A/N: If you got here because you were hoping for an update of something else, sorry. It would seem that the part of my brain which loves to write also has a touch of ADD. Oops. So here's a one (or maybe two or three?) shot piece. I'm sure this concept has been done and overdone, but humor me and enjoy (yet another) tag to 3x24 "Knockout."

Wake Me Up

Kate, I love you.

She could hear those four small words with perfect clarity. She knelt at Johanna's grave, reaching out to touch the stone reverently.

I love you, Kate.

The lilt, color, timbre of her mother's voice was perfectly preserved in memory, almost tangible in the breeze that played in the trees and stirred the soft, loose strands of her hair. Kate closed her eyes and inhaled deeply and slowly, ignoring the strange ache in her chest and the unsettling sound of chaos humming in her mind. Everything was wrong.

"Please don't cry," a tiny voice pleaded. "Please don't cry, mommy."

Startled, Kate jerked to her feet. Her eyes were wide and searching. This voice was real. It was unfamiliar and confusing and sweet. One of her hands lay protectively across her flat abdomen, a subconscious tell. Her soul knew something that her mind couldn't comprehend.

"I'm here, baby," Kate heard herself say through trembling lips. "Don't be afraid."

A small hand slipped into hers and their fingers entwined naturally, as if the closeness they shared was part of their everyday routine. Kate felt dizzy. She looked down to see a beautiful small child nestled against her leg. She couldn't have been more than four years old.

"You either." A pair of lovely, innocent blue eyes smiled up at her. They were his eyes.

"I'm not afraid," Kate smiled back, assuring the child—her daughter. She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat.

'Then why are we here?" A sea of gravestones stretched out before them.

"I don't—" She couldn't finish the sentence. She couldn't remember. Kate's heart beat an odd rhythm and her breath hitched uncomfortably in her throat.

Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me.

She shook her head. The chaos was still there, growing louder. She squeezed the child's hand. The soft pressure kept her grounded and sure. She smiled to reassure them both.

Stay with me, okay?

She fumbled for an answer. "We're here to visit my mother's grave, Elise."

The little girl's name tumbled out of her mouth reflexively.

"No we're not," she countered, shaking her blond curls. "This isn't hers, mommy."

Kate's breath was unsteady now. Her eyes snapped to the stone. She had stood in this place hundreds of times, she had memorized its every detail. But she stood here now and didn't know where was. Johanna Beckett's name was not on the stone.

No pulse! Bag her—start compressions!

"What does it say, mommy? Whose is it?" Elise nudged Kate forward insistently. They held tight to each other.

"It says 'Beckett' at the top," she started. The ache in her chest was becoming harder and harder to ignore. She kept reading aloud. "Katherine Houghton, November 17, 1979."

Mother and daughter stood silent, a question lingering between them.

Elise's voice was small and uncertain. "Shouldn't there be…two birthdays on it?"

"Something like that," Kate murmured, disturbed. She knew what Elise meant. There should be two dates on the stone. One to mark the beginning of life and one to mark its passing.

Kate shook her head. Panic was beginning to set in. She found it harder and harder to breathe.

Come on, Kate! Don't you die on me! Stay with me!

"Look!" Elise cried suddenly, joyfully. "There she is!"

Without warning, Elise sprinted away. Kate felt bereft by the loss of the girl's touch, but one shock was immediately replaced by another when she saw Elise leap into the arms of an older woman.

"Mom?" Kate choked on the word, choked on the deep, throaty sobs which followed. The ground she stood on began to pitch and roll. This was impossible. Her mind was screaming. The chaos was unbearable.

Thirty-one year old female with a GSW to the left chest. Crashed on the way in.

Gentle arms circled her waist, slowly lowering her into the soft grass to sit against the headstone which bore her name. "Shh," Johanna whispered tenderly, smiling. "It's okay, Katie."

"Mom," she whispered raggedly. Tried to smile. She was struggling to breathe now. The ache in her chest had become a blinding, burning pain. Johanna swept the hair away from Kate's face and cupped her chin. Their eyes locked and they held a deep, sacred gaze. That moment filled the years of separation between them.

"I'm so proud of you, my girl," Johanna said softly. Tears welled in her eyes. "So proud."

Kate clung to her mother's hand and another sob escaped through trembling lips. Wordlessly, Elise lay her head in Kate's lap. Her eyes snapped to the little girl and she stretched out her arms, wanting to draw the girl close. Needing to know she was real.

"Come here, baby." Kate's voice was laced with panic. She had to take several shallow, panting breaths to continue. "Let mommy hold you."

Elise looked up with wide, fearful eyes as she climbed into Johanna's lap instead. "I can't, mommy," she cried in dismay. "You'll get blood on my dress!"

Get her onto the table; we're losing her!

Kate reached to her chest and withdrew her hand slowly. Her mind was reeling, screaming. Blood?

"What's happening? Mom, I don't understand." Her words began to slur.

Johanna's lips formed a thin, taut line. She reached for her daughter's bloodied hand. "We don't have much time," she answered urgently.

Pulse is still falling. Stats are dropping as well.

Kate's eyelids drooped. "Let me stay with you."

Johanna squeezed Kate's limp fingers. "Katie, you have to make a choice." Her voice was charged with emotion. "You have to decide that you're not done."

"It doesn't matter as long as I have you." She closed her eyes. Closing them was the only thing to help with the pain, the blood, the chaos.

She's going into VFIB—paddle!

"Katie, you're not done! Do you understand me? Do. Not. Give. Up."

Kate's eyes focused slowly. The authoritative tone of her mother's voice was one she had always felt compelled to obey. Tears rolled onto her cheeks. "It hurts," she whimpered.

Johanna pressed their foreheads together and held her daughter tightly. Time was running out. She spoke fiercely, shaking Kate's shoulders. "Listen to me. You have a future, Katie, if you fight for it. You have to fight now!"

Still fibrillating. Charge to twenty. Clear!

There was a horrible jolt.

Everything cleared. Kate felt alert. She was breathing easier. No more pain, no more blood, no more chaos. But Johanna was gone. Elise was gone.

She backed away from the headstone. There was still only her birthdate inscribed.

This was it. This was the moment to fight.

A long, thin tone pierced the air. It was deafening, overpowering. She strained her ears, trying to hear anything else. Frantic, gasping, crying, she looked for her mother and her daughter. She made her choice.

Still no pulse! Charge one more time!

She saw them as they disappeared between the rows of headstones. She took a running step forward— just one step before Elise's small, pleading voice floored her.

"Fight for me, mommy!"

Clear!

"Your daughter is clear of danger now, Mr. Beckett." A young nurse reassured the anxious father with a warm tone. She bustle around Kate's bed, adjusting wires and smoothing the blankets.

Jim Beckett's shoulders heaved with a sigh of enormous relief, but the tension knit between his eyebrows remained. "Thank God. How long before she wakes?"

"Shouldn't be long." The nurse pulled a chair next to the bed, ushering Jim over to sit. She smiled kindly. "Here now—she'll want you next to her when she does come around."

Jim kept his vigil at Kate's side for nearly an hour before she began to stir.

"Dad?" Her eyelids were too heavy to open, but she knew he was there. Her voice sounded strange and ragged.

"Katie?" He tried to keep his voice level, but the hysteria and relief crept in. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair over and over. "Katie, you scared me to death. They said that your heart stopped in the ambulance—I thought I lost you. I thought I was gonna lose you."

She hurt all over. Her still-closed eyes burned. Her throat was dry and achy. Her chest felt like fire. But the corners of her mouth lifted in a slow, tired smile.

"Should've known better than that. I had to fight for mom."

"Shhh," Jim said quickly, "there'll be plenty of time for that later."

She didn't hear him. She fell back asleep, clinging to the images of her mother and of her yet-to-be daughter.

The next days and weeks would be hard. She knew that there were things she couldn't deal with, emotions that would beg to be felt in full force after the anesthesia wore off. She knew that it would be ugly. But she knew there was something greater, that there could be something greater if only she'd reach for it, fight for it. She'd seen it in Castle's eyes as he leaned over her, right after the bullet ripped open the space near her heart.

I love you, Kate.