Title: Sweep

Author: wrldpossiblity

Characters: Castle, Beckett, Johanna Beckett

Word Count: 250

Summary: Kate dreams of her mother...and someone else.

Author's Note: Double (and a half) drabble set any time during S2-3, and written for the Castle 30-Prompt Rhyming Table" created by, using the prompt: 'Kate'. Much thanks to my beta, who, coincidentally, is also the lovely.

Sweep

"Kate."

The dream is always the same: her mother states her name softly, barely above a whisper. It's a tone one might use when stirring a child awake, or attempting to settle a startled animal. Every time, it's the same: she sounds close by, but Kate can't find her. She has a visual on the room-her room-does a preliminary sweep, clears the doorway and closets, even checks under the bed, but she's nowhere.

"Kate."

She pivots, because this time, the sound is in front of her, past the doorway in a hallway she doesn't recognize. But maybe she does…she knows this rich carpeting, this low lighting, she just can't place it, until-

"Kate."

A man is in the hallway, holding out his hand. A big hand, strong, but soft. She knows this because she takes it, but the moment she does so, she feels very small. She begins moving backward-at first of her own will, then mechanically, as though on a conveyor belt. She starts to run forward to counteract it, because maybe this man can help her. Maybe he can take her to her mother.

"Kate."

She can't run fast enough, and if she keeps sliding backward, he'll let go of her hand. Don't let go,she tries to say, because if she says it, he won't. But the words don't come, and her fingers slide out of his grasp. He watches her go, his blue eyes suddenly sharp, accusing.

She hits a wall behind her with a hard jolt and wakes up with muscles braced, grasping at nothing, resentment and longing warring with the lingering image of Castle's face in her mind's eye.