"That's not your call. You're off the case, Detective. Now go home."
Victoria Gates' stern voice kept reverberating in her head as she marched out of the Captain's office. Her head was hurting and her stomach was churning. Her shoulders were tense and every muscle in her body was in knots.
As her eyes fell on Castle, helplessness and anger struck her yet again with renewed vengeance.
She hated herself for her weakness.
Detective Kate Beckett wasn't supposed to be weak. She was supposed to be a strong woman, just like her mother. She was supposed to be 'the supercop'. She caught killers. She brought closure to the hapless people. Many a night, while heading home with aching bones, she liked to think of herself as invincible… someone like Batman. She'd never admit this to anyone but this was how she tackled with loneliness and fatigue every night as she languished behind her walls. That was the only flicker of warmth as she curled into a ball on her cold bed each night. She imagined herself to be a superhero, out there to protect the world... to avenge the death of innocent people, to give the dead their voice…
Yes, she thought of herself as invincible… until she undressed in front of the mirror. All it needed to break her strength was the unsightly scar running across her smooth chest. It always reminded her that she was fooling no one. Of course she wasn't invincible. She wasn't unbreakable. She was a mere mortal with no superpowers. She was just an ordinary human being. She was incapable of solving even her mother's murder. She couldn't even catch the person who shot her. What kind of a superhero was she? She was fragile and breakable.
That's why she hated herself when Castle looked at her with wonder and adoration; she loathed herself when Castle called her extraordinary… because she wasn't. As illogical it was, since her shooting she always felt that she had let him down; that she was cheating him… she was cheating the man she lo… cared about.
He was disillusioned. He believed she was extraordinary. She wasn't.
It was a lie.
This case, this one case was too difficult for her to handle.
She had been in therapy long enough to know that this case could break her. She had seen the lush green of the cemetery even when she was standing on the concrete sidewalk. She had seen the dead body lying on the ground and she had felt breathless. She could feel the white hot pain spreading in her chest and she had difficulty in swallowing down the bile rising in her throat. She had even picked up the weapon that was allegedly used to shoot her and tried to put herself in the killer's shoes. She had felt a morbid curiosity about how it felt on the other side of the trigger that was pulled on her.
The signs were all there and she had ignored them all.
They had run around in circles and the case led them nowhere. She sat there, frustrated and angry. She was angry at the murderer, she was angry at her shooter. She was angry at the man who ordered the hit on her mother.
She knew that she was making a mistake. She was making this personal. She didn't stop herself. She didn't care.
Castle had faith in her… as always. When she was on the edge of desperation, he tried to soothe her. He looked at her with confidence when he said, "We'll catch this guy."
She hated him so much at the moment… He had blind faith in her, he had unwavering confidence in her abilities. He was such a fool.
Castle didn't know her. He had been so enchanted by her facade that he didn't look past her armor. He never knew the real Kate Beckett… the broken, hollow woman hiding from reality, refusing to come out from the hole she had buried herself in. He had seen the real Kate a couple of times but he hadn't believed in her. He believed in the façade and took her brokenness as an exception. Why was he so damn stupid? Why couldn't he see what was right in front of him?
Her green eyes were locked with his as she replied with a sarcastic smile, "Yeah, like we caught the guy who shot me."
This is not one of your books, Castle. This is reality. The good guys don't always win. The bad guys don't always get punished. Shit happens. A mother might not make it alive to the dinner as promised. The killer might never be caught. Cops get shot at funerals… Cases are declared cold. I am not that invincible woman with killer jiujutsu moves who sleeps with her trainer and overpowers a Russian mobster by pressing hot iron on his cheek. I feel pain when people shoot at me. I don't run towards my shooters and put a bullet through their skulls. I don't climb rocks slick with snow. I don't swing over the walls of the Belvedere Castle. I don't kill assailants with umbrella sized icicles. Yeah, you got it right once when you compared her to a cornered coyote but…
I am not Nikki Heat.
She hated him when he didn't see… and then she hated him when he saw.
She was furious when he ratted her out.
"She shouldn't be on this case. She's spinning out of control," he had told them. The bastard had seen right through her and he had told them. He had declared her incapability to the world. He thought he was being discreet but Castle and discretion had never been introduced to each other.
She wanted to yell at Castle. Wasn't he supposed to have her back? Instead, he pulled strings to get her off the case?
Well, she shouldn't be angry. Maybe, finally, he had seen her for what she really was. Wasn't that what she had always wanted?
She picked up her jacket from the chair and headed towards the elevator.
"Beckett," he called out behind her.
"Castle, I'm going home. I need some time. Alone."
(….)
He hadn't followed her. He had given her space. He had done exactly what she had asked him to do.
Then why was she disappointed?
She sat on her couch, dressed in a baggy T-shirt and worn out jeans, her uncombed hair wavy and unruly. The dim daylight was streaming into her living room through the half open blinds. It felt weird to be home during the day when she should have been in the precinct trying to catch the psycho who thought shooting people was going to solve all his problems. It felt wrong. She should've been stronger. She should've donned her cape and mask and run out into the city to…
She shook her head as she caught herself in the thought. Cap and mask? What the hell was she thinking?
Was she going insane? Fear crept into her. Her heart pounded and her throat felt dry… She needed a drink. Not wine, something strong. Something that would burn her throat and bring her back to the reality…
She poured the hard liquor into the glass with abandon and drained it at one go.
She flopped back on the couch with her eyes closed as she felt the familiar burn in her throat. She felt even more thirsty… She needed another drink.
She slid on the floor from the couch as she reached for the bottle… She wondered if she should do away with the glass and hit the bottle straight. She twirled the glass around in her fingers…
She twirled her glass around in her fingers on the white table cloth.
"Katie, that's juice… stop pretending that it's wine," her father laughed at her.
"I know, dad. I remember that you didn't let me order wine," she replied with a playful pout.
He laughed. "You've to wait two more years before that happens."
"Dad!" She rolled her eyes at him, something she had picked up from her mother and was proud of. Her friends always said she could give the most gorgeous eye-rolls. "It's not like I haven't tasted alcohol!"
"Katie, have I sent my baby girl to Stanford to drink?" He asked seriously but the glitter of humor was still in his eyes.
She didn't know then that it was the last time she was seeing his eyes twinkle.
She returned home disappointed. Her mom hadn't shown up. She wasn't waiting for Kate at home either… but someone else was.
"Mr. James Beckett? I'm Detective John Raglan. I'm here about your wife."
That night her world crumbled right in front of her eyes.
She jerked out of the thoughts… No, she didn't need this. Not right now.
She was lying slumped on the cold concrete. Blood still oozed from the multiple stab wounds on her body. The teenager knew her mother's heart had stopped but the blood still flowed… The blood on her beige jacket looked black under the blue lights from the police cruisers. Her skirt had shifted up to her knees, exposing her legs mercilessly to the bitter January cold. Her hair fell on her face but her lifeless hands couldn't brush them off.
Everything happened in slow motion.
The yellow tape moved up slowly. A uniform was holding it up. He wore a blue NYPD jacket. A white T-shirt peeked from under his jacket. He was wearing brown leather gloves. He had slate grey eyes and he was nodding at her sympathetically.
She walked right up to her mother's lifeless form. Even amidst the bustle, she could hear her shoes hitting the floor.
The walls were brick red. The medical examiner was crouched beside her mother. He was wearing a green jacket and blue gloves. He had a black pen in his hand. He didn't look up.
She was gone.
Her mother was gone.
Kate had been disappointed that her mother hadn't shown up for dinner that night but now her mother would never show up for dinner.
"Stop!" She cried out as she remembered the first thought that had crossed her mind when she saw her mother. Her voice sounded foreign to her, like a wounded beast howling in pain. She took in her surroundings. She didn't recognize it anymore. Where was she?
"Dad?" She called out as she entered the eerily quiet house. "Dad, where are you?"
She got no answer.
She dropped her bag hastily on the couch as she moved inside. As she entered the dark kitchen, her feet hit something and it rolled away noisily.
Oh! Probably an empty bottle of whisky…
She flipped on the light switch and immediately regretted. The darkness was better.
Her father was sprawled on the kitchen floor in his own vomit. His hands still clutched at a half empty bottle of rum. The trash can at the farthest corner was overturned. The floor was littered with garbage and empty bottles of alcohol in various shapes and sizes.
She wanted to cry but she didn't. She wouldn't cry… Not when her mother had left her… Not when she was alone. All alone.
As she dragged her unconscious father out of the kitchen, she struggled for breath.
She wouldn't cry… no, she wouldn't. She wouldn't feel a thing. She wouldn't hurt again.
Grief wracked through her chest but she didn't cry. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't feel the pain…
"You don't have to do this. I forgive you, I forgive you…"
"Castle, now!" He barked his last order ever.
"No, no, please… Castle, let me go… No…"
She had cried. She had felt the pain.
She had heard him getting shot. She had abandoned him. She had waited outside grieving while he lay there bleeding to death.
He had sinned and he had confessed but there been no forgiveness. He had paid instead… with his life. He had died to save her.
Only he hadn't been able to save her…
She remembered his wife and daughters standing there, sobbing, grieving…
She remembered delivering the eulogy…
She remembered looking into his blue eyes…
She remembered…
A loud sound jerked her back to reality… As she flailed in a desperate attempt to defend herself, the bottle and the glass crashed on the ground along with the table they were on. She staggered to the window and closed the blinds with a manic urgency.
Maybe… Maybe, it was not a gunshot…
But she was bleeding… Why was she bleeding?
She couldn't believe it… Even the pain in her chest felt unreal.
"They're going to kill you, Kate," they had said and they were right. She was dying.
She spent all her energy trying to move her right hand. She saw blood.
Blood was trickling down her right forearm.
She crouched against the couch, away from the window. She ran her palm across her chest. Her fingers bumped across the scar.
"They're going to kill you, Kate."
They're going to kill her.
She looked around the room frantically, looking for possible escapes. She had foolishly kept the gun in the drawer. Should she get her gun? She didn't dare to move. What good would her service pistol do against snipers anyway? What could she do against enemies she couldn't see? She couldn't escape through the front door… That's the first place a shooter would be waiting for her… Were they trying to smoke her out of the hole?
She heard the crowd on the street outside her building. Were they all coming after her? How could she possibly fight a horde of killers?
Was her window always so close to the street? Would they climb in through the window?
She heard footsteps outside her door. Oh no, they're outside her door…. And now they're pounding on her door.
Who are they anyway?
"Kate!" They're calling her.
"Kate, open the door." Why are they calling her Kate?
"Open the door or I'm coming in."
They're coming in… Oh God, they're coming in. They're going to kill her. They're going to shoot her again.
She heard the door open and footsteps coming in.
She curled into a defensive posture on the floor and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the blinding pain. At least she knew how much pain she would feel… good.
"Kate, you alright?"
What a silly question, she's about to die… Wait! "Castle?"
"Kate?"
"Castle, get down, they'll kill you too."
Castle stood there and stared at her, looking confused. There was another shot.
"Castle, get down!" Her voice was shrill.
"Kate?"
"Castle, shut up. They'll shoot you." She turned her head and eyed the closed blind frantically.
Castle came to her and sat on the floor in front of her. "Kate, you're in your apartment. There's no shooter here."
"Didn't you hear the shot, you idiot?"
"There's no shot, Kate. They're towing a car that hit a pole."
"No, there's a shooter here… I heard it." She squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed herself against the couch.
Castle moved slowly, not to startle her. He returned in a few moments with a wet washcloth.
"Kate."
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"Take this. You'll feel better." How was he so calm?
She did what he said.
Castle continued in an unnaturally calm voice, "Good. Now breathe, Kate. Breathe in, breathe out. Do it… Do it Kate. Breathe in… yes, now breathe out."
After a while, she started breathing again. She looked around. Castle was right. She was in her apartment. She wasn't in the hangar. Her heart was still beating wildly and her chest was heaving for breath. She ran her fingers over her scar absently as she still tried to dissociate her memories from reality. She looked at him and found him watching her intently. He had seen her like this… shit!
"I… I'm sorry."
"You were having a panic attack, Kate."
"Oh," she looked around once more.
"You're bleeding." Castle was quiet.
"Huh?" Kate looked at him with wide hazel eyes and then looked at her wrist. "Yeah."
Castle looked around and took in the wreckage around him. "Oh Kate!"
He pulled her into a tight hug. She didn't protest. She was limp against him. She took in his scent and oddly enough, that blunted her adrenalin rush. She felt… safe.
When she had calmed down, he helped her up on the couch. It's not like she was unable to get up by herself but she was too tired to refuse help.
"Okay, I'm making us some coffee." He said with a forced cheer in his voice and started towards the kitchen.
"Castle…"
"Kate, if you're asking me to leave, I'm telling you that I won't."
"I… I wanted to say… Thank you." Thank you… The two words were so inadequate but she knew no better way to express her gratitude. He had been her knight in shining armor. He had saved her from the invisible demons that had imprisoned her behind her walls and haunted her. He had fought them and defeated them, at least for now. He had saved her. Again.
He smiled at her genuinely for the first time in what seemed to her as a very long time.
"Always."
A/N: Hi guys, I'm back!
As you guys have already realized, this piece is based on the 30 second promo of "Kill Shot". Stana Katic has successfully taken my breath away in her fifteen seconds… I'm not sure if I'll survive the episode :/ (But hey, that'll be an epic way to die!)
On November 22nd (IST), I'll be watching the episode and laughing at how different it is from this 'thing' I hashed out!
This piece is totally from Kate's point of view… which means all the derogatory impressions about Beckett are her own.
I wanted to give a shout out to "Heat Rises" because I read it recently. I feel that it's the best in the Heat series so far. That Belvedere Castle sequence literally had me on the edge of my seat.
Lastly, I'm sorry if this appears rusty… I couldn't write for quite a few days now because daily life intervened. Yesterday, I had a performance assessment which lasted twenty hours with two one hour breaks. It'll take some time to get back into the groove!
Please review. I need them :)
Disclaimer: If Castle were mine, I wouldn't be willing to sell my soul to watch "Kill Shot" right at this moment. ;-)