Hello Castle fandom. I'm quite pleased and also anxious to present you with this story; I'm pleased because I've successfully written another multi-chapter fanfic (AND IT'S DONE. Mostly. You know what that means? It means no more month-long waits for updates, that's what!) and anxious because this story is a bit of an experiment for me. I can tell you now that I've never written anything quite like it. But bear with me. I have faith that you all will understand what's going on soon enough. It's not really confusing at all. I believe in you! :)
I started writing this story back in September. Clearly, I got sidetracked. But if Headhunters decided to go in another direction last night, that's why it doesn't follow the show's continuity.
As I mentioned, thankfully, I've forced myself to write nearly the entire thing before posting. That means quick updates and no infinite cliff hangers. Normally, if I write anything multi-chaptered, it automatically means failure to complete. But no more! It was difficult to persuade myself to do, since I'm a sucker for instant feedback, but I had a wonderful time writing.
All that being said, I do hope you enjoy this story. Though, maybe enjoy isn't the right word...
Disclaimer: Silly.
Because death is just so full and man so small
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before
-Mumford & Sons, After the Storm
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Saturday. Everything ends on a Saturday.
He didn't think it would happen again like it this. At least not so soon. God, why so soon? Is she not allowed to have a moment's happiness to herself before it all inevitably gets shot to hell? It doesn't matter so much at the moment though - happiness. Not when she's lying on the ground again, and he's leaning over her in a panic, and his hands are reaching to press down where the bullet pierced through her jacket. Oh God, not again.
"Kate. Please, Kate, just breathe. Breathe for me, Kate."
The first time she was shot like this, in front of him, she was in shock. And he was too. Still is. But now she seems calm, almost. Serene. She brushes his hands back from the hole in her side with gentle fingers.
"Shhh…Castle. It's going to be okay."
He can barely believe it. She's trying to reassure him. Her lips, impossibly red and gasping for air, moving slowly with obvious effort, trying to reassure him. He needs to stop thinking, to start acting. But she isn't letting him. Every time he attempts to apply pressure to her abdomen, her hands are there to move his away. The hot tears of fear and frustration prick the back of his eyes, seep out slow and searing.
"Kate, an ambulance is on the way." It isn't just a soothing white lie. He can hear the sirens in the distance, getting closer by the second. "But I need you to let me help you. Please, baby, let me help you."
He scans her leather clad front again. He can't let her bleed out in this alley. Just like her mother. He won't.
Blood. Before, it was everywhere; splattered on her gloves and staining the grass a sickening color. Red on green, opposites on the color wheel, the colors of Christmas lights and holiday wrapping paper. Red and green; no longer will he be reminded of sleigh bells and snow glistening, but instead, he'll picture that fateful moment as her life drained out from her and into the ground.
Now, the lighting is dim in the alleyway. It's night, and the streetlamps do little to fight against the creeping black. This time, he can't see the crimson liquid spreading out on the pavement, soaking into her clothing; he can't feel it, sticky against his palms and seeping under his fingernails. But that doesn't mean it isn't there.
He's vaguely aware of Esposito barking orders into his cell while kneeling down to assess his boss as Ryan stands farther away over the body of the shooter. A bullet between the eyes. His gun shakes as he holsters it.
Castle turns his eyes back to his partner who now has hers closed and reaches down to feel the stuttering thrum of blood gushing through her radial artery. He's written the scene enough times to know the terms, though irrelevant at this point. All that matters now is that it's there and working. Still pulsing, still beating, still living. All good things. The silver lining.
"Nice shot," he offers to the Irish detective in a wavering tone, unable to look up, but he imagines his friend's nodding head in response, shoulders loosening with a bit of relief. Killing, even justifiably, can never be easy. No experience needed as a cop or as a mystery writer to fathom that.
He thanks every deity he can think of when the ambulance screeches around the corner. The EMTs rush out as fast as lightning. Before he knows it, the Latino detective is yanking him back from his partner who's being loaded into the bus. She can't…he needs…
"I want to go with her."
Esposito looks at him with sorry eyes. "It's full, bro. No room. Hospital was going to send out another ambulance, but it would have taken longer. This one just picked up a guy in a five-car pileup."
Ryan's yanking at his bicep and tugging him towards the unmarked, and Castle dazedly follows, tripping over his own incomprehension. Before he can think coherently, he's being seated in a poorly cushioned chair in a terribly lit waiting area and is trying to breathe as though breathing would matter a bit without her.
His mother is sitting at his right side and his daughter is drooping on his left. It feels so painfully reminiscent; the worst kind of déjà vu that isn't really déjà vu at all. He hasn't seen her for over five hours, and the anxiety of it all makes his hands shake. The uneasiness makes his fingers ache. They ache for the keys of his laptop, for the cool metal of a fountain pen and the crisp smoothness of a new notepad, but mostly for her. Always for her.
He was almost surprised with the speed in which his mother and Alexis made it to the hospital, but he shouldn't have been. Kate's a part of their family now. She's been for a while now. They always knew she was for keeps. Unless…
Castle's attention is attracted by the movement in his peripheral. Jim Beckett is walking toward the doctor's beckoning hand. He wants to follow him, to pump the doctor for every drop of information he has, but his brain refuses to send the signals to his legs for them to move. They'll tell you what's going on. They'll tell you when they know.
And then, Jim's turning around, looking him straight in the eye with some strange mixture of sorrow and guilt and pity. And suddenly, the man's brushing past the doctor and all but running down another corridor.
And then Rick knows.
He finds himself standing without recollection of the action and launching himself towards the scrub-clothed man. He doesn't have to say anything. The doctor gives him a look identical to Jim's.
"Mr. Castle," the man starts and the world skids to a halt. No. "I'm very sorry to have to inform you, we were unable to revive Ms. Beckett. She passed away on the table just now. We did everything we could."
We did everything we could. But they didn't. They couldn't. If they would have, she wouldn't be…she can't be. She's a warrior, a rock, an unstoppable force of nature. Kate Beckett is a phenomenon. His whole body goes numb, and he rocks forward until the surgeon put out a steadying hand, applying gentle pressure to his left shoulder.
"Her father?" he manages to choke out. Her father. Jim. Her poor dad. Sober for how many years? First his wife and now his daughter. Kate would want him to…
Kate.
His head is stuffed with cotton, and his ears are covered with an imaginary layer of film. He sees the man's lips moving, but can't make sense of the words.
"Ms. Beckett's will gives her father power of attorney. As her proxy-"
"I know what her will says," he hears himself say indignantly, "I'm in her will." What is he responding to? How can his mouth work separately from his brain? "I want to…where is she?"
"Mr. Beckett was adamantly against any visitors upon his daughter's passing."
He has to get in there. He has to see for himself. He saved her ten times before. But he's an idiot. Even Richard Castle can't stop…
Gone. He writes about it. He makes a living because of it. But he can't think the word, can't usher in the darkness, scythes blazing. She can't be. She can't be. Every fiber of his being rebels against the very thought. No.
He isn't the only one standing now. Everything is blurred together; Ryan's reddening puppy dog eyes and Esposito's arms sheltering Lanie's painful sobs. His mother and Alexis. He reaches a hand up to touch his face. Is he crying? His fingers pull back, dampened by salty tears and he stares at them as if they're foreign objects. As if he's been torn apart from his body, outside looking in. He feels something ripping from deep within, and it takes him a moment to recognize the source. It's his heart. His heart torn in two.
Kate.
It might be the end for now, but this story has barely begun.
Stay tuned.