Chapter 2:

Lumpy and unsubstantial. What he was laying on felt like it should have substance, but definitely didn't. It was scratchy and made him feel stuck, but oddly not wrapped up in anything. This was more of a corded or tethered kind of stuck. Whatever he was lying on was much softer than the cold tile of his kitchen floor though. Which had to be a good thing, right? He tried to recall why that mattered.

Him and Beckett - his Kate- had come home from the case. Early in the morning, the sun rays just beginning to pour down Manhattan's lines. He loved the sight of Kate in the morning. The way her skin glowed rosy and fresh in the sunlight, even if she was just headed to bed after a long case. Her luscious body embodied calm in the glow of every sunrise. But nothing about this particular morning had been normal, that much he remembered. When he couldn't remember something, he normally pressed his palms into his forehead, so he tried that now.

"Ow!" Rick pushed out, his attempt being hampered, one hand being tugged back to his side by some kind of non-stretchy cord. The sudden movement had also sent debilitating pain scattering across his chest.

"Dad…." A tentative voice at his side, heavy with panic and exhaustion. He knew who it was without opening his eyes. She sounded pained and tired, he hated when Alexis sounded like that. His fatherly instincts kicked in, eyes shooting open.

"Alexis?"

Holy cow everything was so bright! Where was he? The hospital room swam into his vision as silent questions dizzied his perception, eyes darting around as a startled and trapped animal.

"Dad, you need to try not to move so much." Alexis' voice was tinged with concern, pushing him gently back down to the hospital bed. In his panic he had started flailing, the IV cords straining, the hospital gown falling away from his large frame.

"But…Kate?!" Panic took over completely, half bolting him out of the bed. Tangling in the IV cords and the gown now haphazardly draped over his form, his body was stopped in an awkward half stand half lean just off the edge of the bed. Alexis had stepped back in the panic, having never seen him this passionate about anything before. Rick had actually growled at being tethered.

"Rick! Focus! Listen." Martha used her most intense motherly voice from the doorway. His breath caught as his body collapsed onto the bed, nurses rushing in to disentangle him.

It took a few frustrating minutes to resettle him, Martha offering encouraging focus from the foot of his bed, while Alexis stood frozen just out of the way. He was a man on a mission, confused, disoriented, and probably would be in pain as soon as it caught up with him.

Once he was settled, Martha offered some answers to his questions, "You were shot."

"Wh..at?"

"Dad." Alexis had a slight sob to her voice as she thawed and approached the side of his bed, "You were shot. In the loft."

"Beckett! Kate! Kate. Kate. Kate!" He tried to bolt upright again, but Martha gently pushed him down, prepared this time.

"She's still in surgery. They…uhm… they should be done…. soon." There was so much more to mention, but he wasn't in the state for any of that right now.

He swallowed hard as the pain in his chest caught up with his movements. He unconsciously brought up his non-IV'd arm to rub the gauze running vertical as a zipper down his chest.

"One shot to your sternum. It's…. in a million pieces." Martha took a shaky breath as Rick laid his head back against the pillow, "But the Dr. said it should heal okay. Considering…."

He nodded slowly as her response faded, the memory of the morning catching up to him. They had come home from the case, preparing for some much needed rest. He had started cooking some semblance of breakfast, despite Kate's protests. She was not a good human if she was hungry, even when she denied it. Caleb Brown had stepped into the kitchen from behind the pillar, catching Rick by surprise. All the time he had listened to Kate talk about being shot, she had never mentioned how cold it had been. Sharp spinning, like trying to send the end of a drill into a body. And wet; he remembered the wetness sticking to his clothes as the blood had flowed down his body.

And Kate?

The words they had exchanged echoed back to him. He remembered saying to Kate that he loved cooking for her. Sweet and compassionate words. At least that was good. But then, he had stupidly thrown out some theory about the case, about Caleb Brown. His last words to his wife before they were both shot had really been about a crime? Rick kicked himself internally, hoping that she would make it out of surgery so he could be a better husband. Make sure his last words were actually about love.

His left hand stretched up past his shoulder reaching for the Kate that existed there in his memory. The Kate that had been shot - he remembered hearing more than just two shots but couldn't be sure- not able to see anything from his collapsed position behind the counter. He had scooted along the cold kitchen tiles until he saw her form, bleeding and dragging herself forward toward him. Their only goal: to hold each other as they bled out. Gripping at the sheets of his hospital bed, at anything he could use to be closer to her, his hand landed on something soft, the phantom sensation of her grip haunting him.

Alexis' phone dinged nearby, pulling him back to this painful reality.

"It's….It's about Kate."