"A moment that flashes by ungrasped, can live forever between heartbeats."
Author's Note: There's many different ways to write a story based on what happened in the season finale. This is my (hopefully) original take on it. I have a thing for rain and dreams, lord knows why. (Also this is my first Castle fic ever so my apologies in advance if there;s mistakes anywhere)
-x-x-x-
It's raining again.
It always rains.
You don't know why the downpour surprises you as much as it does; though perhaps it's because only an arm's length away there's no sign of any of it ever falling. And when you extend one of your arms ever so slightly, the clouds above you expand as well, matching your movements in every way. It seems an almost unnecessary reminder of how you've spent your every waking moment.
The constant darkness is more of a companion than a stranger these days.
-x-x-x-
For some reason it's always raining when you arrive here, and you don't think it's just the season either. Then again, you go a day later than everyone else, and the world seems to be just that little bit darker when you do.
You dodged the questioning looks, the carefully phrased questions, the poorly feigned attempts to figure out why you weren't there for the second year in a row. They sort of stopped trying when early afternoon arrived, and you announced you had to run an errand. You never do tell anyone where you're going, it would deprive it of all its importance.
Touching the headstone is almost cathartic in a sense; something you never dwell on for too long. It only lasts for a moment most of the time anyways. A part of you will never get over what you've done, the decisions you've made, and you don't think any amount of forgiving words would ever heal this wound on your heart completely.
"It was necessary." You tell yourself. You tell the howling winds surrounding you, while the icy rain slowly soaks you from head to toe.
"That's what you told me. That it was necessary, that it was the only way."
You drop the flowers gently-on top of the pile that's already there-despite the anger coursing through your veins, and the skin of your balled fists turning white.
"Why did I listen to you?"
-x-x-x-
If you focus hard enough, when you close your eyes, you can almost see her as she was that day. The uniform giving her an air of regality, of a quiet bestowed honor as she slowly and gracefully moved towards the microphone to deliver her speech. Every word spoken was laced with a sense of loss, of a last shred of innocence lost forever.
Something she would never regain.
When her eyes briefly touched yours; you realized for the first time since the rollercoaster ride that was that week, that she didn't blame you for any of it. Her eyes were still so full of life, filled with determination to see it all through, while she silently sought and found your support in just a few seconds, before she looked away again.
You never realized the truth of the saying that people could live and die in the same moment.
Not until you experienced it yourself.
-x-x-x-
When you look at your hands again, there's a brief flickering image of a bouquet of flowers there, perfectly in bloom, before it shifts towards a wilted version of it. Wilted, but not dead. Not really.
You walk slowly, as you have done a hundred times, towards the nearby hill. You never turn to look behind you, you never questioned what was there, what you left behind. It didn't seem important back then, and it still doesn't now.
You always seem to catch the halo of light surrounding her at first, before the image clears up amidst the ever-pouring rain. It surprises you every time how much lighter she is like this. Not just the brightness that she seems to exude, but the way she carries herself. Free of every small bit of burden she had carried with her every day you've known her.
It used to be a past-time of yours, to catch her unguarded with a jibe or a joke, just to see her face crack into a smile, to see the small lights in her eyes glittering with joy. It never lasted long enough. Nothing ever does.
She's always out of your reach. Perhaps that's a lesson you never truly learned, nor cared much about. The heart wants what the heart wants, despite it being out of reach, or maybe because of it, you've never settled on one or the other.
When she moves, you follow. It's a pattern you're both used to. Even as you slowly make your way up that hill, the clouds follow in your wake, and the sunlight seems to follow her. But there's always a distance between you, separating you, and she never stops. Or turns around. Except for once.
Her hair's even longer than the last time you remember seeing it, her features lighter, more relaxed. It would've fooled you, if you hadn't seen the look in her eyes. The darkness carefully held back, swirling within as she fixes you with a piercing glare.
"Why do you still follow?"
You never have an answer.
-x-x-x-
You never quite get used to the constant beeping when you're in the same room with her. The sound is both a reminder that she's still alive, as well as that she's not. Not really.
The dream you just woke up from still disturbs you greatly, as you lean forward and put some of the unruly hairs back behind her ear. You need something to anchor yourself to, to put things back into focus, and even the slightest of touches usually quell your fears that your still dreaming, that's she's isn't dead but still here. Even if she isn't.
For a brief moment you see her in that uniform again, though she's still lying in the hospital bed, fabric of the uniform rapidly turning red on her chest, with you still sitting there frozen—unable to do anything.
It's bleeding through more rapidly every day. The nightmares that haunt you whenever you close your eyes. The hopeful dreams. The books you start to write, but never quite finish. Sometimes you can't tell the dreams from reality. Sometimes you don't want to.
The hand stroking her cheek turns red briefly. Covered in her spilled blood as you tried to stem the flow, as you tried to will her to stay alive.
You know it's not the rain this time, as the tears roll down your face quietly. Every day, every moment spend, is a reminder of your failure, and you know it's only matter of time before even the hopeful dreams will drown into the pool of your constant nightmares.
You don't really notice the feeling of being watched until you turn your head slightly and stare into hazel eyes you know so well.
"I love you too..."
-x-x-x-
It stops raining suddenly and for a moment you're able to close your eyes, and pretend that everything is going to be okay. That she'll one day open her eyes, confess her love like you have, and you'll live happily ever after.
You want to pretend that you can live forever in that moment, and not face the reality of her never waking up.
And when you open your eyes again, you gaze at the cloudless sky above you, and wish it was raining still.