Chapter One
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
"You want a baby."
The words float across the darkened kitchen, where she sits, set against the wall, clutching a half-empty glass of water in her hands, which rested on her knees in the shadows of the moonlight streaming in through the window.
"I…" She pauses. "I mean—what?"
"Tonight," he begins, softly but steadily. "I was watching, Katie."
He's always watching. At least she can count on that. Even if the rest of her world is shifting on its axis, the blissful ease of yesterday slipping away, now just out of reach.
She starts to question him, but he continues, approaching her as he does. "Liam? Jonathan? Your eyes were following them all night."
He paused, having slowly slid down the side of the counter to press the side of his body against hers, inching his hand across to link fingers with her, coaxing some of her anxieties out as he plays with her hand.
"And Lanie's, too…she—she is, right?"
Kate smiles, allowing her eyes to shift upward as she does. Glancing toward him, she tilts her head to the side as she questions him affectionately, affirming his partially-unspoken question.
"You know. How do you always know?"
Richard Castle, to Kate's wonder, had an uncanny gift for knowing a woman was pregnant. They'd be out in public, with total strangers, or on a case, or with friends, and he'd pull her to the side, or even wait till the cab ride home. "She's pregnant," he'd whisper. Much to Kate's chagrin, he'd always be right. She had stopped putting money down after the fourth time.
And yes, Lanie was pregnant—her friend had confided it to her under terms of utter secrecy the week before. It was still a week or so before they were supposed to tell anyone, but Lanie just couldn't keep it quiet. Kate didn't like keeping things from Castle—part of the 'no secrets' agreement they had made, way back when—but she figured this was a little different. Plus, Lanie called her two nights ago and said the baby was healthy, and that they were planning on telling everyone at dinner next Friday.
"Yeah," she responded, letting out a sigh as she did. "Sorry for not telling you—it, you're not supposed to tell anyone until a certain point, I guess, and she—they're planning on telling us this week and…"
"Kate," he stops her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Relax. I get it." She waits, knows he has more to say. Smiling, and looking upwards, he adds, "They're going to be such great…" He halts, seeking her eyes in an afterthought. "Wait, they—they are happy about it, right?"
"Them? Of course. What did you think?"
"Well, yeah. But I know sometimes you think they'll be, and…they're not."
They wait a moment in silence.
He's about to say something, break the tension, because it had dissipated a bit there, talking about their friends, but he could feel the rest of it seeping back in. And he knows sometimes she needs this, circling a topic or even avoiding it completely, going off on tangents for awhile, before she can address it head on.
So he's about to comment on something else—how Espo must be over the moon, how he's so happy for them, how he loves seeing their friends become families (tonight had been Ryan and Jenny's sixth anniversary, so they had the crew from the twelfth and a few others over for dinner, and their sons were—god, really old already, Liam would be five in September, and Jonathan was two a few weeks ago, and they were the group's first kids, and…), but she beat him to it.
"Was that how it was for you…you and Meredith?" she asks, quiet in the weight hidden behind her question.
They had discussed this before, hashed out most of the details, really, in his past marriages. She wanted reassurance that their marriage wouldn't fail like his first two, and to tell the truth, he did as well. But he'd tell it again. For her.
He lets out a breath.
"We were young," he states. "I'll never regret Alexis,"
"Of course," she murmurs.
"But the timing could have probably been better. And if—if I could do it all over, I would pick…pick a better person to become a parent with."
"Someone who wouldn't abandon her kid," he adds, scoffing, the pent-up anger he would always harbor toward his first wife rising to the surface for a moment.
Looking down again, she responds. "Did…did you ever consider having more than—more than just Lex?"
They had discussed this before too, but he knew she needed some repetition, some rehashing tonight.
He looks at her, draws her in closer, pushing her hair off of her forehead again and brushing through her hair with his hand. He knows her—really does, now, and loves her even more for it. And as a result of that, he knows how difficult this is for her.
"With Meredith it became quite clear shortly after the birth that she was done. Gina…well that only lasted so long, and it was a marriage of convenience, really. I think—I think deep down we both knew it wouldn't last forever, even at the altar," he puts out, somewhere between a whisper and a real statement.
The decisions to marry his past two wives had been some of his worst, and he would probably always bear some regrets over both relationships. But Kate cuts him off, prevents him from falling too far down the hole of regret and disappointment he teetered on in terms of his romantic endeavors with Meredith and Gina. As she always did.
"And…and, now?" she breathes, and he can feel the tension and nervousness quivering inside her. He pulls her over, slides down a few inches to the corner formed by two lower cabinets. The glass of water forgotten on the floor beside them, she shifts, fully on his lap now, as he leans in to her shoulder.
"Kate, of course now. You're it…you're everything, you know that."
"I…" she starts, but he cuts her off.
"Katherine Castle Beckett, I am madly in love with you, and plan on being so for the rest of my life. I have an amazing, beautiful, smart, practically perfect daughter, who looks up to you as the closest thing to a mother figure she's probably ever had. I loved raising Alexis, I wouldn't give up that experience for the world. But to be able to do it all again? And with the most beautiful, intelligent, extraordinary wife—woman—in the world?" he adds, smiling into her.
He pauses.
"Of course I want to have babies with you," he adds, more quietly this time. "You know that. You would be an extraordinary mother."
She looks down, then further away, and now he gets it. This wasn't really about if he wanted to have kids, or if he wanted to have them with her. She knew the answers to all of those questions. These insecurities were about herself, about becoming a mother when she hadn't had one in so many years.
"We've talked about it before," she says, in that same half-whisper, half-speaking voice he used earlier.
He agrees, and waits—she has more to say.
"I don't know, Rick…I mean, yes, I agree, and…yeah, but there's so much to worry about, and what if I screwed it up, and there's so many kids out there that are so messed up by their parents, and there's just so much, and…"
She'd started slow, but was speaking faster and faster, still going in circles. So he cuts her off.
"Kate. Do you want kids? Do you want a baby?"
She waits before answering, stares across the room and chews on her bottom lip for a minute. But she turns and meets his eyes, playing with his hand, which she's tangled up between both of hers.
"Yes." She confides, in a whisper.
He's happy, his heart leaps, but he keeps a straight face. She has more qualms about this issue, and he waits to hear them out.
"But I don't know…I have a dangerous job, and we both know that I could—could not come home one day. You know that, and when you tag along you're in danger too."
He hadn't been coming along as much anymore; Black Pawn had offered him the position as head of their Author Mentoring program last year, and after multiple extended discussions they decided together that he should take on the position for a few years, and could always visit the precinct or return if he decided to give up the job.
"And Castle—," she looks down again, then at the collar of his worn-out shirt as she let her fears out.
"Cas, I don't want to leave our kid…alone. I just don't want what happened to—to my mom, to happen to me, and those years were—they were bad for me, really bad. And I don't think…I don't think I could ever forgive myself if our kid had to go through the same thing."
As she waited for him to respond, looked back up and watched him formulate his words, the phrase she'd used—used twice, she realized—hit her full force for the first time. 'Our kid.' Her and Rick's. And, well…she liked how it sounded. She really did. His words brought her out of her thoughts though, cut her off, allowing her to focus again on their conversation.
"That's not going to happen." She looked at him doubtfully. "Well, no," he acquiesces. "I'm wrong, it could happen." He took a deep breath. "It could, but that doesn't mean it will. And we can't live like this, can't prevent ourselves from that happiness, those chances, in fear of the pain that could come later."
"But it's not our pain, Rick. Or—or not mine. It's our kids' pain. And, just…"
He nodded. "Yeah," he said, smoothing her hair again. "Yeah, it is. But you—we—we have to believe it won't happen, that they'll never have to feel that pain. Or hope. And look, everyone has that same fear—Jenny & Ry, Espo and Lain…Montgomery had kids. But the chance of that happening is so small, Kate, so small. We have to believe that, you know that."
She nods, and they wait like that for a few moments, listening to the nighttime sounds of the loft surrounding them.
He asks what she's thinking after awhile, figures one of them had to break the silence.
She bites her lip again, waits another moment. But then she's changing, a smile growing on her face even as she tries to contain it. "Our baby," she whispers, playing with the ribbed collar of his shirt as she continues to fight the grin.
"Our baby," he affirms, matching her smile as he switches their position, leaning down and steadying her head for a kiss.
"Ours…" she lets out after a minute, pausing the kiss. And then he realizes how late it is, realizes she'll probably want to go for a run in the morning and in order to do that they'll have to go to sleep first.
So he backs away from her, tugging her hands till she's standing with him. He tells her he loves her, and he always will, as she leads him back to the bedroom.
Watching as she stripped off the NYPD hoodie she'd been wearing in the kitchen and tucked herself into him, Rick smiled to himself. Their kid. Theirs.
Thoughts? Haven't yet decided whether this'll be a oneshot or a longer piece. Also, I had a difficult time on the title, and couldn't choose between 'Theirs' and 'Ours'...what do you think?