Fic: "Never Parted Be" (CASTLE)

[circ_bamboo]

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR END OF S3 OF CASTLE.

NO, SERIOUSLY. Also, if you haven't seen the S3 finale, this probably won't make a ton of sense. BUT STILL. SPOILERS AHOY.

Title: Never Parted Be (also on AO3)
Summary: SPOILERS WOULD BE HERE IF I PUT A SUMMARY.
Ship/Characters: Castle/Beckett
Fandom: Castle, if you didn't get that from the rest of the entry
Word Count: 1000
Rating: PG or PG-13-ish
Warnings: Angst
Notes: Inspired by boosette and medie. Written very quickly. CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE S3 FINALE OF CASTLE. Um. Have I warned enough?

Castle jerked awake in his chair when he heard one of the monitors hooked up to Beckett--Kate--start beeping wildly. His heart raced and he stood, ready to call for help, but three or four medical professionals entered the room quickly and started pressing buttons as they pulled the curtain shut around her bed. He sat back down, slowly, gripping the arms of his chair.

"Ms. Beckett, can you hear me?" he heard one nurse say. He didn't hear an answer, but the nurse continued. "We're going to take the tube out now, okay? Just hold on for a moment--"

A noise Castle didn't want to think about too hard, and he heard, as welcome to his ears as a choir of angels, a scratchy cough and, "What?"

Beckett was awake.

"Don't try to talk, yet, Ms. Beckett. Here's some water. You've been out for a little more than a day."

Castle checked his watch; it was around four p.m., and Montgomery's funeral had been the day before, at noon. Which meant he hadn't slept for--oh, math wasn't his strong suit. There was a reason he was a writer, after all. Thirty-something hours, definitely, other than a couple of random cat-naps. He'd spoken to Alexis and Martha a few times, and he'd planned on going home this evening for a shower and some actual sleep and to hug his mother and his daughter, but--

Beckett was awake.

Shit. He pressed his fist to his mouth and bit his tongue until he regained a little bit of control--not much, but hopefully enough that he wouldn't fall apart all over Beckett if--when--they let him see her.

They'd better let him see her. Jim Beckett had stopped by and stayed for a few hours while Kate was in surgery, but it was pretty obvious that he couldn't stay at the hospital right at that moment--too many memories. Ryan and Esposito had been in and out, but someone had to be at the 12th Precinct. Lanie had stopped by, read Beckett's charts, said uncharitable things about the doctors, and left, pretending she wasn't crying.

Even Captain Montgomery's wife had stopped by, and all Castle could do was say, "Thank you, ma'am."

But Castle had been there the entire time, ever since he'd talked the EMTs into letting him ride in the ambulance. He'd waited for news of how the surgery was going (she'd had a collapsed lung and more perforated blood vessels than he could count) for all four hours of the surgery, and then however long it had been before they moved her out of isolation into a room he could go into (which took more quick talking), and . . . well, however long he'd been in the room since then. For a total of thirty-something hours. Thirty-one, maybe? He shook his head. Not important.

What was important was that Beckett was awake.

He tuned back into the conversation going on behind the curtain, privacy be damned. "--have a visitor waiting here to see you," a different nurse, male this time, said quietly. "He's been here the whole time. You want to see him for a moment or so? It's completely up to you."

"Who?" Beckett asked.

One of the nurses stuck her head out of the curtain, looked at Castle, pulled her head back in, and said, "It's the author Richard Castle."

He listened very intensely for Beckett's response and, only because he was concentrating so hard, heard a faint whimper. Was that good? Bad? Oh god. He didn't know, and he dug his fingers into the cushioning on the chair's arms.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long; yet a third nurse or aide or maybe even doctor stuck his head out of the curtain and said, "If you wait just a moment, after we finish checking her out, she'd like to see you."

All the blood drained from Castle's head, even though he was still sitting, but he was pretty sure he managed to nod and the nurse-aide-doctor disappeared. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the gray sparkles from the edges of his vision. Beckett was awake, and wanted to see him. He didn't think he'd ever heard anything better.

Well, maybe when Alexis was born, but if he was comparing it to that, well.

He pulled out his phone, thumbed it on, and texted Alexis and Martha the good news. And then Ryan and Esposito. And then Lanie, who would punch him if he assumed that Esposito would tell her. And then Jim Beckett. Feeling like he'd done his job, he switched the phone off, and stuffed it back in his pocket just before the doctors opened the curtain.

Her face was pale and drawn, and she had giant dark circles under her eyes; there were various needles and patches still dotting her arms, but the tube down her throat was gone and she was down just to one of those nose-things--a cannula, he thought they were called.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Hey, Beckett," he said, dragging up a chair and sitting mere inches away from the side of her bed.

"Castle," she croaked. She lifted a couple of fingers, one of which had a heart-rate monitor clipped to it; he covered her hand with his. Despite the monitor, she turned her hand over and clasped his fingers, just the barest amount of pressure, but he felt it.

"You stayed," she said.

"Of course I did," he said. "Don't talk, not if it hurts."

She smiled, or tried to, at least; her lips were dry and cracked, and even the half-smile looked painful. "Tired," she said.

"You should be. Sleep." He'd be there when she woke again.

"In a moment," she said. She squeezed his fingers again, swallowed, and said, looking at him directly, "I love you too."

Castle's mouth went dry, and he nodded, squeezing her fingers back, a lump in his throat. He stood and leaned over her, pressing his lips gently to her forehead.

Beckett's eyes closed as he watched, and her face smoothed out somewhat as she fell asleep, her fingers still wrapped around his. He sat back down, careful not to disturb her. He wasn't going anywhere.

She remembered.