The ICU in the burn centre was warm to the point of muggy. There was an inescapable aroma that was almost like meat roasting on the grill, but sickly sweet and with an acrid, metallic edge. The sterile hospital smell did nothing to mask it, and the combination of the two sent Beckett right back to the morgue: to arson victims, bombing victims, even that absurd pizza oven case. The ones even the most seasoned cops struggled with. She watched the artificial rise and fall of Castle's chest, and couldn't shake the eerie impression that she was looking at an animated corpse. The man she loved had been reduced to some sort of great flesh bellows, at the whim of the mechanical hiss and sigh of the ventilator.
Throughout that long afternoon, she hadn't been able to focus on anything much except the updates coming from the OR. Esposito had gradually filled her in on everything that had happened the last couple of days. When Ryan showed up, bringing Lanie with him, he had plenty to tell them, too. He'd stayed behind to check in with the fire investigators and oversee the teams coming to process Tyson's house, then caught a lift back to the precinct in a squad car to escort Amy Barrett to Booking himself. And of course, they all wanted to hear Beckett's side of the story, too. She gave them the barest details, listening all the time for anyone approaching her door who might be bringing news. More often than not, it was just someone coming to check her IV, or take more blood tests, or listen to her chest while she coughed deeply.
Now she was sitting by Castle's bedside in a wheelchair, her bandaged leg strapped into a thick foam splint and elevated in front of her, where no amount of padding could lessen the discomfort of having it against the footrest. But she didn't care. For two days, since she'd woken up in that basement, all she had thought about was seeing him again. Her captors were no fools. The threat to her life was only half the torture. The agony of separation — knowing he was out there, knowing what it would be doing to him to have her gone, fearing and wondering and hoping and dreading — that was the real battleground.
If things had been different, he might have been holding her in his arms right now. He would have said something tender — probably something facetious, too — and she wouldn't have had to say a thing. She clasped his right hand, the uninjured one, and pressed it to her cheek. It was warm and solid and his, and that was enough. But he wasn't going to be holding her anytime soon.
He had burns all over the left side of his chest, over his shoulder and down his arm. There were patches going all the way down his torso, finally stopping somewhere on his outer thigh. They'd been cleaned and dressed, so she could only imagine what they really looked like, but the sheer extent of the dressings told her plenty. He was going to be in so much pain. His hair was singed a little, which he wasnotgoing to be happy about (though they'd assured her it would grow back), and his left hand was elevated and hidden in an enormous bundle of padded dressings, two fingers and a thumb just visible peeking out. Her stomach quivered.
There was a soft knock on the door and Ryan poked his head in. He, Espo and Lanie were all camped out in the waiting room outside. "Hey, Beckett. Just checking in," he said gently. "Still no change? Can I get you anything — something to eat?" She shook her head. She still felt sick and woozy from the smoke inhalation, and being in here really wasn't helping. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that they got in touch with Martha and Alexis at Heathrow. Here's their hotel." He handed her a slip of paper, which she tucked away.
"Ryan," she called, as he turned to go. "Any word on what started the fire?" They hadn't been able to imagine how or why Dr Nieman could have rigged the house to burn, when she'd thought she had the upper hand right up until she was suddenly fighting for her life.
"Yeah ... they found some sort of electrocautery device near the seat of the fire. Just a little thing, size of a pen. There was a lot of burned up fabric, maybe some cloths or linens she had around for …" He darted his eyes away, looking pretty sickened himself. "Well, for whatever she was planning."
A rolodex of jumbled images flipped around in Kate's mind. She'd been pressing them away all day, but now she wanted answers more than peace. "I think … I saw that," she said, her heart going from zero to hair-raising as she was plunged into the moment again. "She grabbed it after I got the scalpel off her and tried to …" She rubbed at her temple, as if to press away the ghost of the tiny red-hot glow that had hovered an inch from the corner of her eye. With all her strength, she'd fought to push the doctor's wrist away. Her fingers now found a tiny patch of rough, grizzled short hairs right on her hairline, exactly where the light had been. Then what?
"I wrenched it off her," she said, "but then … I don't know … it clattered off somewhere and I never thought … oh, Kevin … was it me? You were watching. Did I ...?" She looked at Castle's motionless body and couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "Did I do this to him?" She felt a sob rise in her throat and gasped for breath to keep it at bay. If she let herself really cry, she was pretty sure she was going to hurl. Another gasp followed, and another, until she couldn't stop and her vision was dazzled with stars.
"Hey, don't say that," said Ryan, rushing over to put his arms round her heaving shoulders. "It was an accident, Kate. And no, I didn't see. I saw you and Nieman fight on the monitor, but whatever happened was too small or out of frame. Maybe the thing fell to the floor and she stepped on it. We'll never know. I didn't even realise therewasa fire until Castle was halfway there. Please, don't torture yourself. If those psychos hadn't kidnapped you, none of this would have happened, remember that."
Lanie appeared at the doorway and rushed to comfort her friend. Ryan leapt out of the way and stood looking unsure whether to stay. "Kevin, could you grab a washcloth from the sink over there and wet it with cold water, please?" asked Lanie calmly, and he accepted the task gratefully and made his escape when it was done.
The washcloth felt strange in Kate's hands; her fingertips were tingling. All day she'd had this weird feeling like she wasn't really in her body, like none of this was happening. Now everything was spinning out of control, and she couldn't even master herself enough to retain a shred of dignity in front of her friends. She pressed the cloth into her eyes and focussed on the delicious coolness of it, letting it ground her in reality. Lanie was rubbing her back soothingly.
"He should never have come in after me," she whispered at last.
"Girl, you know no one on earth would have been able to stop him!" said Lanie. "The man would walk over hot coals for you. It's not the first time one of you has thrown yourself into danger for the other. It's just the first time it's gone wrong. He would never have lived with himself if he hadn't tried."
Kate steadied her breathing and continued to dab at her face. "Him and his damn heroics," she said bitterly. "What was he thinking?"
"You know exactly what he was thinking," said Lanie. "Listen, what's done is done, and blaming yourself or him won't change anything. He's got a long road ahead of him, and the last thing he needs to hear is that he shouldn't have done what he did. Let him hold on to the fact that it was all worth it to save your life. Don't make him feel bad for being so brave."
Kate sniffed. "Easy as that?"
"It's not easy, honey," said Lanie, "but it is simple: just be proud of him."
"I am. Of course, I am," said Kate sincerely. "But ... how am I going to be able to look at him and not think about how … he did this for me?"
"Maybe you won't," replied Lanie. "But just because he did it for you, doesn't make you awful. It just makes him wonderful."
Kate shook her head. It was too much even to begin thinking about right now. All she could do was watch that steady, reassuring rise and fall of his chest. They were going to try taking him off the ventilator in another hour or so. Much as she longed for him to wake up, for his sake she wished he could sleep for a month.
"I'm going to get you some water," said Lanie. "And yes, you will drink it. And then I'll leave the two of you alone."