Hi again. This is set during 4.09 in which Kate is suffers from post traumatic stress, because Stana deserves all of the awards and I've always wanted to write something for that episode.
The text in italics at the beginning is the dream Kate has when she passes out from drinking. They'll be two chapters to this fic, in this chapter there will be flashbacks from different parts of Kate's dream.
The flickers of it change; sometimes Castle holds her together on the wavering grass as her life drains away, and she can't even find the strength to tell him that she loves him back. Other times the bullet hits him instead when he jumps to save her, and she can hear Alexis screaming high above the crowd when she looks down at his face, brave and giving and going. This time it's different; this isn't a moment or flicker; this is real. Everything is white in the hospital. The walls and the shiny linoleum slabs and the faces of the dying are all an unhealthy shade of faded grey. Even the hopeful sunlight that seeps through the thick glass windows is lifeless and pale and Kate feels her hope draining away with it. Her bed sheets are stiff and smell of bleach, her nightdress isn't her own. Even her body is reliant on the thick fluid seeping through her veins from a heavily beeping machine. Nurses with simple names she can't remember offer weightless smiles when they bring her meals and day by day she feels herself pale with her surroundings. It's been months and no one has visited. She's losing herself; everything she built up from the wreckage of her past is crumbling. If she sees him she'll break, she knows that now; she'll fall into his arms like the dying girl she sees in the smear-marked bathroom mirror. She's damaged, damaged and dangerous and he deserves more. And she's not strong; she's made of scarred flesh and the swirling blood she can feel in between her ears, it flushes her cheeks whenever she thinks of him and makes her heart beat a little faster. At least she's feeling again, she thinks; there was a moment where she felt nearly nothing at all. *** A smash like shattering glass sounds and scarlet blood pools, stark liquid against solid white tiles and she watches him fall, and in his open eyes she reads his last words: his last and only honest promise: I would rather die than stay with you. Earth shattering sobs wrack her fragile frame; the world is glossy and shaking too, distorted like it's viewed from underwater. "Kate... Kate. Kate?" "Castle." She hears herself say. "Kate... Oh Kate, sweetheart... God, are you okay?" "Caste..?" The tremors of her sobs are almost violent now. "Yes, yes, I'm here, its okay Kate..." The room around her distorts violently; the white walls shattering inwards and she screams; squeezing her eyes shut against the slashes of colour.
***
Kate opens her eyes slowly; stark blue eyes stare back at hers unblinkingly. Castle's broad frame leans protectively over hers and she breathes out his name.
"Hey..." He chokes out, one large hand hesitates before brushing a lose tendril of hair from her sweaty forehead. Heat cradles her cheeks when he touches her, and she avoids his eyes for a moment.
"You-you're okay?" Her eyes skate back over his face, his gentle features wrinkled in concern when she nods back slowly. She chocks back a thick sob before asking, "What happened?" Although she feels like she has a pretty good idea.
One day when the white light was at its brightest Castle visited.
"You were drinking, Kate. I think you passed out..." He continues when she says nothing. "Can I see your arm?"
She mumbles back a sound of confusion and raises her arm willingly when he notions for her to do so, realises dully that she must've cut herself on one of the bottles. Then he's looking her over with such concern her aching heart is enough to forget everything else that hurts.
"You called me sweetheart..." She hears herself say, blushes because, really Kate?
He chuckles and hums, mumbling something about the dangers of alcohol consumption that makes her rolls her eyes, voice lifting when she says, "coming from you?" He lets out another throaty laugh in response, and turns his eyes back to her arm.
"Hey." Rick opens the glass door and looks over her with a strained smile, tiptoeing closer; as if in her fragile state the tremor of his footsteps might shatter her. She wishes he'd crack some kind of joke or smile his self-gratified smirk. But he doesn't. His laughing eyes are screaming now, shoulders crooked with tiredness and weighted with defeat.
"You won't need stitches." He confirms after a minute of careful inspection.
Kate nods back her thanks.
He stands a metre away from her and continues, "What I said before... I think I made a mistake." "A mistake?" She manages. The pain is returning, a fire making its way up her arm. But she wasn't shot in her arm she thinks, an afterthought.
He looks at her for a moment, carefully, almost. "I'm staying here tonight." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And when Kate opens her mouth to argue he continues, "You need someone to look after you. I'll clean up so that you don't cut yourself on these bottles again..." He rambles nervously, waiting for her to stop him, but she's silent. And he feels a burning swirl of anger at whoever did this to her. Kate Beckett, strong and vulnerable and conjuring blinks back with glassy eyes the same off-green as the bottles scattered around them.
For a moment Castle is caught up by the way she catches her soft lower lip between her teeth; sees it pale under pressure, and stop looking at her mouth, because then her eyebrows are knitting together in that oh so familiar way, but there's no sly remark; no quip of his last name to paint the distance between them... and he realises just how serious this is.
He takes a deep breath before continuing, "This needs serialising so that it doesn't get infected... And not that you haven't got enough alcohol here to sterilise the whole of New York..." Kate manages a small smile at that. "But I'd rather I was here to help."
"You don't have to..." She trails off when she realises that he's already risen from his crouched position and has started to pick at the empty bottles.
"I don't love you."
Her vision blurs behind a veil of tears, and she just can't let him see her like this; can't let him leave, and there's no way anyone in their right mind would stay. She knows there's only one way to make him go.
"Castle I want you to leave." She says firmly.
"Beckett I just want to help..." And there it is again, 'Beckett', thick and familiar like space she needs to breathe. His eyes are gentle and apologetic, and she's remained of a doctor consoling a sick patient. She feels the white walls wavering and she remembers how she hated their restrictions in the dream; remembers how that ended. It makes it easier.
"I don't need your help." She stumbles on her feet until she's towering over him. Looks up several inches to meet his eyes and wavers on bare feet. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don't need you here, Rick." That seems to have struck a nerve, because he physically stiffens, the gentle swoop of his shoulders straightening. The creases around the tight line of his mouth heavily strung like harp strings.
"I'm not leaving." And with that he continues to throw the last of the empty bottles into the bin bag.
Kate stumbles to follow him and pulls one arm so that he has to face her. His eyes are dripping with concern when they pierce hers. Kate rips the bag from his clenched fist and throws it meekly, less than a metre from where they stand.
"I said get out." Her voice is wavering and croaky and she hopes he doesn't notice, tries to stare back at him with equal conviction, but her eyelids are drooping with exhaustion. She watches his throat bob heavily when he says simply, "no."
He took her in like a dimly lit flame- dangerous, but weak and pitiful. She tried to sit up straighter, blink away the threat of tears but her arms were too heavy on the crisp white sheets and her head throbbed. The tears were weightless when they came, almost a relief to hot cheeks.
She loves him, she realises it when she takes in his vacant expression, his eyes so vivid in the white room and hopeful until they reach her.
And then she's on him, hitting and scratching for all she's worth, all the while he stands unwavering. Maybe he'd leave if she explained, pleaded with him to let her soak in her misery and fear alone, with some of the dignity that's quickly slipping through her fingers. But she's silent.
The thin line of Castle's mouth seemed to tear in two when he replied, "I'm sorry, Kate but... I can't even look at you right now..." He shook his head in pity and disgust. And she'd never seen him look at her like that; there were times that she wished he would just stop looking, back when his heavy stare made her warm and shaky.
He waits until she stills, broken sobs unravelling into the soft material of his cornflower blue shirt. She knows she can't fight him anymore, has no choice but to let him stay; let him leave. Her walls crumbled with each shot of the burning liquid she can barely remember and now she has nothing left to hide behind, and she's so terrified he'll see who she really is.
He didn't stumble; didn't even move. Stayed looking at her the way she wished he would stop; as if he'd given up fighting.
And then he does something she hadn't expected: he relaxes completely, his thick arms winding firmly around her taut body, holding her together. She freezes in his hold, can feel his hesitance in the shaky breaths he releases on her neck. And just when she feels him start to move away she allows her heavy arms to mirror his, clinging to him more desperately than she would have liked. And slowly the edges of her thin frame surrender to hollows of his. And she'd be amazed by how perfectly they fit if she'd ever had any doubt.
Her head feels heavy, and she allows one tear-stained cheek to nuzzle in the warm place between his shoulder and neck. Still shaking with slowing tremors she inhales the familiar comfort of his musky smell, the mixture of old books and cinnamon that haunts her dreams. Somewhere in between crying and stopping she realise that for the first time in years she feels safe. His chest expands with a sigh of relief beneath her, and the tickle of his breath muses the mess of her hair. And she thinks that maybe she isn't weak to give in.
"Let me help?" He mumbles somewhat hesitantly into the silence.
She was shaking; shaking hands found a shaking gun and raised it to point and she whispered "Please don't leave me..." She didn't bother to wonder where the gun came from, too many voices were screaming to question.
"Okay."
The second chapter is up if you're still with me, I personally prefer the next chapter and was going to put it up in one, but thought you might not make it through in one go.
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my last fic, I'm pretty sure that was the most reviews I've ever had for one chapter and you were all so kind and amazing, this is for you!