never cool down love
an AU, Halloween-themed tale for the Castle Halloween Bash 2020
Exhausted doesn't truly begin to cover the way she feels and she's more aware than most how tired one can get, how worn the body can become, how desperate one can be when that happens. She isn't to that point yet, but after two days on-shift with only minimal breaks, she's pushing the boundaries of her own control, her own limits.
Which means it's time for her to get inside and block out the world for a little while. Just until she's able to feel the tension in her neck release, until the thought of being around someone else doesn't fill her system with waves of unbridled agony.
She doesn't get like this often; she has learned over the years where her limits are, how long she can go without losing control. No, she just needs a night to rest, to breathe – so to speak – and decompress.
And to feed.
That's a large part of it, she knows; it's been days since she'd last truly eaten. Even before pulling the endless shift. And though she hasn't hit her hard limit yet, the longer she goes without feeding, the closer she gets to it. She's nearly there now, teetering on the cusp of the point of no return. The point she hasn't allowed herself to grace in twelve years, not since she was shiny and new and – stupid – and not at all in charge of who and what she is now. One slip in twelve years and she doesn't intend to break that streak.
She doesn't feed on humans, hasn't since that first year, but at times like this she can understand why others like her do. Why they give in to the heady pulsing beat against their lips, the warm rush of blood on their tongues. That yearning is always there, but she's able to control it, harness it, except when her reserves dip so low, except when she –
Cutting off her own thoughts, the feeble justifications she's making to herself, Beckett rushes past the last of her neighbors, offering nothing more than a few curt smiles.
Cool metal and the heavy thud of her apartment door offer solace, protection, giving her the opportunity to just breathe (such as she does) and center herself enough to make it on shaky legs over to her refrigerator and dig out a bag from underneath the veggie drawer.
The first splash on her tongue brings familiar bliss, forces the tense coil of her muscles to ease, relaxing a little more with every pull from the bag. The thrum in her ears grows softer and the bone-deep sense of desperation begins to fade.
Kate slumps against the counter, sinking to the floor in relief. She exhales after a moment, letting her head drop back to the cabinet.
Letting it get that bad hadn't been in her plan.
Not that she truly has a plan beyond going about her business each day and living her life, but she still has to protect herself. Getting close to snapping like she had? Doesn't help her accomplish that.
The paper on the carpet just inside the door catches her eye as she's getting to her feet to start the process of disposing of her empty blood bag. She's not surprised that she'd missed it when she came in and she doesn't rush to snatch it up either. It's probably just another takeout menu, or a note from the super reminding everyone to send their garbage down the chute instead of leaving it beside the door or take it outside to the second dumpster if the thing is full. Either way, she'll grab it after she has cleaned up and taken care of the rest of her chores.
Years of practice have made the process of disposing of the blood bags simple. She cuts the bag open first, rinsing any lingering blood down the drain, then makes quick work of shredding the rest of the plastic. The pieces go into the bottom of two trash cans and the scissors, sink, and her hands receive a thorough scrubbing. Not for the first time, it occurs to her that, outside of any context, she looks like a murderer covering her tracks. (She tries not to think about the fact that she has learned dozens of what not to do tricks from the people she's put away over the years.) No doubt, Castle would find that both hilarious and ironic.
Beckett shakes her head at herself. All too often her thoughts turn to him, to what he might be doing or what he might think if he knew. Whether it would change his feelings.
He's been close to finding out before, guessing just a little too much, but he's always veered off into absurdity and spectacle and hasn't quite gotten to the reality of the situation. He likes the crackpot theories just fine, or he at least pretends to – half the time she's convinced he just pretends to believe to get a rise out of her – but she wouldn't blame him for turning and fleeing as fast as he can if he finds out the truth.
Then again, knowing her partner…
She isn't sure what terrifies her more: the possibility that he'll run if he finds out, or the possibility that he won't.
Exhaling, she gives her head a shake. It's neither here nor there right now; he doesn't know, and she's not inclined to spill her secrets tonight.
She grabs the paper after making it through roughly half of the pile of dishes in the sink, forgoing the rest in favor of taking it easy on the couch. Everything else can wait for a few hours – or until tomorrow – when she gets home from the precinct. Tonight is about resting and regaining her strength, replenishing her reserves. And maybe watching a little TV, too. If she's feeling better in an hour or two, she'll consider grabbing one of Castle's books from her shelf and immersing herself in one of his worlds for a little while.
His words have been a comfort to her for so long, providing normalcy when her world was completely upside down. When she'd been alone and scared. When her mother's murder and her father's descent into the bottle had led her to make decisions that completely changed the trajectory of her life – by causing her death. Castle's works had given her something normal to hold on to in the aftermath and confusion of being turned.
He had given her fictional happy endings when she'd lost all hope for one for herself.
The paper flutters to the center cushion of the couch, slipping from her fingers as she catches sight of the single typed line, just five words, on the page:
I know what you are.
Thank you for reading! This will be a short little multichapter that I hope to have posted over the next few days, even after the Halloween Bash concludes.