Disclaimer: Castle and all of its characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe, Terri Edda Miller and ABC Studio Productions. "This Means War" belongs to Nickelback.
Climb into the ring for a battle that you can't win.
Swin as hard as you can swing, it'll still mean nothing.
Shoulda seen it coming, it had to happen some time,
But you went and brought a knife to an all out gun fight.
And the only thing to save is the banner that you wave
To be wrapped around your grave.
You've gone too far. Who do you think you are?
Is this what you came for?
Well this means war.
Left hook. Right hook. Jab. Jab. Right hook. Axe kick. Duck. Duck. Right hook. There was a system that cops ran through when they were working over the Body Ordinance Bag to blow off steam. You beat his silicone head until you can imagine the steam rising off blood pouring from his face.
Kevin stepped back and looked at the upper body likeness in front of him, his fists clenched at his sides. He imagined the pale vaguely featured face morphing into Javier's intense brown eyes and creased brow. His expression scowling back at Kevin was enough to set off another rage surge.
"You betrayed us. You went to the Captain. You are supposed to be my partner, but you went behind my back." He snapped, mimicking the words that Javier had growled into his face before leaving the precinct when the Captain had told him he was being suspended. "Yeah, no shit I told the Captain. You two were going to get yourselves killed!" He snarled. He knew he probably sounded like a crazy man, yelling at a punching bag dummy, but it was as close as he was going to get to being able to confront Javier until his partner calmed down enough to talk to him.
His fists started connecting with the soft silicone once again, furiously beating the dummy until sweat poured off his body. His ragged breathing morphed into engraged bellows that erupted through his chest with each punch.
"Don't you want to be more than just a cop, Kevin? It's not like it's a real job that you can live the rest of your life on. You don't have the skills to work well enough with others. You're just going to let them all down. Why waste their time?" His father's voice echoed in his head as he landed a helacious spinning heel kick to the dummy's head. "I'm a damned good cop, Dad. And I'm ten times the man that you ever were. When I have a family, I'm not going to walk out and leave them high and dry, you ignorant, mercurial fuck!"
His knuckles pounded as he continued to land blows around the ribs of the dummy. He imagined the sickening snapping and crackling of bone underneath the pressure of his punches, but he shoved the thought away.
"I've been working my entire career for a chance to find my mother's killer. I'm not going to stop when I'm so close. You can't expect me to just let this lead go without exploring it. It could be the biggest break that I've ever gotten, and you're standing in front of me trying to change my mind. I thought that you're supposed to support me in everything. You're my partner, Kevin. It's time you start acting like one." He mumbled, imagining the pleading look that Kate given him, begging him not to stop her. "Contrary to popular belief, Kate, you aren't the only one with a dark past! You aren't the only one with issues that need to be resolved! Not everything is about you! Maybe Javier and I have things that we need your help with. But, would you follow us to the ends of the Earth without questioning it for even a second? No! Because you're too damned selfish to let anyone else take the spotlight for one second!"
The final kick was enough to send the dummy sprawling on the floor, the shifting of sand inside the base sounding much louder than it should have in the quietness of the gym. His blood thundered in his ears as he tried to reign in his breathing. His face felt flushed, and his muscles wear damp with sweat.
His partners, whether they wanted to admit it yet or not, were the ones that were in the wrong. They were the ones that owed him an apology, and they were the ones that would have to make the first move to patch the shattered shards of their friendship. Because he sure as hell wasn't going to sit back while they treated him like Patient Zero for saving their lives. But, beneath all of that, beneath the logic that told him he was right in what he'd done, and beneath the anger and disdain that he felt for both of them was a knowledge he couldn't deny.
The knowledge that they were right.
Say anything you want,
But talk will get you no where.
The only thing you brought is psychological warfare.
There's no getting out, and now you gotta wonder
Who will dig you out when you're six feet under?
And the only thing to save is the banner that you wave
To be wrapped around your grave.
You've gone too far. Who do you think you are?
Is this what you came for?
Well this means war.