It felt like time stopped. He only remembered bits and pieces of what happened, flashes of events occurring around him: the flash from between the tombstones; her falling; the blood pouring from the hole in her chest that shouldn't be there. His whispered confession to her: "I love you, Kate! Kate, I love you!" The ride in the ambulance; the blood on his hands. He remembers Josh screaming at him, punching him, telling him it was his fault. That it was because of him the monsters nearly killed her. He took Josh's beating, not lifting a finger to defend himself. He told himself he deserved it, that this was his penance. It was only when Josh shoved Alexis that he retaliated; pinning Josh against the wall by the throat, ready to kill him for what he did to his daughter. It took Jim, Ryan and Esposito to break them apart, Jim sending her boyfriend packing. But when he turned around and saw their faces, he knew then that Josh had it wrong. The monsters weren't the men that nearly killed Kate: he was. The blood on his hands proved it, to him most of all.
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He packs to leave the city. He can't be around anyone, not after what he did. Jim tells him it wasn't his fault, that no one blames him for what happened to Kate, but he knows that isn't true. He blames himself for it. Every second of every day, he berates himself. Either for not being fast enough to stop the bullet, or for reopening the case that brought the wolves after her. Alexis is hurt that he's leaving; he can see it in her eyes and her body language. She tries to hide it, but he knows his own daughter well enough to know how hurt she feels. His mother hides it better, but not as well as she thinks. He knows Martha will look after Alexis, and that his daughter will not only be loved, but taken care of. The boys, Lanie, Martha…they all love her, and will watch after her. So he leaves the home he made, the people who love him behind. He doesn't look back.
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It's been months, and he hasn't seen or heard from anyone. He hasn't written a word since he arrived in this cabin that feels less like home, and more like a prison. He finds the thought comforting, since a prison is where he feels like he belongs. The blood on her hands, the confession of love knowing she was still with Motorcycle Boy, the monster he proved himself to be to everyone. These are the evidence he sees against himself, and he found himself guilty on all charges. But no court would take the case, no jury to convict him. Here, in the middle of the forest, he knows he has a prison to hold him, after the jury of himself found him guilty. Gina and Paula tried to call him, force him back to work on the books that only amplify his hypocrisy. He told them both in no uncertain terms he wasn't writing right now, and to kindly back off. Okay, maybe he wasn't as nice as he should be. Why not join everyone else, think he's a monster? He really should be having a set of horns sprouting from his head. Even the reflection in the mirror sees him as the monster he is. His reflection's lip curls up, the hatred in his eyes clear to see. He feels as if his reflection is right, since it really can't lie to him. At night, as he lies in bed, he replays the events of the shooting in his mind. The more he does, though, the more self-loathing piles on, until he finds himself trying to find some way to hurt himself, punish himself for what he did. This week's flavor is running. So here he is, finishing a brutal run by the lake. All to make sure he's hurting like hell when he finally rests.
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"Rick." The sound of his name startles him, and he jerks his hand back from the flames of the fire. He was debating how close to stick it, that talented hand of his that wrote so many best-sellers, to see if losing his livelihood would be enough to possibly balance the scales between them. He spun around, to see her standing in the doorway to the cabin. How did she find him? Why is she here? Is she here to flog him? Because if that's the case, he knows where there's a good whip stored-why is she smiling at him? Is that love in her eyes? Love for a monster like him? "Kate?" is all he can choke out, however.
She smiles again, nodding. It isn't a dream. "You were hard to track down, Castle," she says, stepping into the room. "Even Ryan had a hell of a time tracking anything from your financials and registration. I think we taught you too well."
He turns his back on her. He can't bear to see her, can't look at her and see love reflected back. She has to hate him. He needs her to hate him, as much as he hates himself. "Go away, Beckett," he says, his voice hitching. "Don't look at me."
"Why?" she asks. He doesn't need to be looking at her, to know she's frowning in confusion. The puzzlement in her voice is speaking volumes to him right now. "Castle, why did you run away and hide?" He can hear her footsteps coming around, trying to get in front of him. He can't let that happen. He has to keep his back to her, can't let her see the monster he's become. "Please go, Beckett," he whispers, the sorrow and self-loathing becoming clearer in his voice. "I don't want you to see the monster I've become."
"Monster? What monster?" she asks him. "Castle, what are you talking about?" He continues to keep his back to her, refuses to look at her. He can't do that and keep it together. His anger at himself since her shooting has been his constant companion for so long, it cannot and will not be denied. But neither will Kate Beckett, it seems. He feels her hand on his arm, as she attempts to turn him around. "Rick, stop it!" she says in what he calls the Cop Voice. "Stop turning your back on me, and start talking to me!"
"I can't let you love me," he says, as the tears begin to fall from his eyes. Oh, the number of tears he shed over here during his isolation is numerous, but the hate he has for himself kept them from falling for him. This time, though, he knows there won't be any way to keep them from falling for them.
"Why?" she asks him again, as she places a hand on his back, and begins rubbing soothing circles. "Because only you're allowed to love me? I can't love you back?"
"BECAUSE IT WAS MY FAULT!" he screams, whirling around to face her. This time, the beast shall not be denied its prize. And if seeing the monster is what she wants, then seeing the monster is what she shall get. "IT WAS MY FAULT YOU WERE EVEN SHOT TO BEGIN WITH!" He can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, but he's powerless to stop them. He isn't even sure he wants to, anymore.
"Oh, Rick," she says quietly, and he knows now she's walking out the door. She's seen the true ugly side of what he's become, and now she's leaving. He'll never see her again, and isn't that really for the best? He can be alone with his self-hatred and loathing. But instead of stepping back and walking out the door, she does the last thing he expects: she steps forward and pulls him into a hug. This act of love and kindness is the last thing he expected from her, and he just can't take it anymore. Breaking down, he wraps his arms around her and begins sobbing. Kate whispers soothingly in his ear, telling him it's all right, cry as much as he needs to, let the hurt out. He finds he can't stop crying. Months and months of pain and hurt, finally being released. He tries to pull back, but Kate increases her grip, not letting him go until the tears begin to ebb, and he has himself back under some semblance of control. "Josh really did a number on you, didn't he?" she asks quietly. He doesn't know if she was expecting an answer, and doesn't bother trying to give one. Kate finally leans back so she can see into his face. He's surprised to see tear tracks on her cheeks, as well. "Castle, what happened to me isn't your fault," she says. "I would have been put in the cross hairs eventually. I kept digging and digging at her case."
"But if it wasn't for me-" he begins to say, trying to let her off the hook. He needs to be the one punished, not her.
"No," she says firmly. "No matter what Josh told you, Rick, you are not to blame. You are the most compassionate, forgiving man I have ever met, but you won't forgive yourself. Why?"
He doesn't trust his voice, but simply gestures to her bullet scar. Kate looks down at where he gestures, and back up at him. He has his face turned away, too ashamed to see the result of his meddling. Kate puts her hand on his face, and softly turns it back to her.
"I don't blame you for this," she says. "My dad doesn't blame you, nor does anyone else. The only one who blames you is you. Forget what Josh said. I broke up with him in the hospital, as soon as Dad told me what he did to you and Alexis."
"I deserved it," he says, feeling like every punch, every insult shouted at him by the doctor was well-deserved penance. "I wasn't fast enough."
"And if you were?" asks Kate, tears rolling down her cheeks. "You'd be lying in the hospital bed, or worse: we'd be burying you. Rick, you telling me you love me gave me something to hold onto. It kept me alive, Castle. Don't beat yourself up over my getting shot. I'm here, I'm alive thanks to you, and I have a heart that's loving you as much as you love me. So, please forgive yourself? If not for you, then me?"
He can't find it within himself to forgive himself for what he sees as his sin, but he also can't deny her anything. He may not be able to live with himself now, but knowing she's alive and loving him, means that maybe tomorrow, he can look in the mirror and like the guy he sees. And at the end of the day, maybe that's not so bad.