank you," he said, grateful and awed. "I don't think I said that yet. But thank you, for helping me find Alexis… and Mother. I don't think I could have done it without you."

Beckett gazed into his eyes, hoping she was able to convey everything that she could not yet fully give voice too. Yet. "Anytime, Rick."

A comfortable silence blanketed them as they continued to walk along the sideline, gazing out at the sea of evacuees, families reuniting, and FEMA workers assisting people where needed.

"Hell of a day, huh?" he said, stopping to face her.

Beckett's eyes snapped up to his, and she blinked, startled at the moment of déjà vu, flashing back to the first time he'd said that, not that long ago, actually. She shivered, still feeling the phantom chill from that day. Beckett pursed her lips and swallowed, returning to the present.

"Hell of a day," she echoed.

Castle smiled softly and slipped his hand down her arm, and found her hand. She dropped her head, biting her lower lip as she laced their fingers together until their palms kissed intimately. Castle breathed in deeply, and stared down at her with a tender look that Beckett was starting to get used to. Her heart swelled with the truth shining in his eyes, knowing it reflected out of her own.

"You know, I was thinking…," he shifted nervous, averting his eyes momentarily. "I was thinking maybe after everything settles, we could um… I don't know, maybe…"

Unable to handle his waffling and rambling, not wanting anything to interfere with it this time, Beckett acted before she could think better of it, inching forward, canting into his broad frame, and pushing up on her toes, covering her mouth with his in a kiss that spoke more than she ever could with words.

Dropping back down, she gazed up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Yes," she answered his unfinished questioned.

"Yes?" he asked breathlessly, stunned.

Beckett smirked, loving the shocked look on his face, memorizing it. "Yes," she declared. "Yes."

He squeezed her hand, responding to her affirmative answer with a brilliant, beaming smile. And as night fell around them, Beckett's heart thrummed with hope, remembering something she learned on one of the darkest days of her life: Even on the worse days, there was always the possibility of joy.

THE END