Wrecking Ball
Ohhh. . .was good.
Good stuff.
The wavering, the tremulous curve, the slope slipping down into silver light, mercurial bliss-oblivion.
Mmmm. . .Castle.
His fingers at her elbow, heavy, leaking his warmth into her, dripping relief, the suffusion of love.
Her mouth opened, tongue thick, and her body obeyed her as if translating her message from a shaky morse code, all jerky dots and slumping dashes, until she was finally on her side, curled around her immobile left arm where his fingers pressed, the good stuff, her blood stuffed with cotton and her mouth with marshmallows, and if they kissed now, it would be so sweet.
Thank God.
When she opened her eyes again, buffeted at the top of the sky, she felt his finger in the crook of her arm, felt the warmth of him radiating from that spot and out, trickling down into her bones.
She turned her head slowly, trying not to jostle the delicate balance her brain seemed to have reached with her pain, turned to look at him.
But it wasn't him. He wasn't there.
It was an IV.
She was staring at the blank ceiling when the door buzzed; she opened her eyes, realized no, she hadn't been awake, the inscape of her eyelids was the same white of the room. The door opened. She didn't have the reflexes to startle, but her eyes widened when four in white suits came through and picked up the edges of the sheet, carried her out.
Just like that.
She swayed down the corridor, the sheet's four corners held by a different white glove, the rhythm of their walk not in sync, jarring her body. But the IV came with her, the drugs came with her; she was fine.
She had her eyes closed when the sheet was lowered to the cot, jerked them open, couldn't keep them there. She was in and out, sliding over the slippery line between conscious and unconscious, permeable and permissive.
Her name. The cluttered panic of her name, too sharp, and she was heavy, too heavy for this.
She heard the rushing of a body coming close, even as the others departed, struggled to hold on to the other side of silver, to come back, but even as his hand closed around hers, even as his fingertips brushed her jaw and his kiss burned her cheek, she was slipping.
They gave her back.
To say he was surprised was not. . .enough.
They laid her on the cot and left, the hush of the door closing, and he dropped to his knees beside her, touched her, felt the warmth returning to his fingers, felt his heart restart its rhythm. An IV had been hooked to her left arm, the tube taped to the crook of her elbow; her eyelids fluttered and then sank down. The IV bag was hooked on a metal pole that had been driven into a slot at the head of the cot.
As if it had been done before. As if the cots had been made for this.
He scooted closer, kissed her forehead, the curve of her cheekbone, rested his fingertips at the ridge of her clavicle, the heel of his hand at her sternum; he could feel the reassuring thump of her heart, slow but definitely there. He kept his other hand around her left, brought it up, minding the IV, to kiss the backs of her fingers, press those fingers to his cheek.
Good thing she was unconscious. She'd never let him hover like this if she were awake.
They'd given her back.
He kissed her thumb, rolled the nail against his lips, scraped his teeth over her knuckle, licked her thumbprint. Her eyelids floated up, lashes parting slowly, revealing the dark, dilated curve of her pupils. He murmured her name against her hand but she wasn't really here; the awareness was gone. Still her eyes soaked him in, regardless, drank him up, filling the dark relief with an alive and shining brown, ripples of green like moss growing on rocks submerged in a riverbed.
And then she was with him and her lips tightened into a smile.
"Hey," he rasped, felt his own voice like velcro, hard to unstick from the ragged hour.
"Mm."
"You okay now?"
"Good." Her throat worked, her head tilting back before her eyes rolled to his. "Good stuff."
He grinned and lifted his fingers from her collarbone to tap against her jaw, stroke along the soft skin that sloped to her neck. "I'm glad. You look better."
He said that, but her skin was waxy, yellowed around her eyes and mouth. He wondered if they'd taken more blood. Now that she'd been given drugs, they probably wouldn't draw blood, would they? So maybe they hadn't give her pain killers earlier because they'd needed a few more bags.
Didn't matter. She was back. She was here. She'd be okay.
She hummed again, sighed. Her hand came up to fumble at his under her jaw; he let their fingers lace together, but she didn't seem to want that. Kate shook him off, slowly, comically, and then she wrapped her hand around his wrist and brought her mouth to his palm. His hand encompassed her lower jaw, his fingers touched her ear; he let his thumb stroke the skin beside her lips. She sighed against him, her breath slipping between his knuckles.
"Kate?" he said gently.
Her eyes closed. "Mm, love you too, Castle."
The door's buzzer sounded. His heart stopped.
The door opened; now there were eight piling into the room, quick efficient. He saw a needle and jerked back.
love you too castle
"Don't need that. You let me stay with her, I'll go wherever you want. Don't-" He raised his arm as if to block a blow, hunched over her.
The eight stopped as one; he breathed hard, in and out, felt Kate's slower breath against his cheek. He looked up. They each tilted their heads, as if listening to the hive mind.
love you too
The needle was withdrawn, disappeared, and he sat up straighter, let out a shaky sigh. At a gesture from one he stood, waited while four of them picked her up again by the sheet, unsticking the IV pole from the metal frame. He hovered close until a white elbow jarred him aside, then followed them out the door. Grateful.
He heard the door close behind him, felt the four men at his back, himself alone, a buoy between them and the four carrying Kate. The IV bag swayed as they walked; his heart thundered.
love you
He clenched his fists, kept his eyes on her form, thin and yellow inside the scrubs, her knees twisted and drawn up slightly. When her eyelashes fluttered, the shadows flickering, he stepped closer, wrapped his fingers around her foot.
Castle held on until she found him, squeezed, shook her big toe. Her face was a mixture of confusion and joy. Good stuff, indeed.
Her mouth opened; her tongue darted to wet her lips. He smiled, wide, happy for some stupid reason, if only maybe because he was with her here, they were letting him stay.
The joy in her face dimmed. Her finger flicked up, eyes suddenly swimming. He thought hurts? but she was looking over his shoulder and in that moment, he realized, knew, stupid-
Like the clones in white had ever really cared? Like they wouldn't do exactly as they wanted with him.
And then the needle bit into his neck, damn it, and her eyes on his breaking open, filling, his knees rushing with water, crumbling the sand castle of his consciousness, her mouth moving on a sound he couldn't hear but knew, in his guts, the word-
love