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Disclaimer: We all know who owns these characters. May success continue to follow their creator so they will continue to grace our television screens with new stories for years to come.
Chapter 2: Pierced
Rick feels Esposito's hand grip his shoulder, but he can't look up at him. Any movement sets the simmering flames around his midsection shooting through his entire body. He found that out when he reached over to touch Kate. Kate...Kate...I'm sorry...so damn sorry.
His eyes are focused where his hand touches her, and he's so thankful to see she hasn't been pierced. Just a few layers of skin flayed off. He knows how it must burn as the rough, corrugated rod shifts slightly with his every breath. Oh, Kate...stop...stop moving.
Her back is pressing into it, pressing it up. His left hand holds the rod just where it enters his body. He's certain he'd be dead if they didn't already have their vests on. The rod pierced his side, heading straight for his heart. Kevlar must have stopped it short. Short enough he hopes. The lung definitely did not escape unscathed. His breath sounds funny to him and his vision is starting to waver in and out. Javi was serious about handling porn patrol duty, right?
He continues to breathe. And even those feeble, stumbling breaths are enough to set the rod in motion against her weeping, raw wound. Beckett...Beckett...please stop making those sounds.
He tries to hold his breath. Starts counting in his head. His hand slips away from her back as he teeters on the edge of unconsciousness. Kate's struggles jerk him back to full awareness. Jesus, Kate. Stop Moving.
He stretches his hand so his fingers brush her side again. As far away from her wound as he can manage. "Beckett. Stop. Moving."
She freezes instantly and the rod goes still once more, only a sight quiver from his uneven breaths. Her struggles must have improved her position somewhat because now he hears her voice. And it sounds strong to him. Hurting, but maybe what he sees is the worst of it. If she sounds okay, then she's okay, right?
"Rick, I can't...I can't get around to you." Her voice has a tone of desperation to it. He knows she can see part of the rod coming behind her toward him. She knows he's in trouble. Keep it together Beckett. I can't help you here.
"Don't...worry...about...it." He voice is reedy, weak. It wavers in pitch and volume, like he's barely got control over his vocal cords. Like he's using the last of his strength just to get these meager words out.
"Remember...Kate...promise...Alexis" His breath is broken and gasping now. Words trapped unspoken, but he manages to trace the letters against her back before the darkness starts to overtake him.
"Castle? Castle?" Is this how he sounded to her when he hovered over her pierced and bleeding body? His face crumples in, new tracks lining his already well driven face. "Rick, I remember."
He's pulled back from the brink once more by her earnest and layered tone. She starts to struggle again, as if she's got a secret weapon against solid iron, but he thinks it's his moan that has the real power. Got ya to stop moving with no words that time, Beckett.
"NYFD are on the scene. Should have you both out soon."
How long had Esposito been standing there? Had he been talking this whole time? Rick is mesmerized by his blood leaking down his leg. His writer's vest fails to hold it trapped against his side anymore. Beckett lost way more blood than this and still survived.
He notices flecks and droplets of his blood on Beckett. In her hair. He realizes those blood splatters came from his mouth. As if in proof, he coughs and more red spatter appears on the dash in front of him. I am never driving another Ferrari ever.
"Javi, how's Castle?" Rick fights to hold onto his sliver of consciousness and still notices how she throws in her all business tone, as if she can trick Espo into giving her the details. He might not be able to look up at Espo's face, but he knows by the strong grip on his shoulder that Javi's got her taken care of. Will continue to take care of her, too. Espo's come through for him before. He'll know what to do now, too, and without any prompting this time.
He's losing the battle, he knows. He wishes for just a bit more breath. Just enough to give her the words she deserves to hear. The words he needs to know she heard. Heard and believed. Kate, I love you. I love you.
He settles for tracing what letters he can manage across her skin, envisioning one more moment of connection with her, seeing the spark of knowledge in her eyes. Has the faith and love he's caught there often been his imagination? He's barely allowed himself to think on it since that day. Beckett in the box.
Now it seems so inconsequential, her lie. He'll refute it with the truth between them. He's found his faith again, even if it only need last a few moments more. He wraps her in his words, silent as they are. The only evidence the invisible letters he traces over and over again until he's aware of nothing and no one. A.l.w.a.y.s.