Summer Storm

What happened between "Knockout" and "Rise"? Here's one theory.

Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, last I checked, my name did not appear on any ownership rights to this show or its characters. I'm just grateful for the ability to borrow them now and again.

Chapter 1

Kate stared blankly out the window, barely noticing the clear sky, the warm sunlight filtering through the glass, and the myriad little signs that late spring was giving way to the full bloom of summer.

She was going home today. After nearly four weeks confined to the same room, with little more than minutes spent in the hospital's sunny courtyard, she was finally going home. So why didn't she feel better about it?

Images and sensations from that day in May flashed across her mind – the weight of her corner of Montgomery's casket pulling on her shoulder, the bold colors of the flag that draped the rich mahogany, the deep emerald of the grass contrasting the stark whiteness of headstones, the formal stiffness of her dress uniform concealing the sweat that ran along her back and sides in the spring heat, and most of all, the unbearable pressure of the knowledge she carried about her mentor and friend.

And then it all changed. Moments after her quiet but deliberate acknowledgement that she wanted and needed Castle to stand by her, the searing pain ripped through her chest. For all her close calls, all the times she thought she'd been prepared to feel the burn of a bullet entering her body in the dark, foreboding warehouses and seedy alleyways of Manhattan, she never saw this one coming.

Almost immediately, there was nothing but Castle's face above her. He was crying and begging her to stay, his voice raw and his face anguished. But the weight in her chest was too much as the world began to fade. Her last memory as the edges faded to black was of four words she knew she had no right to hear from him, but there they were, on his lips and in his eyes. I love you, Kate. She held on to those words, praying she could return them, and knowing, as darkness overtook her, she'd likely never get that chance.

Her confusion upon waking up in the recovery room was short-lived, if only because so was her consciousness. Weeks later, those early memories would become little more than the vaguest of impressions – nurses, a heart monitor, her father, and pain. Each time she woke up she was a little more aware, a little more conscious, but as she was told later, it was twelve hours after her surgery that she finally managed to stay awake long enough to start putting pieces together. While she waited for the nurse to get her father from the cafeteria, the dam broke, and the memories surged forward – or backward actually – as the first thing she remembered was Castle's face and the words she couldn't be sure she'd actually heard.

Suddenly, she needed to see him. She needed to know if her memories were accurate, to see if there were signs of the love he'd professed reflected in his eyes. She glanced around the room, half expecting to see some evidence that he'd been there while she slept, but if he had been, there was no way to tell.

When her dad walked in the room, haggard, sleep-deprived, and glowing with relief, she pushed her thoughts aside and focused on the comforting presence of her parent. In a matter of minutes, as he assured himself time and again that she really was okay, Kate saw years melt from his face. Slowly, he began to answer her questions and tell her what happened and what the doctors had done to save her life, but it wasn't very long before fatigue began to set in, and Kate took the opportunity to tell her dad to go home and get some rest. It was then that she finally asked, "How's Castle?"

Her father's voice was soft and understanding when he answered, "He's holding up, though the word 'tormented' might seem like an understatement. I think he's taking on a lot of responsibility for this."

"He would," she agreed thoughtfully. "I thought he'd be here." She tried to make it a statement of fact, but even to her own ears, the words were laced with disappointment.

"He's at the station with Ryan and Esposito, trying to find out who did this to you. Do you want me to call him, to let him know you're awake?"

She debated for a moment about whether to call him herself, but decided against it. She wanted to see him, not talk to him over the phone. So she nodded. "Please."

She could tell by the look on her father's face that he wanted to say more, but he just told her, "Get some rest, honey. I'll be back shortly."

Her eyes were still open when Jim left the room, but they were getting heavy. Pain medication was powerful stuff, and the throbbing in her torso she could feel lingering just below the surface of the Vicodin made her grateful for its potency, even as she cursed the cobwebs in her mind caused by the medicine. Despite the dulling side effects, her thoughts drifted to the reality that awaited her when word got around that she was coherent. She was very aware of what happened when a cop got shot, and the thought of enduring questions and evaluations from Internal Affairs and the brass from 1PP, as well as well-intentioned but still endless inquiries from friends and doctors was suddenly paralyzing. She would be forced to relieve every second of that morning over and over for weeks until everyone was satisfied they knew every detail she remembered. Just the thought seemed to strengthen the throbbing that wracked her body.

On top of everything was the persistent weight of Montgomery's betrayal, which she had pushed aside until she could confront it after his funeral. She might have forgiven him in that hanger, but forgetting was another matter. She could still feel the soft skin of his face, warm and smooth in her hands, as she searched vainly for any sign of life. But he was gone, and he took all of his answers with him, leaving her with so many more questions.

Finally, there was Castle. He told her he loved her, and she knew he would eventually want to know if that feeling was returned – maybe not immediately, but eventually. She had nearly died in his arms, and there was no going back to the status quo, which itself had been tenuous at best lately. But now there was no denying the playing field had irrevocably changed, and Kate had no idea what to do with the ball she suddenly found herself in possession of. For a moment, she almost hated him for making her deal with one more unpredictable variable in her life, but she had also never been so scared and at the same time so eager to see another person in her life. What would she say when he walked in the room? What would he say?

It was all too much, and in that moment, Kate knew what she had to do. She needed to protect herself. She needed to sort through everything without distractions, to come to terms with all that happened, and what it all meant. She wasn't sure how, but she knew for certain she couldn't risk losing what little grasp she had on the remains her life. It was her job to put the pieces back together before opening up her heart and mind to others people's scrutiny, even Castle's.

The weight of her thoughts took their toll, and before she could stop herself, sleep overcame her. When next she awakened, it was to the sensation of someone holding her hand. Her first thought was, Castle, and the knowledge brought a smile to her lips as she squeezed the hand back. But the voice that whispered softly, "Welcome back," wasn't his.

Her eyelids fluttered open to find Josh smiling over at her. She smiled back, genuinely glad to see him, if a bit guilty at the depth of her disappointment that he wasn't Castle. The deep emotion she saw in his face sent a slight tremor through her battered body because she found she wasn't able to return the sentiment; it was, she now admitted, reserved for someone else, someone who was likely on his way to see her at that very moment – someone she was so eager to see, yet also wanted to hide from. But she pushed the thought aside, and focused on Josh.

"Kate, are you okay? Does it hurt?" The concern in his voice was deep as he noticed her wince in pain at the barrage of conflicting thoughts that assailed her.

She shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine. Just shifted wrong."

Her first words to her boyfriend were a lie. But how could she tell him that her initial thought upon seeing him after nearly dying was that, while she had survived, their relationship would not? It was all too cruel.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow in answer.

"Right, okay, dumb question," he said with a smile. When she reciprocated, he confessed, "Man, am I glad to see that beautiful smile. You had me scared for a while there, Kate. I'm so glad you're okay – relatively speaking."

"Me too," she whispered.

"Do you remember what happened?"

She took a moment to decide how to respond. "I was shot – at Montgomery's funeral." It was the barest acknowledgement of the truth, but the details were not something she wanted to focus on right now. Presented with her first opportunity to speak about what happened, she became even more convinced that she did not want to begin rehashing every second of that day already. She wanted some time to think first before she had to retell it to a dozen different people. So she responded with her own question. "Do you know if they caught the guy?"

Josh shook his head. "Not that I've heard. Then again, I don't think anyone would be too eager to tell me." At her confused look, he continued. "I might have taken out some of my frustration on your buddy Castle."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why?"

He took a breath and did his best to explain, looking guilty for even bringing it up. "Kate, I saw you on that gurney, and it was my worst nightmare come true. I had to start operating, on my girlfriend, and I had to keep everything bottled up, all my fear, my questions. By the time I found out what happened and walked out there, all I could think about was that the person who is supposed to have your back on the job isn't even a cop."

"Josh, he couldn't have …"

"I know, Kate, and I probably owe him an apology, but it kills me knowing that you're out there, facing that kind of danger, with a writer."

She didn't know what to say to that, so they sat in silence for a minute. Then Josh continued, "I'm sorry Kate, but if it's any consolation, I heard he tried to save you, even tackled you to the ground. But he was too late."

The memory was so clear in her mind, she thought for sure it must be projecting on her forehead, but Josh didn't seem to notice. They chatted for a few more minutes about significantly lighter topics, until the door to the recovery room opened, and Castle walked in.

Her breath caught at the sight of him, and her heart swelled with emotion. Josh excused himself, leaving her to face Castle alone, with no idea what to say to him.