Oh, Death

Until now, it had all been a game. He would always deny it when he was accused of just playing a role, tagging along for the action, hanging around the precinct and going on the cases just for fun, but to a certain extent that’s all he was doing. He wasn’t a cop. He was a novelist. He put on the vest he’d had custom made - “WRITER” on the front in big, bold, white letters, mimicking the others’ vests, which read “POLICE” - without fear. That single vest, that little scrap of kevlar, made him feel completely invincible - more so than usual. Now he could literally stop a speeding bullet. He neglected to remind himself that it had to be a well-placed speeding bullet.

Oh, Death, оh Death, oh Death
Won’t you spare me over another year

It was a week before Christmas, a routine bust. They had uncovered the location of a drug lab pertaining to their murder and had called plenty of backup from Narcotics. They were all wearing their kevlar vests, all brandishing weapons, all uniformed and armed. They had all burst in shouting, “Police! Don’t move!” As usual, he had hung back, staying out of the way.

Some of the dealers ran, some surrendered, and some put up a fight. One in particular took a very decisive stance. He raised his gun with a quick and steady arm and fired thrice. By the sound of the gunshots, he could tell it was an automatic weapon. A steady stream of shots followed, this time fired by the officers, and the shooter went down.

Castle looked down to see Kate Beckett lying on the ground.

But what is this, that I can’t see

With ice cold hands taking hold of me

He ran to her out of instinct and was by her side in an instant. Ryan was rigorously pumping her chest to keep her heart beating and Castle could hear Esposito behind him. “We’ve got an officer down at Lexington and Fifth, chest shot, immediate attention...”

The room began to blur and he began to go numb. All he saw was the blood and her face - her pale, peaceful face.

His hands shook as he reached out to her. He tucked a hand under her neck, to support her head and laid the other on her abdomen. Her neck was warm to his touch and he ignored the sticky blood and solid kevlar beneath his hand, looking into her face and silently begging her to show any sign of life, to blink, to twitch, to move her eyes...

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold

Who will have mercy on your soul

He rode with her and Lanie in the ambulance, clutching her hand as Lanie manually pumped Kate’s heart. At the hospital, he kept at least one hand on her or the gurney as the staff wheeled it inside quickly, trading codes and medical lingo that he didn’t even try to keep up with. He finally had to let go when they reached the operating room and he watched her disappear with a heavy pain in his chest.

She was no longer in his hands. He could no longer control her fate, write her life, be there to protect her, or at least hold her hand to help her through.

He was still wearing blood and kevlar when his mother and daughter arrived.

Oh Death, oh Death, oh Death

He paced until he could pace no longer, then he sat in an uncomfortable waiting room chair, staring blankly into the distance. Cheery holiday lights lined the reception desk, and snowmen and reindeer plushies were placed sporadically on the waiting room tables. They seemed grotesque, inappropriate; how dare they try cheer him when the best homicide detective, the most beautiful smile, the great Kate Beckett, his Kate Beckett, was lying in a hospital bed, bleeding out?

No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold

Nothing satisfies me but your soul

His mind shifted to the possibility of her death and he began to hear the doctor’s voice in his head. “We’re so sorry...” He shook his head violently, rejecting the image. But still, more voices. Strangers in the media, at book signings, at public events: “We’re so sorry for your loss...” Kevin, Javier, and Roy: “She was a great cop...” Alexis: “Dad, I’m so sorry...” His mother: “I know what she meant to you, dear...” His agent, his publisher, his publicist: “This is a hard time... We understand what you’re going through...”

Everywhere his mind turned, another face, another voice expressed condolences or pronounced her dead. He took his head in his hands and tightly closed his eyes, trying to shut them out.

It couldn’t happen. It wasn’t possible. He’d been with her so long, he’d forgotten what it was like before her. She couldn’t die, he wouldn’t know what to do, how to deal with it. He wouldn’t know how to live.

Oh, Death

They’d had plans for Christmas.

Ryan, Esposito, and the Captain all had family plans, but Kate’s dad was out of town. She’d said they didn’t usually spend Christmas together anyway, that it had been her mother’s holiday and was painful for them to spend alone together. He’d offered her a place at their dinner table and she had accepted with a gracious smile.

When he told Martha and Alexis, they’d been so happy to receive a new face at the dinner table for the holiday. Martha had begun on the menu at once, now knowing how to theme the dinner, even though Richard usually did most of the cooking. Alexis was excited about getting to show her place settings and napkin origami to someone who might appreciate it a little more, not having seen it at every significant dinner.

It made him happy to see how much his family liked Beckett and how eager they were to share the happiness of the holiday.

The happiness.

Castle briefly wondered if this holiday would still be a happy one.

Well I am Death, none can excel

I’ll open the door to heaven or hell

Neither Alexis nor Martha went near him, afraid of his mental state and not knowing how to help. They didn’t know whether he’d lash out, or put up a stoic, passive front, or simply break down. They watched as he stared blankly ahead, apparently lost in thought, and wondered if that was a good place for him to be.

None of the Castle family were the praying type. Martha and Richard hadn’t set foot in a church since he was eight, and he’d never taken Alexis. But now, none of them could help clasping their hands together and sending desperate pleas skyward.

He had never felt so useless.

Oh Death, оh Death
My name is Death and the end is here…

In the hospital room, the steady rhythm faded to an unbroken tone.