Disclaimer: Don't Own 'Em. Never will. I literally have a couple of trumpets and a guitar to my name and no savings account. Don't sue me.
Summary: Reworking of the Diner scene in Knockdown (So spoiler alert I guess!) and the repercussions of said reworking.
The Title is taken from the Mumford & Sons song I was listening to whilst working on this and really has no significance. Btw, You should check them out, they're awesome.
"Back away from the Window! Away from the Window!" Kate Beckett shouted over the noise of panicked screams and people hitting the floor in self-preservation.
"You're hit…" Castle's voice rung in her ears, and she could feel him gently moving her coat to the side.
"I'm fine, it's not my blood," came the quick reply.
Richard Castle seemed satisfied with her answer and he crawled to the man known as John Raglan who was gasping for air on the ground. He could hear Beckett radioing for back-up over the ringing in his ears as he crawled over to Raglan, looking for anything to keep the man alive. He would like to think that the reason was his respect for human life, but in truth, Castle knew, he wanted his detective to get the information she so desperately needed. As he gazed into the man's eyes, he knew the light was gone. John Raglan was dead, and with him went any closure he could hope for his tortured detective.
Castle could hear Beckett's radio repeatedly asking her for her to confirm the rushed information she had shouted, but instead of her answer he heard his name in a strangled whisper from her lips.
"Castle…"
His attention turned immediately from the dead man under his hands to his partner's face and found a look of anguish he had never seen grace her perfect features. She was paler than he had ever seen her and she looked on the verge of falling over.
"Beckett?" he questioned, "Are you okay?"
"Castle, I think I…" she gasped.
He watched in slow motion as she toppled backward off of her heels and collapsed onto the dirty diner floor. He lurched forward in a violent motion in an attempt to catch her but wound up crawling the last few inches to her side.
His eyes assessed her face first before sliding down the length of her body. She was right; he thought ironically; the blood on the front her sweater wasn't hers. However, the red that was blossoming on the left side of her body certainly was.
"Kate!" He shouted, seeing her eyes fluttering, "No, no, you stay with me, you hear me?"
He was nearing hysterics now, and it felt as if there was an imaginary hand around his throat. The crackling of Beckett's forgotten radio broke through the blood rushing into his ears. He picked up the device and pressed the side button to speak. At any other time, he would have thought it "pretty cool" to be using the police radio, but that thought never crossed his mind as he shouted the words he never wanted to grace his lips.
"Officer Down! I repeat, Officer down! I need and ambulance to 4th and Main!"
The disembodied voice on the other end of the radio replied something about an estimated time of arrival but Richard Castle didn't care. All he cared about was the life of the woman in front of him.
"Beckett, Kate, please." He gasped, leaning over her so she could see him. "You need to tell me what to do. I don't know what to do for you. Please, you need to tell me what to do."
"Rick…" She whispered, "It's ok."
The truth was it was in no way, "ok." She was getting light-headed and the pain in her side was becoming unbearable as the adrenaline from the gunshot that took Raglan's life wore off.
She didn't lie to Castle when she said she was fine; she'd truly believed it. It wasn't until she took a deep breath to yell into her radio that she felt the white-hot pain in her left side. She knew in that moment that she was in trouble and she managed to gasp Castle's name before succumbing to her body's demands.
She felt as if she were underwater. She could hear Rick talking to her and she could see the panic gracing his ruggedly-handsome face, but everything was moving so fast that her shocked brain just couldn't keep up. She finally managed to focus when he moved himself completely into her field of vision. He was asking - no, begging – her to tell him what to do. She didn't want to tell him that he had to wait for the paramedics; that the only chance she had of not bleeding out was dependant on the New York City Traffic pattern; that she was dying in front of him under his hands and steady gaze. So she said the only thing she could think of to ease his mind; she told him it was ok.
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