Disclaimer: I own nothing. Woe is me!
A/N: This is just something I had to get out there (this time next week we will know FOR SURE!) Thanks to Pandorama for the idea, and to Melissa for being a fantastic busy bee beta. There are spoilers for Knockout and very mild speculation based on what was released at Comic Con. But really, if you haven't seen those, why are you reading fanfiction?
The five times he said he loved her
…and the one time she heard him.
i.
The flash of light catches his attention, but it is too late to react.
"Kate!"
He dives for her, but the bullet hits her gut, propelling her backwards. He crashes on top of her as they fall to the ground. He tries to ignore the screams and cries of the audience; he has eyes only for her. Worry creases his face as he stares into her eyes, wide, unblinking, and terrified.
She has enough sense to cover the wound, and the blood is staining her pristine white glove. He cradles her head in the palm of his hand, willing her to keep her eyes open, to continue looking at him, no matter how scared her expression seems to be. He can't think but he's certain if he could, he'd be able to muster more than a few words.
"Stay with me."
She doesn't blink, doesn't react in any way. Panic wells inside of him…Surely someone will have called an ambulance by now – Lanie – Ryan – anyone and everyone who has seen her go down…
He can't manage more than a whisper, and his whispers are only for her.
"Stay with me, Kate."
He wants to tell her it'll be okay, but he can't seem to find the words. His tongue feels thick and impossible to move, weighed down by worry and fear, and he can only mutter -
"I love you. I love you, Kate."
She doesn't react, but it's possible her eyes widen slightly at his confession. He takes this as a good sign at first, but then her brown eyes close, and her head goes limp in his hand. He watches, terrified, as she slips into unconsciousness and he is terrified she will never hear him say anything again…
ii.
"Castle-"
"No."
"But you can't-"
"I'm going, Lanie. You can't stop me."
"But they'll just throw you out!" Her eyes are swimming with tears, her hands stained with blood, Beckett's blood. He can't look at them – the very thought makes him feel sick.
"I can't be here. I have to be with her." The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them, a compulsive need to make someone understand how much he needs her.
"I know," Lanie says, her tone gentle. She lays a hand on his arm, telling him that she understands. "But the best thing you can do for her is to wait out here. Let the doctors do their job." He isn't deterred, and he knows she realizes it when she adds, "This is hard for me, too."
He sighs then, feeling the weight of her touch on his body. He takes her hand in his, forming solidarity with someone who is afraid as him, who would feel as much as he would the loss of Beckett if she – if she didn't –
"She'll be fine," Lanie insists. But he can tell she is trying to convince herself as much as him. "She has to be."
"She has to be," Castle echoes. Then before he can stop himself, he adds, "I love her."
Lanie smiles sadly. "I know."
iii.
As soon as the surgeon enters the waiting room, Castle springs to his feet. "How is she?" he demands.
The surgeon holds up his hands. "We had a few complications-"
"But she's-"
"We're still doing everything we can-"
He can't take it any longer. "But she's not dead, right?"
The surgeon looks surprised by his outburst. "No, she's not dead."
Castle heaves a sigh of relief. "When can I see her?"
"As I was saying, Mr. Castle, she's still in surgery. We faced some complications-"
"What kind of complications?"
"Complications," the surgeon responds shortly. "The bullet is proving harder to remove than the X-rays would have suggested. But I can assure you she's in the best possible hands."
"When can I see her?"
Castle can tell he's trying the surgeon's patience. "When she's out of surgery." The surgeon turns to leave.
"Please!" he says. "I need to see her. Can't I just – just go to the gallery or something?"
"The gallery is closed to non-doctors."
"But she's a doctor." Castle gestures toward Lanie, who has just reappeared, a cup of coffee in her hand. "Can I go in with her?"
The surgeon eyes Lanie. "She doesn't work at this hospital. She's not allowed in either. I'm sorry, sir. I really have to get back to surgery. I'll keep you updated."
Castle watches the surgeon retreat back to the operating room. The door to the waiting room swings shut, taking with it his last hope of seeing Beckett any time soon.
Lanie touches his arm as she reminds him, "I love her, too."
iv.
He doesn't think he can concentrate on anything, but when Alexis shows up and thrusts the pen and notebook into his hand, he suddenly can't hold the words inside any more. She sits beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand folded in his. She doesn't say anything but knows she doesn't have to, that there is nothing she can say that will communicate how she feels, how he must be feeling. He acknowledges her presence, her fears, by pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
They sit in silence for close to half an hour before Alexis stirs. She straightens up with a significant look at the pen and paper in her father's hand. She sits back, and he knows what she's waiting for.
He has no scene planned in which Nikki is shot, no scene in which Rook watches her life slipping away before his eyes, but he's writing it anyway. It doesn't matter that it has no place.
He's not writing for anyone else right now.
"Nikki!"
She didn't even have the chance to scream. The bullet pierced her skin, lodging itself close to her right lung. Rook darted forward, dropping to his knees beside her prone form.
"Look at me, Nikki, look at me!" His hand found her cheek and he turned her head so he could see her eyes. They were only half-open, but the parts he could see were full of fear.
"Rook," she managed. "I – I –"
"Shh, Nikki," he said gently. "You don't have to talk. Just stay with me."
"I – I'll try…" But he could tell she was already fading.
"Stay with me, stay with me, Nikki!" he insisted. "I love you."
She smiled, but her eyes closed anyway. If he strained his ears, he could almost hear the sirens in the distance.
v.
The steady beep of the heart monitor reminds him that she's still alive.
If only she were conscious.
She's not in a coma, the doctor says, which he supposes is good news. But that still doesn't alleviate his never-ending fear that she's never going to wake up, that he'll never hear her voice again.
His fear that she's going to die.
His fingers inch toward her hand, and when no one enters the room, he takes it. He rubs his thumb over her fingers, long and lean, and the soft palm of her hand. She still doesn't stir.
He sighs. "Kate. Please wake up." He drops his voice. "For me."
He doesn't know what to expect, but he glances at the monitors anyway. There is no change.
He looks at her body, weakened and bruised. Thick white bandages cover the bullet hole on her chest, too close to her heart for comfort. The hospital gown barely hides the bandages. He squeezes her hand, hoping for some – any – response, but there is none.
"We'll find the shooter," he promises. "I'm not letting him get away with this. We'll solve this crime like we've solved all the others – together." He rubs her hand again. "Together."
He leans closer, watching her face for any sign of movement. "Wake up, Kate. Wake up. For me." He's so close he could kiss her, but he resists the urge. "I love you."
When it's clear she's still not ready, he sits back, sighing. He refuses to admit defeat, but he knows, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, that he can't force her.
He has never been able to force her to do anything.
i.
Some time later, he feels her hand stirring in his. He wants to tell her again then, wants her to hear him say those words, but he waits. Waits until her father has seen his daughter's eyes open again, waits until the doctor says words like bed rest, physical therapy, medication, and time off. Waits until Lanie has seen her best friend, waits until a blushing Esposito shows up with daisies, waits until everyone else has visited and left.
He waits until it's just them, in the quiet hospital room.
She's sleeping, but not for long. Her eyes suddenly open, and he's sure he's never seen a more beautiful or welcome sight.
She turns over to face him, somehow knowing he would be there. Even now she can't constrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Castle."
"Beckett."
She smiles and reaches out her hand. He takes it, shifting his chair so he's close enough to feel her breathing in his ear.
"You know, Castle, you should just tell me again."
He frowns. "Tell you what again?"
"What you said to me…at the funeral."
His brow furrows. "I love you?"
She laughs and after days of wondering if he would ever hear her voice again, it sounds like music.
"Next time, try not to make it sound like a question."
A/N: Thanks for reading. Feel free to review!