Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
A/N: Does a satisfying finale make up for a terrible season? Jury's still out on that one. But here's a reflective oneshot anyway.
Much thanks to Melissa, as always, for being a superstar beta.
I don't want to bloom without you
I don't want to breathe without you
I don't want to be without you
I don't want to sleep without you
I don't want to laugh without you
I don't want to die without you
I don't want to love without you
I don't want to bloom without you
-Casey Stratton, Bloom
i.
She's dying painfully.
The blast resounds through her apartment, deafening her. She barely managed to dive into the bathtub, slamming her body against the porcelain. She hurts everywhere, but the pain reminds her that she isn't dead yet.
She can hear the flames crackling as the fire races through her apartment. There's smoke everywhere, and she struggles to breathe as her lungs ache from lack of oxygen. She coughs violently, trying to find fresh air. She slowly pulls herself into a sitting position and wraps her arms around her naked body.
It's a silly thought, but she wishes she could die with at least some dignity.
"Kate! Kate!"
The voice is faint, and she hopes she's not imagining it.
"Kate!"
"Castle," she rasps.
Although she's naked and terrified, she's so relieved to hear his voice again. When he called her to warn her to get out of the apartment, in that split second from when he told her to leave and when the bomb went off, she thought his voice would be the last thing she ever heard.
She remembers thinking at least he has a nice voice.
ii.
She's dying slowly.
She can feel the hypothermia taking over her body. She has long since lost feeling in her fingers and toes, and she beats her useless hands against her legs to see if they still have feeling. She jumps up and down, and each time her feet land it's more painful than the last, as she tries to shock some feeling back into her body. Keep her blood moving. Keep her heart beating. Keep her brain alert enough to think of a way they can get out.
She glances over at Castle. He doesn't seem to be faring any better than she is. His hands are tucked into his jacket, and he stomps his feet furiously. She senses his frustration; she feels it, too.
"Come here."
He speaks so quietly she wonders if she only imagined it.
"Beckett." He can barely speak without his teeth chattering. "I mean it. Come here."
This time, she knows she's not imagining it. She makes her way over to him, struggling to keep her balance on numb feet. When she's standing in front of him, he takes his arms out of his jacket and pulls her in close to him. Her head is pressed against his chest and she thinks she can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady in the silence.
A wave of dizziness overwhelms her, and she stumbles in his arms.
"Whoa," Castle says softly, steadying her. She looks up at him with unfocused eyes. "Come on. Let's sit down." She follows his lead as he slides to the floor, his arm still wrapped protectively around her. He pulls her toward him so she's practically sitting in his lap.
She can hear herself muttering but has no idea what she's saying. Freezing to death, she thinks, is the worst way to go. It's a slow death, a painful death, as her body slowly shuts down.
"Castle…" She reaches up to touch his face, her arm feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds. She musters all her remaining energy, determined to say the words that have been on her mind for over a year.
"I just wanted you to know how much I…"
But her body betrays her and the words never come. She feels Castle's grip tighten around her shoulder, wondering if it's the last thing she'll ever feel. Her last thought before she loses consciousness completely is that if she has to die in someone's arms, at least they're his.
iii.
She's dying inevitably.
She has known from the moment she saw the countdown under two minutes that the chances of them being able to diffuse the bomb in time were slim. But when the clock deeps below fifteen seconds, she knows this is the end.
Her eyes dart around at all the equipment in the truck. She's not sure about the specifics, but she knows what RADIOACTIVE means. Death is coming. She can feel her heart pounding, as though determined to beat a lifetime's worth of beats in her final moments.
"Castle," she says breathlessly. She turns to him, terrified. She can only imagine what's running through his mind – Martha, Alexis – everything he's about to lose, everyone who's about to lose him.
She's about to lose him.
He wraps his fingers fiercely around her gloved hand. He looks at her, and she can read the unspoken words in his expression. They're dying, in three seconds, according to the timer, but at least they have each other.
She nods, acknowledging her fate. Their fate.
At least she won't die alone.
iv.
She's dying suddenly.
The sniper's bullet enters her chest so fast she can't even react. Next thing she knows, Castle is tackling her to the ground.
Her hand instinctively finds the entry wound, and her glove is stained with red as she tries to contain the bleeding. She knows it's in vain, can feel the blood pooling into her chest, constricting her lungs and her heart.
She looks up at Castle and discerns from his frightened expression that what he sees is not good. She's dying. And this time, he's not dying with her.
"Stay with me," he murmurs. "Stay with me, Kate."
She wishes she could, but it's no use. The damage is too great, she knows. First they got her mother, then they took out Montgomery, and now, finally her.
"I love you," Castle whispers. "I love you, Kate."
Her eyes bulge at his confession, though she cannot respond. She wants to open her mouth to say something – she doesn't know what exactly. To thank him, for finally saying it. To tell him she's sorry she's about to die. To say she regrets that he told her too late, or that she never did anything about it.
Maybe to say she loves him, too.
He may not be dying with her, but at least he's still there.
v.
She's dying quickly.
The water level has reached her chest and it continues to rise. She reaches down and tries the seatbelt one more time, put it remains firmly jammed. Frustrated, she throws her weight back against the seat, but it doesn't budge.
She's lost track of Castle. He's still submerged, presumably searching for her gun. She mentally kicks herself for having the knife in the trunk. How could she have gotten herself into such a preventable situation?
"Castle…" she says uncertainly, when she realizes he's still under. She twists around in her seat, trying to see him, but it's no use through the murky river water. She moves her hand, hoping to hit something, to hit him, but she finds nothing. "Castle!"
Her eyes are wet, but she's not sure if it's because she's crying or simply wet from the plunge. The water is still rising, faster, if that's even possible. She looks forward, out the windshield, and can see the river bottom approaching. The car's hood tilts forward, and she feels herself being pushed forward with it.
She slams her fist against the door one last time, but is met only with a sharp pain in her wrist. Her arms feel too heavy to move in the water. Her fingers grope for the seat belt buckle again, because even though she knows it's hopeless, she's determined not to die this way. Not in the darkness, not underwater, not after she's survived so much worse.
Her thoughts turn to Castle and she hopes he got out, though she can't see exactly how that would be possible. She tilts her head back as the water reaches her neck, trying to keep pushing air into her lungs for as long as possible. Her mind is racing through the rule of three. Three seconds without blood, three minutes without air…
She's not ready for the water when it finally submerges her. Even though she knew it was coming, it still shocks her with its unforgiving weight. Her hands find the steering wheel and she holds on for dear life, rooting herself to the one constant she can find in this underwater hell.
She supposes that Castle found his way out. She doesn't blame him for not getting her out in time; it was her fault anyway that she lost the gun. She remembers to thank him before she blacks out, to thank him because at least he tried.
vi.
She's dying lonely.
Her fingers grip the edge of the building as hard as they can, but she knows she can't hang on for much longer. Her feet scramble against the brick wall, trying to find some kind of footing, anything she can use to hoist herself up. She doesn't have the upper arm strength to pull herself up, doubts anyone does. She looks down and immediately wishes she didn't, because the ground is far away.
She knows she wouldn't survive that fall.
She's determined not to die. Not like this. She's faced a lot of death these past two years, but hanging on the edge of a building, where no one even knows she is, completely and utterly alone, has to be the worst. She refuses to die today.
She wants to live.
She wants to live more than anything – even more than solving her mother's case. There, she finally admitted it to herself. If the choice is life or her mother's case, she's choosing life.
But it might be too late.
"No!" she growls.
She can't die, not today. She has too many regrets. But she's always had regrets; she regrets a lot of things. She regrets the secret she held onto for the past year; she regrets that she never said it first. She regrets that she came here alone, that she ended up in this stupid position in the first place.
She regrets that she's dying alone.
It's the one time she's ever died alone.
Her hand slips from the building, and suddenly she only has one arm to support her. She knows she can't hang on much longer. There's nothing else she can do. She hopes someone is coming, even though she has no idea why they would. That tiny part of her that wishes Castle would come, because he's always come before.
She makes a promise that if she gets out of this, she will confess her feelings. She'll come clean about everything she's felt for the past four years. She has to do it, because after everything they've been through together, having gone to hell and back again, he deserves at least that much.