I almost lost him today.
I followed the SWAT team into the gutted wreckage of a bank where Castle and his mother were being held hostage. I called his name again and again without hearing his reply.
I don't know how many hostages there were in the bank; I've forgotten what he told me over the phone. I was only concerned about one hostage.
I step on something that's not part of the bank – a human hand – a woman's. I call out his name again, cringing at the desperate panic that tinges the sound. Castle? Castle?
I hear him answer me and it's like cool water on a hot day. Delicious and so welcome.
I see him now and I holster my pistol and kneel down in front of him and he holds up his zip-tied hands and our eyes meet and we have an entire conversation lasting hours in those few seconds until his mother intrudes.
We can't seem to find ourselves alone at his loft, gorging in a celebratory meal and soon I have to go.
My apartment is empty in more ways than I can say. When I drop the keys in the bowl on the table the sound echoes throughout, mirroring my mood.
I run the tub full of the hottest water I can possibly stand and ease into it, ignoring the messages of hot pain that nerve endings transmit to my brain screaming 'stop it!'
I never used to need anyone, not really. Not 'need' in the way that I 'need' him. Somehow the silly, wonderfully caring man managed to touch me and what was never, suddenly was.
It frightens me, this neediness. It's not in my character to need any one, at least not for very long and certainly never in the way I need him. I've always been able to get along on my own – until now.
He's changed me so much and now I find that I care, really care, what kind of person I am and how I can make myself better – for him. Isn't that a crock of crap?
No, it isn't. The old Kate would have agreed but the new Kate feels ashamed for how badly she's treated him in the past when all he wanted was for them to be 'us'.
He told me he loved me, out loud, although I'd have to be deaf not to have 'heard' it in the past through his actions, his gentleness and his caring.
I denied hearing it, of course. I still can hear his plea for me to 'hang on, don't give up' when all I wanted to do was to surrender to the oblivion and the absence of pain that was so seductively beckoning to me. He saved me with his honest words and I betrayed him with mine.
I told him I needed time and that I'd call him. I've dialed his number countless times instead of using speed dial because I can hang up before it connects. I don't know what to say to him. "Castle,I lied to you. I heard what you said and I love you, too."
That won't work. I can see the look on his face if I told him that. I can see the look in his eyes as anything he may feel for me dies, murdered by my lie.
I wipe away the tears and hold my nose and squeeze my eyes shut and slip below the hot water's surface and fight the urge to inhale deeply and end the misery my cowardice has brought me. I don't know how long I lay there fighting the urge to inhale and then, conversely, fighting the urge to exhale as my body screams for oxygen.
He's my oxygen. I need him to breathe. I need him with me so I can inhale his essence and live.
The water sluices off my body as I crawl up into the air and inhale deeply, feeding my cells oxygen. The feeling is liberating and I climb out of the tub, wrap myself in a towel and speed dial Castle before the joy of breathing fades.
I'm going to tell him everything and beg him to forgive me. I'm his for the taking.
The phone rings.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
It goes to voice mail.
I don't leave a message.
I can breathe on my own.
I always could.
