Echos

The cold metal feels unsure and wavering in her grasp. A fair contrast the the ice in her veins and the hard palpitations of her heart in her quivering chest. Her arms raise stiffly, and she takes aim. One eye closing as she tries to focus on her target. Her arms tremble of their own accord and she grits her teeth trying to stop the quakes forcing their way throughout her entire body along with the panic she fights everyday. She bites down hard on her lip to gain some sort of balance and lets off a few rounds; None of which connect anywhere close to her intended target.

She tastes blood as she lowers her arm, and releases her obviously too tight a hold on her lip. Setting her gun down after clicking on the safety, Kate sighs and brings a tentative finger up to her lips, drawing it back to indeed see crimson on her finger. Her mind flashes to the blood seeping into her gloved hand that day at the cemetery, and the scar seers with an imaginary pain, as if it remembers. Her hand shakes while the other goes to rest on her scar. Her eyes stare off at her target, still untouched, eyes unfocused as her body reacts with chills and an overwhelming need to get the hell out.

A gun fires somewhere down the range. Kate practically leaps out of her skin, gasping and slipping to the floor trying to gather her breaths that release from her lips and scatter about the small area. Another round goes off, her heart ascends into her throat and she grasps her knees to her chest, burying her head there.

Why?

Why does she torture herself so? Why does she find herself here some nights, hands gripping tightly to her service piece and hardly ever able to even shoot it? Why is it that while on duty she has no problem, but the second she is alone with the one thing that should keep her steady, keep her safe? She is unable to connect with it?

Kate lets her head fall back against the wall, her hands digging into her knee caps as she tries to think of what the difference between now and work is. As she does so, another shot rings out, only this time she is privy to it. She barely blinks, her heart finally gaining it's normal beats per second. And then someone speaks somewhere down the range.

"Mr. Castle. Two nights in a row eh?" The keeper is saying.

Kate's heart quickens again and she shoots up from the floor.

Castle hums in response, the sound echoing throughout the area and into her skin, seeping right to the blood in her veins and making it's final destination to her heart where it pumps to the rest of her body. Her body reacts with tingles she's noticed she gets whenever he's in the vicinity...well she's always had them when implied to him, but since her shooting, they seem to course through her with more vigor.

"Your aim seems to be much better." The keeper remarks with a kind of envy.

Castle says nothing as he lets off a hand full of rounds in an act Kate knows all to well. He's letting off some steam. For reasons she is unaware of, because like her, he must hide most of this away. What she didn't know, was that instead of getting it out of his system with his writing, he sometimes comes here and lets his frustration out in the form a little bullets. Tiny pieces of metal that can do the worst damage to a persons body, including their mind and spirit. Even now, after all the gunshots she's ever heard, ones she's shot herself, the damage that single bullet did to her months ago will forever haunt her in the echos of every shot she'll hear from here on out. Sometimes she can even feel it, as if the bullet was never removed. She can feel the ghost of it, plugging a whole in her chest, feel the entirety of it as it burrows into her, not letting her forget.

She will never forget, and apparently neither will Castle.

Kate steps up to the counter, leaning over just enough to see Castle's arm, and his target. He seems very comfortable and familiar with the gun in his hand, it almost scares her. She can picture the look of determination on his face and she wonders what drives him. Surely there must be more to it. But somehow she knows it all chocks up to her. It's always been about her when it's come to the inner desires of Richard Castle. She's not blind, and she mirrors his sentiment. Yet she can't help but feel terrifyingly guilty. She's done something to him, why else would he be here instead of home with his mother and daughter, or writing? She's left her own mark on him...a scar on his heart that she can't erase...Can't do anything about...

But the longer she stands there, unseen, the more his gunshots becomes forced, angrier even, desperate, and her heart aches for him. Tears leap to her eyes at the remorse he seems to be feeling. She knows that feeling. Carries it around with her everyday. She wouldn't wish it on anyone.

There's silence.

Kate hears a long drawn out sigh mixed with an exasperated groan, and finds her legs carrying her out of her own booth, down the range and into his. She finds him staring at his target, which is definitely dead. The edges of the paper frayed, like her heart, and certainly his because that is the only thing he was aiming at. Castle does not notice her, didn't seem to hear the clicking of her heels on the tile floor.

From her angle, she can see his handsome features contorted into a face she has never seen before. It's stern, and taunt, eyes wrinkled in a deadly concentration, yet she thinks she can see a little moisture at the corner of those magnificent blue eyes of his. Her heart stops for a millisecond, and painfully starts back up again.

His arms are straight out in front of him, he's neglected to wear earphones, like the ones she has resting around her neck. Perhaps he wanted to hear every shot with clarity. Did it remind him of the one that nearly killed her? And if that is the case, why would he want to keep listening?

Kate watches as he stays still, but his body moves with ragged breaths, his hands starting to shake. He's so tense he shrugs his shoulders and rolls his head to loosen up, and then refocuses on the target that has really had enough of his attacks. But his hands wont stop shaking, he has to adjust his finger on the cold stern trigger a few times.

She can't take it anymore. She steps up slowly behind him. Touching his elbow to let him know she's there, and then slides her hand up his arm to his hands. He swallows hard, his face faltering, and he blinks a few times as she presses softly but firmly on his arm. They lower their arms at the same time, to the point where she's practically hugging him. Once his arm is down, she clicks the safety on for him, and he drops it into the bin in front of him.

Neither speak.

She doesn't move away either, instead, she takes a step forward until her body is flush with his back. She brings her other hand up to grasp the back of his shirt, and her head comes down to rest near his shoulder. They each take a breath at the same time, as if breathing together as one. Kate feels his body relax but he doesn't move. In the silence, they both hear the echos of the shot that almost took her life, both shuddering at the memory. She tightens her hold on him and lets out a hot breath against his back.

"I'm sorry." She says just loud enough for him to hear.

I do not know where this came from...there is no set time or anything either. It just came to me out of nowhere.

Thoughts?