disclosure


disclosure: (noun) the action of making new or secret information known


The other end of the line is quiet for a moment, almost eerily so, like Gates is trying really hard to figure something out. She figures it probably has something to do with the fact that she just confessed to lying to get out of going to work. And even though her reason was good, great even, Gates doesn't know that, and she's certainly not the kind of employee to lie to get out of work.

"Sir?" she asks softly, feeling the gentle pressure of fear within her chest. She's never actually lied to Gates about something like this before. She's withheld information, details, but in the end the case always seemed to get solved, and that was enough for Gates to let her off the hook. The last time Gates was actually upset with her, she got suspended, and then she resigned. She kinda doesn't want to put up with that again.

"Yes, detective?" asks Gates, voice steady, strong, demanding respect like her voice always does. She hears the shuffling of paper on the other end of the line, the impatient click of a pen, the exasperated exhale, like Gates is truly puzzled. Not that she expects Gates to come up with the answer. Nobody who knows her would guess that this is how she spent her weekend. "If you weren't ill, may I ask why you weren't present, detective Beckett?" she adds.

"Um," she manages, because of course she tried to plan this conversation, but actually telling your boss that you had a baby when you were never even pregnant, well, didn't know you were pregnant, isn't a conversation you can just jump into. Castle squeezes her knee, and she turns to look into his eyes, to draw courage from them, like she always does. "I was at the hospital," she answers. She then mentally slaps herself for how stupid that sounds, considering she just told Gates she wasn't sick.

Gates falls silent again, like she's trying to decode the mixed messages she's unintentionally sending. "Well, detective, I must admit to being confused," says Gates eventually, making her nod in understanding even though her boss cannot see her. "If you weren't sick, why were you in the hospital?" she asks simply, not guessing, but leaving no room for uncertainty as to what the question means. She knows she has to tell the truth.

Castle squeezes her knee again, strong and supportive. "Actually, Sir, I had a baby," she says in one quick breath, and through the line she hears the shocked snap of a jaw and and clatter of the pen against the desk. Well, she assumes it's the desk. "I, uh… In the bathtub," she stutters, and then actually slaps her forehead. "I didn't know I was pregnant," she manages, "so I didn't know I was, uh, in labor until it was too late. I had a baby in the bathtub," she explains, and the sentence pulls a chuckle from her throat because even though her baby is right there in the next room, it sounds insane.

"A baby?" asks Gates, and she hums her affirmative, a smile coming across her face. "Wow. I never would have guessed," speaks her captain, the words seemingly not meant for her, rather Gates speaking to herself. "You really didn't seem to be expecting." That parts for her, and she hums her affirmative again, a smile coming across her face. Gates is someone she looks up to, a fellow police officer that she looks up to, and if Gates didn't see anything, but must have really been nothing to see. "Is the baby healthy, detective?"

She smiles, settles back against the cushions. Her free hand, the one not holding the phone to her ear, wraps around his fingers, the ones that had been holding her knee. "He is, Sir. He's very healthy, very happy," she tells Gates, and even to her own ears, she sounds too sappy, to emotional, and yet she doesn't care. "Oh, and he's a boy. We named him Brandon James."

"That's wonderful, detective," says Gates, and even though it's not something she sees, much less hears, often, she can tell that Gates is smiling, genuinely happy for her. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asks. She hears more shuffling over the phone, the tap of something against the top of Gates' desk, the click of the pen again. The mood over the phone is still surprisingly light.

"Well, I don't know if there's a such thing as emergency maternity leave or something like that or like medical leave that I qualify for. If not, I think I have some vacation days saved up since my honeymoon. And I can afford to take unpaid leave," she begins, until Castle squeezing her hand informs her that she's rambling. "What I'm trying to say is that I need time off to be with my baby, Sir, no matter what that takes."

"Of course, detective," responds Gates. "I remember being a new mother. I wanted nothing more than to be with my son." She hears a content sigh through the phone, like Gates is loving these memories of her son's childhood. She smiles to herself in reaction. "I definitely understand. If you could get a copy of your medical records, as well as the baby's, it might facilitate the process of getting your official maternity leave sooner. In the mean time, I will use up your vacation days. I'll contact you as soon as I have information, or if your vacation days are running low," says Gates, her voice returning to its usual, informative tone. "Anything else?"

"Uh, yes, actually," she admits. "I was wondering if detectives Ryan and Esposito have an active case, or if you can spare them for a little while this afternoon." She leans farther back into the couch cushions, sees Castle's slow reassuring smile. "I want them to meet Brandon, sooner rather than later. It's already been two days and I haven't told them anything and they're my team so I want them to know–"

"Detective, you're rambling," says Gates, and she hears both Gates and Castle chuckle softly. "Detectives Ryan and Esposito are free at the moment, simply going over a cold case. If you want I can forward your call to Ryan's desk," suggests the Captain.

"No, thank you, Sir," she responds. "I just wanted to know if they were free. I do, however, have other calls to make, so I'm going to have to let you go, if there's nothing else we need to discuss."

"No, detective, you can go on, make your other calls," says Gates. "But before I let you go, detective?"

"Yes?" she asks softly.

"Congratulations. I'm sure you make a great mother."


She walks past him and into their bedroom. He watches her go, the slight, natural sway of her hips as she disappears past their bedroom wall. The muscles of her lower back are still tense, a fact visible through the thin material of her tank top. He stands up, pushing himself off the couch, and follows her, past the walls of bookcases, through his office all the way to their bedroom, where he finds her.

She's leaning over ther edge of the crib, supporting her weight on her elbows. There's a smile of her face, soft and content, as she stares down into the crib at where he carefully placed Brandon earlier. Their baby is happy, not making a sound as he sleeps peacefully in his crib. He's warm and swaddled, that much he knows, the wrap of the blanket done expertly, a skill he acquired back when Alexis was a baby, one that is seemingly much like riding a bike, because swaddling Brandon was pretty natural, too.

He leans over the edge of the crib, too, his shadow casting across their baby, thanks to the angle of the bedroom light. Brandon looks like a bobblehead. His entire body, arms and legs, all wrapped so tightly in the blanket that his head looks huge in comparison to his body. His eyes are closed, lips parted, tiny little nostrils flaring ever so slightly with each and every one of his breaths.

"Lanie will be here soon," announces Kate. She reaches down into the crib, finger slipping under the hem of Brandon's blanket, across where his collarbone is. She repeats the action with the other side of the blanket, brushing her finger across each of his shoulders, adjusting the tiny little hat on his head. Brandon sleeps peacefully through it all, just lying there, oblivious to his mother's finicking. "Are you sure this is comfy for him? It looks a little tight," she says softly.

"I'm sure, Kate. The nurse recommended it, remember?" he reminds her, and he sees her sigh softly, nod slightly. "It will keep him warm while his body adjusts to the temperature of the outside world," he tells her softly. His one hand curls around the edge of the crib and he settles the other on the middle of her back. "And it reminds him of what it was like when he was inside you, all warm and safe."

She takes another slow breath. "Yeah, I guess," she concedes, the back of her index brushing across the swell of Brandon's chubby cheek. She then looks up from the crib, up at him, a scared, almost sad smile making the corners of her lips curl upwards halfheartedly. "I just… I feel like I did so much wrong when I was pregnant, because I didn't know. Now, I just want to do everything right."

"I know," he whispers back to her. With the hand that's still on her back, he pulls her towards him, his other hand releasing the crib to splay across the dip of her lower back. She wraps her arms around his waist, rests her head against his shoulder. "And you know what? We'll make mistakes. But that's okay. He'll forgive us, Kate." He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I love seeing how much you love him." Another kiss, the press of his hand against her spine. "How are you going to tell Lanie?"

She chuckles softly and pulls away from him slightly, her arms still around his waist as her eyes meet his. "I have no idea," she admits, "but she's my best friend and I promised her that, after you, she would be the first to know when I got pregnant, and I figure that since we skipped the pregnancy step, I should probably tell her about him before the boys." She shrugs. "She'll probably scream, you know. She's going to wake him up."

He hums softly. "He doesn't have a steady sleep schedule yet, anyway," he reminds her. "He'll be okay with it, trust me, maybe cry a little and make your mommy hormones go crazy, but he will be okay."

She scowls. "My mommy hormones don't go crazy," she tells him, eyes narrowing accusingly, arms crossing her chest, just like she would have done had he even mentioned the possibility of them being here, married with a baby back during the first few years of their partnership.

He laughs, reaches out and rests his hand on her upper arm. "Kate, your mommy hormones have been nothing but crazy since he was born," he tells her. "You've barely been willing to let him out of your sight, out of your arms, most of the time. But that's okay. That's great." His hand floats from her arm to her cheek, thumb drifting across her cheekbone. "It's perfect."

She frowns. "I didn't think I'd be this kind of mom," she whispers. He nods his head, the sentence no surprise, the information already known. "But he's just… It's like he gave me some rose colored glasses or something and shot me up with happy juice." She laughs, blushes at her own comparison. "I…" she struggles, and then looks back up at him, a shy smile on her face. "My mommy hormones are crazy," she concedes.

He reaches for her, wraps his arms around her and pulls her against him, his lips brushing against her head. "I like it," he whispers to her, words soft in her hair. He feels her smile against his chest, and his hand trails down her back, fingers curling around her hips, thumbs drifting across the still tense muscles of her stomach. "How you feeling? Still sore?"

She hums against him. "Not too much. Been in worse pain," she tells him, "and pain with no reward, especially not one as good as Brandon." She pulls away from his slight, leans back just enough for her face to be visible, hair flitting over her shoulders. "I'm fine, babe. Just a little sore...like I did too many sit ups or something, okay? It's all worth it."

He leans down, presses a peck to the tip of her nose. "I know," he agrees. "I just hate that you had to go through so much pain, no matter how great the reward."

She smiles up at him, stands on her toes to press her lips against his, brief and soft and sweet. "I know."

He leans down to capture her lips again, and again, and again, the baby sleeping in the other room until the door opens urgently and Lanie walks in with a huff and Kate spins in his arms, making his hands land on the flat of her belly.

"Yeah, definitely not sick," says Lanie, crossing her arms over her chest.


She laces her fingers through his and gently pulls his hands from her stomach. There's an ache there, now, likely from her impulsive turn towards Lanie. But it's not enough to keep from sharing the news with her best friend. Not enough to keep her from doing anything, really. Especially not when it comes to her baby, when it comes to her family. It's an ache, nothing major, nothing important.

She presses a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving his embrace, walking over to Lanie with slow, careful steps. Her fingers wrap around Lanie's forearm and she tugs her towards the couch. Lanie sits down immediately, a quick jerky action that makes her look desperate for an explanation. She would do the same, but sitting down has proven to be the biggest issue of all, aside from leaning over, and she really just can't. So she sits down carefully, hand braced on the back of the couch, wincing at the pull in her stomach.

"Kate?" asks Lanie. "You're walking like you did when you guys came back from your honeymoon." She blushes at Lanie's words, dipping her head at the memory of how sore she had been, for what she thought was the best reason, back then. But this is the best reason, she knows that now, and she looks back up to see Lanie staring at her intently. "But I'm pretty sure if you invited me to give me details like that, Writer Boy wouldn't be in the room." She motions to Castle with her thumb. "So you gotta tell me what's up."

She knows there's no point in small talk. She missed two days of work, claiming to be sick, a claim which obviously made it around the entire precinct because she barely even remembers the last time she actually called in sick. And now her best friend just walked in on her making out with her husband, and she's walking slower than a turtle and like she spent the past two days having really rough sex. And Lanie as already deciphered that that is not the case, which is true, of course. And with Lanie this curious, this intrigued, she won't give up until the truth is revealed.

"I was pregnant," she answers quickly, smiling at the look of utter confusion that instantly crosses Lanie's face. "And then…" she trails, looks around and then slowly pushes herself up from the couch. Castle notices, disappears into their bedroom. By the time she get's past the office wall, disguised by the thick layers of books that separate her from Lanie, he's holding a swaddled Brandon in his arm. He hands the baby over to her, presses a quick kiss to her cheek and lingers there as she returns to show Lanie. The minute she emerges back into the living room, Lanie's eyes go wide, and her own smile widens. "And then he, uh, popped out."

Lanie's jaw hits the floor, the room falling completely silent. Castle leans against the side of one of the bookshelves, and she turns back to smile at him before turning back to Lanie, taking a step towards her friend, cradling her son's round head in her palm. He's still sleeping peacefully, the movement not waking him as he lays limp in her arms, comfortable in the warmth of his blanket.

She sits back down on the couch, slow and careful as Castle walks up behind her, rests a palm on her lower back to support her rather than having her hold onto the couch. He takes a seat next to her, once she's sitting, and his arm drapes across her shoulders. His other hand rests above hers on Brandon's head, his thumb rubbing circle into the fabric of their little boy's hat, and they wait for Lanie to regain her composure.

"What?" she shouts when she does, high pitched and shocked and happy. The noise is loud and makes Brandon startle in her arms, eyes opening wide and body going rigid, his limbs fighting against the confines on his blanket. They all watch him as he manages to get one arm free and his fingers are spread open like he's expecting a high five. And then his mouth opens wide and he lets out a wail. Lanie winces. "Sorry," she apologizes, her voice as soft as a whisper.

She looks up at her friend. "It's okay," she promises. "We, uh, expected it." She shrugs. Castle pushes himself off the couch, disappears into their bedroom and returns with one of the green pacifiers a nurse gave them upon finding out that they were completely unprepared for a baby. He spins it on his fingers, smiling at her. She smiles back, reaches out for it, slides it across Brandon's lips and gums until he reacts and closes his mouth around it, sucking silently. Castle wipes some of the tears off his face.

Lanie is silent for a long time after that, just staring at the now silent baby boy. And then she looks up at them, eyes still wide with shock. "You had a baby?" asks Lanie. She nods, pulls Brandon a little tighter against her chest. "And, uh…" She looks back down at the baby, takes in his blue cap and blanket, looks back up, smiling. "You have a son?" she asks.

She smiles, looks back down at the baby. His eyes are still cloudy and she doubts he can actually see her, but at the same time, he is looking in her direction, up from the shadow her head casts over his face. She races her hand from the flat of his back, lets her thumb drift over the hoop of the pacifier. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself and her baby than to Lanie. "Yeah, I have a son." She looks back up at Lanie, blinks back the tears that well in her eyes, brushes her thumb across his cheek.

Lanie's smile widens. "What..? You were pregnant?" She raises a brow in response, motions down to Brandon with a tilt of her chin. "Of course you were," says Lanie, "but, I mean, how? I know you pretty well, Kate, and I'm a doctor, not an OB, but still, you're my best friend, I should have known...something."

"Lanie, I didn't even know. I was sitting in the bathtub in gut wrenching pain and Castle tells me I have to push because I'm having a baby," she says. "Trust me, Lanie, nobody knew anything. I didn't. Castle didn't. Nobody knew anything until… Well, until it was too late, until he was making his big appearance." She looks back down at Brandon, smiles. "Takes after his dad and grandma, this one, with his flair for the dramatic. Don't you, B.J.?"

"B.J.?" asks Lanie. She looks up, brows furrowed, and Lanie shrugs. "You never told me his name."

"Oh," she whispers. "Well, Lanie, this is Brandon James Castle."


He watches as she hands the baby off to Lanie, fingers gently plucking at the edge of his blanket because she obviously doesn't want to let him go. She never does. But Lanie is sweet about it, kind and understanding towards her best friend. She slowly lifts Brandon from between Kate's hands, lets him hover between them for a couple seconds as Kate slowly accepts the idea of letting her baby into somebody else's arms. It's the battle she fights every single time she lets somebody else take Brandon, with everybody but him. And maybe even him, too.

When Lanie stands up, begins swaying back and forth and cooing at Brandon, Kate stands up, too. He does, too, wraps his arm around her waist and slowly, carefully in order to not upset her already sore muscles further, pulls her against him, his hand pressing against her stomach. She comes willingly, taking a couple steps back until her back is against his chest and he can leans down, brush her hair back with his nose, presses his lips softly to the slope of her neck.

"Mommy hormones, Kate," he whispers to her, squeezing her hips, "you gotta tamper them." His lips purse against her neck again, even as she elbows him in the gut. Not violently, rather more annoyed and playful.

"My mommy hormones are not going crazy right now," she insists, pulling her neck from his lips and turning to shoot him a glare. "I just… He was just crying like two minutes ago, okay? I want to make sure he's okay. That's normal, Castle, but it has nothing to do with crazy mommy hormones."

He hums at her, nods his head in a way that makes it obvious that he's not convinced. "That's the mommy hormones, Kate. Yes, they are normal. And they're absolutely breathtaking to watch," he whispers to her, nuzzles his nose against the ridge of her cheekbone. "I'm not complaining. Just saying that she's your best friend. She won't hurt your baby."

"I know," she huffs. She lets him press a soft kiss to her cheek before turning back to Lanie. He does, too, arms still wrapped around her middle. They watch together as Lanie gently bounces, brushes her fingers across Brandon's chubby cheeks, rocks the baby back and forth. As she adjusts his hat on his head, whispers to him that he has the best parents in the whole wide world. He looks at Kate to catch her reaction. Her cheeks are red at Lanie's words, but the smile across her face reveals just how much she's thankful for them.

He takes the opportunity to gently massage the tense muscles of her abdomen. They've been tight and locked and flexed since Brandon was born, lingering tension from labor and delivery. He rubs at the knots, from her hips the her navel, up until he feels her muscles begin to give and then back down to ease the ones that suffered the most. She leans back against him, hums softly, hisses when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

At one point, as he's pressing against the enter of her lower abdomen gently, she lets out a soft hiss. Across the room, the pacifier falls from Brandon's suddenly open mouth and he lets out a loud cry. Kate freezes in his arms like she thinks it's her fault. But, surprisingly, Lanie seems unfazed. She easily catches the pacifier in one hand, balancing Brandon in the other arm. They watch as Lanie tubs the pacifier's tip against the red of Brandon's lips, and the baby's mouth soon closed around the rubber and he begins sucking greedily.

Kate spurs into action immediately, tearing herself from his gentle embrace and walking over to where Lanie is still rocking Brandon, trying to keep him calm. "He's, uh, probably hungry, based on the way he's sucking that thing," he hears his wife say, watching as she reaches out to take their son back into her arms. "I…" She turns to him. "That must be it, right?" she asks.

He walks over to her calmly. Brandon is fussing again, obviously unsatisfied with his pacifier. He reaches out, brushes his hand over the curve of the baby's head, leans towards the other side of her neck, the side where their sun isn't nestled, and whispers into her ear, "Mommy hormones, Kate. They don't just you crazy. They gave you this intuition about him, trust it." He makes sure to keep his voice low enough for Lanie not to hear, but loud enough to know that Kate most definitely understood.

She smiles, looks back down at their son and nods her head slowly. "Yeah, he's hungry," she mumbles, and despite the fact that he hears it, he's fairly certain she said it just for herself. With the tip of one finger, she holds the pacifier in place as she circles the couch, sits down, pulling one of the throw pillows onto her lap so she can lay Brandon on it.

He goes into their bedroom, grabs one of the extra receiving blankets and walks back into the living room. By the time he gets there, Lanie is sitting in one of the arm chairs and Kate's breast if free of her shirt, Brandon lying on the pillow on her lap. He watches, smiling in awe, as she guides her breast towards the baby's mouth, waits for him to latch on. He does, already used to this little dance they have. From the gap between the bookshelves, he smiles even more, watching his wife feed their son being a sight he will never grow tired of.

And then there's a knock on the door that breaks the serene silence of the moment, a loud, almost emergent sounding pounding. Kate looks up, eyes wide, and then back at him.

"The boys," she says softly.

He nods but then looks down at her, back at the door, knowing she can't breastfeed Brandon standing up. As though noticing his apprehension, with a second round of knocks comes, she motions for him to walk over to her with a crook of her finger. He does, and when he's standing close enough, she plucks the receiving blanket from his hand, drapes it over her shoulder and Brandon's head, hiding her bare chest, and motions to the door with a tilt of her head.

He walks over to the door, as instructed, and pulls it open, revealing worried-looking Ryan and Esposito.

At least, they look worried until they each take a determined step into the loft. Their eyes land on Beckett. And then they just look shocked.