4.

The Recovery

That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.

Edgar Allan Poe

Another blow to the side of his face lands squarely, an attempt to snap his neck with such force as to break it. Thankfully not as effective as was intended, his assailant being the waif he is rather than the bulk he wishes he were. Another blow, another failed attempt, but that's ok, he has a back-up plan. A pulley rigged above, the type used to hoist an engine from a car, attached to Castle by the cold steel cable affixed firmly around his neck. It's not a hangman's noose, but it will be effective nonetheless. A knife in each arm, the one in his shoulder apparently not enough for this monster, so much blood lost, his head is fuzzy, in and out of consciousness, he struggles to keep his eyes open as a feeling of dread overcomes him, like a wildfire consuming everything in it's path. His arms and legs released from his previous bindings earlier in the day, but too late to take advantage now as the knives keep his arms rigidly secured to the chair. A button pressed, the hum of mechanical equipment set in motion, the makeshift noose becoming taught as his body ascends, the chair remaining attached. Gravity plays hell on the knives in his arms, fighting against the weight of the chair until gravity wins and it falls away, tearing flesh as it goes and leaving a shriek stuck in his throat. His soon to be murderer happily gaits out a door somewhere behind him after tying off the safety cable, laughing at his muffled screams as he fights for his life. Finding it difficult to breath, his hands flail at his neck in a vain attempt to free himself, trying to create enough of a gap between noose and esophagus to draw in a breath of life sustaining oxygen as his lips turn from purple to blue. Losing grasp on reality, again, all goes black as Esposito's foot lands in the chair below him, arms surrounding his upper thighs, pressing against his butt, supporting his weight so his neck is spared, hopefully leaving his hyoid intact.

Beckett rushes to cut the tied off safety cable, grabbing the first tool she comes too… a small pair of bolt cutters, ripped from her hands as the tension recoils, snapping a finger, but fear for her partner overrides her own discomfort as she races to assist Espo who's shakily lowering her partner to the ground, his arms giving out from supporting Castle's dead weight. Unfortunately, that location places him in his own blood pool as Espo gently lays his head against the cold damp concrete.

Castle lays, unmoving, covered in blood, looking like a ghost, before a table full of bones and blades, the ones used to cut and stab him…who knows how many times. She counts three still jutting from his body, but the coating of blood prevents her from determining the extent of the damage.

With eyes to big for her face you could clearly read the panic within. The fear preventing her legs from holding her upright as she takes in the entire savage scene before her, falling to her knees beside him, the shadows whispering things she can't bear to hear.

Calling out his name and grasping his cold hand she prays as the blue of his eyes remain hidden behind his unblinking lids. Ryan and Espo disperse, checking the room. There's no one in sight other than Castle, but the blood is fresh so the culprit can't be far.

Tenderly cupping the back of his head she lifts and removes the abhorred noose from around his maltreated neck. Grabbing his face, his head lolls lifelessly in her blood-shrouded hands. Placing forefingers to his neck she feels for a pulse, weak and thready, but present. She lets out a long held breath as she reaches for her phone to call for a medical team.

Interrupted before the call connects, an elated laugh penetrates their ears. Coming from a door at the back of the room, Ryan and Espo, guns at the ready, follow the overjoyed sound. The pocket door disappears into its slot with Ryan's fluid motion, opening to the sounds of tinkling water from behind a curtain…a shower perhaps. Whipping the curtain to the side, the tangy smell of blood almost gags them as a gangly form comes into view, dripping red as if washing in the blood, a pitcher held above his head, raining crimson. It wasn't water they heard trickling, it was pure hemoglobin, half a quart or so, at least. Along with the small pool under Castle they can surmise the danger he's in, him dying being a very real possibility. The suspect, now aware of their presence, tries to leap out the side in avoidance of Ryan's outstretched hand, but slipping on the blood, he crashes to the ground at their feet as Espo places his boot between his shoulder blades with an excess amount of pressure while Ryan slaps on the cuffs. He spits out, "How the hell did you find me? Where is that bitch? She's next on my list." Spraying droplets of blood from his lips with each word spoken.

"Oh, I don't think there will ever be a next on your list, not where you're going." Ryan gives him a condescending smile.

Beckett stays at Castle's side, calling for help as the boys deal with the suspect. Begging him to wake up, "I'm so sorry, Castle, I love you so much, please come back to me. I'm so, so sorry. I should have found you sooner. I should have been paying better attention to my partner."

Exiting the makeshift shower room, suspect in hand…gross doesn't even begin to cover it…the boys hear Beckett's pleas along with her confession and come to a halt, trying to offer her a modicum of privacy until she yells, "Where are they?" Just then a swarm of police and paramedics burst through the door, ready to offer backup where needed. The words: "officer down" sends them in a mad dash for Castle, coming to the aide of one of the city's own.

Handing off the suspect to one of the uniforms… just in time as the odiferous being was really starting to test his gag reflex… Espo reaches for Beckett, pulling her away with more force than one would think deemed necessary, allowing the paramedics access.

A scream echoes off the metal walls as his agony jerks him from his slumber. Too numb and in shock to comprehend it's his own vocal chords producing the sound, but a sound that will haunt Beckett for years to come. A siren wails as rubber crushes pavement in a race to the hospital. His body goes slack once more, face so pale, almost ashen from the blood loss. His subconscious vaguely wonders why there is so much noise as he jostles with the sway of the ambulance; cruelly trying to awaken him…he's just so tired.

Warm saline dampens his cheek as Beckett leans over him, whispering words of comfort, fingers carding his sweat-soaked locks. Her other hand caresses his cheek as she begs him to be ok and to come back to her, his skin clammy and cold to the touch, their role reversal not lost on her.

Two hours and multiple transfusions later, one thanks to her, who knew they were the same blood type, her head is woozy. They gave her a cookie, but she didn't think she could stomach it, deciding on a little rest as a much better and safer option for now.

He awakens to a fountain of brown splayed at his side, his hand warm beneath hers. He tries to sit up in an effort to get a better look at her, his left eye swollen from the beating, 9 stitches above it, many others making themselves known as they pull tight in his arms and shoulder. A stab of white-hot pain results, halting his actions as a muffled moan of anguish escapes his lips. Her head jerks up from its resting place on the edge of his bed, awake in an instant, eyes seeking his.

"Castle." His name comes out apprehensively.

"For a moment there, seeing you almost made me forget the horrors of death." His voice gruff with dryness, disuse and trauma as he forces the words into existence by way of a strained whisper. He's been out cold for twelve hours with color slowly leaching back into his cheeks, but he's still a little out of it.

"I do what I can." Trying for a smile, from him or her, she's not sure, maybe both. Just seeing his blue eyes is enough for now.

"Hey, Castle, good to see you no longer looking like a zombie." Castle hadn't even noticed Esposito until he spoke. Evidently Beckett wasn't aware of his presence either as her body whips around towards the sound. Turning his head gingerly, a wince of pain flashes over his features again as he closes his good eye momentarily to work through it. He then notices Ryan is there as well, completing their foursome.

"Hey guys." He manages, smiling cautiously to prevent further discomfort. Apparently his face is a mess. He wonders if it makes him look tough or just pathetic as Espo breaks him from his reverie.

"I've just got one thing to say, Castle. Don't ever make me touch your butt again."

This he can do even while somewhat groggy, banter is his specialty even if his voice is rough. "Oh come on, Espo, you can admit it. You know you enjoyed it just a little bit."

Ryan opening the door, "That's just wrong, man" as he exits while attempting to hold in the bubble of laughter threatening to spill from his lips at any moment. Espo departs the room right behind him, the door closing with a thud. Castle carefully turns back to Beckett.

They remain immersed in silence momentarily until she can't take it any longer. She's endured enough silence for a lifetime. "You know he's already like a mile from here by now, probably kissing some random girl in an attempt to erase that image from his head, so don't hold your breath for a reply."

His good eyebrow raises in slight confusion, "Honestly, Beckett, I have no idea what any of that was about." His voice remains barely above a whisper.

"Oh, he'll be crushed you don't remember his chest pressed to your crotch, arms wrapped tightly around your ass as he saved you from an almost broken neck." A teasing lilt to her tone, adding a little dramatic flare with her hands. Perhaps she's been hanging around his mother too much, he thinks, but then the memories begin to flood his senses.

A grimace forms quickly as the details of his ordeal begin flashing behind his eyes, visions, sounds, scents, knives, a noose...

Recognizing his torment, "Sorry, Castle. I didn't mean…"

"It's ok, Beckett. It's mostly my fault. I couldn't sit there dwelling any longer…I had to be in motion…the frustration became overwhelming. I shoved everything out of my way, hastily threw on my running gear and rushed out. Had I been paying attention to my surroundings and the case you guys were working maybe he wouldn't have gotten to me so easily. As I rounded the corner of my building he must have been waiting for me. I never saw him. An unexpected blow to the head and that was that."

"At least that explains your attire when we found you. I've been pondering that since I became capable of processing thoughts again. After hearing from the doctors you should be ok I just kept thinking sweats, Nikes and a t-shirt, really? Since when do you run and how did you survive without your phone? I'm not sure I've ever seen you without it."

"There's a lot you haven't seen lately, Beckett." Sarcasm, yep it's there, but she doesn't interrupt now that he seems willing to talk.

"I started running to clear my head and my phone just gets in the way. The fire shooting through my legs and arms, the thrumming of my heart, the steady breathing in and out, my pulse pounding in my ears…it helps me temporarily block out unwanted thoughts so I'm not constantly dwelling on…never mind. The phone wouldn't have mattered anyway. He was smart enough to have destroyed it and I was unconscious most of the time after that, well, in between the knives and torture…and…" He trails off as if the air needed to dispense the words runs out, his cheeks losing a little of the pink they had regained.

"I'm so sorry, Castle. I should have gotten to you sooner. If not for your watch and Alexis thinking about the tracking chip within it we wouldn't have made it in time. The boys are heading to pick her up now. We sent her to school because she had a test. Told her we'd be here for you."

He smiles at the thought of seeing his daughter since he wasn't sure he'd ever see her again. Can't help the little stroke of pride that washes over him, knowing his sweet intelligent daughter is responsible, at least in part, to him being alive. Didn't think he'd see Beckett again either, but then his face darkens as he remembers his partner never loved him and had just strung him along for months, playing on his faithful tendencies instead of just being honest. "Thanks for everything, but why are you here, Beckett?"

"My partner's in the hospital, where else would I be? And you need to finish that sentence…what are your trying to block out with your new exercise regimen? And running at night…alone…considering your profession and having shadowed a homicide detective for almost 4 years…what were you thinking?" She's exasperated.

"I wasn't thinking. Don't you get it? I don't want to think anymore. I have to move on and you're mot making it any easier right now. You don't have to stay. I'm sure you have better things to do and Alexis will be here soon to keep me company."

Move one from what? Me? Us? Our partnership? Crap! Recognizing his same cold tone from the previous weeks a flash of pure, unequivocal hurt flashes over her face, but she pushes it down. He always came back when she pushed him away and now it's her turn to do the same, fight for what she wants, needs. She can't take this tension between them any longer, especially when she just wants to hold and comfort him right now and he seems hell-bent on throwing her out, discarding the past 4 years, years that have meant everything to her.

"Castle, you have to tell me what's wrong, what I did to make you distance yourself like you have been. You have to talk to me." She sounds sad, tired, scared even.

He matches her tone with an exhausted sigh, "I don't know what you mean. Apparently there is no this. You made that pretty clear with your silence for the past 7 months. Well, that is until…forget it…it doesn't matter now."

Clearly irritated with his attempt to once more brush their issues off and his continued refusal to explain what's going on with him, she snaps…because by God there is a this, something between themand she wants it, with every fiber of her being she craves it. Dr. Burke would be proud. "Castle, don't give me that crap. We know each other better than most anyone else and this isn't you. You don't run from things… and the blondes, the bimbos… at one time I thought that's who you were, but I know different now. You've got to talk to me, tell me how to fix this."

It's nothing, Beckett. Just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me again, jumbling your words until they spelt out what I wanted to hear.

"My words?"

"Yea, that day on the swings. I thought there was a chance for us, but I see now you were just sparing my feelings. You can't help that you don't feel the same way, Beckett. I just wish you would've been honest with me back then so I could have started trying to get over you and move on before investing another 7 months in delusive hope… not that it would have mattered… I've tried everything these past couple of weeks and no matter what I do or who I date or how far I run myself into the ground I just can't seem to get you out of my heart, but give me more time and I'll be able to just be your friend, help with cases and everything. I'll just go on hiatus for a while, heal body and soul, then come back renewed and ready to be what you need.

Beckett stands stunned in place until her fear of losing him kicks her brain into gear. "Castle, you have it all wrong. You are such an idi…"

Cutting her off as he cringes while pushing volume and a forcefulness, the likes she has never heard, into his voice, at least as much as he is able at this moment, "I'm an idiot? You are the one who lied. Rather than face me, tell me you remember what I said and just don't feel the same way, instead you spill your heart out to a suspect? I deserve better than that and you know it….Beck…" His rant ends in a coughing fit.

It suddenly clicks, all of it falling into place. Her mind recalling the day, putting the pieces together, he was there, heard the interrogation, her admittance in an attempt to get the suspect to talk, the lone cup of coffee left on her desk, his behavior the following days, weeks. Shit, this isn't how he should have found out. I wasn't ready then, but I've made such a mess of things now, possibly ruining my one chance at happiness, our chance.

He takes her silence as admittance. "It's ok, you can go, Beckett. You don't have to say anything. I'll be ok…in time. You can't help how you feel. I get it."

"Castle, I know this isn't the time for this conversation, but you have to let me explain. It's not what you think. I didn't know how to tell you. I just…. I just wasn't ready…"

"Beckett, stop. Just don't go there. You…you don't have to say it. I don't need your pity and I'm just too tired right now to hear the… the rejection and panic that I clearly recognize in your voice." His voice feathers off, back to an almost whisper near the end as he cautiously stokes his fingers across the angry red line encompassing his neck. She can hear he's fading out, knows he's in pain, in more ways than one, and she can't let him think for another moment she doesn't want him, doesn't feel the same way. The resignation in his voice, a white flag…he's giving up, his fight all but disintegrated.

A weary huff of air leaves her. "I've done this all wrong and I'm so sorry, but you don't understand, you've got it all backwards. It was a coping mechanism…the lie, a poor one maybe, but one nonetheless. I needed to repair myself, put myself back together with something more than tape and gauze, symptoms of PTSD and nightmares before I could attempt anything further. I was afraid of messing this up. I had to become a better person, a whole person…the person you deserve. I had to become deserving of you. I couldn't come to you a broken mess, a shell of the woman I should be. That's no way to start a relationship, a real relationship, one I thought could be my one and done. I know it's too late now. I know I've ruined everything. In my attempt to prevent losing you I did just that, but for what it's worth… I do love you. For the second time, I'm in love with you and I feel like the bullet is ripping me apart all over again, knowing I've destroyed everything and missed my chance, our chance." The tears brimming in her eyes cause her voice to quiver by the end of what she feels is a poorly executed explanation. Words aren't her thing, they're his, but he has to understand. Please let him understand.

He just stares as his ears take in her words, process and comprehend them. His eyes go as wide as the holes in his CIA theories as he searches her face, her body language, looking through her façade, searching for a crack, a fissure in her armor, anything indicating a falsity in her statement, but there's none to be seen as she stands before him confident, sure, with the exception of the faint glimpse of vulnerability shining in her eyes and it goes straight to his heart.

Little does he know, the confidence she's projecting is her façade, behind it her entire being is teetering on the edge, about to crumble and fall head first into the abyss if he doesn't respond with something in the next five seconds. And he does…. thankfully he does.

His brow furrows as he tries to recall, think back to what she could possibly be referring. "Second time?"

Almost imperceptibly she replies, "Yea, you were a little out of it for the first confession."

"My God, Kate. You haven't missed your chance. It's not a switch I can just turn off. Just don't tell my mother she was right about that, but trying to get over you has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, unsuccessfully I might add. Haven't you ever heard the saying, the heart wants what the heart wants?"

The disquieted detective is washed away as her face splits into a radiant grin, so big all he can see is the white of her teeth and the love portrayed in her lustrous eyes. She's by his side in an instant, lips gently brushing his, mindful of his injuries as well as her own braced finger. "Then by all means, please stop trying to get over me. I love you so much, Castle."

"Not as much as I love you." A self-assured, but elated look on his face, the sparkle reclaiming its rightful position within his eyes is such a relief.

"Oh, I think I might have you beat there. I even shared my blood with you. Did you know we're the same blood type?"

A twinkle flashes in his baby blues as his lips turn upward into a teasing grin. "Does this mean I smell like cherries now?"

Share your thoughts and please review if you have the time. Otherwise, thanks so much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed the crazy ride.