Frozen Love (A Castle Fanfiction)

Siren's Call

"Castle, please, you have to wake up. Castle, wake up. Please, wake up," I begged, sitting in the passenger seat. I'd been able to unstrap myself and twist my body somewhat sideways, but I couldn't move enough to help him. When my hand reached over to check his pulse, it was weak, but it was there. He was breathing decently as well, but he wasn't awake. His head bled faster, it seemed, as the trail snaked from his skull to his lips and down his chin to his shoulder.

The sirens I'd heard from before the crash had been from two police cars which were now parked with their guns aimed at the car on our side. Four men were screaming for the conscious driver to get out of the car, but I wasn't focusing at all on him. I was focusing on my fiancé whose blood was slowly soaking his navy blue polo from the shoulder downward. "Babe, please, just open your eyes. Open your eyes, Rick. Please." All I could do was beg him to come back to me. Panic filled me, but my voice remained unaffected by the pain and fear that blanketed me entirely.

He didn't move. He didn't make a sound. He just laid there, unaware of what kind of desperation was coursing through my veins. I wanted nothing more than any kind of sign to tell me he was alive, but nothing came to relieve my fears. My pleas were falling upon deaf ears. There was nothing in my life I could compare this fleeting feeling of a loss of hope to more accurately than the feeling I felt as my life slowly dissipated from my body when I was shot. My mother's death had been final and absolute, from one moment of her living to the next of her being dead. Rick wasn't dead, but I could tell his body was fighting a losing fight to the head injury. His breathing became weaker and weaker while the blood continued to leak from his biggest wound.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" a man asked from my side window. When I turned to look at him, I could tell he was a cop from his uniform, but I could also tell he recognized me what I looked at him. From the thought that wiped across his face, he recognized me from the article about me being shot that was printed just over six months ago. Occasionally I got that look from civilian still, but mostly, I got it from cops.

I didn't answer his question, but instead insisted, "You have to help him. You have to help Castle." The man hesitated. "I'm fine. Please. Just help my fiancé. Please!" The man nodded over to someone and two men quickly jumped over to Rick's side to help.

"Are you hurt?" he asked me. I was too busy watching the other cop take Rick's pulse. I couldn't see his face, but it was taking too long to find his pulse. Eventually he got it, though. "Detective Beckett, are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm fine." My insistence wasn't needed, but necessary for me.

He continued with his questions, but I didn't give him my full attention. "Detective, I'm going to have to ask you to stay still, alright. The paramedics are on their way."

"Is he alright?" I asked to the man who actually put his head in. This guy wasn't a cop and didn't recognize either of us.

He looked at Rick and then looked at my stomach and then finally ended at my face. "Don't worry, miss. He has a pulse and he's breathing. He's alive." That didn't answer my question, but lifted a large weight off my shoulders.

"Detective, are you experiencing any pain in your head of back?" This cop was persistent.

I replied, "No. I'm fine."

"How far along are you?" I couldn't tell if this was an honest question that applied to my health or if he was simply trying to distract me and attempt to keep me calm.

"Thirty-six week. I'm full term." That last part was simply because I honestly didn't know if he'd know thirty-six weeks was full term or not. After that, his questions disappeared and so did he. My attention stayed on Rick the entire time. Looking at him, remembering how much I fought to survive for our son and how having something to fight for kept me alive, I leaned in and whispered, "Castle, please, you have to fight this, alright? You have to make it through this. Please, just hang on. Hang on for me. Hang on for your son. Hang on for Brayden. Don't let him grow up fatherless. Don't make me have to tell him how much you loved him, show him yourself. Fight, Rick. Please. Fight."