Inspired by a prompt from a lovely anon on Tumblr:

"Don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere."

He's in the middle of the street, halfway through a crosswalk when he hears it.

A car horn blares. It jars him from his standstill in the center of the road, sends him jerking forward to continue crossing the street, his original intention before the distinct melody of a laugh he's gone too long without hearing infiltrated his senses.

Castle's eyes scan the sidewalk as he reaches the opposite end of the street, safe from traffic but his heart is pounding, blood rushing too loud through his ears. It probably wasn't even her, he reasons with himself, it could have been anyone. But he's never known a laugh more beautiful than the one that belonged to her.

He'd never forget it either.

And then he hears it again.

Rick spins on the spot, jerking in the direction of the sound. He's supposed to be on his way to a book signing (I'll be there, Gina. I'm just a few blocks away), but he couldn't care less about his latest novel - some contrite piece of fiction that will never compare to his former works - when something so much better could be just around the corner. Literally.

His heart is galloping now, urging him to pick up the pace, to run down the sidewalk like a lunatic, but he doesn't need to run. The moment he turns the corner, she's right there.

Honey brown hair free falling past her leather clad shoulders, that dazzling smile on her face, hazel eyes sparkling like the sun as she… as she sways with a little girl in her arms.

Is she... is she a mom now? God, no, if he missed out on this-

"Castle?"

The smile falls from Kate Beckett's face as her attention swings in his direction. Oh, she looks the same - wide eyed and terrified and stunning as she stares back at him, but she isn't the one who said his name.

"Uh, writer boy, hello?" Lanie's protectively stepping between him and Kate, the baby in Kate's arms, and approaching with an arched brow. She stops in front of him, snapping her fingers in his face and causing him to startle for a second time in the last five minutes.

"Lanie?" he utters, ripping his gaze away from Kate and the baby, the gorgeous little girl with tight black curls and a pretty yellow dress, to meet her best friend's. Who really doesn't look very happy to see him.

"Yeah, good to see you again," the M.E (is she still a medical examiner? He hasn't spoken with anyone - not Kate nor the boys - in years, has no clue what may have changed) replies sardonically.

"I - you too?" he manages, poorly.

Lanie rolls her eyes and turns back towards Kate, arms extending towards the little girl leaning against Beckett's chest.

"You want me to get rid of him?" Lanie inquires, the threat in her voice all he needs to assure him that she is undoubtedly on Beckett's side of things. But despite the snag of her teeth to her bottom lip, Kate sighs and shakes her head.

"No," she murmurs, her eyes flickering down to the child in her grasp. The little girl taps her tiny palm to Kate's chin, releasing gurgling sounds of delight as Kate pretends to gobble up the little fingers.

His chest burns with the ache of a desire he never knew he harbored, with the regret of missing so much.

A softer version of the laugh he heard earlier slips past her lips before she finally offers the baby back to Lanie.

"Thanks for today, Lanie. It's been too long."

Lanie accepts the baby back with a beaming smile, wearing motherhood well. "No, girl, thank you. You always know Amelia loves her time with Auntie Kate."

"Auntie Kate?"

Both women glance back at him, Lanie's glare fierce, Kate's not quite as quick to form but simmering.

"You sure you want me to leave you with him?" Lanie deadpans, but Kate leans in to give her friend a brief hug, dropping a quick kiss atop the baby's head before Lanie can secure her in the stroller.

"I'll call you later, Lanie. By Millie," Kate chuckles, drawing back from the two and steadfastly avoiding Rick's eyes.

"You better," Lanie warns. "And you," she adds, pointing a finger at him. "Behave."

Castle refrains from huffing. Lanie's become even more bossy, and far more intimidating, since becoming a mother, he's gathered.

He watches her proceed down the sidewalk, cooing to the baby in the stroller, before finally risking another glance at Kate.

She's already waiting, watching him.

"Kate-"

"I don't want to talk here," she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice is quiet but brisk, sharp, pained.

He nods. "Okay, where-"

But she's already shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, turning on her heel, and striding away on endless legs. Without hesitation, he follows.

He should have known where she was leading him. He should have known, but it still surprises him.

Doesn't stop him from taking a seat on the swing beside hers.

"You caught the guy," is the first thing out of his mouth. He can't help it. It's been so long, but the day the news broke that William Bracken was charged for a multitude of felonies, including the murder of Johanna Beckett, he almost went straight to her. It's only been a couple of months, the victory still fresh, but she looks anything but victorious.

The toes of her boots dig into the grass, sway her backwards just slightly. "I did, I... I wanted to call you," she confesses on a soft breath. "But it'd been too long."

"You should have." He swallows hard, grips the metal chains hard enough to dig the cold rings into the meat of his palms. "I was so proud when I saw it. I almost called you."

The corner of her mouth quirks just slightly, but it's barely half a second before her lips succumb to the frown again.

"You should have been there."

"I know," he murmurs, the chains about to pierce his flesh if he squeezes any harder. "I wish I'd been there."

The tense set to her jaw tightens. "How did you find me?"

"I didn't," he admits, studying the curl of her fingers around the chains. When he heard the sound of her laughter filtering through the air, penetrating the thick noises of the city to reach his ears, part of him immediately feared it was because someone else was making her laugh like that. Someone who wasn't an adorable baby.

It's sick of him, but his heart eases with relief at the sight of her naked fingers.

Her eyes lift at his answer and now that he's allowed a clear look at her, a closer look, he can see the lines of exhaustion carved deeper into her skin, branching out from her eyes and inducing frown lines around her mouth.

"I just - I'd recognize your laugh anywhere."

Oh, and that makes those eyes fill with pain she doesn't even try to cover up.

"So why didn't you head in the opposite direction?" she questions, her brow furrowing with scrutiny.

His does the same.

"What are you talking about?"

Her knuckles burn ivory against the swing set, but she expels a calm breath. "Castle, you left. I know it's been three years, but I remember how it all ended."

"At least you remember something," he mutters, his skin heating as soon as he says it.

Rick's eyes fall shut, mentally preparing to have this conversation, one he's rehearsed in his head for years now. But she beats him to it.

"I deserve that."

His eyes flare open, flash back to her. "What?"

She's staring down at her knees, the pale line of her throat rippling with a swallow.

"I've spent the last three tears wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I could have done to make you change your mind, make you leave." Her lips purse. "I wasn't sure how, but it eventually came to the idea that you likely found out I lied. That, and you were tired of waiting."

The hair slides back from her shoulders as she tilts her head back, eyes ascending to the clouded grey sky. Spring is approaching, but the air remains cold and she carries the chill of winter in her eyes.

And he still doesn't understand.

"Tired of waiting?" he nearly scoffs, hates himself a little for it when that wounded gaze flutters back to him. Has she been hurting as badly as he has for the last three years? Has she been just as miserable, as torn up inside over this, as he's been? "Kate, I was in love with you. Worth waiting a lifetime for," he mutters, scraping a hand through his hair, the frustration from years past flaring back to life hot and sharp in his chest.

She's silent for a moment, too long, and he refuses to tear his attention from the sky, the threatening look of storms and the sway of trees, to see the soft rejection written across her features.

"Then why did you leave?"

"Why?" he echoes, incredulously, but the will to be angry, to seethe with the pain, is already gone as quickly as it came, deflating to make room for the exhaustion to overtake like always. "What reason was there to stay, Beckett?"

The chains rattle with her rising and he's forced to turn his head, meet the trembling pillar of her body standing, her balled fists, the fire in her eyes.

"Me, you jackass. I was there." He blinks, grips the chains, but she isn't done. "Everything I thought you wanted was there. I - I was trying to break down those walls for you, I was trying to be enough, to be more than a cold case or a bullet wound," she growls, but her eyes are sparkling with tears this time and the skies are growing darker at her back. "I wanted to be worth wanting."

And his heart is cracking with every word.

"Worth wanting?"

What is she talking about? He's wanted her from the moment he met her. That never dulled, only intensified.

"Kate," he croaks, hoisting himself up from the swing, but she's drawing back, shaking her head. And no, no, no, it can't end like this. It's all wrong. "I didn't want to go, I just - I thought you-"

The loud buzz of his phone in his pocket startles them both, reality like a cold slap to the face.

The book signing. He's totally missed his book signing. Gina is going to kill him.

To his surprise, though, it's Kate who mentions it first.

"Your book signing," she murmurs, pressing her knuckles to her forehead. "That's why you were in Tribeca today, isn't it?"

"How did you know?"

"Your stupid cardboard cutouts are all over my local bookstores, Castle," she mutters, dropping her hands - one to her side, the other to the back of her neck. "How late are you?"

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Castle-"

"You really think I've got a big crowd for Finite Laughter?" he asks, the question itself laughable. "If you saw my sales, you'd know it's a total flop, but even if it wasn't? You're more important than some stupid book."

"Your books aren't stupid," she snaps under her breath.

He chuckles. "These days, you'd disagree. I don't have anything worth writing about. Nothing that can see the light of day anyway."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "You never finished Nikki's story."

"I never could come to a good conclusion, a good happily ever after for her and Rook," he shrugs.

Her eyes pierce him. "They didn't get one."

"They deserved one," he muses, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I never finished their story, could still pick it back up."

"Or maybe it's just too late. Maybe they're too good at hurting each other," she decides, the finality in her words making his heart sink.

They aren't talking about Nikki and Rook, they never were.

"We're bad at talking," he sighs, earning her reluctant nod of agreement. "I think that's how we got here, how we ended up wasting three years."

"Rick." His first name on her mouth calls to him like sleep to the freezing, even weary and devastated like this. Her lips part to say more, but the rumble of thunder in the distance steals her attention, whatever was left to speak. Kate sighs, purses her lips. "We should go."

Anywhere, he almost says it aloud. Doesn't even care about how pathetic he sounds, how quickly he's gone from standing his ground to kneeling on it, desperate at her feet again.

"We could get coffee," he suggests instead, taking a step towards her, encouraged by her lack of movement away from him. But she isn't meeting his gaze anymore.

"I meant, we should go home," she clarifies, but she looks too sad to mean what he wishes for. "Separately."

"And then?"

She opens her mouth as if to say more, but nothing comes out. He can read it all in her eyes, though. There is no 'after' this, is there?

"Castle, I - I don't know, okay? I don't know," she mumbles, tugging her jacket tighter around her body.

"Kate," he calls, before she can bolt completely. She stops mid turn, meeting his gaze over her shoulder, biting her lip. "I'm sorry."

Her lashes fall to her cheeks, fluttering before she forces them to remain open, stare back at him. "Me too."

And then she walks away, into the oncoming storm. He doesn't try to stop her.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

Rick blinks, dispelling the glaze over his eyes from watching the falling rain against his office windows for too long. He grips the phone a little tighter, shakes his head even though Alexis can't see him from all the way in California.

"Nothing, sweetie. Nothing," he lies, even plastering on a fake smile to go along with it. "The, uh, the book signing today was just long. Wore me out."

"Ah," Alexis hums. "The book signing you never went to?"

His mouth falls open. "How-"

"Gina," his daughter answers without preamble. He can see her brow rising with question, like a disapproving parent. "I knew you didn't want to go, but playing hooky from your fans, Dad? Not like you."

He sighs. "I know, I just… I couldn't do it today."

"Okay," Alexis replies, her voice softening, failing to push any further and he's grateful. Alexis never outright spoke of her dislike for Kate, but she never hid her feelings either. He knows his daughter was never rooting for their relationship, only for his happiness. When he left, though, when he made the choice he thought would bring Alexis relief and him some reprieve, it brought either of them anything but.

He's not sure if Alexis blames his stupidity or Kate's more.

"Talk tomorrow?" she offers, that hopeful hint still lingering in her voice.

"Of course," he answers immediately, the smile on his lips a little more real this time. "I'm going to want to hear all about your dissertation."

Alexis chuckles. "Thanks, Dad. Love you."

"Love you too, Pumpkin," he murmurs, waiting for her to hang up first before lowering the phone from his ear.

His daughter's been gone at Stanford for two years now, but he doesn't think he'll ever grow accustomed to the distance.

It's healthier for her, though, of that he's certain. Much better than lingering around the loft with the shell of a man he's aware that he's become. It's the same reason his mother hustled to move into her own apartment, claiming it was closer to her acting studio, more convenient. He knows it's not a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either.

His eyes drift to his laptop.

His run in with Beckett has his fingers itching, but his mind is blank. She has him helplessly inspired, but just as helplessly hung up on her, on every word exchanged between them, every word that wasn't.

Rick leans back in his office chair, closing his eyes. The storm that was brewing earlier has escalated into a nasty combination of pelting rain and crashing thunder, strikes of lightning that illuminate the city. The writer in him finds it fitting, comforting, all too appropriate. All he needs now is a strong glass of liquor in his hand to cloud his mind like the ominous clouds in the sky outside-

The loud knock on his front door has his eyes peeling open, brow furrowing. He isn't expecting anyone and while it isn't necessarily late, he'd consider it a socially unacceptable time for unplanned visitors.

He checks his phone as he rises from his chair, skimming through his recent texts and his calendar, just to ensure he didn't manage to forget any other prior commitments he may have made. But there's nothing and the person on the other side of the door is growing more persistent.

Oh god, it's probably Gina.

All he's received from her today are a number of angry voicemails and a slew of texts simultaneously threatening his life and career. He knew she would never let him off that easily for skipping an entire book signing without even a hint of notice.

Yeah, he's dead.

But really, what does it matter? His career is practically over anyhow, his life isn't in great shape at the moment either. So what if Gina wants to rub it in with a belittling lecture? Nothing she could say would be anything he doesn't already know.

Castle starts for the front door with a deep sigh expelling past his lips, bracing himself for the degradation, the welcome punishment.

The fist on the other side of the door pounds harder, the impatience evident and heightening. He huffs as he curls his fingers around the handle, yanks it open, and - and feels his entire body go still, his heart stopping.

"Kate."

She's drenched, rain soaking her to the skin from the looks of it, droplets still skidding down her cheeks to hang along her jawline. But her gaze is determined and pinned on him.

"What happened? Were you - were you out in all of this?" he questions, his head tilting towards the window, the lightning filtering through right on time as if to emphasize his question. And feed his concern. "Is everything okay? Are you-"

"No," she murmurs, but she's stepping inside and reaching for him.

Cold hands cradle his face, hold him steady as she rises on her toes, rises into him.

And then Kate Beckett is kissing him, cool lips sealing over his and making his mind go so blissfully blank, sending his heart into a riot and his hands to her waist. For a moment all he can do is relish the heat of her mouth, so pressing and reverent, the curve of her body into his so desperate and needful.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he rasps, a soft chant that breaks their kiss, has his forehead tilting into hers. "What-"

"I'm tired of this," she groans quietly, her fingers splaying to skate along his throat. "I've missed you. I - I hate how much I've missed you and then you show up today out of nowhere and make it all worse."

His throat bobs, attempting a swallow, but he's just so damn breathless because she's in his arms and his lips are still throbbing from the way she kissed him mere seconds ago.

"I'm - I'm sorry," he whispers, watching her face crumble in front of his.

"No, Castle," she sighs, shaking her head and stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. For lying to you, for letting you go, for not… for not letting you know."

One of his hands climbs to cup the back of her neck, the wet weight of her hair blanketing his knuckles. He's lost, confused; he wants to ask exactly what she's talking about, if it's what he thinks she may be talking about.

She answers before he has to.

"I loved you back." Her voice cracks. "I was just - a coward."

He's already shaking his head, hating his past self for ever putting that word into her head. "No, not a coward, Kate-"

"Sinning by silence," she argues, the set of her jaw sharpening as she throws his own words back at him. "I was afraid, of hurting you, letting you hurt me, ruining everything we had, so I just... I waited too long."

"I thought the entire time that you-" His throat is dry, his tongue feeling thick and uncoordinated in his mouth.

I loved you back.

Shit, all this time he thought... and all along, she loved him back.

But her gaze is beseeching him, demanding answers he's long withheld.

"I thought that you were just stringing me along," he stammers out, hating every second of it, every word. "That you knew I loved you, but you didn't love me back, so you kept quiet to - to spare my feelings."

Her brow is falling into a crease and he tightens his fingers around her waist, just waiting for her to pull away. But she doesn't move.

"Rick, do I really seem like the type to spare a man's feelings?" she murmurs, her hands slipping from his throat to rest at his chest. "I'd never want to hurt them, but I wouldn't do that to us, our friendship, either."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm - I've got that now," he admits sheepishly, inhaling his first deep breath in what feels like years. "So there's nothing to forgive, Kate. Equally guilty," he murmurs, dusting his lips at the corner of her eye, feeling her lashes graze along his chin. "I wish - I should have told you again, how much I loved you. Love you."

Her fingers curl in his shirt, her lips brushing his cheek when she speaks. "Still?"

Castle blinks, lifts his head to meet eyes filled with uncertainty and a hint of hope, a combination he isn't used to seeing on her.

"It's been three years," she adds, as if needing to offer him an explanation, an escape. "I'd understand if-"

"Always," he growls, effectively quieting her. "I told you that and I meant it, it's remained true. Whether I wanted it to or not." Doubt churns in his stomach though, thick and acidic. "But if you-"

"No," she cuts him off, eyes flicking to his mouth. "No, Castle. For the last three years, no matter what I did, I never stopped feeling like..." Her gaze returns to his with a shaking breath. "Like a piece of me had been ripped out."

She's breaking his heart and mending it with every word.

"Everyone else kept living, you know? Ryan and Jenny started a family, Esposito got married, so did Lanie-"

"And she had a baby, a really cute baby."

An unexpected breath of laughter flutters past her lips and she quickly nods her head. "Yeah, Amelia is... she's amazing. Wait until you meet Sarah Grace-"

"I have," he murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Esposito still hates me, but Ryan doesn't. At least not as much."

Kate sighs. "No one hates you, that's just... me. Me not being able to move on. That's my point, Castle. I caught the man who killed my mother, I became captain of the Twelfth, I did everything I was supposed to do, but I still felt empty inside," she confesses, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth before it can threaten to tremble.

He expects it to make him feel good, to know that she really did miss him just as badly as he missed her. But it just chisels away at his heart to imagine her so miserable, to see his own misery from the last three years so clearly reflected across her face.

"I just wanted you," she whispers, the ache in her eyes, in his chest, softening as she says it. "I just want you, Castle."

The way he looks at her has her heart climbing up to her throat. The heat of his palms at her side sears through her rain dampened clothes and the chill soaking into her bones.

This isn't what she planned after seeing him again earlier. Her plan was to go home, think everything over, weigh the pros and cons of contact with Richard Castle again. Maybe have a few glasses of wine and call Lanie in the process.

But instead, she became caught up in the rain on her walk back home. She became caught up in the now fresh memory of his blue eyes so bright and wide when they found her on the sidewalk, the way his entire face rippled with softness when his gaze flickered between her and the baby in her arms. The way her laugh drew him away from his responsibilities without a second thought, had him racing around a street corner just to see her.

She doesn't think she'll ever forget the breathlessness on his face when he did, the way it stole all the air from her lungs too.

"I love you," he murmurs, and her heart swells because of it it, to hear him say it. To know it's still true.

She got caught up in everything she's been missing for the last three years and it inspired enough incentive to send her through the pouring rain to his apartment, up to his doorstep, enough incentive to stop wasting time.

Castle traces his thumb along the line of her lips, leaving electricity in his wake, letting it rest at the corner of her mouth as he leans in again, dusts another kiss there. It has her body rising into him like a marionette, lips parting beneath his to draw him in deeper.

She lets him walk her backwards, until her spine is colliding with the door, slamming it shut. It has his eyes peeling open, dark and in the midst of a storm like the one raging outside.

"Kate." The husk of her name is like a lightning bolt to her insides. "We don't have to-"

"Yes, we do," she argues, splaying her palms at his back, the wings of his shoulder blades, to stay him. But he isn't threatening to move away. "Three years, Castle. Four before that."

"Don't remind me," he grumbles, pressing in closer, tighter, sealing her against the door.

She lets him swallow her smile when he tilts his head to catch the upturned curve of her mouth, nipping at her lip with his teeth, teasing with his tongue. The leather jacket falls from her shoulders, a wet slap to the hardwood at their feet. Her fingers tangle in the fabric of his t-shirt, scaling his sides to find the hem, draw it up.

Castle yanks it over his head in one swift move, unabashedly eager to return to the cove of her body, the welcome of her mouth, but she stills him with gentle hands at his chest.

His eyes flicker with trepidation, but Kate shakes her head, sways in slowly to brush her lips to his clavicle. Her palm drapes over the resounding beat of his heart and he melts against her. The deep exhale of his breath flutters cool across her skin, the touch of his lips at the crown of her head infusing warmth throughout her system.

Peace, she thinks, this is what it must feel like, to be embraced in the only safe haven she's ever known.

"Okay," she breathes, working her fingers down the length of her own shirt, undoing buttons along the way. It has the fabric falling open, sodden and sliding from her shoulders. He allows her to shrug it away without interference, joining her jacket and his shirt on the floor, but his hands fail to remain passive as she stands in just her bra before him.

His gaze trips with his hands down to the wounds that mar her body. One set of fingers scales down her side to investigate the incision scar that lies just below her ribcage, while the other lingers on the faded pucker of flesh between her breasts.

"There are new ones," he notes quietly, the hand at her chest trailing down to her abdomen. Her skin ripples, muscles jerking at the graze of his touch, but he stops at the ugly pink slash of scar tissue on her opposite side.

"How do you know it's new?" she challenges, her throat low, but she can't help it. She's not in the mood to exchange stories of war wounds.

He cuts his eyes to her, narrowed and questioning. "It's still healing."

"Taking down Bracken didn't come without casualties," she mumbles, claiming his fingers in hers, dragging them back up the line of her body. "It's over, Rick. I swear it's all over."

He releases a breath, blinks away the thunder in his gaze. "Better be."

She seals his fingertips to the pulsing spot in the middle of her sternum, letting him brand her bullet wound with the press of his touch.

Kate sucks in a breath, lifts her eyes to find his.

"Still?" she rasps, surprised by the falter of her own voice, but her eyes are stinging too, and - no, no, she is not going to cry. Not now, not anymore.

His eyes flicker and flare with understanding.

"I want you," he murmurs, lifting his hands to cradle her face in them. Hers lace around his neck, as if by instinct, as if they've done this all before. "I love you, Kate. I'm not going to screw this up again. I won't let either one of us risk it again."

All she knows then is the drift of his hands down to her waist, hoisting her up, sealing her between him and the door at her back as she kisses him hard and desperate and so damn in love with him.

Her fingers twine in his hair, stroking at the base of his skull, while he maneuvers them away from the door. It's the wrong moment to constrict her legs around his waist, roll her hips into his.

Kate laughs against his lips as they stumble a little, her arms tightening around his neck. His grin clashing with hers causes their kiss to fall apart, but the goofy smile on his face remains even as he clumsily walks them towards the bedroom.

"What?" she questions, nuzzling at his jaw, the pound of her heart making her dizzy. She doesn't think she's ever felt this... giddy before.

"Nothing," he chuckles, turning his head to catch her lips, managing a fleeting kiss along her cheek. "I just love your laugh."