He closes his eyes for the last time.
Not with a bang, but a whimper. Six weeks of something close to radio silence; then a night. One single night. And now? This. 'This is all you get,' Beckett tells herself. 'One night.'
They've faced death before. 'Not like this, you haven't,' her inner voice niggles. 'Not alone.'
He closes his eyes for the last time.
Six weeks of phone calls cut short, plans interrupted by impromptu book tours, six weeks of what has felt like radio silence. Forcing herself to do her best each and every day, while her best self withered for lack of… inspiration.
But not for lack of challenge; no. No, everything- everything- about the last six weeks has been challenging. The work too, but not least, the sheer loneliness she's felt. Each and every night when she's gone home alone, and each and every day as she makes her way into her new workplace. She's been looking up from her desk, searching across the room for a familiar face and finding… no-one.
Oh, it hasn't been all bad. It's been amazing, exhilarating, pushing herself to operate at this level. Beckett has relished the challenge in her training, in her job. She's given it her all, and when Castle had to cancel three weeks ago, she'd made the best of it. She'd spent the extra time pouring over files, familiarizing herself with cases long since closed.
Trails gone dead, leads dried up; it has actually been invigorating rather than frustrating. She's been reminded of her early days as a uniform, spending so much of her time off fighting to make sense, not only of her mother's case, but other cold cases.
This feels healthier; this is temporary. Castle's absence is nothing more than fleeting; she knows she has someone to come home to. Unlike in her days as a uniform, Beckett has leaped at the phone every time it rang, happy for the chance to put the files down and listen to a warm voice on the other end of the phone. But the conversation was always too brief.
I love you. They say it so often now; Beckett's left wondering why they didn't say it earlier. It spills out now, at the end of each conversation. She doesn't know where her fear has disappeared to; she doesn't know what it was she was so afraid of.
But now she knows what it is to be afraid. Twenty-four hours of fighting but believing that it was time; that their last battle against death was not together. Raging against the unfairness of it all, pushing back against the idea that every theory they traded today might be their last.
She sees it like it's real; already hears her voice breaking as she explains to Martha and Alexis that their luck just ran out. The ring is on her finger now, but even relieving her necklace, the diamond can only catch what light its provided, and there's precious little in this room right now.
He closes his eyes for the last time.
Castle flinches when he see the needle, and the ghost of a smile passes over her lips in spite of herself. All this, and twenty four hours later he's afraid of a single needle. He's been so brave, propped her up every step of the way. She's striven to meet him strength for strength. She presses her lips together, watching him visibly pale. He's starting to struggle to breath, and stay with me is coursing through her mind, a silent chant. Stay with me. Stay with me.
"Shhh," she tells him, taking his right hand as the doctor pushes up the sleeve on his left arm. He looks at her, eyes wide with fear, and she sees again just how frightened he is now; the struggle for air is becoming too much and he hasn't said anything for a few minutes now. "Shhh," she says again, and he glances over at the needle, coming closer and closer to his skin. "Close your eyes," she urges, and he leans his head back against her shoulder, letting his lids flutter closed over his blue eyes.
With her free hand, Kate runs her fingers through his hair. She feels him tense when the needle pierces his skin and then relax once it's withdrawn. 'All done," the doctor tells them. "It'll be a few minutes before it takes effect."
Kate wills his heart to beat on, to let every second be another that the antidote has to make its way through his veins.
She nods, listening intently to any sign that breathing is becoming easier, waiting for the drug to work its way through his system. Castle's eyes stay closed, and for a second that's all she sees. He closes his eyes for the last time. "I love you," she whispers, and she sees the hint of a smile on his lips, hears as his lungs rasp less, take in larger and larger gulps of air.
He opens his eyes slowly, meeting her gaze. The fear is eased for the first time since she'd given him twenty-four hours to live. The sight of his deep blue eyes melts her heart. This is not how it ends. No whimper, no bang. And not alone.
He opens his eyes for the first time.
A/N: Wanted to get that out there before 6.02. Thanks for reading. ;)