Disclaimer: Castle and all of its characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC Productions. "Saving Amy" belongs to Brantley Gilbert.
Amy's got the letters I wrote, my pictures in a frame.
She's had a year to let go, but she's still wearing my ring.
It hasn't left her finger since the night that I proposed.
I promised her forever, before I took her home.
But I never made it home that night, a part of her died to.
I've watched her losing her mind, and there's nothing I can do.
Yeah, sometimes she goes crazy, screaming out my name,
Sayin' 'Baby, please come save me!'
I wish she knew that I'd do anything
To kiss the tears right off her face, tell her everything's okay,
Feel her heart beat next to mine, and make up for lost time.
Oh, but God I know I can't. You can't let her live this way.
It's too late for saving me, but there's still hope for saving Amy.
The day of his funeral had been the hardest part to watch. The slow, methodic folding of the flag, the men and women in uniforms, the short cut grass seeming much too bright to be real. It all seemed too much like that day so long ago where they had all gathered for Montgomery's funeral.
She had been in the front row, sitting in the center, her hands gently resting on her slightly protruding stomach. The sheen of her engagement ring caught the sun and cast glittering spots across her face. It was a large ring, but it was...her. He leaned against the rough, abrasive bark of a large Oak tree overlooking the funeral. Before he'd died, the rough texture of the tree would have bit at his skin through his thread-bare t-shirt.
He found that being dead really wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Sure, he'd experimented with the 'haunting' element of things, but after the laugh that he had when he snuck into Esposito's apartment and threw books off the shelf, things had gotten very boring.
The funeral had come to a close nearly two hours before, but she was still seated firmly in the seat. The flag that had been draped over his was cradled in her arms, pressed firmly to her chest. The tears that fell from her face as he crossed to her broke his unbeating heart. Her sobs were choked and her chest heaved as she tried to catch a decent breath.
He'd watched her go through waves of time where she cried uncontrollably, and he'd watched her get so pissed off that she pounded her fists against his casket. He wished that he could reach out and brush away the tears that were staining her ivory cheeks.
"Why?" She'd whispered to the air in front of her, her blue eyes trained on the ground in front of her. "Why did you leave me? You said that you'd always be there for me, but you're not. You lied to me, you bastard. You lied to us." She caressed her stomach softly, and he reached out instinctively, his transparent fingertips brushing over the skin and feeling a tiny kick against his fingers. She shivered and tightened her shawl around her shoulders, probably attributing the shiver to a breeze blowing across the field instead of him touching her.
He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, even though she couldn't feel it, and let his eyes fall closed.
"I love you, so much." He whispered, the words coming out as a breath of air against her cheek, and sending another shiver through her body. And just as quickly as she had stopped crying, she stood from the chair, a new wave of tears falling from her eyes, and stormed towards their...her SUV and sped off into the cool New York afternoon.
Now three years have gone by, she's trying to live her life.
And I still watch her sometimes, just to make sure she's alright.
She knows I'll always be there, in her heart and in her dreams,
Cause I promised her forever, and that's one promise I intend to keep.
To kiss the tears right off her face, tell her everything's okay,
Feel her heartbeat next to mine, and make up for lost time.
Oh, but, God I know I can't but you can't let her live this way.
It's too late for saving me, but there's still hope for saving Amy.
Saving Amy.
The screeches of a wild eyed toddler filled the apartment this time when he showed up. A grin settled onto his face as he rounded the corner into the bathroom. She was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a red headed baby boy who's face was splashed with light colored freckles. He patted his hands in the water, splashing both of them and screeching again. Her laugh bubbled through the air and hit his ears like the finest music ever played.
He leaned against the doorframe and ran a hand through his short, light brown hair. He glanced over her and surveyed how much she'd changed in the three years since he'd died. Her eyes had more wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and she looked a bit frazzled, but that was to be expected after chasing around their son all day.
He wished with every ounce of his being that he could walk in and wrap his arms around both of them. His family. How many years had he spent as a child imagining the woman that he would marry? Coaching his children's baseball team? Watching his son's graduation? And here he was, unable to even tell his boy how much he loved him.
He crouched next to her on the floor, his arm snaking around her waist and moving so that his chest was pressed against her back and his chin was settled into the crook of her neck.
"Hey, baby." He whispered. "He's so beautiful. He's got your eyes. And your smile. I wish I could hold him. I wish I'd been there with you when he was born." He sighed and felt her shudder against him. He'd always thought that 'cold chills' in the presence of ghosts had been a sham. Huh. What do you know, it was true. She leaned over the edge of the tub and pulled the baby out of the water, wrapping him in a fluffy towel and tapping the edge of his nose.
"You look just like your daddy, you know that?" She cooed, swaying as she moved to their...her bedroom, with him following slowly behind her and settled the baby onto the bed. "He had the same look in his eyes that you do when you look at me. So full of love. Of happiness." She took a deep shaking breath and ran her hands through her hair. "Having you here makes it easier for me to deal with having him gone. You would have loved him so much. And he would have been an awesome father to you. I always told him that." A tear slid down her cheek slowly and dripped off the end of her nose.
"Daddy?" The small boy on the edge of the bed called, looking directly at him and waving a tiny, chubby hand. His jaw dropped and he glanced at his son.
"Michael?" He whispered, waving back at the baby. "Can...can you see me?" The baby replied with a grin and waved again. She glanced at Mikey and smiled.
"Yes, Mikey. Your daddy." She lifted him from the bed, kissed his cheek, and began walking out of the room. "Lets get you dressed, little man. You've got your birthday party today, and grandpa is excited to see you."
The baby giggled and leaned over her shoulder, waving at him again.
"Buh-bye, daddy." He whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. A sob choked him as he watched his little boy leave the room. It was May 28th, 2015 and it was his son's third birthday. And he wasn't going to be there with them to celebrate it.
I'll kiss the tears right off her face, when I walk her through these gates,
Feel her heart beat next to mine, make up for lost time.
God, I thank you everyday, for giving her that ounce of faith
That led her right back here to me, and most of all for saving Amy.
Saving Amy.
On September 12th, 2068, she died of natural causes in her sleep. He was glad that was how she went, with greying hair and more laugh lines than his mother had when he'd met her. The signs of a life well lived. Michael had been sleeping on the couch, his marriage to a woman who he thought was the one had fell apart when she'd made a comment to him about his dad being absent being responsible for his issues with opening up.
He was pacing back and forth hysterically by the large, overly commercial looking gates, and wearing his best suit. He couldn't believe how nervous he was to see her again. He'd spent the past fifty-six years following her so that he could make sure she was okay, but she had no idea that he'd been there.
And then she came from no where, striding across the puffy clouds and smiling at him. His heart fluttered as he took the view of her in. Her hair was flowing and red, all of the grey having washed away from it, and her face looked young and free again. Her arms wrapped around him and she pulled him into a deep kiss.
He grinned against her lips, savoring the taste of vanilla that clung to her lips. Her chapstick, he recalled, that she'd started wearing when they'd started dating.
"Hey, honey." He whispered, out of habit more than anything else. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too, sweetheart." She murmured into the crook of his neck as she pulled him closer, tightening her arms around his shoulders.
"I was there, you know?" He replied, his deep voice low and loving against the shell of her ear. "I told you I would always be there and I was. Even when you couldn't see me."
"I felt you there, all the time." She replied, pulling away and lacing her fingers with his. "C'mon, let's go home." He smiled and kissed her hair softly.
"I love you, Lex." He whispered, brushing the tear away from her face gently.
"I love you too, Kevin. So much."
He smirked and led her through the gates. The woman that he was in love with was back where she belonged. By his side. And he couldn't be more grateful.
Thank you, God, for saving Amy.
Thoughts? Suggestions? Reactions? Drop me a review and let me know. Much love, J. Rook