Sensational Recall

Disclaimer: I still don't own it, and they're way more evil than me

AN: This is totally unbetaed, because I'm behind in my own editing duties, and didn't dare ask.

A Birthday ficlet for Denise, aka alittlebitofelphieandglinda on tumblr. Because you are never too old for presents.


She's waiting for him. That's a switch really, usually it's Castle who ends up waiting. Or it was. She doesn't mind waiting, not really. But he's taking longer than expected, and it's started to rain.

The droplets hit the roof Of the car with a hollow "thunk" that she realizes, oddly, is very different than the way that they hit against the glass.

It makes her think, rain like this, makes her remember. There's a light roll of thunder distance, and the stark memory of the flash of lightning across his face comes to mind immediately. Her whole body flushes with it. The memory of another rain, another storm.

This one barely qualifies, it's light and relatively unassuming, but insistent. It just patters on, a background melody for her memory. Without really thinking about it, she stepps out of the car, and turns her face up to the rain. The feel of it brings even stronger memories: soaked through on the swings, her clothes heavy with the weight of the water, but her mind lighter and clearer than it had been in a long time.

And oh, that swing. The memory of him, a year later, on his knee in the patch of dirt made uneven by children's feet as they pushed off or scraped past mid flight. It makes something inside her flutter, and a grin split her face, even as the rain begins to fall harder.

"Kate?" Her husband's voice breaches the quiet bubble she's had going. "What the hell are you doing?"

She turns to find him laden down with bags from restaurant. A little more than what they had come for, she suspects. But she had figured that was what was behind the delay anyway.

"Enjoying the weather," she says, grinning at him.

He stares at her. Oh, she knows that look. The "crazy" look - except it's usually her delivering that one to him.

"It's freezing out here, Beckett. Get in the car for godsakes."

It is cold now that he mentions it, but she hadn't noticed it before, not really. She had been too caught up in the past, in the memories invoked by sound and the feel of the rain.

She slips back into the passenger side of the car, as he slides behind the wheel, starts the engine, and cranks up the heat.

"What on Earth –" he starts to ask again, and she shrugs.

"Nothing I haven't done before," she says.

He doesn't say anything at that, only stares at her, and she sees the moment when the memory flashes across his eyes as well.

"Keep it up, Beckett, and I'll crash this car before we make it home," he mutters finally as he pulls the car out into the street.

It is a bit of a drive for takeout, she knows that. But this place and it's interesting little ice cream flavors have become a favorite of hers lately, and they had her particular favorite craving on special. So, he'd driven them to Brooklyn at 9:30 on a Friday night.

"Got dinner too?" she asks needlessly. She can smell it, and it's divine. Already making her mouth water, and it's only been in the car a spare few minutes.

He nods. "The spicy noodle soup, the lemongrass fried rice, and that green curry beef you love so much. And -" he reaches back and pulls up one of the bags, "extra ice cream to hold you over until they have it in stock again."

Oh, he did good. Really good. "I love you," she sighs, blissed out from the smell and the thought alone. Spicy is good.

He looks over at her as they slow for traffic, and grins. "Only my pregnant wife would insist on a special trip for Peanut Butter Wasabi ice cream."

"It's good," she insists, making a grab for the bag, pleased to find he thought to get her a plastic spoon so she could immediately dive in. "All your wild food concoctions and you're gonna diss my ice cream, Castle? Really?"

He laughs, but shakes his head. "Hey, even I have limits."

She pouts a little at that, even as she goes in for her first heavenly bite. "Baby likes it," she mutters.

He brushes one hand over her shoulder in a placating gesture, even as he keeps the other hand on the wheel to steer. "And thus your strange appetites are forgiven, Beckett."

"Not all I've had an appetite for," she offers, thinking back to her little moment in the rain.

She grins wickedly when he hits the breaks a little too hard the next time the traffic stops, and makes a mental note to store the extra ice cream first thing when the reach the loft. The food they can reheat.