A/N: I know I have another story I'm working on, but I just had to write this. Honestly, I don't know what this is. Enjoy
Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or any of the other good stuff.
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity
Edgar Allen Poe
"Good Morning"
She slowly opens her eyes, finds herself staring at the all too familiar pattern on the ceiling.
"How are you feeling today?"
Rolling her eyes at the question, she finds herself giving a curt response.
"The same." It's always the same.
She only hears his silent "hmm" as a response.
"Why do you always ask that question?" she finds herself suddenly asking. A strong combination of frustration and confusion lacing her words.
She has to find out why.
Every morning, like clockwork, he asks, and it almost seems like he actually cares.
"Because one day, you might actually say that you're feeling better, and that means you're closer to finally getting out of here.. one of us should".
His reply is soft, and she almost doesn't catch the last part. Almost.
"You're an optimist" she sighs whilst shaking her head at him.
He turns his head that's resting on a pillow, to look out the window.
She never knows what it is he looks at.
"No I'm not". Not anymore.
"That was a pretty long nap you took there".
She turns her head to look at him. Catches the eyes already staring at her.
His eyes have always been a refuge for her. The blue so easily offering her life the color it so desperately lacked.
Despite everything she knows they've both been through, she's often marveled at how he's managed to maintain a spark in his eyes.
It was small, and if you didn't pay close enough attention, you would never notice it. But she did.
"Yeah well, what else is there to do here?" She mumbled, glancing back down to her hands.
"Did you at least have a nice dream?"
She releases her breath, quickly replying, "I don't remember".
"I heard you whisper my name"
She startles. Hopes he doesn't notice.
"I'll take the light blush on your cheeks as a sign that it was a nice dream".
She doesn't turn to look at him. Can't.
But she has to know. A driving need causes her to slowly turn towards him again, but she finds him with his head tilted upwards resting on his hands, his eyes closed, and the edges of his mouth slightly turned up.
I was a cop. You were a writer. We solved crimes. We smiled. We laughed.
"Lanie, who is she talking too?" an all too curious voice asks.
"I don't know honey," there's a weighted pause as both women turn to look into the room, at the women staring at the wall, "but trust me, after about a week here...you stop asking".
The nurse enters quietly, quickly busying herself with whatever she's brought with her today.
"Good morning, Mr. Castle. How are we feeling today?"
They always ask that question. Why?
He never answers them anyways.
"I have some good news for you today". Liars.
"Your doctor thinks it's about time we take you off your sleeping medication".
The nurse finally turns to him while she finishes telling him the news, an expectant look on her face.
"No". His reply is soft, but the terror on his face is evident.
Startled at hearing his reply, she quickly asks, "What was that, Mr. Castle?"
"NO! No! NOOO!"
"Mr. Castle! please calm down! Help! I need help in here!"
"NOOOOO!"
Tears are running down his face, his cries only growing in desperation. He starts pacing, walking in circles.
As if he's looking for something special that he's lost. Someone.
As more nurses enter the room, the bigger ones of the group begin to crowd him, grabbing at his now thrashing arms.
"NOOO! I CAN'T SLEEP ANYMORE! I NEED TO SLEEP!" he continues to cry out. They need to know. They have to know.
"PLEASE!" He sobs.
"Mr. Castle, Calm Down! Someone page Dr. Burke!"
As they finally manage to control him, they plunge the needle into his neck.
As the world becomes blurry around him, the last words he'll ever speak, spill out before his eyes close.
"I-I need to..to..sleep", he slurs out, "Sh-she's there..when..I...sleep".
In all the years that she's been in this god forsaken place, she has never heard such commotion as she has tonight.
Her "neighbors" have never caused such chaos. Usually they all remained quiet. Never venturing out of their rooms, never causing such disruptive events.
She slowly turns towards her door, sees the nurses and orderlies rushing by, when she finally hears the cries.
All she can make out is the word "no" being repeatedly yelled, but it's enough.
The desperation behind the cries are enough to bring tears to her own eyes.
She has never heard such pain in another person's voice before. Has only ever known the magnitude of her own suffering.
So she just lies back down and turns towards the wall.
And as the cries die down outside, she finds that her heart has been ripped apart all over again.
Closing her eyes, she quickly finds herself balancing between sleep and reality, the tears now flowing freely down her face, and only when she lets herself succumb to the freedom of sleep, does she realize that those cries, that voice, had sounded strangely familiar.