Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe, though they have found their own way into my heart.
A/N: This short story is a filler for the last scenes of the show's finale.
When he comes to, seconds or minutes later, the first thing he feels is pain again. Intense, sharp, searing, burning his chest, radiating from somewhere below his right shoulder. He can't seem to stop shivering, not only from the cold enveloping his body, but because of the shock of the gunshot. He can feel the blood gushing from his open wound, soaking his shirt and trickling down his side. The pressure in his lungs makes it considerably difficult to breathe, the mere act of inhaling a minimum of oxygen becoming an arduous and heavy task. His vision goes in and out of focus. His right hand feels numb, a tingling travelling up and down his arm. Just then he realizes there's something in his left hand. Kate's slender fingers are still wrapped loosely in his grip. But they feel cold, too cold, and they are limp in the cradle of his palm. From his position on the floor, he can't see where she's been hit. A few more seconds tick by before he realizes she isn't moving at all.
"Kate," he whispers. She doesn't answer. He says her name again, giving her fingers a little squeeze. But still she doesn't respond. A wave of panic shoots through him. He uses one foot to drag himself down a few inches across the floor, and rolls his head enough to one side to see her face. Her eyes are closed. Her mouth hangs slightly open. He can't tell if she's breathing or not. "No, Kate. Wake up."
The panic intensifies when he can't find a pulse in her wrist. Despite the weakness taking over his body, his heart starts beating at a frantic pace, blood and adrenaline pumping fast in his veins, his pulse hammering loudly in his ears. We need help, he thinks. The phone. He needs to call 911. Ignoring the throbbing pain as the muscles connecting his shoulder to his arm stretch, he reaches down with his free hand and feels the front of his pants with his fingers, searching but not finding the familiar shape of his cell inside his pockets. He doesn't have it on him, he realizes. Where is it? Where did I leave my phone? He remembers sliding it in his pocket earlier. But not in his pants. Inside the pocket of his jacket. And his jacket is… It's draped over a chair at the dining table.
He looks at Kate, still unconscious, and, fighting against some primal instinct, he lets go of her hand so he can stand up. He only manages to lift his head a few inches and prop himself up on his left elbow before the room starts to spin around him at a vertiginous speed. The sudden, strong wave of dizziness forces him back down on the floor, his vision blurry and his breathing hard. Helplessness. Despair. Agony. Dread. Everything adds to his pain, choking him, both physically and mentally. If he can't reach his phone, if he can't contact anybody, they're doomed. He drags himself closer to Kate and rolls his head so his forehead brushes hers. His fingers find her hand again and he holds it tight. A couple of tears stream silently down his face. The pain is so severe that, for a split second, he considers to simply give up, surrender, let the ice-cold darkness creep in and wait 'til his heart stops. But then his eyes fall upon Kate's chest, and he catches the slightest rise of her ribcage, and a jolt shoots through him. He won't let her die. Not as long as there's a single breath left in his body. With renewed willpower, he starts looking around, eyes darting everywhere, desperate to find something—anything that may mean their salvation. That's when he sees it. The glow of a small blue light. The apex of a black pyramid. Resting on top of the sideboard underneath the staircase.
"Lu… cy," he strains, but it's barely a whisper and the sound doesn't even reach his own ears. He takes a deep breath, letting out a loud groan to fight the sharp pain as his chest expands, and says, raising his voice, "Lucy."
One second passes. Two. Three. There is nothing but silence. But then, "Lucy isn't here, Rick," the mechanical male voice answers neutrally. "It's Linus, remember?"
He would have laughed if he'd had the strength for it. But he feels he's going to pass out again. Fog is slowly crawling into the edges of his vision, the blood loss draining what little energy he has left.
"Linus—" he pants. "Call 911… Hurt—been shot..."
His ears start to ring noisily and he blacks out momentarily. His eyelids start to drift closed out of their own volition, but he fights with all his might to stay conscious. A few shallow breaths and the ringing in his ears fades enough for Linus' voice to raise above the static noise. "The emergency services are on their way, Rick."
"Attaboy…" is all that he manages to say before he's pulled into the darkness again.
His ears are ringing again. No, not ringing. Beeping. A steady beep every few seconds. He doesn't feel cold anymore. The pain in his chest has improved significantly, reduced to a bearable soreness. His hands still feel numb, but not shock-numb, just heavily-exhausted numb. When he pulls in a breath, the smell hanging in the air isn't that agreeable, but it's familiar. Disinfectant and sterile.
He tries to open his eyes but white light blinds him when his lids flutter. Then something inside his left hand twitches and he feels fingers. Their grip is strong now, though, and warm. They seem to be pulsing against his palm, too. Heartbeat, he thinks. She's alive. Kate's alive. Relief washes over his still dormant body.
"Kate…" he breathes out.
The sound of metal chair legs scraping across linoleum floor rumbles thunderously in the silent air, startling him, and the grip on his hand tightens.
"Dad?"
Wait. That's not the familiar voice he expected to hear.
"Richard?" says another voice softly to his right, a hand landing gently on his injured shoulder.
Castle forces his eyes open, slowly, blinking until he adjusts to the invading brightness. When his eyes focus, he finds two faces floating above him, haloed by red hair and the glare of the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling beyond them. Both his mother and daughter stare down at him intently, brows furrowed in concern, their eyes bearing traces of shed tears.
"Dad, can you hear me?"
"…Alexis," Castle articulates, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. Alexis' smiles a broad grin of relief and brings her father's hand up to her lips, fresh tears rimming her blue eyes.
"Oh, Richard..." At the other side of the bed, Martha touches the side of his face and leaves her hand on his cheek.
As glad as he is to see them, there's still one person missing. "Kate…" he whispers. "Where's Kate?"
His mother and daughter exchange a grave look. "She's still in surgery, darling," Martha says, moving her thumb across his cheek in a soothing way. There something about her tone, though, that Castle doesn't like.
"But… she's going to be okay, right?" he asks, his gaze flicking between the two women. His mother hesitates. Alexis diverts her gaze, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. Castle catches a slight quiver in her lower lip. "Right?"
"Katherine received two gunshots," Martha explains slowly, her voice distraught. "She lost a lot of blood."
Castle's heart constricts. He understands what his mother is trying to tell him, and it hits him like a hard blow. Kate may not make it. There's a chance she won't survive. I may lose her, he thinks. No. No, no, no… He won't have that. He won't let that happen. Ever. She has to live. She simply has to. Because he can't live without her.
He fumbles to get the sheets out of the way and tries to sit up, wanting to get out of the bed. But his arms are weak and they buckle under his weight. Alexis and Martha reach out at the same time, holding him down.
"No, Dad. You need to rest," she pleads.
"Richard, there's nothing you can do. We have to wait."
"But—" He shakes his head, fixing an imploring look on his mother's face. "Kate… I can't—" Panic hits him again. He feels a pang and brings his hand up to his chest. His heart starts beating so hard it feels as if it could actually jump out of it. His breathing becomes shallow and erratic. Unable to get enough air into his lungs, he starts to hyperventilate.
A nurse has increased his morphine dose and has injected him with a sedative, rendering him unconscious for a while. But it isn't much later when he is awake again and lucid enough to feel the sickening helplessness and the wrenching agony gnawing inside him. His daughter and mother have moved to the small couch in the corner. They sit quietly holding each other, hands laced together, enduring the waiting with patience.
"Jim," Castle says all of a sudden, breaking the insufferable stillness. It's the first word he has spoken in almost an hour. Alexis lifts her head from her grandmother's shoulder. Castle turns to them, observing their identical confused expressions. "Jim," he repeats in a deadpan tone. "Does he know?"
"Yes," Alexis answers, her voice small. "We called him. He's on his way back to the city."
Castle nods once and redirects his gaze solemnly back up to the grid ceiling tiles.
When the nurse returns to check his vitals, Castle asks her about Kate. The woman's answer is an evasive, "A doctor will inform you as soon as there is news." But another anguish-loaded hour goes by without any word about his wife. He's been told to rest, but he simply can't. So he's been staring through the small window in the door for what seems to be an eternity, watching hospital staff walking past his room, headed somewhere else. No one seems to care he's suffering. No one seems to realize that his world is shattering and falling apart.
Even the clock on the wall doesn't show the slightest bit of compassion. Its hands spin forward incessantly, every new minute that ticks by becoming more unbearable than the previous one. Flashes of images flood his mind. Caleb Brown in his home. A gun pointed at him. Pain. Kate lying on the floor surrounded by a pool of her own blood. These images trigger others, just as bitter. Memories he has learned to lock away with the passage of years, and that now resurface with full force to add to his torment. Beckett's shooting at Captain Montgomery's funeral. That situation, much like this one, was excruciating. Her life, but also his, had hanged by a thread. And now it's happening again. And there's nothing he can do about it.
"I can't take this anymore," he murmurs to himself, then snaps, letting out a frustrated growl. "I can't take this anymore!" he yells, and starts tossing around in his bed.
"Dad!" Alexis exclaims, alarmed.
"Richard!"
They try to hold him down but he resists. "No! Let go of me!"
He twists on the mattress, reaches with his good arm through the safety railing of the bed, and finally locates the small nurse call remote. Clutching the device in his hand, he punches the button with his thumb, again and again, until the door opens and the same nurse walks in.
"I want to know how my wife is," he demands sternly before the woman can get a word out of her mouth. "How long has she been in surgery now, uh? It's been hours and nobody has told me anything!" The nurse just stands there, letting him vent, calmly taking his emotional outburst with exemplary patience and composure while his raging voice slips through the open door and echoes down the hallway. "I need to know what's going on!"
"Mr. Castle," she starts gently when he pauses to catch his breath. "I told you someone would—"
"That's not good enough!" he hollers, wiping at an angry tear that escapes his eye. He draws a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Please…"
The nurse looks at him with pity and starts to open her mouth to reply, but someone slips behind her, walking into the room. A man, wearing scrubs.
"It's alright, Linda," he says, putting a hand on the nurse's shoulder. "I'll take it from here. Thank you." The woman nods and leaves. The doctor steps forward, acknowledging Martha and Alexis with a bow of his head, and stops beside the writer's bed. "Mr. Castle, I'm Dr. Edwards," he introduces himself, extending a hand toward him. Castle tries to shake it but fails to lift his arm from the mattress. "Sorry," the doctor says as he realizes his mistake. "I'm the surgeon that operated on your wife," he continues. Castle finds himself suddenly holding his breath, his fingers curling into the sheets. "I came to inform you she's out of surgery, and stable."
"Thank God," Martha and Alexis sigh together.
Castle releases all the air from his lungs, and the wave of relief that washes over him feels like a major blood pressure drop, weakening him and causing his hands to start shaking. "She's going to be alright, then?" he asks, an audible tremor in his voice.
"Yes. She a—" The doctor's gaze suddenly darts toward Martha and Alexis, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face, perhaps trying to determine if he can speak openly about his patient in front of them. Then the doctor turns his attention back to Castle. "She's going to be just fine," he says with a small nod.
"Can I see her?"
"Um… I'll see what I can do." With that, the doctor leaves, closing the door silently behind him.
Castle's head falls back onto the pillow and he closes his eyes, releasing a long exhale.
There's a triple rap on the door before it opens a few inches. A male nurse pops his head inside. "We bring you a roommate, Mr. Castle," he announces cheerfully.
The nurse opens the door further and, with the assist of a colleague, they roll a hospital bed into the room. Castle tries to sit up and take a peek but he can't see who is lying under the sheets until the male nurse and his partner finish plugging in some wires into a heart monitor, settle an IV pole and move aside. And, finally, he sees her. The second their gazes meet, everything vanishes around Castle except her. His breath catches in his throat and his heart skips a beat before a sweet wave of relief washes over him, his chest swelling with bliss. He can only stare at her in sheer rapture, enthralled. She's got dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is all tussled and messy, her skin looks pasty, and her lips are pale, and yet, Castle thinks, his wife hasn't look more beautiful than she does right now.
"Hey," she whispers, the most loving grin spreading across her face.
A surge of emotion catches in Castle's throat and he feels his eyes well up. He quickly blinks the tears away, not wanting anything to interfere with the perfect image of his perfect wife. But then his eyes register her right arm in a sling, and wires coming out of her hospital gown, connecting her to the machines, and he's reminded of how close he's come to losing her. Anguish gathers inside him again, a thick lump forming in his throat.
"You okay, babe?" Kate asks, quirking a brow in concern when she doesn't get an answer from him.
He swallows hard and says in a solemn voice, "Don't ever make me go through this again."
She manages to let out a soft chuckle before she winces in pain. It's only for a second, and then she's smiling again. He sighs heavily and finally returns her smile.
"Are you okay?" he whispers.
"I am now," she whispers back, and the look in her eyes wipes the last bits of worry away.
He is aching to stretch his arm and touch her, but her bed is out of his reach. For now, he is happy just to look at her.
"Well," Martha's voice sounds behind Castle all of a sudden, startling him. He'd forgotten his mother and daughter were still in the room. Walking around the bed, Martha tells Kate she's glad that she's alright and says, "We're going to give you lovebirds a moment alone. Come on, Alexis."
Alexis walks up to her father, brushes a kiss on his cheek, and turns to Kate to squeeze her hand in an affectionate gesture. At the doorway, she turns around to face them and gives them a smile before slipping out of the room.
Their moment alone doesn't last long. Barely ten minutes later someone knocks on the door again and two doctors enter, the surgeon that operated on Kate, and another one that Castle doesn't recognize. The latter introduces himself as the doctor who's performed his surgery. After giving Castle a fairly detailed description of his procedure, Kate's surgeon takes his turn.
"You, Mrs. Castle, received two gunshots. One to the right pectoral area, like your husband, which nicked a rib. The second bullet penetrated your lower abdomen." The surgeon indicates the entry point on his own stomach. "I must say you were quite lucky. Just a few inches lower and it might have been fatal for the baby. Fortunately, none of the vital organs were damaged and the uterus—"
"Wait—what?" Kate interrupts.
"What baby?" Castle asks, frowning.
The surgeon seems to hesitate for a moment, a look of confusion coming over his face.
"Um… your baby," he says, his statement sounding rather like a question. He's met again with blank stares from both Kate and Castle. The doctor turns to Beckett, palms open. "You're pregnant, Mrs. Castle."
"I'm what?" Kate says after a beat of silence, completely astounded.
"Eight weeks, to be precise. I, uh… I assumed you knew," the doctor admits, unable to hide his own surprise. Next to him, Castle's surgeon seems rather entertained, observing with curiosity the scene playing out in front of his eyes while fighting the urge to smile.
Beckett opens her mouth but no sound comes out.
"A baby?" Castle articulates incredulously, his voice barely above a whisper. He's astonished, completely and utterly dumbfounded. Turning his head to his wife, a gleam of awe appears on his face. "Kate," he says. She rotates slowly toward him and when their gazes meet, her eyes reflect a mix of surprise, incomprehension, and a bit of panic. "Kate, are you alright?"
It takes her another moment to react. "Yes," she finally murmurs. "It's just that…" Her gaze goes back to the surgeon. "Am I really… pregnant?" she asks, struggling to get the last word out.
The man gives a positive nod and a nervous chortle escapes him. "I see this is rather unexpected," he says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Kate snorts loudly. Castle lets out a chuckle, unable to contain the joy inside him any longer. The doctor seems to hesitate. He trades a fleeting glance with his partner, slightly unsure of what to do next. "I guess you'll have lots of questions," he ventures. "I'll have someone from gynecology swing by to clarify all your doubts." After a short pause, he adds, "In fact, I'll see if I can pull some strings and arrange for someone to perform an ultrasound—so you can see your baby." Castle starts nodding eagerly, enthusiastic by the idea, but the doctor reads something in Kate's expression and says, "If that's alright, I mean."
Castle looks at her, too. "Kate?" When she turns to him, he arches an inquisitive eyebrow.
After a moment, she gives a small nod. "Yeah. Okay."
"Very well," the doctor says.
When he and his fellow partner depart, Kate's head sinks into the pillow and she brings her good hand up to her forehead, pushing her hair back from her face. "Oh, my god…" she exhales in disbelief, her gaze directed at the ceiling.
"I know," Castle says.
"This is so surreal," she adds, lightly shaking her head.
"I know," he repeats.
"One minute we're fighting for our lives and now—"
"We're going to be parents," he finishes. His comment draws Kate's attention and her eyes flick down to him instantly. She stares at him for a few long seconds, serious, and then finally breaks into a huge, genuine, breathtaking smile that has him answering in kind, his features mirroring hers. Not taking her eyes off him, she slips her left arm through the railing, slowly so she doesn't accidentally yank the IV needle out of the back of her hand, and reaches out to him. Castle immediately stretches his arm toward her, moving to edge of the bed to close the distance between them. When their fingers finally meet halfway and intertwine, a warm current runs through their bodies. They keep their gazes locked on one another for a long time, needing no more than their eyes to speak what they're feeling inside.
"Does this mean we have to cancel our cross-country motorcycle trip?" she asks after a while.
"I think so."
She makes a pouty face, but then smiles again, the sparkle in her eyes illuminating her entire face. "We're really having a baby?"
He runs his thumb across the back of her hand. "We're really having a baby."
Her smile widens and she bites down on her lower lip, her eyes welling up with emotion.
"Are those happy or sad tears?" he asks.
Kate scrunches up her nose. "Both," she admits, blinking the tears away, only so new ones can replace them. He chuckles softly and feels his eyes tearing up, too.
"Are those happy or sad tears?" she mimics, sniffling once.
He pretends to ponder for a moment. "Actually, I think it may be the pregnancy hormones," he jokes, letting the tears roll down his cheeks.
That makes her laugh out loud but then she stops and inhales sharply, withdrawing her hand from his to press it lightly to the wound on her stomach. "Ow, ow…" she whimpers through clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.
Castle's instinctive reaction is to reach out to her with both arms to aid her but his injured shoulder prevents him from doing so. The only thing he can do is look at her helplessly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he quickly says, uselessly.
She laughs again, making a weird noise, something between a choked up chuckle and a whine leaving her mouth. "These…" she gasps, out of breath, looking at him with watery eyes but smiling, "are tears… of pain."
At that moment, the door opens, and Alexis, Martha and Jim file into the room. The three of them stop short at the sight of Castle and Beckett's tear streaked faces.
"Katie," Jim says, his voice expressing concern.
"Dad, is everything alright?" Alexis asks in the same tone.
Castle and Beckett look at each other, then turn back to their family with a big smile. Their voices still sounding slightly choked up, they answer in unison, "Yes."
Thank you very much for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.