And For You
"And for you, I would bury your burdens deep in the marrow of my bones; just to rid you of any pain you have known. Even if the agony makes me want to scream my heart raw, I will swallow it whole so you think of it no more."
-Natalie Jensen
Set during 4X01 (Rise). I've tweaked a tiny detail of the shooting for the story and the rest goes AU from there. I'm not sure how long it will be as I'm still writing it, but we'll see where it ends up.
I hear that you tried to save me.
Yeah, I uh, you heard? You don't remember me tackling you?
No. I don't remember much of anything. I um, remember that I was on the podium and then I remember everything just going black.
You don't remember…the gunshot?
No.
They say that there are some things that are better not being remembered.
Yeah.
Keep seeing his face, Castle, every time I close my eyes, I see Montgomery lying on the hangar floor. You should've let me go in there.
They would've killed you.
You don't know that.
Kate…
Castle, I'm really tired right now.
Of course. We'll talk tomorrow.
Do you mind if we don't? I just need a little bit of time.
Their conversation plays on repeat in his head, like a broken record that he can't shut off. He's mulled over every word she said, over every careful syllable that she used with him just hours after she'd been shot. She asked him for time, time he assured that he'd give her.
She only remembered being at the podium and everything going black, and the sight of her, pale and weak in a too-white hospital room was enough for him to decide not to fill her in on any of it. The details are something that he re-lives almost every moment of every day, but it may be too much for her to re-live them too.
And he shouldn't be on his way to her dad's cabin where she's attempting to hide herself away from the world, shouldn't be about to invade every bit of her privacy and force her to face the things that he's not even sure he's ready to face himself. But he is, because they don't talk about their feelings, and that needs to change, before another near death experience becomes a lost chance.
The stitches on his arm burn when he stretches it a little too far while turning the wheel, a sharp hiss slipping from his parted lips as he drops the wounded warm back to his lap, lets his good arm take control of the wheel.
He hadn't even felt the pain in the midst of the chaos, too worried about the woman he loved to focus on anything else, but somewhere in the panic of getting Kate to the ground, a second shot had grazed his arm, just enough to need a few stitches and cause a good bit of discomfort, along with some ugly bruising.
It's a reminder, too much of one, that he could've lost her, and that he wasn't fast enough to keep her from being on the other end of the first shot. And those thoughts alone were enough to have him calling her dad, getting the details that she clearly didn't want him to have because she hasn't called.
He manages to awkwardly use his left arm to steer the car onto the gravel driveway, slowing the acceleration as he nears the front of the cabin, not wanting to alarm her. She's probably expecting it to be her dad, the only person that she's allowed to remain by her side while she recovers, and Castle is fairly certain that she's not going to be overly pleased to find him there instead.
It's quiet when he steps out of the car, and the gravel crunching loudly under his feet seems to echo around him, ricocheting off the trees that surround the cabin. He carries his bag with his good arm, takes time to become aware of his surroundings before quietly stepping up onto the porch and reaching for the handle on the door.
"Kate?" he calls out as he steps into the cabin, the wood floor creaking under his weight. His use of her first name is deliberate, more intimate than either of them is used to, but he's certain that softness is going to be needed with her, regardless of how angry she is that he's there.
The breath catches in his throat when sees her, propped against a mountain of pillows on the couch. She's pale, so pale that if he couldn't see her chest rising as the air fills her lungs, he'd be worried that she wasn't breathing at all. And the pain is so evident on her face, so prominent on nearly every feature, even as her lips part with the unasked question of why he's there.
He hates it. Seeing her like that, void of the fight that she's so strongly possessed since the moment he met her. It's enough to have his hands trembling, even as he eases his bag onto the floor, takes a cautious step towards her.
"I, uh, I just wanted to check on you," he murmurs quietly, loud enough for her to hear, but cautious still.
"Castle," she huffs, though it sounds more like a warning than anything else, and even just that one word seems to cause her more pain than it should, has him wincing for her.
"I told you…"
"I know," he cuts in, taking another step closer, careful and cautious. "I know you asked for time…said you'd call, but, Kate, I need to do this, to be here for you…"
She's already shaking her head before he even finishes his sentence, the slight tremble in his voice as he tapers off enough to have him squeezing his eyes shut, prepared for the words he knows are coming.
She has to swallow hard a few times, attempt a deeper breath than the ones she's been taking, and her knuckles blanch white as she grips the pillow on her lap harder than before, the next breath stuttering out of her lips in a broken pattern.
"I want to…need to do this alone, Castle. Please…" She's pleading, more with the way her eyes shine with unshed tears than with her voice, and he sees it all, feels it all more than he should, as if her pain in rooted deep in his bones.
"You don't," he states firmly, vehemently shaking his head as he forces one foot in front of the other until he can kneel on the floor beside her, brushing his fingertips over her blanched knuckles before he can think better of it.
"You don't have to do this alone. And I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you. You think you have to carry this burden on your shoulders. You've convinced yourself that the weight of it is just something more you have to bear while the hole in your heart is trying to heal. But that's not true, Kate. I can help carry it, I can take some of the weight. Please…"
He's pleading this time, foregoing cautious in favor of wrapping his fingers around hers, watching as her eyes flick to his hand before slowly lifting back to his face.
"Too tired to tell you to go," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before she forces them back open, a hint of pleading still visible there, but he ignores it, settles on the floor beside her and keeps his fingers wrapped around hers.
"Wouldn't even if you did. I'm here, Kate. I'm here."
TBC
