A/N: Thanks for reading! The support for this, even though I'm aware that this particular story-line as been fleshed out many times, has been awesome! I appreciate those of you who are so welcoming and supportive.
"And for you, I would bury your burdens deep in the marrow of my bones; just to rid you of any pain you have known. Even if the agony makes me want to scream my heart raw, I will swallow it whole so you think of it no more."
-Natalie Jensen
She wakes with a start a few hours later, the sudden movement pulling at the tender muscles in her chest, the whimper of pain slipping out before she can swallow it down. She needs another pain pill, something that she's entirely too willing to admit when the burning in her chest feels like it'll consume her entire being.
Castle's fingers brush against her arm in a calming, tentative touch and her wide, pain-filled eyes shift to his face, watching the concern that blooms across his features as he shifts closer to her.
"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he reassures her softly, fingers tripping lightly down her arm to push softly through the spaces of her own.
"Hurts," she grits out, pressing her free hand against the throb of pain in her chest, squeezing her eyes shut against the wave of pain that has the muscles in her stomach clenching violently, the nausea creeping up her throat as she tries to swallow it down.
"I know, I'm sorry," he soothes, momentarily forgetting the stitches in his arm as he lifts his free hand to her forehead, barely swallowing back the hiss that tries to break free. He swallows thickly, brushes a strand of hair away from her face before dropping his protesting arm back to his side.
"Be right back," he promises, nearly leaning in to brush his lips against her cheek before thinking better or it. She's been pretty tolerant so far, he doesn't want to push his luck.
He reluctantly releases her fingers, pushing himself off the floor and glancing around for the pain pills he knows she needs. He spots the bottle on the counter in the kitchen, grabbing it and a bottle of water for her before settling back in his position on the floor in front of her, ignoring the protest of his legs.
Her eyes are still wide as they settle on his face, pupils dilated with pain, and he wastes no time in popping the lid off of the bottle, dropping one of the round pills into her open palm before offering her the bottle of water.
"Thank you," she whispers softly once she's swallowed the pill, and he manages a genuine smile in return, a carefully placed mask of all the things he's feeling, of all that they've been through.
"Wish there was more I could do," he shrugs, brushing his fingers against hers again, eyes shifting up to hers when she's the one to link their fingers this time.
"It's enough, Castle. This is enough," she murmurs, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
The medicine works quickly, her eyelashes already fluttering against her cheek a few minutes later and he squeezes her fingers in reassurance, whispers quiet promises to her until her breathing evens out and her body finally relaxes.
He can't help but watch her for the next hour, the careful rise and fall of her chest constantly catching his eyes, proof that she's still very much alive. Her fingers twitch against his, but it's the only movement she makes until the peaceful, painless slumber comes to a blinding halt.
Her body jerks even harder this time than the last, her entire frame contorting as pain ripples through her chest, the cry leaving her lips at the same time that her eyes flash open, and before he can manage any type of soothing, she's ripped her fingers from the tangle of his, grasped his arm instead, her nails digging painfully against the stitches there.
He hisses at the contact, jerking his arm away before he can think better of it, the burn against his tender flesh only intensifying from the movement. He can feel the bloom of blood against his sleeve before he even looks down at his arm, but the look on her face and the furrowing of her brows has his focus shifting completely to her.
"Kate," he tries, the slight twinge in his tone giving too much away, more than he wants her to have to bear right now. He'd rather soothe her instead, attempt to talk her through whatever has her jerking awake so often, but it's immediately evident that she's not going to allow that.
She shakes her head, wide, panic-filled eyes flicking to his before she focuses them on the patch of red that's staining his sleeve, the questions she's not asking already demanding through the silence of the room.
"You're injured?" she questions, finally forcing the words aloud, the concern that's laced in her voice making his heart clench. "Did I-?"
He's shaking his head before she even gets the words out, shifting onto his knees so that he can see her better.
"No...no. Wasn't your fault," he promises, reaching out to squeeze her fingers before pushing himself up off the floor. He can feel the blood seeping through the material of his shirt, needs to take a look at the stitches, but he can see the wheels turning in her head, knows this conversation isn't going to be easy.
"Did something happen after you came to see me that day at the hospital?" she asks, though he's fairly certain that she already knows the answer, if the look on her face is anything to go by.
So he shakes his head in lieu of an answer, swallowing against the nerves that this conversation is bringing.
"Rick," she warns, fingers curling against her chest as she stares at his arm again.
"Beckett, please…" he pleads, because he'll tell her the truth, he will, as long as it's anytime but right now, while she's weak and trying to survive her own demons.
"Tell me," she demands, wrapping the fingers of her other hand around his wrist, eyes searching his face, desperate for answers.
He forces a breath into his lungs, blows it out slowly in a defeated sigh as he squeezes his eyes shut, because he can't look at her and have this conversation at the same time.
"There was a second bullet…the day you got shot—the sniper fired a second shot."
And once the words are out, all of the air in the room seems to cease, his lungs burning in protest as he eases his wrist from her grasp, avoiding her face completely as he retreats to the bathroom, hiding from reality in the way that she taught him best.
TBC