It's Alexis who speaks first. The surgeons are in the middle of the next comment about vital organs or no lasting damage, or something, he's too groggy and pain addled to pick up on most of what they are saying. Maybe. He isn't quite sure if his mind picked up what he thinks it did, but he's looking at Kate, half passed out in the bed next to his, to see if she's paying closer attention than he is. She wasn't, but her eyes are wild, and glazed over from the meds, struggling to make sense of what's happening. But it's Alexis who speaks first.
"Did you just say fetus? There's a fetus?"
Castle still can't seem to connect the dots to the picture his mind is trying to show him, and he raises the arm not strapped to his chest, to try and calm his daughter. The effort is more than he can handle, and the arm drops weakly to the bed. He tries for words instead. Her name comes out in stuttered syllables and she turns to look at him, shock, anger and pain all etched into the porcelain of her skin. "It's gonna be fine." He's not sure what he's reassuring her over, but he needs to get it together so he can figure out what's happening. "Can we start over, from the top. Slowly, so those of us who are heavily medicated can follow along this time?" He's proud of himself for successfully injecting some levity in the situation, and he looks over at Kate to see if she's proud of him too. She's panicky and Jim hovers at her side trying to calm her. He needs to tune in to this conversation, quickly. He knows he's missing something important, his stupid brain just won't look past the blissed-out calm from whatever is in the IV attached to his hand. "Kate, honey, I'm right here." Kate's eyes search frantically for him, and Jim must sense her desperation, because he plants both hands on the mattress of his daughter's bed, and shoves until she's within arms reach of her husband. Castle isn't sure which one of them is more mentally present in the room at the moment, but he can see she's in pain and he reaches out slowly, to touch her cheek, her right arm is in a sling similar to his. He'll make a joke later about his and hers bullet wounds, but right now something is going on, and her cheek is all he can reach. She calms slightly at the contact, and he sees the unspilled tears in her eyes. He tries to smile at her, to reassure her, but he's just so damn tired, and the tall, blonde doctor is clearing her throat.
"Mr. Castle, we removed the bullet from your right shoulder and repaired the damage to the surrounding muscle and ligaments. You should regain full motion of your arm with physiotherapy, over the next few months." The blonde nodded her head to her colleague, who took over the debrief. "Mrs. Castle was extremely lucky. The first bullet entered the upper right chest, collapsing the right lung before exiting with no further damage. The second bullet entered the right abdominal wall, and exited cleanly. No vital organs were damaged, and the bullet missed the uterus. It's too early to say at this time, but there is no physical damage that would present any complications to the pregnancy or the baby, provided everything continues to go well.
Kate makes a sound, somewhere between a moan and a strangled shout. He squeezes her hand in his, and stares blankly at the doctors looking at him expectedly. He finally connects the dots. It's bad. It's so very, very bad. Only it's not bad, it's amazing and wonderful, and so, so bad. She's pregnant. Kate's pregnant, and there's a baby, and bullets, and damage, and oh God, they made a baby. He can hear his mother murmuring reassuring words and he blinks and looks for Kate. Martha is hunched over Kate's bed, Kate's face in her hands and their faces inches apart. She is caressing his wife's cheeks, wiping tears from her eyes, and whispering the soothing sounds only a mother can make. Jim stands beside her, looking so worn and old, and Castle finally sees the toll having a cop for a daughter takes on him every day. Alexis is at his side, her head down on his shin as she cries quietly. This is not how this is supposed to go. Kate is supposed to present him with a box containing a piece of plastic with a little plus sign. They're supposed to laugh and cry, and he's supposed to pick her up and swing her around in his arms. They're supposed to invite their family and friends over and tell them all together. He's supposed to get manly slaps on the shoulder from Esposito, and a firm shoulder squeeze from Ryan, that's supposed to mean something like an unspoken welcome back to the new baby club. He's supposed to listen to Lanie squeal, and watch Alexis hug Kate and tell her how much she's always wanted a baby brother or sister. He's supposed to see Jim's face light up at the news of his first grandchild, see his mother's joy at another little one to finally follow her into the limelight. It's not supposed to be like this. Bullets missing their baby, the baby they didn't know about until two minutes ago, threatening the tiny life still, and every day until Kate's body has recovered enough for both mother and child to thrive. His heart wrenches at the thought of what losing this baby would do to him, and quickly snaps from his morbid thoughts at Kate's shout of pain. She's sitting upright, Jim holding her up from behind, a doctor pushing a pillow to her chest and Martha holding a basin at her chin. Kate wretches again, and the second doctor adjusts something in the IV.
Castle mentally chastises himself for his foray into these sombre thoughts, and focuses everything he has, with as much effort as he can muster, on his wife. His beautiful, broken, terrified, wonderful, amazing wife. The mother of his unborn child. "Kate," he barks out, startling the room into shocked silence. Everyone looks at him, everyone but Kate. The wretching has ceased and Jim eases her gently back to the bed. Castle calls her name again. She struggles for a deep breath, and slowly turns to look at him.
"Rick," she moans, and he tangles his fingers into her hair, hauling himself to the edge of his bed and closer to her. "Oh God, Rick. I'm so sorry."
"Hey, Kate. Look at me," he demands firmly. "Honey, look at me." She drags her hazel eyes to meet his, tears spilling down her cheeks, and he wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. "There's nothing to be sorry about Kate."
She shakes her head and tries to pull away, but he tightens his fingers in her hair. He wishes he could hold her hand, or pull her into a hug, but their 'his and hers' bullet wounds have made that impossible and he won't let her run from him. "Kate, there's nothing to be sorry about. You heard the doctor, the baby is fine. You're fine, and the baby's fine and everything is going to be fine." He hates how inane he sounds, but he can't muster up any more effort for his bestselling author words. They're all just going to have to settle for recently shot, terrified husband and father-to-be words, which are going to be inane. He curses himself again for the rambling turn his inward thoughts have taken, and pushes his focus back to Kate. She's looking at him, her beautiful eyes wide and afraid, the tears still brimming, but no longer spilling over. "We're having a baby, Kate. A perfect, beautiful, baby, and everything is going to be fine."
She looks at him for another moment before letting her head relax to the pillow behind her, but she doesn't break the contact. He tries so hard to smile for her, but he's getting sleepy again, and he's not sure if he even managed to make his mouth move. He must have, though, because she's breathing evenly again, and he can see the smile in her eyes, even if her mouth isn't showing it. He hears Alexis speak again, "how far along is she?" but he's just so damn tired, he can barely make himself hear the words let alone look at her while she makes them. He watches Kate's face, as she struggles to pay attention, her blink of surprise at the dark- haired doctor's mumbled comment about "appears to be about 10 weeks," and finally, the blankness as she lets go and drifts back to sleep, leaning into the palm of his hand, cradled against the pillow behind her head. He makes a mental note that his good shoulder will probably hurt like hell later, after hours of being in such an awkward position, but he can't bring himself to break the only contact he can manage with the woman he loves, and he's fairly certain she wouldn't want him to let go either. He succumbs to the pull of the meds and exhaustion, visions of a dark-haired baby, coaxing him into dreams. A baby. They're having a baby.