FADE INTO LIGHT
5
It was a hot, humid summer, and she dragged herself through her days, pearls of sweat sluicing down her temples, running in slick rivulets between her breasts.
Her loft was cold, and she knew, logically, that it was the artificial breeze of the AC - yet it seemed like all she felt was its emptiness against her skin; how devoid it was of what - of who - had brought it to life for her. She'd take a cool shower, and then she'd curl up on her bed, her face buried into the pillows, chasing any hint of scent that lingered, closing her eyes to the film of memory, of every moment she had had with him.
Kate was lonely, and missing him so much that it hurt, deep and visceral, in her stomach and in every muscle, tight knots sitting just at the base of the skull that sent stabbing headaches to her head.
She didn't understand how he'd thought she could be happy without him, when every moment of her life became defined by his absence. She missed discussing cases with him, and his ridiculous theories. She missed her morning coffee; she could never get the flavor quite as perfect as he'd had, even when he had claimed to make it exactly like she did. She missed his laughter, his presence, missed just knowing he was nearby, and how safe and comforted, how whole she'd felt.
She hadn't ever wanted to hurt like that again, and yet here she was.
How he believed she could find somebody else was beyond her. When he'd been the first man, the only man to drag her from the sorrow of her past, to hack away at that wall that she'd built inside to protect herself from heartaches and the debilitating pain of real emotions. He'd reminded her that her life was worth living, that there was more to it than being defined solely by her mother's murder. That it was a gift to be alive. He'd had such hope for her, such trust and belief that she'd do it, that she'd survive this that she was determined to do it, for him - she wanted to try and live for both of them. She just couldn't figure out how.
Maybe it couldn't happen until she put this thing to rest. If she'd found those bastards who'd had Coonan kill her mother, maybe she'd find that peace of mind that was always eluding her.
She stood in front of the large window in the office, staring without seeing the gleaming, sunshine-dipped Manhattan skyline beyond. She reached up, and taped her mother's photograph to a center pane.
Hours later, darkness had subsumed her apartment, the only illumination coming from the desk lamp that she had tilted to shine onto the window instead, highlighting her mother's murder board in stark words and colors. Every fact she knew so far typed in orderly letters onto flash cards, square flecks of green and yellow; key facts underlined in red, and arrows signifying the connections between each clue.
Kate sank back into the desk chair. She didn't feel the ache in her lower back nor the growling of her stomach, felt only the churn of frustration at each unanswered question, every dried-up lead.
In the fall she met a guy. He was tall and handsome and good to her; smart, too - he was a cardiac surgeon, and whenever she saw him they had inspiring discussions, about philosophy and ethics, breakthrough science or travel. Josh was just as busy as she was, and that suited her just fine. She enjoyed his company whenever they did get together, even while she knew it wasn't enough.
No one and nothing measured up to what she'd had with Rick.
But it was enough for now.
She didn't realize she was losing herself; would've argued tooth and nail that she was fine, that she had everything under control. She gave all she had within herself to her job, honoring the victims and finding answers for those left behind who deserved them, who needed them. At night she'd sit in her office, stared at her murder board, seeking the answers hidden between the lines that she might have missed until now.
A year had passed since she'd seen Castle for the last time when things started coming to a head, not that she had realized it. The weeks and months seemed to have blended together, passing her by in a blur.
Now the devil had just blinked.
"Beckett, everyone associated with this case is dead."
They'd cornered her - Ryan with his pleading eyes, and Esposito, grim and determined and ready to fight for her, fight with her.
"They killed my mother! What do you want me to do here?"
"Walk away." It was order and request and plea all rolled into one, Espo's voice growly, his eyebrows drawn into a deep frown.
"They're gonna kill you, Kate." She heard the fear in Ryan's voice; understood it, even. But she couldn't give up, she couldn't walk away now, when she was so close.
"Well last time I checked, this was my life."
"Yeah, and you're hiding in this case instead of living it!" Espo's voice boomed, echoed through the loft, and then he calmed down, pleading eyes directed at her; begging her. "You could be happy, Beckett. You deserve it!"
But they didn't understand. Didn't know that she was doing this to find her happiness, to get past it all so she could be. For him. She'd promised to try, and this was the only way she knew how.
She hardly felt it, when the bullet pierced her chest.
She'd always thought she'd take a bullet, that that's how she would go. She hadn't expected it to feel so surreal.
So peaceful.
The pain was debilitating, her ribs cracked apart, splintering, hot heat spearing her flesh, sucking the breath right out of her lungs and then the bright, surreal blue sky faded into a gleaming white, the world around her a mere blur, as if dipped in thick London fog, and she felt nothing.
"Come on, Kate. Stay with me." Lanie's voice, crying and pleading and yelling at her. It seemed to come from far, far away, slogging its way through the mist, as if she was underwater. She'd never heard her friend sound so cracked before, so hysterical. "Stay with me, Kate." There was pressure against her ribs and she just couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.
And then she opened her eyes and there he was, seeming to fade in from within the gleaming white haze.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I tried, Rick. I really tried to live, to be happy without you."
He came clearer, seemed larger than life. "Oh Kate."
He looked just like she remembered, his face so handsome, and kind, and so full of love when he looked at her that it overwhelmed her, crying and laughter blending into one.
"I don't want to fight anymore." She cried, pleaded with him, with the universe, with anyone who'd listen.
"I just want you".
She reached for him, and he folded the broad warmth of his hand around hers, brushing his thumb across her knuckles in a soothing rhythm.
She felt weightless, like a cotton cloud on a clear summer day, drifting toward the sun. Warm, and light, and happy, and she just wanted to rise into the gleaming whiteness. Be with him forever.
"Kate. It's not your time. You have to stay."
"No. Please, no," she cried, pleading, her voice raw with tears. He looked so serious, desolate and determined both.
"Look at them."
And she found herself floating above the green grass of the cemetery, looking down at Lanie hunched over her chest, wailing and pumping her hands over Kate's ribcage in relentless rhythm. Her father, standing frozen by her side, his face marred with sorrow. Espo, radiating with anger at the universe and Ryan, silent tears streaming down his face. Her brothers in arms, and in life.
The shared sorrow surrounded her, clawed at her with sharp, pointy nails, tugging her here or there. "This isn't fair."
"I know. But there are things you still need to do, great, important, amazing things you'll accomplish."
She turned back to look at him. "I am not going without you."
"Kate…"
"No! If I go back, if I live my life like you want me to, like the universe wants me to, then you have to promise not to leave me again. And if that means I'll never have children, if it means that I will live my life 'alone' in everyone else's eyes, so be it. Because life or death, in every time and space, we belong together. Always. Either you come back and stay with me, or I am going with you, because my life isn't right without you!"
He pulled her to him, his hands framing her face, kissing her desperately, with urgency. "Okay," he groaned between fiery kisses. "Okay. Now go, Kate. Go!"
Pain bloomed from within her chest, hot heat gouging her ribcage as if she'd been speared by a glowing fire poker. The agony spread to every part of her and she wanted to scream but had no voice, no air, and then oxygen surged back into her lungs.
She woke up moaning, thrashing against tubes, crying.
He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone, humming soothing sounds. He should've known she'd find a way. Her demand brought him back; she needed him, and that's where he went. He still didn't know how it worked, but he was with her, and that was all that mattered.
"I've got you, Kate," Rick whispered into her ear. "I'm here."
Kate Beckett died during a cold winter's night on February 21st, 2067. The snowflakes were falling relentlessly, blanketing New York City under a thick, muffling layer of white. She was found in her bed at her longtime home on Broome Street, a soft smile etched permanently onto her face. After a bout of pneumonia, she had peacefully fallen asleep.
A retired NYPD Captain, and former Senator of the State of New York, she left behind a legacy of integrity and justice. She never married, and in her will, she left her loft to her goddaughter, Daniela Katherine Parish.
She was 88 years old.
And after nearly 60 years together, Rick took her hand, and they stepped into the light together.
The End.
a/n: This story came to me all at once, and writing it reminded me of what I love about writing, why I love it - the joy and excitement of it, the urge to let the story unfold - it is by no means perfect, but it was such fun! Thank you to all of you who came onto this 'unusual' journey with me; I hope you've enjoyed it.
Very special thanks to Travis - CFPromoter - who set up this fun Halloween Bash, challenging us to just write and have fun, who always does so many wonderful things in our fandom. And to Theresa, my lovely wife and idea-suggester-extraordinaire, who made this story truly shine.