Her heart stopped twice on the road to the Presbyterian Hospital.
Her heart stopped, and he was asked to remove his hands off her while they worked to revive it. Her heart stopped, and his own seem to beat harder, and stronger for her - straining to replace her own, and he really wished he could breathe for her. Everything was happening so fast; urgent shouts, and frantic movements all blurring before him as he tried to wrap his mind around it all.
How could he, she was dying.
And there was nothing he could do, but watch.
Her condition started to improve by the second day, her stats were good, and the swelling in her brain the fall had provoked was already resolving itself. She was highly monitored, but she was safe. And here he was, sitting mournfully in his chair, squeezing her hand hard; hoping she would give him a sign she'd come back to him soon. The whole room was silent in an awfully oppressive way, the harsh smell so sterile that it burnt his nose and the back of his throat as she laid so incredibly still, the quiet heaving of her chest, and the persisting bleep of the machine the only proof of life he'd had so far. They kept telling him to be patient, that she needed the rest. And while that made perfect sense, he'd seen her doctor look at her chart countless of times, and then give her silhouette a worried look, as if something was out of place.
They had found a deep, angry burn inside her palm, and another similar - though lighter - one on the sole of her right foot. Her doctor had told him it was a clear indication that she had received an electric shock that had travelled from her hand to her feet, which had probably caused her heart failure shortly after. Two days after, he still couldn't figure out what had happened - electric shock? It didn't make any sense.
He stroked the soft skin of her hand, mindful of the IV running fluid into her body, his back bowing as he let his forehead drop on the mattress. Letting out a sigh, his whole body shivered with dread;he couldn't do this. Seeing her so lifeless broke him in ways he'd never thought possible, the fear clawing at his chest, and clogging his throat viciously. He had no idea what to do, he needed her to tell him, couldn't even tell who he was without her anymore. She'd been such a rock all this time, he didn't know if he could function without her - or wanted to.
The sound of the door opening made him jerk his head up as he jumped to his feet. Her doctor walked in with a firmly closed-lipped smile, and as he faced Castle his arms folded over his chest. Castle could tell by the tense lines around the doctor's face, that he wouldn't like what he had to say.
"I'll be straightforward, here. It seems that here has entered a phase of coma. There has been very little responses to any of our stimulus, that should have woken her up by now," he said, gazing at the unmoving form in the bed, before going for her chart.
Coma… The word turned his blood cold, his chest constricting at the thought. The soul consuming pain seizing his chest brought him back into the chair, his eyes caressed her face, yearning to see those big expressive eyes open. He felt in such a dark place, only she could bring the light back. But as he stared at her, he felt his throat tighten. Whatever had happened, it was his fault - it always was. He knew he never should have let her get so close. One way or another, he had caused this.
But it was too late to back off; she completed him, and he needed her.
"How? Why?" So many questions rushed, and burnt the tip of his tongue, aching to be answered, begging to understand.
The man shrugged with no further signs of compassion. "Hard to say, her scans are as good as can be in her condition. But, in some cases, people just refuse to wake up, and it's not always clear why. She might just need more time, or something is holding her down. She went through a lot."
Shaking his head, he gauged the doctor with narrowed eyes. That was not the answer he needed, not clear why?! Nothing made sense, the words flooded through an ear and dripped down the other, his mind unable to assess any of it - drowning. "What do we do?"
"We wait. There's nothing we can do, medically. She could wake up tomorrow, or in two months - there's no telling when exactly. Good news is, we've assessed her as a 12 on the GCS, which means that it is pretty minor, and we can expect her to wake up sooner rather than later," the man said as he started writing on the chart.
He couldn't just wait, and do nothing. His breathing picked up in speed, his own body in the grip of a desperate turmoil - his guts whirling as he grew agitated.
"No, look, that's not enough. Tell me what to do, I need to do something. There has to be something."
"I'm sorry. The best you can do is probably talk to her, and perhaps hope that wherever she is, she'll hear you, and trust you enough to wake up. The mind is a mysterious thing, if it decided to shut down, there's a reason," he finished with a small smile, as he hung her chart back at the foot of the bed. He walked to her side, lifted her eyelids one after the other to flash his light up and down, and grumbled something under his breath.
"But...That's not all," he added with caution, looking up at him. "Her eye response is slow, and have been since her admission, she must have hit the back of her head in her fall. Now, that's where the occipital lobe, which is the part of the brain that contains the vision centre is. It could also be a result of the electric shock, but that's not as likely. What is sure is that, at the present time, she is not responding to light.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that there's a real possibility here of a post traumatic cortical blindness. But this could very well be a temporary state, but you have to understand that if her sight does not return in 4 to 10 days, there could be lasting damage. And if she doesn't wake up before that, there's no way we can tell. But as I said, we are hoping she will wake up shortly-
Blindness.
He blinked as his own vision started to blur and tunnel, whatever the doctor was still talking about too far for him to grasp. She couldn't be blind, she was a Captain, she was- She just couldn't be.
-Now, we'll need you to come sign a few forms for her stay here," he heard when he managed to snap out of the initial shock, the doctor walking out without with his blouse flying behind him.
Looking back at Kate, he let his face drop into his hands with a shuddering breath.
Everything was falling apart.
The drive to the loft had been quiet so far, but turned sour fast. He had picked up the girls from their therapy session - and he was grateful that Wood was so incredibly willing to watch the girls while he was visiting Kate. He managed to put on a mask for them, had to be the strong one, when he had never felt so weak. He felt like his soul had been split into two, one part threatening to come loose. It didn't help that his mind couldn't stop thinking about Kate, his nerves boiling, concern flashing across his chest at the mere thought of her waking up alone, unseeing. He had told Esposito and Ryan, who tried to visit as often as they could, and they had called her dad, though he hadn't met the man, yet. Still, being anywhere but with her felt wrong.
He should be there.
"Is she gonna be okay?" He heard from the back seats, the distinct voice of Sarah quiet, and tentative.
No
"I- I don't know," he answered the only way he could. It was true, he had no idea, and lying to her, or himself wouldn't do them any good. He had learnt that the hard way.
"It's all my fault," the girl whined, and he frowned, casting a swift glance back to look at the quietly sobbing child, her face pressed up in her seat.
"What? Of course not!" he answered, his voice hitching in disbelief as he redirected his gaze on the road.
"She don't like her," he then heard Eden sing-song. She, her - who?
"What do you know?!" Sarah shouted angrily, her red face all he could see in the front mirror.
"She got her, she with her now!" Eden added forcefully, her legs kicking in his seat.
Sarah moaned, and he snapped - his patience long gone. He had no idea what it was about, and had no intention of figuring out for now.
"Okay, whatever this is about, stop now. Both of you," he scolded, making sure he stared straight into the mirror, as both girls fell quiet with scrunched up faces.
From what he'd seen lately, they hadn't done much progress since they had first came home with him, and seemed stuck - as though something was holding them back.
He needed to talk to Wood.
He woke violently, his chest burning, and his throat convulsing around a fit of cough as he desperately reached for something to brace himself onto before realizing he was in his bed. Taking a deep gulp of breath, relief washed over him, and confusion rolled and crashed on him like ruthless tides when it became clear that he wasn't in fact drowning. Blinking, he sat up to find the sheets pushed at the far end of the bed, which he realised was drenched. He looked down his top that was just as wet with a frown, and groaned. Jumping out of the bed, he took his top off and threw it down on the floor as he walked in the attending bathroom and pushed his pajama bottoms down. He reached for the taps of the shower, and only allowed the cold water to run as he jumped in and faced the nozzle; harsh, unforgiven icy water replunging him into the dream, and tearing a gasp out of him as he abruptly stepped back, and rubbed his hands across his face, chest heaving.
The nightmare was anchored behind his eyelids, every tiny detail flashing before his eyes in a series of pictures. It had, and still felt so real, that the hair on his forearms pricked up - his heart still wildly thrumming as a suffocating sense of dread pooled heavily in his stomach.
He needed to write it all out.
Jumping out of the shower, he fastened a towel around his waist, and stepped back into his bedroom to slip into a pair of fresh boxers, and a clean top. When he walked past her couch in his office, he felt his legs weaken, and his heart constrict painfully with the need to see her. Awake.
Tomorrow was day four. Four days since he had last seen her sparkling eyes on him.
Six days from now, they might never see again.
He talked to her, any moment he could have with her alone - he talked to her. About anything; the letters Alexis sent him about her summer with her mom, his publisher who just asked him to sign for four more books, the call he had almost made to his mom but hadn't had the strength to (again).
He touched her; kept her hand firmly but carefully cradled in his, brushed his fingers along her hairline, and down her face, cupped her jaw, and swept his finger across her pale lips.
He watched her, couldn't possibly take his eyes off her - attentively registered every flutter of her eyelids, every flexing of her fingers that made him feel like she was listening to him.
"You know, we never went on date," he started with the shadow of a smile as he recalled their first kiss, "I plan on fixing that, you know? You, Me. Dressed up, or not. In some fancy restaurant, or at Remy's. I wouldn't care, as long as you're with me."
He felt a finger twitch under his hand, the tentative move causing his heart to do a sharp flip inside his chest, hope flaring bright - but falling flat. "So, you need to wake up. We need y- I need you," he choked around a strangled breath, stubborn tears clogging his throat.
"Am I interrupting something?" He heard from behind, the sudden voice catching him off guards. Sniffing, he turned around in his seat to see an old man with greyish hair, and tired eyes.
"Uh, no, no. It's fine," he answered as the man gauged him; his eyes easily travelling to their joined hands.
"I'm Jim," the man added as he stepped closer, "Beckett."
Fuck.
Letting go of her hand, he jumped to his feet, and cleared his throat, "Sir! Richard Castle," he introduced himself extending a hand.
"Ah, of course. I recalled her mentioning you, once or twice.." he said with a playful glint in his eyes he didn't quite get as he shook his hand. "How is she?"
His eyes went back to her, and he shrugged. "Nothing's changed so far."
The man hummed, and walked to her side, "She'll be all right, son. If you know her as well as I think you do, then you know that," he said looking at him with warm eyes that held such strong faith, and confidence, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She's not one to give up easily."
He let out a short laugh, as he shook his head, "Yeah, she uh- yeah," he mused as he gazed at her - the words out of reach, everything failing him.
He hoped her dad was right. She was strong, but it seemed like something was looming over her, and holding her down to her bed, and far from him. He didn't know why, but he could feel how far she was from him - her body just an empty shell, a mirage he was dying to believe was real.
He could only hope she'd find a way back.
"Are you nice and relaxed? Are you feeling sleepy?" Dr Wood asked with a paused, quiet voice as Sarah laid on a couch facing him, the little girl playing in another room. Since the oldest girl was the most responsive, he had to try to get the story out of the her. He was getting close, but he needed to be sure. "I'd like you to tell me about Mama. Did she live in that house with you?"
The girl's lids spasmed, but remained closed as she moaned. "In the lights…" she mumbled.
His thin eyes narrowed as he wrote down her answer down on his pad. "She hides in the light?"
"Everywhere."
"Where is she now? Do you know?"
"No. She hurt Kate."
Nodding, he inhaled in a heavy breath. He had suspected the incident was related to.. whatever they were dealing with, but that was definitely the confirmation he needed.
"Did she tell you why?"
"She's jealous."
"I want you to tell me the story again. Can you tell me the story?"
"It was a long time ago, a lady ran away from the hospital for sad people. She took her baby. She jumped into the water."
"How could you know the story, Sarah? Did Mama tell you that story?"
"Showed me, in dreams. She fell into the water, but the baby didn't."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Mama didn't show you?"
"She doesn't know what happened to her baby. She went walking in the woods. Looking for it. She searched for a very long time. Found us."
"Did she ever tell you her real name?"
"Yes."
Dr. Wood sat in his chair, both girls now under the watch of his assistant as he grabbed his recorded and pressed play, "Subject A - Sarah Rodgers - Seventh session was more than revealing. I think there might be a door, a passage, that connects Mama into this house...though forster family still hasn't shared any concerns out of the ordinary. There is no rational explanation that supports this theory. But it is only the ability to embrace the different reality, that makes science expand beyond the limits of what we know. I shall keep digging, but I am now more than ever getting closer and closer to the real subject of my study." Stopping the recording, he sighed and swung back in his chair.
Opening the file before him, he pressed play again: "Eleanor Darcey, Patient at the New York City Lunatic Asylum from 1850 to 1853. Gives birth to a girl in May 1853 inside the walls of the asylum. While her baby was taken away from her almost immediately, patient manages to get her back and escape. They were never found. Subject A confirmed both story, and name."
The doctor finished his sentence, when he heard the knock. "Come in," he said, sitting straight in his sit and joining his hands on the desk as the man walked in. "Ah. Mr Castle. I was about to call you, there's something we need to discuss."
The man sat in the chair across to him, the look on his face raw, and eroded by worry. His voice strained, and weighed down, "Sure."
"Right. I know you wanted to talk about the girls - and we will. But, I might know how to save your fiancée, and I strongly recommend you to hang on tight."
FYI: There are three chapters left, epilogue included. So, yeah, we're getting close to the end. That's where it gets pretty strange. Bear with me ;)
Considering the end of the ficathon is very close, I will most probably update twice next week to stay on top of it.
Thanks for your kind support x