a/n: this is something that bugs me, even though I know when people say it, it's not meant to be cruel.

Kate slowly opens the door to Charlotte's bedroom, Castle standing beside her.

"Charlie?"

Their little girl is curled up on her bed, crying quietly. She's still wearing her kindergarten uniform, the little plaid skirt and knee socks, and she's clutching the stuffed bunny she keeps on her bookshelf.

Sharing a quick glance, Kate and Castle step inside quietly. Charlotte doesn't move as they settle beside her on the bed. Kate runs her hand over Charlie's silky brown hair, waiting for the girl to cry herself out.

Charlie finally goes from full crying to copious sniffling; Castle grabs the box of Kleenex from her dresser and lets her dry her eyes and wipe her nose. She curls up between the two of them, her face buried in her father's shoulder, and Kate drops a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"Sweetie? What's wrong?"

For a long moment the little girl doesn't say anything; she wraps her arms tighter around Cupcake and stares at the comforter. And when she does open her mouth, it's so quiet Kate almost doesn't hear it.

"Am I an accident?"

"Charlie?" Castle brushes her hair back from her little face, so serious. "What do you mean?"

"I heard Lily's mom talking to Krista's mom. She said Charlotte Castle was an accident." Charlie looks up at them, her face streaked with tears. "What does that mean? Am I not supposed to be here? Did you not want me?"

"Oh, Charlie. No. Not even close." Kate pulls her close; her baby girl might be in school now, reading books, clever and creative, but she's still a hugger. She makes a mental note to deliver some choice words to Krista's shrill, sharp-tongued mother on the subject of what's appropriate for a sensitive, impressionable six-year-old's ears. Charlie's a cop's daughter; the word accident has bad connotations in her young mind.

Castle tugs lightly on one of her pigtails. "You weren't an accident, sweetheart." He smiles, his eyes meeting Kate's. "You were just a surprise."

Seven years ago, Castle was at home, cooking dinner, when Kate got back from the doctor's appointment she hadn't told him about and answered his cheerful greeting with two quiet words.

He pulled her tightly into his arms and refused to let go, until she gently reminded him she needed to breathe for two now.

The marinara sauce ended up a scorched mess at the bottom of the pot long before he remembered it.

"You burned supper, Dad?"

Castle nods gravely. "I did. Your mother teased me about it mercilessly."

Charlie turns to Kate, who nods in affirmation. The girl's stopped crying; Castle's stories have always had a magic over her, and this one seems to be no exception.

"So then what did you do?"

Castle hesitates, catching Kate's eyes, and they silently agree to simply…cut ahead in the story a bit. They'd spent the next hour burning off the calories they'd actually forgotten to eat, and it wasn't the sort of activity Charlie needed to know about just yet.

"Well. That night, we called your grandpa…"

Jim was at home when they called him with the news; they put Kate's phone on speaker and told him he was going to have a grandchild. He cried.

Martha was in Chicago for a theater revue; they knew she was in shows every evening and wouldn't always have her phone, so they called her the next morning. The call woke her up, but judging from her reaction, she didn't mind. She called her understudy, cancelled her last week and a half of appearances and flew straight back to New York. I want to be with family, she'd told them when they tried to protest. Boy or girl, this kiddo's going to have fabulous hair, you know. Genetics.

"You know your dad and I love you, Charlie."

She nods, her hair rustling against Kate's shirt.

"You know Grandpa Jim and Gram and Alexis love you. And Uncle Javier, Uncle Kevin, Aunt Jenny, Aunt Lanie…"

"Yes." Charlie smiles, burying her face in Kate's shoulder bashfully.

"Charlie. While your mom was pregnant with you – " Castle leans in, his eyes sparkling, though his face is serious – "to make sure you were healthy, while you were growing – she didn't drink any coffee. For eight whole, entire months."

Charlie's eyes go wide. "Mom. No coffee?"

Kate laughs. "I survived, sweetheart."

"But you love coffee."

"I love you more."

Charlie laughs at that, planting a sloppy kiss on her mother's cheek.

"We wanted you from the moment we knew you were going to be ours, Charlie."

Castle cradled their newborn baby girl to his chest – how could she possibly be so perfect? – and Kate watched, her damp hair sticking to her sweaty skin, her body still limp with exhaustion. So tiny. She was so impossibly tiny.

"She's perfect," Kate whispered.

Castle looked up, smiling at her, his whole face tired and glowing with such pure, unadulterated joy. Even on their wedding day, he hadn't looked like this. That sunny day in the Hamptons, his love had been written across his face. And now it was the same, but with their tiny baby daughter in his strong arms, her little pink cap dwarfed by his big hands, it all just seemed so much more.

"Here."

Castle nestled the tiny creature in her arms, and Kate held her breath, staring down at her. The baby gurgled, blinking up at her with wide eyes. Wide, blue eyes. Just like her father's.

The baby squirmed, her little red face all screwed up in exertion, and Kate couldn't breathe. So new, so tiny and precious and new to the world, and yet this little person, this impossibly little person was part of her, for almost nine months. New, but – familiar.

"What should we call her?" Castle murmured, leaning over the hospital bed to kiss Kate's forehead.

"I don't know." Kate sighed. "We'll figure out something."

"Judith?"

"No."

"Olga?"

"No."

"Gertie?"

"Castle – "

"Okay, so Gertie's a maybe." She glared at him; he kissed her cheek affectionately. "We'll decide later."

She just smiled, shaking her head, very gently tracing the baby's tiny, perfect face. "Have you seen my dad?"

"He should be here soon. He was on his way." Castle brushed the hair back from her forehead. "I know you're tired. If you want to sleep –"

"No, no. I'm fine." Kate took in a long breath. "He should see her."

"He will. And he'll love her."

Kate watched the baby settle contentedly against her chest, all red-faced and wrinkled and bald.

"Castle." She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "She's beautiful." She touched the little girl's tiny nose carefully. "How did we make something so beautiful?"

Castle slipped his arms around them both, circling them with warmth.

"Because we love her too much for her not to be perfect."