He watches as her face crumbles, a hand coming up protectively against her stomach.
"Castle?"
Her voice is so small, nothing more than an exhale, so very not Kate Beckett. It's breaking his heart, the burning in his chest palpable. He has the sudden urge to reach out for her, so he does, lifting his arm. The pain in his chest spreads, white hot, shooting through his arm. His vision blacks as his arm flops back onto the bed.
"Rick." She's back at his side, her hand lightly resting on his forearm, her thumb rubbing across the hairs. "Lay down. Relax," she soothes, her voice still a little choked.
"Kate, what's going on?" His eyes are still squeezed shut, breathing labored.
"You were shot, babe."
His eyes snap open, panicked, searching for her. She sits at his hip, her belly so much more pronounced at this angle. He can't tear his eyes from the sight.
She's glowing. Despite the turmoil on her face and the hunch of her shoulders, she is absolutely beautiful.
"Shot?" He finally gets out. "No, no…I was hit by a taxi."
She's shaking her head, gulping down heavy sobs.
"Kate?"
"Mr. Castle, you're awake!" The doctor walks in, interupitng. He has an easy smile, a little too good looking for Castle. He reminds him too much of Dr. Motorcylce Boy, the long dormant jealously swirling in his gut.
Kate takes a deep breath, hastily wiping at the tears pooling on her cheeks.
"Mrs. Castle," he nods in Kate's direction.
Mrs. Castle?
She blinks, looking at him under her lashes. She looks shy and nervous. He gulps, searching her eyes. He gets to marry her?
"So, it's mine?" He says, the words tumbling out of his mouth, uncensored as usual.
Crap. That was dumb. She looks like she wants to hit him, her face is pink with embarrasement.
"He seems to be a little confused, Dr.," Kate says, not taking her eyes off of him.
Dr. Davis moves around to the other side of his bed to exame him.
"What year is it, Mr. Castle?" The doctor asks, shining a light into his eyes. Castle hisses, the pain blinding.
"Uh, 2012?" He looks at Kate hopeful, but her hand covers her mouth, heartbreak in her eyes. Déjà vu hits hard, that's the same look she gave him in the observation room.
"What's the last thing you remember?" The doctor asks, trying not to look concerned.
"I was at the precinct and had just, uh…heard something upsetting. I was pissed off and hurt, so I ran out and wasn't paying attention. I got hit by a cab crossing the street."
The doctor looks to Kate, who shakes her head. Castle looks so confused and scared. Hell, she's sacred.
"Castle, baby, you've never been hit by a cab," she reaches out to smooth his bangs back. Castle flinches and she tries not to let it show, how it hurts. She pulls her hang back as if burned. The doctor is aksing Castle questions, but she can't listen to the devastating answers that mean her husband is gone.
He's trying his best to pay attention to Dr. Davis, but the man is rambling and his head hurts, and Kate is now outside the room, looking at him through the window, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
"Your scans look fine, so this memory loss should be temporary."
He feels like he's in a movie. Seriously, who actually gets amnesia. Well, there was that one guys from that one case a few years back. He was shot too, well shot at. And now it was 2014 and he can't remember marrying Kate or getting her pregnant.
Alexis is around here somewhere too. She's the only thing he's not confused about, except that she's in college and has a too-tall, older-looking boyfriend that she swears he likes. Doubtful.
The doctor finally leaves him to rest. He wishes Kate would come back in here. He has a lot of questions for her. She must be able to see the desperation on his face because she sighs and ducks back into the room.
"How're you feeling?" Kate mumbles, sliding to his side.
"Better. I think I'm on the good stuff," he slurs, the drugs making him heavy. He's sitting up right now, the bullet apparentlty hit ihim in the chest, a little higher and to the left of where Beckett was shot.
They match now.
She's smiling, sort of, but still standing away from him. He reaches out, the drugs making it almost bearable, his fingers tripping over her swollen stomach, his throat tight.
It's not real. It can't be real.
Kate threads her fingers with his pressing his palm more firmly against the bump. He feels a soft pressure against his hand, he gasps, eyes finding hers.
It feels real.
"Castle, why do you think you got hit by a cab?"
"I heard you, behind the glass. I heard you tell the suspect in that bombing case that you remembered being shot. You heard me say that I love you and you lied."
"No, I didn't," she's shaking her head, gripping his hand.
"You didn't hear me?"
"No, I heard you. But I didn't lie about it."
It's not real.