Heart of Stone

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter One

"So hard to move on, still loving what's gone. They say life carries on." - Peter Gabriel, "I Grieve"

There's a saying that goes "dying is easy. Living is hard." In the days and months and since the trauma surgeons had forced her dead heart to start beating, Alexis Castle had learned that lesson well.

She had learned it the night she'd woken up in the ICU, feeling like she'd been broken in half. Her father was alone by her side, holding her pale hand. He'd kissed her face, held her close, showed her pictures of her newborn baby sister, Joanna. And then he'd quietly informed her that Kevin was gone. Not dead, just missing. He'd disappeared without a trace, taking her future with him.

She had learned it by watching the faces of her loved ones, the worry and grief they carried with them as days turned into weeks and then turned into months and there was no sign of Kevin. No sign of the men who had torn her life apart.

She had learned it during months of therapy, both physical and mental. Dull pain in her chest that flared with every breath. Nightmares that turned into waking dreams. A scar that would never fade.

She had learned it the day her father, Kate, and Javier cleaned out Kevin's apartment. Afterwards, Alexis had a single crate of possessions—some hers, some his, some theirs—to remember the life they had. The ring box sat inside, gathering dust. She never opened it.

She had learned it in all the nights she lay awake, wondering how everything could have gone so wrong so fast. She'd woken up to the smell of pancakes, a smell that now made her physically ill, and hours later she was flatlining in an ambulance.

She had learned it in the questions that haunted her every second of every day. Where had Kevin gone? How could he have just abandoned her?

By the time her father handed her the plane ticket, Alexis was an expert in life's disappointments. She needed a change of scenery, he had said. She would stay with her mother and finish medical school at UCLA. Everything was arranged. He'd never asked if it was what she wanted, and she hadn't fought him on it. The fear in his eyes, an emotion that was present every time he looked at her, had grown since she'd awoken in that hospital room. He'd lost her once, and after months of watching Alexis sink into herself, slowly smothering under the weight of memories and unanswered questions, he feared he would lose her again. She knew he wouldn't budge, and even if he could be moved, she didn't have the energy to fight. She barely had the energy to breathe.

Dying had been easy. It was easier than medical school, easier than falling in love, easier than falling asleep. She'd lost everything, and instead of looking to the future with excitement, Alexis was faced with the cold reality of a lifetime defined by one horrifying event.

The best she could do was hope that one day living wouldn't be so hard.

A shrill ringtone roused the sleeping inhabitant from her warm bed. With a groan and a loud thwack, Alexis pulled the cell phone from her bedside table, fumbled with the touch screen, and pressed it against her ear.

"What?" she croaked.

A voice spoke on the other end, informing her that it was time to get to work. The dead waited for nobody. She rolled off her mattress, carelessly waking the man sharing the bed with her. What was his name again? James? Mark?

"..the hell?" he muttered, lifting his head from the pillow and glancing at her alarm clock. "Who's calling you at six a.m.?"

"Work," she said shortly, turning on the bedroom lights.

"You a doctor?"

"Something like that." She yanked the comforter from his grasp. "It's time for you to leave."

"What?"

"I've got to shower and get to work. You can't stay here."

"Uh... Okay." He rolled out of bed and started dressing. Alexis wished she remembered his name. He seemed like a nice guy, and he was pretty cute. "When do you get off work?" he asked.

"Why?"

"I'd like to buy you dinner," he said with a sheepish smile.

Alexis paused, clad in only in the skimpy red dress she had worn the night before. "Dinner?"

"Yeah. I would have liked to buy you breakfast. Get to know you a bit better. I mean, last night was…" He blushed, "Amazing."

Alexis sighed. Why did he have to get clingy? When you pick up a guy in a bar, that guy usually comes with a specific set of expectations. Why couldn't he just call it was it was? "You don't want to get to know me better. I promise."

He shook his head, and she inwardly groaned. She really didn't have time for this. She impatiently tugged down the neckline of her dress, revealing the secret she'd been hiding, the one thing that would ensure that he'd stay away.

She watched with sick satisfaction as his eyes widened in pleasant-surprise-turned-horror. If he thought he'd get a chance to ogle the one part of her he hadn't seen yet, he was wrong. The giant scar running down her breastbone pretty much killed any morning-after attraction.

"Three years ago a madman gutted me like a fish. On that same day my boyfriend disappeared and I never saw him again. To this day I still wonder what happened to him. I'm not the healing kind of doctor. I'm a medical examiner, which means I spend my days cutting open dead bodies. I don't mind it. In fact, I really enjoy it. In my experience dead people are much better than live ones. I don't want a relationship, and I don't want to make a new friend. I just wanted someone to fuck me, which you did admirably. There—now you know a little more about me. You sure you want to stick around?"

His eyes widened even more, and after swallowing thickly, he looked down at the floor. "I, uh, I'd better go."

She rolled her eyes and tugged her dress back up. "Brilliant idea."

The front door to her apartment slammed shortly thereafter, and Alexis headed to the shower. Her stomach twisted in a mix of disappointment and relief. He wasn't the first guy who'd been scared off by her acerbic brand of reality. He wouldn't be the last.

She stepped among the countless unopened boxes scattered across her apartment, tripping over one of them and upending the box. Several notebooks scattered across the floor. Her eyes fell on one of the open pages.

Dear Kevin,

Dr. Roth told me to write my feelings. He said it would help me process. I don't know what I'm feeling anymore, so I'm writing to you.

Alexis muttered expletives, putting the box upright and replacing the notebook. She hurried to the shower, washing away any remnants of the night before.

A small part of her regretted being so rude to... Whatever his name was. Maybe if she'd been nicer to him, maybe if she'd let him buy her dinner. Of course, that guy seemed a little too nice for someone like her. She stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel. She wiped the fog away from the mirror, taking in her pale face and the circles under her eyes.

In the mirror she saw the red mark that started an inch above the towel. She closed her eyes, and she was back in the warehouse, her skin going cold with each futile beat of her heart. Her body numb to everything but the warm, bloodstained hands on her face. Tear-filled blue eyes stared down at her, knowing well that she was dying.

"Alexis, please-"

"I love you."

"Alexis—stay with me. Please, just… hold on."

She shook herself. Who was she kidding? Whatshisface would have been out the door even if she'd been nice. Baggage like hers wasn't a turn on—it was a red flag.

Alexis dressed in a hurry, plaiting back her damp hair and heading out the door. The crisp January air was merciless to her wet locks, but she didn't turn back. She didn't want to leave her patient waiting. She'd started her post-graduate internship with the NYPD a few weeks earlier, and being back in New York after two and a half years was sort of surreal.

Memories jumped out of every alley. Fun adventures with childhood friends, quality time spent with her father and grandmother, and so many memories of him. She could fill a book with the images of Kevin that haunted her each and every step. Alexis tried not to focus too much on the memories that threatened to smother her. She wasn't that person anymore. That wasn't her life anymore.

The body was laid out on the concrete, a young man who had obviously died from a gunshot wound to the head. Though the weapon was placed in the man's hands, it was clearly a murder. The man's fingers had been broken in a methodical way, a way that spelled torture. And a tortured man with ruined hands simply wasn't capable of pulling a trigger.

"Alexis?"

"Dr. Harper," she corrected as she looked up from the body, her gaze landing on a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Liam?" she asked.

"Detective Burke," he corrected with a small smile.

Something akin to a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, and though it felt a little strange, she found herself genuinely happy to see him. She held her hand out in a professional yet friendly gesture and he sidestepped the body, briefly enveloping her in a hug.

"You're the new ME I've been hearing about? I had no idea you were back in town. I just closed a case with your dad and Detective Esposito a few days ago-"

"I've only just moved back," she said. "Dad doesn't exactly know yet."

Liam frowned at her response, and she quickly directed him elsewhere. "So, I've got some info on your victim," she said. He nodded, and she walked him through the particulars of the man's death.

"I know this guy," Liam said. "Mike something... Flynn maybe? He's a street boss for the Irish mob."

"Is that why he was tortured? He screwed up?"

Liam shook his head. "Mike's not the first guy we've seen tortured for his involvement. Not even the first this month. All the gangs are at each other's throats. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll take each other out."

Alexis smiled tightly as the body was prepped for transport to the morgue. "You know we're not that lucky."

"True enough," he frowned at her appearance. "Didn't they issue you a bulletproof vest?"

"Yeah. It's at home. MEs don't go into the line of fire."

"Times have changed. Five MEs have been killed at scenes in the last three years. We're upping the protection. Don't leave it at home next time."

Her eyes widened, and she nodded. "Good to know."

Apparently finished with dark subjects, Liam's face brightened again as he said, "So I hear you were top of your class at UCLA."

She grimaced. "That's correct."

"And you graduated a semester early too, right? Castle won't stop bragging about you. His amazing twice-valedictorian daughter who finished med school early."

She forced a polite smile, trying to ignore the discomfort that twisted inside her stomach whenever she thought about her father. She still couldn't quite reconcile the man who had sent her away with the man who would brag about her accomplishments. "So what's new with you? Besides making detective?"

He shrugged, blushing. "Well, I'm getting married in a few months."

"Really?"

"Her name's Lily. She's a nurse."

Another smile, a real one this time, stretch across her face. "Wow. I'm so happy for you. That's such great news."

He blushed again then cleared his throat. "So what about you? Are you seeing anyone? Let me guess, you're leaving behind hoards of heartbroken new doctors back at UCLA."

Just like that, the small flame of happiness inside her chest sputtered out. "Med school isn't exactly conducive to dating."

He nodded, suddenly looking all-too-understanding, and she kind of wanted to punch him. "Well, I'm heading to the hospital. I'll call you if I find out anything new."

"Hey."

She stopped, turning back to the detective, who seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.

"What are you doing after work? Want to get drinks and catch up?"

Alexis could literally think of ten things she'd rather do than "catch up" with the detective. She knew what that phrase meant, and she knew that he would have questions that she couldn't answer in a satisfactory way. "Not tonight. Rain check?"

"Sure. It's good to have you back."

This time she couldn't smile. She couldn't tell a lie that big and pretend to be happy about it. That level of self-deception was one she hadn't yet sunk to. "It's good to be back."

There was nothing so grounding and comforting for Alexis as working in the morgue. In the last two and a half years, she'd grown used to the smell of formaldehyde, had gained a sense of camaraderie from the dead bodies sharing the space with her. Those cadavers held answers to questions, mysteries that haunted their surviving family and friends. With scalpel in hand, her mind letting go of everything but the physiology and forensic science in front of her, Alexis was limitless. She could do anything. She could find all the answers.

The victim's body was laid out in front of her, and she carefully looked for evidence. He'd been tortured then shot in the head. That much she knew. That much was clear right from the start. But by whom? And for what cause? She turned on the voice recorder, relaying the patient's information into it. Then she drew her scalpel across his chest to make the first incision.

Her therapist had been reluctant to let her return to her schoolwork as an ME. He'd thought that the dead bodies and knives would trigger her, everything else seemed to.

Despite the obvious similarities between cutting a dead man's chest open and what had happened to her three years earlier, Alexis didn't fear the knives she worked with. The morgue was her one safe place, the one place where she wasn't a victim. She wasn't the twenty-two-year-old whose life had been ripped out from beneath her feet. The girl whose boyfriend up and left, leaving her dead body in a warehouse. She wasn't broken, damaged, or even hurt. She was a fact-finder. She was a helper, a healer of wounds that most doctors could never touch. Alexis knew better than most what it was like to wonder, how much it hurt to not know, to never see closure. It had become her mission to make sure that nobody else felt that way, not if she could help it.

The morgue doors swung open, and Alexis glanced up from her patient. Her eyes widened when she saw Lanie in her street clothes with a toddler on her hip. For half a second, Alexis' attention was locked on the child. She'd heard about him, Lanie and Javi's baby, but she'd never met him. He stared at her wordlessly, all long eyelashes and chocolate-brown eyes. Alexis hurriedly covered her patient with a drape and set her tools aside.

"Hey," Lanie said.

"Who is this?"

The ME moved closer, allowing Alexis a better look at her son, who merely snuggled up to his mother. "This is Aaron."

Alexis smiled softly. "He's going to be a heartbreaker."

"Just like his father."

An uncomfortable silence settled in. "I thought the wedding was back on," Alexis said.

"It is." Lanie shrugged, adjusting the child on her hip. "I talked to Kate this morning. She thinks you're still in LA."

Alexis cringed at the subject change. "I'm going to tell them."

"When?"

"Eventually. Once I get settled."

"You always were a terrible liar."

Alexis had run into Lanie her first day back in New York. It had taken a lot to convince the ME not to tell Alexis' family that she'd come back. The redhead had always planned to tell her family, she just wasn't ready to face them yet. Alexis' phone started ringing, and her dad's name flashed across the display. She declined the call. The voicemail would tell her what she needed to know, and she wasn't really in the mood to talk to him. She'd already faked enough happiness for one day.

"You should talk to him."

Alexis glanced up at her friend, then slid her phone back in her pocket. "So what's the special occasion? Is it bring your toddler to the morgue day?"

"I'm just here to get a couple things from my office, and don't you try to change the subject. That man loves you and worries about you all the time. The least you could do is answer his calls."

The redhead returned to her place by the exam table. "I'm working."

Lanie rolled her eyes and walked into her office. On her way out, she stopped and looked back at the redhead. "You of all people should know better than to take your loved ones for granted. You need to call him, Alexis, because you might wake up one day and find out he's not around to ignore anymore." Lanie let the doors fall shut behind her, and Alexis was left alone.

Alexis stared at the doors for a while, trying to breathe around the knot in her throat. Finally, she swallowed thickly and pulled the drape off of her patient. She would talk to him. Really. But first she had a case to solve.

Alexis walked into her apartment, exhausted to the bone. She dropped her purse next to the door and immediately headed to the kitchen. She threw some takeout in the microwave and listened to the voicemail her father had left while she waited for her food to heat.

"Hi, Alexis. It's me. I'm just calling to check in. I wanted to know how you're liking your new internship in LA. I'm so proud of you." Alexis heard a high-pitched voice on the other line and a muffling over the receiver. "Oh, Joanna wants to say hi."

"Hi 'Lexis! Miss you," the girl said.

Alexis couldn't hide the grin that spread over her face. She loved her little sister. Joanna was the one bright spot in the last three years. Her dad returned to the phone. "Anyway, just call me back when you get some time. I love you honey. Bye."

Alexis sat for a minute after the call ended, considering calling her father back. Lanie's admonitions rang in her head. How long did she really expect to stay in New York without her family knowing about it? She picked up the phone, letting it rest in her palm. Maybe it was time for them to talk.

He'd likely be upset to know she was back in New York, that she'd been back for nearly a month without telling him. What if he didn't want her there? Castle had sent her to LA in the hope that it would help her, that he would get his daughter back, but Alexis knew he would never get his wish. The daughter he loved and missed had died nearly three years earlier, and what was the left, the person Alexis was now, was just a cruel reminder of what he'd lost. She couldn't call him, couldn't be that reminder. He'd already sent her away once. She wasn't sure she could survive a second rejection.

Alexis turned off her phone and opened up her computer. She unlocked up a password-protected file, searching through the sparse contents. The prominent document in the nearly empty file was her own medical chart. Words like fatal blood loss and hypovolemic shock swam in front of her. The next document contained a headline 'NYPD detective missing, presumed dead.' This was her new pastime, the real reason she'd come back to New York. She didn't have much, but it was a start. Hopefully she'd be able to get more new leads soon.

Alexis dug through her boxes until she found a fresh notebook and started writing.

Dear Kevin,

It's been three years and they still haven't found you. They still haven't found the men who hurt us.

I can't wait around anymore. I'm back in New York.

I'm going to find you.

A heart monitor beeped in regular cadence, echoing the heartbeat of the old man in the hospital bed. Tubes ran from the man's body, pulling out toxins as effectively as they shunted poison back in. How ironic that the one thing that would save him was also doing its best to kill him.

"And Mike O'Hara?" the man asked his companion.

"Taken care of." The younger man answered. "Gave us some pretty useful info too."

"You know what to do."

The young man nodded, then left the room. As he walked down the hallway, he pulled a package of cigarettes out of his suit jacket, lighting one with the mindless efficiency of a daily habit. He pulled the carcinogenic cloud into his lungs, letting it settle briefly before exhaling.

"You know it's illegal to smoke in a hospital."

He turned around, his eyes landing on a petite blonde in hospital scrubs. "Good thing this isn't a hospital." He took another drag to prove his point.

"I still can't believe you continue that filthy habit when every day you get to look at what can happen to you."

He affectionately mussed the woman's hair, knowing he was the only one who could do that and survive. "Don't worry, Brig. I'm going to be around a long time."

"What did Nolan want?" she asked.

"He's got another job for me."

"You just finished-"

"Well, it's not over yet." He paused. "You still have an admirer inside the NYPD?"

"Why?"

"Mickey's in one the morgues, and I need to pay a visit."

"I'll ask my guy."

He nodded and carelessly dropped his cigarette onto the polished hardwood, putting it out with the toe of his shoes. Nolan would be furious if he knew his home was being disrespected like that. Brigid suspected that was exactly why her brother did it. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got a date."

She frowned. "You know that's unhealthy."

"I'm good at unhealthy."

"Kevin-"

He waived her off. "You need to learn to relax."

Brigid stared at her brother, took in the slouch of his shoulders and the devil-may-care smirk on his face. His eyes were hard, closed off to her. "It's bad today, isn't it?"

Kevin leaned in and brushed his lips across her cheek. "Keep the old man alive for me."

"Kevin-" she began, but it was too late.

He was already gone.

It wasn't a date. Not really. It was his one allowance. The one weakness he allowed himself.

Kevin panted into the hollow of her neck as his hips moved against hers in that age-old rhythm. His body had long since taken the lead, leaving his mind to travel back.

His lips dragged up to her mouth, and he pulled back to look in her eyes. His heart stopped at what he saw there. Bright blue eyes stared back at him, love and pleasure shining in them. One hand twined into her long, red hair as he pressed his lips against hers. He could kiss her every day, every moment, until the end of time.

She bit his bottom lip and wrapped her legs more tightly around him. His name slipped through her lips, and he jerked his hips forward. He broke away from her mouth, watching her fall to pieces against him. Between the blush that spread down her chest and the blissed out expression in her vivid eyes, he'd never seen such a beautiful sight. Christ, he loved her.

His heart stuttered as pleasure overloaded his senses, and he held her close, almost too tight, savoring the sensation of her heart racing under his fingertips, the way her flawless bare chest rose and fell against his.

He felt her lips against his neck and he kept his eyes shut. Endorphins were slipping from his alcohol-soaked synapses faster than he could catch them.

"That was," she gasped, her voice sounding all wrong, "amazing." She gently pushed against his arms, and Kevin rolled onto his back, contentment turning to despair.

"I mean, wow."

He opened his eyes, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. He would look anywhere but at her. Anything to keep the waking dream from shattering right in front of him.

Her lips smothered his, and his eyes focused, against his will, on the woman sharing his bed. Green eyes. Light brown hair. A tall, lithe build. She grinned at him, revealing a crooked smile.

She was beautiful. There was nothing wrong with the woman in front of him. Nothing at all, except she wasn't who he wanted.

Pain settled over his chest, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. She leaned down to kiss him again, the clumsy, well-meaning affection of someone who'd had too much to drink, and he sat up before her lips could land on their mark.

"You should go."

It was the same routine every time he allowed himself to indulge in his memories. Mix far too much alcohol with a woman whose name he never learned, fuck until that moment of connection, those precious seconds when he felt her close. Not the woman he was in bed with, but the woman he missed so much he hadn't been able to breathe for three years.

The brunette argued, called him names, then left the room with the door slamming behind her. It was all part of the script. He didn't move, just lay on the sex-smelling sheets, begging his fractured mind to find her. See her again. Draw out the dream just a little longer.

Her name rested on his tongue, never passing his lips.

His eyes closed, and he saw bright blue irises, heard laughter that banged around inside his long-cold heart. This was how he wanted to remember her. This was how she had really been: vibrant, like a sun that had burst into his world, forever changing his trajectory.

"I would have said yes."

He gulped for air as traitorous tears pricked in his eyes. She was gone. Long-since cold in her grave. And these indulgences, these broken attempts to connect, were the best he would ever have. He would never see her again, hear her laugh or taste her lips. She was dead, taken, violently ripped from existence.

Kevin had learned the hard way that love made you weak, and weakness was a liability. His weakness had gotten her killed, and still he couldn't let go. Three years had passed and he still loved her, even as the cruel weight of reality hung heavy over his shoulders.

She was dead. It was his fault. And those pathetic, half-crazed moments with her ghost were all he had left.

Author's Note: It's looking pretty bleak for these two, but that means things can only improve from here, right? For those interested, I've created a Spotify playlist for this story. PM me for details.

A million thanks to everyone who supported In My Veins and helped make this story possible. I just love you guys.

Please, please, please review.

Best,

A.K. Hunter