AN: Just a heads up, I chose to not write a Kate that was focusing solely on her pain, as that is not the way I see her character. I just can't imagine her walking around writhing in pain constantly. I was thinking more about the woman/cop who asked Dr. Burke for a pill to fix her PTSD so she could hurry the fuck up and get back to work. I did however not ignore the subject completely, but it is not the focus of this story. I was more interested in what her thoughts might have possibly been during her post shooting stay at the cabin. I do not own Castle, the characters etc., add in all the other usual disclaimers here. Rating this T for language - because I just can't seem to stop myself from swearing.
Thank you to JoanaCTeixeira for the great cover art!
*Please note that Kate's writings and flashbacks are both in italics.
She can't move, the debilitating pain keeping her rooted to the spot; an agonizing scream trapped in her throat. Her chest is burning and a coppery odor hangs heavily in the air, assaulting her senses, as the warm liquid makes its sickening slow seep down her torso. The afternoon sun baths its warm tendrils upon her, but she feels no warmth, just the cold specter of death casting its unsympathetic shadow; and in that moment, she knows, she's going to die. Desperate to hang on, push back against the inevitable, she focuses on the present, drags her gaze to meet his, and wills herself to live. His blue eyes bore into hers, red rimmed, tears traversing a path down his cheeks, panic, helplessness and anguish swimming in their watery depths. Her breath is labored, each inhale painful, a sharp stab, agonizing. Her heartbeat is thundering in her ears, but somehow his words break through, his desperate plea, a thin thread of hope, wrenching her back from the precipice of death.
"Oh, Kate. Shh. Kate, please. Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay? Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate."
No. Not now, not like this. So much left unsaid, so many dreams left unfulfilled, her love for him never having found its voice. She exhales a barely there breath, the ghost of air passes her lips softly, carrying words he can't hear, the ones she has waited too long to say. How foolish she was, time is a luxury, a gift, one she only now realizes how truly precious. She hopes in these final moments he will feel her love, somehow hear her unsaid words; it's her final wish, as she closes her eyes and surrenders to the darkness.
"Castle." His name a mere whisper from her lips, shattering the silence; her eyes slowly open, the warm hand on her shoulder drawing her attention. Twisting carefully in the seat, her eyes flick up to meet his and the concern and pity that greets her in his gaze forces her to look away. His sympathy for her is just a reminder as to why she left the city, a reminder of how broken she is. Catching the emotions that flash in her eyes, he looks at her questioningly, but taking her silence as a sign, he simply gives her an understanding smile.
"Katie, we are here."
The warm glow of light from the door opening cuts through the darkness and her eyes track his retreating form around the back of vehicle. Releasing a defeated sigh she relaxes back into the soft leather seat, tips her head back against the headrest, and fixes her eyes upon the ceiling. The warm rush of air hits her as her father's hand grasps her smaller one tenderly. She rolls her head to the right, and a full smile appears at her lips, as the warmth of familiarity seeps into her heart; it's been so long since she's been her, but it's exactly how she remembers it.
The log style cabin stands nestled back into the woods, two stories with a wraparound deck and large bay windows make up one whole side, overlooking the lake. The rest of the facade is a dark amber wood, highlighted by the copper gutters, a natural green patina coating the surfaces. A stone walkway leading to the front door branches left and opens up onto a patio, a large matching conical copper fire pit the center piece of the space.
Her mother loved it here; the outdoor space was her idea, insisting that what was the point of having such a beautiful view, if not to enjoy it. So many happy memories, family vacations, summers spent fishing with her father, the leisurely walks through the forest trails with her mother, and in a fleeting thought she wonders if this was the right place to go. She fears that her presence here will somehow replace those memories with the pain and misery she feels, passing them on as if through osmosis; and entwining them here forever.
Her eyes glance left to the lake, its calm black surface like glass, reflecting the moonlight's shimmering glow. Tall pines surround it, their branches thick, trunks twisted and knotted. Deep creases mar the barks surface, battle wounds of a life spent outside; each one tells a story, a unique experience. The tips of her fingers absently trace the long scar on her side, dipping slightly; this is her battle wound, her story. Loss, vengeance, regret, betrayal, and just like the pines, her experiences will also be forever etched into her body.
"Come on Katie, let's get you inside."
With a non-committal hum she lists heavily into the door, using it as a makeshift brace, and rises slowly. Each step labored the pull and tug of her skin excruciating. She hates this broken feeble woman she's become; a part of her lives in constant fear that the woman she once was, will never return; that her emotional scars, like the physical ones, will be with her forever. The thin tenuous threads of her psyche having snapped as the bullet tore through her. Her blind unyielding desire for justice, thinking that she was in control, invincible even, as she thwarted every attack, was a lie, a magic trick, just an illusion created in her mind. She was wrong, everything has changed and each painful twinge is a stark reminder that they are the ones in control.
The trip from the car to the cabin is the longest she has attempted in weeks, and her body is in strict protest at the additional excursion. Collapsing heavily onto the couch, she rests her head on the cushion behind her, as she feels the last of her strength drain away. Breathing deeply, her eyes begin to drift close; her father's soft footfalls on the hardwood floors are the last sounds she hears before she gives into the overwhelming exhaustion.
"Katie, wake up." A soft squeeze at her shoulder rouses her. "I made you something to eat. And it's time for your pills."
Sighing, she sits up as straight as her injuries will allow and runs her fingers through her hair. He really is trying, and although she appreciates the effort, the thought of food has her stomach churning violently. "Dad I know you're worried." Reaching out to place a comforting hand on his knee, her nose wrinkles in disgust at the sandwich laid out in front of her. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry. I think I am just going to go to bed."
He father shoots her a disapproving look but says nothing as he places the pills and glass of water on the table in front of her. He leans in to press a kiss to her head and without a single word uttered, goes upstairs to bed. He's worried about her, she knows. The gamut of emotions she witnessed during her hospital stay was clear evidence of his concern, not that she ever doubted it. But their relationship, although repaired now, she's sure is holding him back, his guilt over his past addiction keeping him from pushing her too hard, in fear she will shut him out completely.
A sudden shudder passes through her at the thought of what would have happened to him if she had not survived. Would he have started drinking again? The image of him sitting alone and drinking himself into an alcohol induced coma night after night until one day he just didn't wake up fills her mind. It's been just the two of them for so long, but she takes comfort in the thought that it's no longer that way. Surely the boys, Lanie and Castle would have taken care of him, stopped him from disappearing into the bottom of a scotch bottle. Not that her recent actions warrant their loyalty. And Castle, his declaration of love; now there is a cluster fuck she has no intention of dealing with right now. His timing could have been better, but when have they ever done anything in the correct order. The universe is a bitch, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping her at the thought that maybe it exists just to screw her. Releasing a frustrated huff, she resolves that this is just too much to handle at the moment. Snatching her pills off the table, she downs them and gingerly hauls herself up and off the couch; sleep is definitely needed.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she makes her way to the bed, pulls back the comforter and eases in; the cool sheets immediately raising goose bumps on her warm flesh. The pain has subsided to an acceptable level due to the medication but a peaceful sleep still eludes her; her mind is a jumbled mess. The crushing weight of everything that has happened is too much to bear. Shifting her hips slightly she sinks further into the bed, concentrates on her breathing, silently begging for sleep to claim her, a respite from the pain, and the swirling thoughts in her head, if only for a few hours.
She's exhausted and frustrated after an hour of accomplishing nothing more than staring at the same spot in the ceiling. With a huff of annoyance, she throws back the comforter and carefully slides out of bed. Apparently the universe is displeased with her less than flattering description earlier, and has decided her punishment will be to add sleep deprivation to the list of things she's getting screwed over on.
Slipping her arms through her Kimono and tying it loosely at the waist, she takes a moment to glance around the room. A soft smile appears on her lips as her mind runs through all the memories contained within this space. So many changes over the years, but the one thing that has always remained through every phase of her life, every paint change or remodel is her window seat. It has always been her favorite part of her room here; she has logged more hours than she's willing to admit curled up with a good book in that very spot. And the view from the seat, well in one word it is, breathtaking. The lush green forest goes on for miles. How the gently sloping hills rise and fall, it's a magnificence that only nature could construct. In the winter, the snow caps the tree tops, and she would see the small twinkling lights of the houses scattered throughout the landscape; tiny wisps of smoke billowing up through the dense forest from their chimneys. She finds herself at a loss to accurately describe the astounding beauty. She has never been one for words, preferring action to express her emotions, but Castle; he would have the perfect words.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes in amusement; he could probably give her a dissertation on it. How many times has he made her feel better, loved and cared for with just his words? She's hit with a sudden realization, maybe that's what she needs, words. So many disjointed thoughts swimming in her head she feels like she's drowning. Like a murder board, when all the evidence is laid out, dated, and catalogued, she always sees things more clearly; this is exactly what she needs.
Grabbing a pad and pen from the nightstand, she arranges the pillows, and drops softly onto the window seat cushion. Rolling her shoulders she relaxes back and tucks her feet up under her. Brow furrowed in concentration, she takes a deep calming breath and raises the pen to the page;
I am not even sure where to start...
TBC
Additional AN: As always, thank you for Tshlw and Flashpoint (Kjf3333) for your super ninja beta skills and encouragement. And shout out to JoanaCTeixeira for taking the time to read my chapters in advance and offer your opinions; thank you. If you would like to follow me on Twitter you can do so at Pak_321 I also have an additional twitter account where I use the quotes to recreate scenes from the show, Twitter sized. You can follow that at Castleficlets.