A/N This story is the product of two authors - Stacy Rogers and CKRose. It is (hopefully) going to be a series of one shots based on the 7th season of our favorite show. The first chapter is based (of course) on "Driven. Each chapter represents a different emotion.
Chapter 1. Despair and hope.
How can you feel responsible for something you don't remember?
Well, if you don't remember something, that doesn't mean nothing happened. The darkest and deepest layers of his mind definitely beg to differ. He has woken up more than once this night, drenched in sweat, panting, panicking. Still having no idea what this all was about.
They are not nightmares. At least not in the common meaning of the word. Just snippets of everything he might have gone through in these eight and a half weeks. Some random tune, played on his nerves. The white lights, blinding him. Sounds of gunshots. His own screams.
Luckily, he doesn't wake her up.
He gets up and goes to the bathroom. Carefully closes the door. Switches on the light and turns to look at himself in the mirror. God, this is weird. So many things seem to have changed just in a blink of an eye. He's become thinner. His hair looks longer. His complexion is ruddy, over tanned and burned. His common sense tells him it's crazy. He's been at sea? How?
How can he not remember even a split second of being gone? He slides his robe off his shoulders. It falls gracelessly to the floor as he pulls his tee shirt over his broad frame. He sees the angry red mark that starts just below his breastbone, working its way across his ribcage. Rick's seen so-called bullet grazes before. This one surely hurt like hell. The scar is long and wider than he would have expected. There are poorly sewn stitch tracks. He had to have been making a break for it when he was shot.
And the fever. Kate told him he'd had dengue fever a few weeks before he was found. It could've been the lethal kind What if he had died, without anyone knowing. Was he even treated? Oh, of course, or he simply wouldn't survive. But who? And what is more important- why? What did he do?
He has no answers.
He feels moisture starting to form in his eyes, as the door clicks open, and Kate comes up quietly behind him. When he turns to face her, she reaches out, her thumb swiping tentatively under his eye. This is the first time she sees the bullet wound. Lanie called it a graze, but the moment she sees it traversing across his ribs, and entirely too close to his heart, her knees go weak.
"Rick." Kate whispers out as he slides his hand around her waist to prevent her from falling. She reaches out tentatively for his scar. The moment her fingers brush his skin, he feels it. He knows the truth now. Kate's not touched him in so long. This is every nightmare he never wanted to experience.
He says nothing, just nuzzles his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent. He has just realized, that he needed this. Needed the reassurance of her presence. Something to send this anguish away. Kate shifts in his arms and looks up into his eyes.
"I thought we'd never catch a break. God, I missed you so much."
He missed her too. He may not remember it, but he did. And he would give anything - anything at all to have this been just a nightmare. To be standing here with Kate as his wife. Now, it makes him sick to be in the midst of so much uncertainty.
The one thing is certain, though, whatever happens.
"I love you. I do love you, Castle."
Kate wraps her arms around Rick, pulling him close enough to lay her head on his heart.
He is not really sure, if they will get through this. But there is hope.
Thank you for reading and happy Castle Monday!