[Vol-2] [Castle] Ch: 41 [Discharged & PTSD] (Patreon)

[Four months later] [July 2]

Travis finally left the hospital with a discharge folder thick enough to qualify as a weapon, two pharmacy bags full of medication, and a list of follow-up appointments that made him feel like the doctors expected him to live inside their building forever.

Kate drove him home through the late afternoon traffic, keeping one hand loose on the wheel while she glanced toward him every few minutes without making it obvious. Travis sat in the passenger seat with the seat reclined slightly.

"You know," he said, looking down at the pile of pill bottles, "I've handled cartel raids, undercover work, explosions, and surgery. Somehow this is what finally scares me."

Kate glanced at the bags before turning back toward the road. "You should be scared. Dr. Halpern repeated every instruction three times because he knows you'll ignore half of them."

"He repeated them because he enjoys hearing himself talk," Travis replied with a faint grin. "Nobody needs that many warnings about lifting things."

"He told you not to lift heavy objects because your back, ribs, and abdominal muscles are still healing," Kate said firmly. "That means no gym, sparring, motorcycle, and definitely no trying to carry furniture around your apartment."

Travis leaned his head back against the seat. "You make recovery sound really boring."

"You nearly died under a tunnel, Travis. Boring is exactly what you need for a while."

The smile on his face faded slightly after that, though he did not argue. Kate had been careful since the hospital, always speaking softly whenever the tunnel came up, like saying too much could pull both of them back beneath the city.

She pulled up outside his apartment building a few minutes later and parked near the entrance. Travis reached for the door handle, but Kate was already out of the car and walking around the front before he could stand by himself.

"I can get out without a rescue team," he said as she opened his door.

Kate leaned down and placed one hand on the car roof. "You can get out by yourself, and I will stay close enough to catch you if your legs give out again."

"You ain't gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope."

"It was a nice kiss thought."

"Of course it was."

Travis smiled at her before carefully stepping onto the sidewalk. His body had improved fast over the past weeks, faster than any doctor could explain, but standing still too long still made his back ache and his muscles shake. He waited until the brief dizziness passed, then reached down for one of the pharmacy bags.

Kate grabbed the other bag and his discharge folder before he could protest.

"I got it," she said, already heading toward the entrance.

"C'mon, that folder weighs almost nothing."

"Then you should have no problem letting me hold it."

He followed her inside at a slow pace, refusing to lean on the wall even when his ribs tightened with every breath. Kate noticed anyway, because she noticed everything when it came to him now.

The elevator ride felt quiet but comfortable. Travis looked toward her, watching the tired lines near her eyes and the way she kept checking his reflection in the metal doors. 'Looks like she's still having trouble. Haaa... PTSD. I heard she was in therapy, but still...'

"Thank you for driving me home," he said quietly. "And for putting up with all the hospital bullshit these last few months."

Kate looked up at him. "You don't have to thank me for being there."

"I know," Travis replied with a side nod. "I still want to."

The elevator opened before she could answer, and they walked down the hallway toward his apartment. Travis unlocked the door, then stepped aside so Kate could enter first with the bags.

His place looked exactly the way he had left it months ago. The couch was still covered with a folded blanket, his personal records of case files sat stacked near the television, and his helmet rested beside the Ducati keys on the small table near the door. Everything felt familiar, but seeing it again after so long made the room feel almost unreal.

Kate set the bags on the kitchen counter and turned toward him. "Sit down before you fall down."

"I'm standing perfectly fine."

"You're swaying slightly."

"I'm adjusting to gravity."

Kate folded her arms and gave him that look that made even his best lies feel stupid. Travis held out for two seconds before walking slowly toward the couch and lowering himself onto it.

"That better?" he asked.

"It's a start," Kate replied as she looked through the medication list. "Pain meds every six hours if you need them, muscle relaxers at night, anti-inflammatories with food, and no skipping your checkups because you think you're healed."

He said, "I won't skip anything." 

Kate narrowed her eyes.

He sighed, "Don't give me that look, Beckett. I promise I won't skip any meds." He looked around the place. It looked clean. "You really found time to clean this place up, huh? I was kinda joking back then."

"We cleaned this place up and stocked up the fridge and kitchen last night," Kate replied as she took off her jacket and placed it on the chair near the kitchen island. 

"We?" Travis raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Lanie and me," She replied as she walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. She took out a box of pasta.

Travis watched her set the pasta box beside the stove before leaning back into the couch cushions. The apartment smelled faintly of fresh groceries and lemon cleaner, which felt strange after months of antiseptic halls, plastic meal trays, and hospital food that somehow tasted like punishment.

"I see," he said, looking over the stocked counters. "Tell her I said thanks when you see her."

Kate filled a pot with water and set it on the stove before turning back toward him. "You can call her yourself, you know."

Travis looked at her for a second. "You're okay with me calling my ex? Although I don't think ex even fits, since we weren't exactly in an official relationship. It was just... you know..." He shrugged.

Kate rested one hand against the kitchen counter. "You should call her. She'll like it, and yes, I heard everything I needed to know from Lanie. We talked a lot, and yeah, I'm okay with it." She nodded.

Travis studied her face like he expected a hidden catch somewhere behind the answer. When he found none, he nodded. "Alright then, I'll give her a call later."

They continued to talk while she made lunch. 

[30 minutes later...]

Kate's phone rang. She looked at the screen, and her expression shifted as soon as she saw Esposito's name. She took the call, "Yeah, Espo?"

She heard for a moment.

"Alright. I'm on my way."

She ended the call and turned toward Travis, who had already pushed himself up from the couch.

"I've got a case," Kate said as she reached for her jacket. "And don't even think about acting cool while I'm gone. Take your meds, stay off your feet, and don't try doing anything stupid."

Travis gave her a faint smile. "I'll take it easy."

Kate looked at him carefully. "I mean it, Travis."

"I know," he replied.

Before she could say anything else, Travis walked over and wrapped his arms around her. Kate hugged him back with a happy smile. They stood together for a few quiet seconds.

"Okay, get out there and kick some ass," Travis whispered near her ear. "But be careful."

Kate pulled back slightly, and they kissed. She pulled back and pressed her forehead against his.

"I will," she said softly.

...

[St. Peter’s High School]

St. Peter’s High School had gone into a controlled lockdown.

Uniforms stood at every entrance while teachers kept students inside their classrooms. The east parking lot had been sealed behind yellow tape, leaving only patrol cars, the crime-scene van, and a row of idle school buses near the curb.

Bus 14 sat at the center of it all.

Kate was already there with the team, standing at the open folding door while Lanie worked inside the narrow aisle. Six yellow evidence markers rested near the driver’s seat, each one placed beside a nine-millimeter casing. The victim remained slumped behind the wheel, his uniform shirt torn by six bullet wounds.

Kate’s eyes moved over the scene before she could stop them.

Six shots.

Six casings.

The count hit something buried inside her chest.

For less than a second, the bus aisle became a tunnel passage. The evidence markers became shell casings on wet concrete. The silence around her was filled with gunfire, collapsing walls, and Travis shouting her name through the smoke.

Her grip tightened around her notebook.

Then she forced herself back.

Kate focused on the scratched steering wheel, the numbered markers, Lanie’s gloved hand, and the low murmur of officers moving outside the tape. Her breathing steadied before anyone could notice more than a brief pause.

Lanie glanced toward her, catching the change anyway, but she kept her voice professional. “The victim took six rounds from a nine-millimeter handgun. Four hit his chest and upper torso, while two struck lower. I’ll confirm the exact sequence after the autopsy, but whoever fired those shots stayed close enough to make every one count.”

Kate nodded slowly. “Any estimate on time of death?”

“Security found him at about two-twenty,” Lanie replied. “Based on body temperature and the condition of the wounds, I’d place the shooting somewhere between two-ten and two-fifteen."

That detail settled heavily over the scene.

A gunman had walked onto school property in the middle of the afternoon, killed a bus driver, and left before anyone could see them.

Esposito stepped up behind Kate with a folder tucked beneath one arm. “Victim’s name is Leonard Pike, forty-eight years old. He’s worked this route for eleven years, no criminal records and no financial problems that we can find yet.”

Kate looked toward the body again. “Why was he here this early?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Esposito said. “His normal afternoon route starts after three. The school says Pike usually parked behind the maintenance building until dismissal. Today, he pulled Bus 14 into the east lot and stayed in the driver’s seat.”

"And look at his fingers... gold rings. So, we can rule out robbery," Kate said.

Castle’s voice came from behind.

“A school bus driver shot six times in broad daylight,” he said as he crossed beneath the tape with two coffee cups in his hands. “Now that is a cold-blooded murder."

Kate turned slightly. “Castle, you’re late.”

“I came as fast as I could after hearing someone got murdered inside a school bus,” Castle replied, handing her a coffee.

"Thanks," Kate said.

Castle continued, “Also, the school security officer insisted on checking my ID three times because apparently being a bestselling author does not outrank common sense anymore.”

Esposito gave him a flat look. “It never did.”

Ryan crossed the east parking lot from the direction of the maintenance building. He stepped around the yellow tape. He stopped before them.

“Arturo Medina, janitor,” Ryan said. “He found Pike's body."

Kate turned toward him. “What did he see?”

“Medina was taking trash behind the maintenance building when he noticed Pike pull Bus 14 into the east lot early,” Ryan replied. “Pike usually waits behind the building until dismissal, but today he parked out here around two-oh-five and stayed in the driver’s seat.”

Esposito glanced toward the dead driver. “Did Medina see who got on the bus?”

Ryan nodded once. “He saw someone approach from the east service gate. Dark hoodie, jeans, medium build, and a backpack slung over one shoulder. He couldn’t see the face, but Pike opened the folding door himself.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the open entrance. “So Pike knew them, or at least expected them.”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Ryan said. “Medina kept walking because he thought it was a parent or staff member at first. Then he heard an argument through the bus windows.”

Castle leaned closer, coffee forgotten in his hand. “An argument about what?”

Ryan checked his notes. “Pike said, ‘I already told you, I wasn’t driving that day.’ Then he said, ‘Leave my family out of this.’ Medina heard six shots less than a minute later.”

The narrow bus aisle went quiet.

Lanie looked up from the driver’s seat, her expression tightening behind her gloves. “That fits the wound pattern. The shooter stood close and fired quickly."

Kate looked toward Ryan again. “What happened after the shots?”

“Medina ducked behind the maintenance shed,” Ryan said. “When he looked again, the hooded person was leaving through the service gate. They were moving fast, but Medina said they didn’t run until they were out of the lot. He called 911 after that.”

Esposito folded his arms. “Confident enough to walk away from a murder scene inside a school.”

Castle stared at the six evidence markers near Pike’s seat, his expression shifting into that familiar look Kate had learned to distrust on instinct.

“Oh, this isn’t just murder,” Castle said slowly. “This is a reenactment.”

Kate gave him a flat look. “Castle.”

“Six shots,” Castle said quietly. “That part matters too much to be random. Whoever killed Pike wanted him sitting in that exact seat, behind that exact wheel, when it happened.”

Kate folded her arms. “You think this is connected to the bus?”

“I think Pike was involved in something that happened while he was driving,” Castle replied. “He told the shooter he wasn’t driving that day, which means somebody believes he was. Maybe there was an accident, maybe someone died, or someone disappeared during a route, but Pike has spent years insisting he had nothing to do with it.”

Esposito looked toward the bus windows. “So the shooter called him here to force a confession out of him, but ended up killing him when he refused?”

Castle nodded slowly. “Exactly. Pike opens the door because he recognizes the person or expects them. They argue, Pike denies driving that day, then the killer fires six times in rage. But why six times? Our killer was close. They could've done with a single headshot, but no. They shot him six times,” He pointed toward the evidence markers. “Six shots could represent six people, six witnesses, six victims, or six years of guilt. This wasn’t a quick execution. This was punishment with a script.”

Before anyone could say anything...

The sound of gunfire came from inside the building.

Several shots cracked through the locked-down hallways, close enough to make everyone near the bus turn toward the school at once. Students screamed somewhere beyond the walls, followed by the sharp echo of teachers shouting instructions behind closed classroom doors.

Kate’s body reacted before thought caught up.

Her hand went to her weapon as her pulse slammed against her ribs. For one terrible second, the parking lot blurred around her. She felt the intense pain in her stomach as the old memories flashed once again before her eyes.

Her heart started pounding harder.

Then Kate forced herself back into the present.

“Active shooter,” she said, drawing her Glock. “Move.”

Ryan was already running toward the outer side of the school, cutting around the building to cover the front entrance and stop anyone from escaping into the street. Esposito broke toward the fire escape on the opposite side, his gun out as he moved for the upper hallways.

Kate sprinted toward the back entrance, keeping low as she reached the metal door beside the maintenance wing. Castle stayed near the bus with Lanie, and neither of them tried to follow after the detectives.

“Castle, stay with the crime scene team,” Kate called without slowing. “Nobody goes inside unless they’re cleared.”

Castle gave a fast nod, his face pale now. “Please be careful, Beckett.”

Kate pushed through the back door and entered the school.

The hallway was empty.

Lockdown alarms pulsed through the building while fluorescent lights reflected across polished tile. Classroom doors lined both sides of the corridor, each one locked from the inside. Somewhere above her, students cried quietly while teachers tried to keep them calm.

Kate moved forward with her Glock raised.

“NYPD!” she called out. “Stay in your classrooms, duck down on the ground and keep the doors locked.”

Another gunshot echoed from somewhere farther down the hall.

Kate flinched despite herself.

The sound twisted through her body like a memory she had tried to bury. Her hand tightened around the grip of her weapon, and her breathing became shallow for half a second before she forced it back under control.

“You’re here,” she whispered to herself. “You’re here.”

A loud crash sounded near the stairwell ahead.

Kate moved toward it, keeping close to the wall as she passed rows of classroom doors. A teacher’s face appeared briefly through the narrow glass window of one room, eyes wide with fear.

Kate signed her to keep quiet with her finger.

She reached the stairwell door and listened.

Footsteps moved on the other side.

Someone was coming down.

Kate raised her gun and pushed through the door.

A masked man stood halfway down the stairs with a handgun in his right hand. He wore dark clothes, gloves, and a black mask that hid everything except his eyes. His gaze locked on Kate the instant she stepped inside.

He raised his weapon toward her.

“Get out of my way.”

Kate froze for a moment.

Her hands shook around the Glock as the masked man kept his weapon aimed at her chest. The stairwell suddenly felt too narrow, too bright, and far too quiet beneath the distant pulse of the lockdown alarm.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kate said, forcing each word out steadily despite the pressure building inside her chest. “Just drop your gun and surrender.”

The man’s eyes narrowed behind the mask.

“Get out of my way, bitch.”

Kate tightened her grip and raised her weapon properly. She had a clear shot. His chest was open, and his gun hand was exposed. One pull of the trigger would end it before he could fire again.

But her finger would not move.

The tunnel flashed through her mind without warning.

Gunfire cracked through the darkness. Dust covered the floor. Travis shouted her name somewhere beyond the smoke. Her stomach twisted as the feeling of wet concrete and blood returned with enough force to make the stairwell blur around her.

Kate tried to breathe.

“Please,” she said, keeping her weapon raised as her voice strained around the fear. “Put it down. You can still walk away from this.”

The masked man took one step lower.

His gun stayed aimed at her.

Kate saw his finger settle against the trigger.

Everything around her went black.

Three gunshots exploded through the stairwell.

Kate flinched hard, her body locking in place as the echoes slammed against the concrete walls. For one terrible second, she could not hear anything except the ringing in her ears.

Then the world slowly came back.

The masked gunman lay crumpled across the stairwell landing, blood spreading beneath him, while his handgun rested several feet from his outstretched hand.

Esposito stood near the upper landing with his weapon still raised, his chest rising hard as he stared at Kate.

“Beckett,” he called, his voice sharp with panic. “Kate, are you okay?”

Kate blinked once.

Then she blinked again.

Her hands were still shaking around her Glock as she looked from the dead man to Esposito. Her throat felt tight, and her heart still pounded hard enough to hurt.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

Esposito stepped closer, his expression softening as he lowered his weapon.

Kate forced herself to breathe again.

“Yeah,” she repeated, though the words sounded distant even to her. “I’m good.”

--