Florida Heat

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting. I just wanted to reiterate that this is AU season 4. It picks up 3 months after Montgomery was shot but Kate was not shot in the cemetery. The rest of season 4 hasn't happened yet. (oh, and if you are wondering why Castle is so upset over finding out that Kate is still looking into her mother's case, see chapter 6). I hope this clarifies somethings. ;)

Chapter 16

Kate stared blankly at the wall behind Gates's desk. Gates was saying something, explaining about the case. She should be paying attention, listening to the stream of word coming from her boss's mouth, but she couldn't. There was already too much going on in her head.

"…They'd ship the girls back and forth to Jacksonville, keep them there until they could smuggle them into the shipping yard. The port in Jacksonville is so small that security is pretty lax. Lax enough, at least, to be able to sneak drugged girls on and off the ships. They would Ruffie the girls; sometimes give them Ketamine if needed to keep them unconscious. Then, they would send them around the world. Ketamine was found in your blood when you were tested initially in the hospital. Rohypnol was not but that doesn't mean anything. You were held for long enough for it to have worked its way out of your system before they drug tested you.

"The Daniels' started to sing once they were caught, hoping for a deal. Apparently, the Millers got greedy, tried to resell some of the girls on their own. Jack & Judy Daniels killed them for it, killed the girls too when they tried to escape…"

Gates paused and sighed, looking at the woman who had been sitting who had been sitting, silent, through the whole speech. When Beckett had entered the office she had placed a pre-written statement on the captain's desk firmly with a silent nod before settling down in the chair to await the details. Gates brought a hand up to rub her forehead as she studied her best detective and the other woman stared off into space, her jaw clenching slightly every couple of seconds.

"Beckett, are you okay?"

When Kate continued to stare blankly at one of the plaques on the wall behind her desk, Gates tried again, her voice a little more firm.

"Kate?"

"Hmm?" Kate's head snapped towards her captain and her eyes blinked a couple of times as they came back into focus.

"Fine. Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice hollow and falling flat as she didn't even try to force her mouth up into a smile to reinforce her statement.

"Uh-huh," Gates replied, pushing herself out of her chair to come around the desk and lean against the front of the piece of furniture. Her arms crossed over her chest as she eyed the younger woman. "What did I just say?"

The red heat traveled up Kate's face, running from her collarbones to her cheeks and ending at the tips of her ears.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she stuttered in reply.

Gates let out another sigh and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Go home Beckett," she stated softly as she pushed herself off of the desk and moved back around to her seat.

Kate opened her mouth to protest, sitting forward in her chair, suddenly much more alert. "No, Sir. I'm fine, really. I just zoned out for a second. I promise. Please."

Her voice cracked and Gates looked up, startled. She had never heard Kate Beckett plead for anything before. She sighed again and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the desk in front of her. Locking eyes with the once straight-laced detective in front of her, she was shocked to see panic reflected back in the other woman's wide, pleading eyes.

"You're not fine. Take a week. You went through a very traumatic experience. I would make you take a month but I know you wouldn't take it. So, make an appointment with Dr. Burke and take sometime to pull your head together. You're no good to me like this."

Kate, once again, opened her mouth to protest before snapping it shut and nodding in acquiescence. She looked down to stare at her hands folded in her lap, her long brown hair falling over her shoulder in waves. It was a couple of shades darker than it had been before. One of her hands rose up to pinch the ends of the strands between her fingers, rolling them slightly.

Slowly, she pushed herself out of her chair and turned towards the door, pausing after only a couple of steps.

"Sir?" She began, quietly, waiting for Gates to lift her head to look at her. "The guys told me that there was another detective with me when I was abducted. Is he okay?"

"Detective Johnson?" Gates asked with a small sad smile.

Kate nodded.

Gates took a deep breath, looking down at her desk as she used her fingers, elbows still propped on her desk, to press into her temples. Kate took a step forward, back into the office, and braced her hands on the back of the chair she had previously occupied.

"He's in the hospital, in a coma," Gates began, lifting her head to look at the younger woman. "We found him the day after you turned up. He was picked up during a raid on a crack house in the Bronx a couple of days before and was kept as a John Doe in the hospital. He had no ID on him and running prints on a crack head in a coma wasn't very high on the labs list. He had very high levels of Rohypnol and Ketamine in his system and a series of track marks on his arms. He was beaten pretty badly also. The doctors aren't too hopeful about him waking up."

Kate's face blanched and she took a deep breath as she swallowed hard, her eyes closed.

"It's not your fault, Kate," Gates said gently, watching as the younger woman nodded in reply still avoiding all eye contact.

Kate looked down for a moment before taking a deep breath, steeling herself and looking back up at her boss. "It's not your either, Victoria."

Gates started slightly before dropping her own gaze and giving a tight-lipped nod.

Kate stared at the mirror, turning her head slightly from side to side.

"So, what will it be, Miss?"

Kate nodded her head slightly, her chin jutting out in a show of bravery. "Just cut it all off."

She could hear the stylist's internal groan as he bit back whatever he wanted to say.

But your hair is beautiful. You can't do this. It probably took you years to grow it out…"

Kate shook her head, twisting her mouth up in a brave smile. "It'll grow back."

He nodded hesitantly but threw the bib around her anyway.

"And I want to dye it," Kate continued and the man paused again. "Dark brown."

She nodded again, resolving herself to the orders she had just given.

It was time to go back to the beginning, to start over.

She could do this. She could start again.

This time she would do it better.

The hospital was cold. Hospitals were always cold, and they all had the same smell. The stench of sickness and disinfectant that stuck in your nose and held in your memory, a constant reminder of the bad times and traumas.

Kate hated hospitals. She had to bring her father to the hospital once when he drank himself unconscious. The time she had been stabbed as a uni had landed her in the hospital for two days. The nurses had discharged her just to get rid of her.

Now, sitting in the hard plastic chair, staring at the man lying prone in the bed, she felt her stomach sink and the bile rise in her throat. She didn't even remember him. She couldn't.

He had followed her into the house, fresh from the promotion board, and she didn't even remember him.

Henry Johnson.

His fiancé had been there everyday, according to his nurses. She had just left to go home and get some rest. His family had flown in from Indiana. He had moved to The City to be with his fiancé, Karen, while she was finishing graduate school at NYU. He wanted to become an FBI agent.

Kate choked back a sob as she stared down at him, sinking further back into the chair, a hand coming up to cup over her mouth, a futile attempt to dull the sound.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out as she stared down at the man, too young to be lying in the hospital in a coma, unlikely to ever wake up.

"It should have been me," she whispered. "It should have been me."

She rocked forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she brought her hands up to press against her mouth in a triangle, palms pressed together. After another moment she shook her head and her hands darted up to wipe the trails of tears off of her face. With one more shaky breath, she pushed her auburn hair behind her ears and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry," she forced out one last time, her voice cracking slightly as she pushed herself out of the chair and turned towards the door. She brought a hand up to run through her hair and it jerked slightly as it hit the end of the strands and fell from the lack of resistance.

The stylist had left it to hang in layers, ending just above her shoulders. It reminded her of when she had first met Castle, only a little bit longer, a little more flare. When she had turned to look in the mirror earlier she had gasped— her eyes shown back a deeper green with the deep brown hair framing her face. It made her look darker, like the world was heavier for her, but, in fact, it made it a little bit lighter, more bearable.

Her sneakers made no sound as they landed on the off-white tile floor and she glanced down at the tips of the Chucks sticking out from under the hem of her jeans. She looked back up as she came to the door at the end of the hall and caught a flicker of her reflection in the glass panel. She didn't look like herself.

She gave the reflection a brief nod as she pressed against the metal bar and forced the door open, the sound cracking the silence as she pushed her way into the stairwell. She didn't look like herself and that was okay. She didn't want to be herself anymore.

She didn't want to be the one lying in the hospital in a coma with no one to come and visit her.

Her father would be there at first, so would the boys and Castle. No matter how mad, he would be there. But eventually, as time went on, her father would get older and the boys' lives would take them away: relationships, families, friends. They would drift off. Castle would move on, find another relationship and she would be alone. Alone and trapped in her own mind.

She couldn't do that, not this time. Not again.

She didn't want to be alone.

She didn't want to forget her mother, Montgomery or the case that made her who she was. But more so, Kate didn't want to be forgotten.