Castle's partner

The Girl with the Black Hoodie

I stay next to her side.

Lanie comes back soon after calling the boys.

A nurse offers us breakfast around eight when the rest of the patients would eat, but we decline. She leaves Samantha's meal of oatmeal, an apple, and orange juice on a tray.

"If she wakes up, make sure she eats. She's underweight, and it's harder for her to fight sickness because her immune system is weak. Does she seem anorexic? Does she eat?" The nurse asks.

Lanie and I look at each other. I told her about Samantha's anorexia when the rest of us found out.

"She used to be, but not any more. She's been eating lately." Says Lanie.

The nurse nods, but frowns.

"I'll be back later to check on her. If she wakes up before I come back just call for me."

As she leaves, Lanie says, "the boys should be here in a couple hours."

"Good, I don't want to break my promise to her." I stare at Samantha for a moment. "God Lanie, I was so afraid. She-she was hallucinating. She said she saw someone hurting me. Why would she see that?"

"People can see some of their worst nightmares when hallucinating. It actually doesn't surprise me that she saw that. She said her worst fear is one of us getting hurt and it being her fault right? And with a fever that high, your brain can't function correctly."

A groan comes from somewhere under Samantha's blankets. She slowly moves them aside and squints at the light.

"I feel...like crap." She whispers, a faint smile etched onto her lips.

We laugh. "Yeah no offense but you look like it too." I say.

She giggles, but it fades quickly.

She sits up, placing a hand on her head.

I can tell she's in pain.

"So, what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not all of it."

"You started hallucinating, so I took your temperature and you had a fever of 106, so I took you to the hospital."

She grits her teeth, remembering some of what happened.

"Who was hurting me?" I ask softly, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Her gaze immediately falls to her hands.

"I don't remember." She mumbles.

"Yes you do, you said it was a man, who was it?" I press for answers, and I'm not sure why I want to know so badly.

"Kate," Lanie warns.

I shut up, but I know I'm getting her to talk.

She hesitates, then sighs, readying herself for a story.

"It was a long time ago, after I ran away from Brandon and Elizabeth. I didn't have a place to stay, I was alone. I barely survived. But one day I somehow gathered enough money to get something, I don't remember what it was but, I went into a convenience store and looked for it. I heard the bell on the door jingle that lets people know someone else has come in. I didn't think anything of it, but I heard a gunshot, and I turned to find a man dressed in all black, wearing a ski mask. He had shot the cashier. It was just us in the store. He asked where the key for the cash register was, and I didn't know. He-he punched me and kept asking and then cops pulled up and he ran. I was almost unconscious, but I pulled my hood up so it covered most of my face and then officers came in. I fell against one of them, and he asked what happened, but I ran. He ran after me. I was scared, I didn't want to be caught and taken back. I knew the cashier didn't die, and I think he was the one that called 911. But I felt so guilty. What if he had died? I ran, I ran and I'm the only one that saw who did it."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in.

"When was that?" Asks a voice from the corner. We were so immersed in the story we didn't notice Esposito come in.

"I'm-I'm not sure."

"Think, Samantha I need you to think."

"I-I don't know, a little more than a year ago?" Samantha struggles to respond.

Espo's eyes become decidedly darker, a side in him coming out that doesn't very often.

"Where?"

"Not too far from the precinct, a few miles."

"What was the cashiers name?"

"Espo-"

"What was him name?" He cuts her off.

"How was I supposed to know it?"

"You had to have seen the newspaper or watched the news, you would have found out. What was his name?" He snaps.

She shuts her eyes.

"It started with a D, Darryl maybe? I-I think."

"Espo what's going on?" I ask.

"That cop was me. I was the one that responded to that call. Do you know how long I looked for you? Obsessed, over the fact that I knew you were hurt and couldn't help you? We caught the guy Samantha! The cashier lived. All we cared about was finding you. If you hadn't run, we could have helped you. I searched for the girl with the black hoodie every day. I carry around the case file in my car! And it was you, all along."

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Ross pov.

I'm not sure if I'm processing his words correctly.

"It was you?" I whisper.

"You ran from me, and I was just trying to help."

I shake my head.

"This is another hallucination. This isn't real!"

"This is real Samantha."

"Then you're lying to me!"

"I wouldn't lie to you."

How can something so good be a part of a day that I feel so guilty about? That day shaped me, it changed me. I realized how selfish I am. How I can handle being in pain but not the ones I care about because it puts me in pain. But I didn't stop for one second to think about how it would put the people I love in pain if I was in pain.

"He could've killed you!"

"Well I'm sorry I didn't want to go back to an abusive family! I'm sorry I ran from people who had never helped me before! In case you hadn't noticed, cops had never done anything for me."

At my words, they go silent.

They seem tongue tied, I immediately realize my words were a blow below the belt.

I speak up again, barely above a whisper, ashamed. "I couldn't trust anyone. I didn't know who would listen, and who would believe a fourteen year old nutcase. If I had known you, and how much you would've helped, I wouldn't have run. I'm sorry."

Wordlessly, Espo approaches me. His soft brown eyes meet mine, and for the first time I don't look away. I find comfort in his familiar features, the ones that saved me so many times.

He moves a strand of hair behind my ear, and he takes me in his arms. I breathe in his cologne, and I fall apart in my Tío's arms.

"I'm so sorry," I cry.

He strokes my hair, and rests his chin on top of my head.

"Chica, you don't need to be."