Castle's partner

Wake Up

I wake up facing Oliver, and he is smiling at me.

"That's creepy. You look like a serial killer."

He laughs.

"Have you ever actually met a serial killer?"

"Yes. And for the record, I killed him. So don't cross me."

He laughs again, but sees that I'm not, and it quickly subsides.

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Dead. Literally."

I smile smugly.

"That's scary but at the same time, the coolest thing ever."

"Yeah, don't forget that."

"Never."

I smile.

"Hey, I have to... ya know..."

I jerk my head towards the bathroom.

"Oh. Do you need help?"

He stands up and takes my hand as I get up.

I walk slowly to the bathroom, trying to ignore the pain in my chest.

I wince each time my foot hits the floor.

I finally make it to the bathroom and close the door behind me.

I do my business and wash my hands. I splash water on my face, careful not to get any on my stitches.

The cool water is pure bliss against my skin.

I walk back out and I get into bed.

Oliver suddenly reaches over and takes my hand, something I was not expecting.

I flinch visibly and try not to shrug him away.

He sees he scared me and lets go.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

I feel bad. It's not his fault.

"It's not you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Umm, sure?"

I am thrown off by the sudden topic change.

"Were you abused?"

My heartbeat quickens.

"What? I don't know what you are talking about."

He sits next to me.

"It's ok. It just seems like it, with the flinching when anyone touches you and the nightmares. And when I asked you out you acted like no one would ever do that. Samantha, I'm ok with that. I can help you, you can talk to me. I'm here for you. I just, want to know what happened."

"Oliver. It really hurts to talk about."

He sighs.

"Trust me, I know. How about this, you tell me your story and I'll tell you mine? Sound fair?"

"Fine. Just, don't hate me."

"I couldn't."

And with that I start my horror story.

"I lived in Sacramento with my parents, my two older sisters and my little brother. When I was ten, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I didn't know it at the time, but she was dying. It was terminal. They kept it from us until two days, two days before she died that she had cancer. I was devastated. I just lost my mom. We had her funeral, and on the way back home a car started following us. Then they hit us, and I woke up almost dead in the hospital, with my dad. All three of my siblings died."

My eyes tear up. I continue before I lose my nerve.

"My dad and I became depressed and went to New York for a trip, and I turned the corner for a second, a second and he was murdered. And the police never found the killer. I was put in foster care and the couple I lived with abused me. Brandon, he always beat me up, among other things. So one day I couldn't handle it anymore, and I ran away. I lived on the streets and became depressed. Severely. I started to-I started to self harm. It was really bad. And then I found the team, and they kind of took me in. Then things happened six months later I ended up in the hospital and everyone found out about my dead family. I went back to Sacramento and I was kidnapped and tortured for a week. I was back here and I developed PTSD. Then we found out my family's killer has killed at least twenty others. Then the team found out about my self harm. And on the three year anniversary of my mom's death, I attempted suicide. And in between all of that I killed the serial killer I was talking about and almost died in a bomb explosion. And that's my sad life."

My hands are shaking. I start to wipe away the tears from my eyes, but Oliver stops me.

He gently wipes them away with his thumb, a sadness in his eyes.

When I stop crying, Oliver's voice is soft in my ears.

"Can I see your scars?"

"Oliver-"

"Please?"

I go silent, and look down at my arm.

The hospital gown is short sleeved, so out of habit I keep the inside of my arms face down.

I slowly turn them over.

I expect Oliver to be disgusted and repulsed or something like that.

Instead, he starts crying.

"How could you hurt something so beautiful? Please stop doing this. It hurts me to see this."

He takes my arm in his hand, and does what Ryan did.

He moves his fingers over every scar, meticulously tracing them.

When he's done, he looks up at me.

"You are the strongest person, I have ever met."