This had been playing around in my head for a while until I finally decided to type it up. I always thought that her PTSD just "disappeared", and I know from experience it doesn't just do that. So here's a story where she still has some lasting effects. I know this may seem OOC for Beckett but keep in mind she's suffering from severe mental trauma. Also, the ending is kind of abrupt – I suck at endings, they're the death of me. So feed back would be nice please.
Disclaimer – I do own Castle. It's mine.
Marlowe's lawyer – Oh really?
Me – *Bursts into tears* Okay I was lying it's all yours! No need to remind me of my constant pain…
New Year's Eve, Rick decided, could quite possibly be his favorite holiday. He loved the lavish parties because while he enjoyed running around looking for New York's scumbags, the flashing lights and glitzy celebrity parties were always a blast. He winked at an attractive blonde and casually sipped his champagne. His only regret was that Kate wasn't here. He had invited her, but she bashfully declined. He didn't expect her to accept, anyway. He knew how she felt about big events and paparazzi. Rick respected that, although he would have loved to see her in a fancy dress again. Maybe he could've gotten a kiss at midnight if he was lucky. It probably would've been chaste, quick, but with lingered glances and red cheeks afterwards. Nothing like the last time they kissed. Still, it would have been progress, and he was willing to accept anything.
He glanced at the clock. 11:30. Thirty more minutes of 2011 left. He suddenly jumped at a vibrating feeling on his upper thigh. After a second, he realized it was his cell phone. He quickly excused himself the conversation he had been having with David Duchovny and the mayor and went into the hallway. "KATE BECKETT" flashed at him from the display screen on his iPhone.
"Why, hello there Detective," he answered teasingly. "Wondering if I'd be interested in a New Year's kiss?"
Silence.
"Beckett?"
Then, a noise. But not what he was expecting at all. A broken sob, followed by a desperate, "Castle?"
His senses immediately went on alert. There was obviously something seriously wrong if Kate was calling him crying. The way she said his name nearly crushed his heart, it was like her lifeline she was clinging onto. "What's wrong?"
Heavy breaths coupled by more sobs, and then a faint "Can you come over?"
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he promised.
He immediately ran out of Cindy Lauper's large home, not caring that his jacket was still inside. He tried to hail a taxi but it was pretty much impossibly given the crowds of people, readying themselves for the ball drop. Fifteen minutes, he told himself. I promised her. He stopped to collect his thoughts. Public transportation was obviously not an option – even if he could find a taxi or a bus, it would take way too long. He didn't have his subway card or his car. What else could he do?
So, he ran.
Richard Castle was by no means out of shape. He worked out regularly. However, he was not the best runner and was panting by the fourth block. None of this registered in his mind though, nor did the people who were either staring, jeering, or flicking him off. All he knew was that Kate was in trouble, Kate called him in tears, Kate needed him. His adrenaline was surging and before he knew it he was at her building. He checked his phone. Fourteen minutes. Not bad, he thought. He let himself in and once on the elevator realized how much that had taken a toll on him. He was breathing heavily. The bell dinged and finally he was at her floor. He sprinted down the hallway until he got to her door.
"Kate?" he yelled, pounding the door. "Kate?" He wasn't worried about her neighbors because it sounded like they were having their own parties. Her apartment was dead silent. Finally he grabbed the key she had given him ("For emergencies only, Castle. Got it?") He burst into her home and called "Kate?" again, his voice getting hoarse. It was dark, not even the TV was on. He couldn't see Beckett anywhere.
"You're scaring me, Kate. Where are you? Kate?"
He heard the sobbing again, softer than it had been on the phone but there all the same. It was coming from behind the sofa. He padded over and then he saw her. The sight broke his heart.
His strong detective was curled in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down with her hands over her ears. He knelt down and tapped her shoulder. Her eyes flew open in fear until she recognized who it was.
"Make it stop, Rick," she begged agonizingly. "Make it stop."
"Make what stop? What can I do?"
She didn't seem to hear him. He listened to the neighbors' loud party. There was music, people laughing, firecrackers, dancing and –
Firecrackers.
Oh.
Firecrackers sounded like gun shots. Gun shots like the one that pierced Beckett through her chest seven months earlier. Gun shots like the one that nearly killed her. Gun shots like the one that still gave them both nightmares. Gun shots like the one that had caused Beckett not only physical suffering, but severe mental anguish.
"It won't stop," she whimpered into her hands, voice rough and spent from crying. "It just won't stop. Please. Make it stop. I can't – I just – please. Help me Rick. I just keep seeing it in my head. I don't want to be shot. Please don't shoot me," her voice slowly increased in volume until she was nearly catatonic. "Don't! Please! Leave me alone! I'm at a funeral! You don't do this at a funeral. No, no, no! DON'T!" She was screaming at this point and although Castle hated to leave her like this he quickly slipped away.
"No, Rick, you can't leave me!" she called after him.
It took every fiber in his being to not run straight to her. "I'll be right back, I swear on my life." This temporarily calmed her and he dashed out of her apartment and began furiously banging on the door next to hers. After a few seconds a clearly drunk man in a green polo with a large beer stain on it opened it.
"Oh hey dude, did we invite you?"
Rick didn't need an invitation. He strode past the man and through the throng of people until he found the speakers and turned off the music. Suddenly everyone stopped what they were doing and looked around confusedly. He took this to be his opportunity and stood on their counter.
"EXCUSE ME!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.
The party goers looked at him. Some clearly recognized him, some didn't and some were too drunk for him to tell.
"Is that –"
"It is!"
"D'ya think he'd sign my boobs?"
"Can I just – "
"EXCUSE ME!" he said again. "Can everyone listen up for a moment? Thank you. Now, I know you guys are having fun at this party and I know you don't mean any harm, but there is a detective next door who," he paused, wondering how much he should divulge about her, "Really hates the sound of firecrackers. So go party, and dance, and play music, but you guys need to stop with the firecrackers. Immediately. If we hear firecrackers, I will prosecute." Obviously there was no crime but they didn't need to know that.
He hopped down and rushed out before hearing whispers about Nikki Heat living next door. Their music started thumping again and the party resumed, albeit without firecrackers. He then returned to his precious brunette and she instantly curled herself around him. She had stopped crying but was still upset. She shot him a look of pure gratitude that warmed his insides, despite her freezing living room.
"Thank you," she whispered. And that was all she needed to say. He gently picked her up and she wrapped herself even more tightly around him.
"Let's get you to bed," he said in a low tone, kissing her temple. He lay her down and tucked the covers all around her. He was about to leave when he felt a cool hand curl around his wrist.
"Please don't leave me," she said in a ghostly tone.
They could hear the partiers next door chanting down from ten.
"TEN!"
I shouldn't really sleep in her bed, he told himself.
"NINE!"
How can I deny her that though?
"EIGHT!"
He slipped down under the covers with her.
"SEVEN!"
She wedged her right leg in between his.
"SIX!"
She smiled at him.
"FIVE!"
He wrapped his arms around her, silently promising the both of them he'd never let her go.
"FOUR!"
In a barely audible tone, she said, "You're everything."
"THREE!"
He understood exactly what she was trying to tell him.
"TWO!"
Her head tilted up to his.
"ONE!"
They kissed. It was as chaste as he thought it'd be, but instead of feeling awkward afterwards he just felt warm. Judging by her happy smile and contented sigh, she felt the same. She leaned her head into his chest and there they fell asleep, each privately agreeing there was no one they'd rather spend New Year's Eve with.
She woke up feeling surprisingly relaxed. She slept better in Castle's arms than she had in anyone else's. Where was that man, anyway? She stretched and inhaled his scent. She had just decided he must have left when she smelled pancakes. The grin on her face got bigger.
Rick just finished his first batch when he saw her come into the kitchen. Her hair was an absolute mess, tousled every which way, her socks didn't match and her sweat pants were askew. She had never looked more beautiful.
"2012 pancakes and coffee for the lady?" he asked. "Enjoy 'em, because the world's gonna end and you won't get 2013 pancakes."
She scoffed. "The world is not going to end, Castle."
"But the Mayans – "
"Did not have sufficient technology to determine that. Besides, every few years people think the world will end and it hasn't yet."
Rick smiled at her and passed her a plate full of pancakes and mug steaming with coffee. She played with them for a minute before clearing her throat and looking up.
"Rick?"
"Yes?"
"Last night, I just…sorry for calling you away from your fancy party but you were the only one I wanted. The only one who could make the pain go away."
He could hardly breathe. Did she really just say that?
"Kate, there was nowhere I'd rather be." He said. "Besides, I'll just add this onto your tab for one hundred coffees."
They both laughed for a minute until he sobered. "I'm serious though. Don't ever think it's not okay to ask for my help. The party was nothing. I want to help you no matter what."
"Thank you, Rick. For…everything."
He smiled. "Besides, Detective Beckett, I enjoyed learning new things about you. Who knew you were such a cuddler?"
"Oh, I don't cuddle much," she said casually, jumping on the counter next to him. "Usually I have other activities to keep me up at night." Rick gave her a look of pure, unadulterated lust and both their mouths went dry. Not that they'd admit it, of course.
Castle retaliated, "Maybe you could show me sometime?"
Beckett wasn't done, though. "I don't know, kitten, could you keep up with it?"
Suddenly her phone rang and they quickly looked away, embarrassed at how much simple innuendos were turning them on.
"Beckett. Yeah. Mmhmm. No, I'll get him. See you soon, Ryan."
She looked at the handsome writer. "So, how do you feel about investigating the first murder of 2012?"
"Detective," he said with a teasing note in his voice. "It would be my pleasure."
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