On the first day, she barely remembers to breathe.

She sits on the swings long after he's left and replays the moment in her head, a long and torturous loop until the sun has set and rain starts to fall. She doesn't miss the tragic irony of the situation. It's been almost a year to the day since she last sat in this playground and wept for all she had ruined. I just want you, she had said. She has done an awful job of proving it these last few weeks.

"Save it," he'd said, cutting her off before she had the chance to tell him her decision.

She had been bored. It was another run of the mill case, with run of the mill suspects and a fairly easy solve. The boys had done most of the leg work. Uncertain about her future with Castle and looking for direction in her life, she had been ready to accept the job.

But she had come to the park to tell him that she wasn't going to.

She'd decided to stay before she'd even realized that she was late. That realization had come to her quietly, with tears springing to her eyes and a tightening in her chest, as she drove to the park.

Late; that's the term she's going with. She can't bring herself to even think the word, of the consequences of late. Not without him by her side.

When she finally arrives home and slumps onto the couch, all she can think about is what a monumental screw up she had made of the whole thing. Tears fall silently and she thumbs her phone, placing it to her ear and praying he'll pick up.

He doesn't.

Not the first time or the second. Sometime later, when she's purged and feeling numb, she falls asleep.


On the second day, she pulls herself together enough to go to the market and buy a test.

The old lady manning the register gives her ring finger a disdainful glare and wishes her luck. She makes it all the way home before the tears fall. Collapsing onto the bathroom floor, she grips the pink box with shaking hands and tries his cell again.

There's no answer.

She'd wanted to tell him that one on one with a suspect in the box it had all become crystal clear. As lucrative as the job offer was, it was missing something. The offer held all kinds of power and career opportunities, but it lacked… heart.

Four words and it had clicked. Four words that had been unconsciously nagging her thoughts, maybe for months now, thrown carelessly at her by a scumbag murderer looking to piss her off; they had resonated deep.

In the end, she doesn't take the test. But she's still late.

She tries to ignore the flutter of hope, adds an extra layer of concealer under her eyes and goes to work.


On the third and fourth day, the pattern repeats.

She goes through the motions, dresses and shows up at work.

She does her job.

It's not the same without him, but the boys offer her smiles and knowingly refrain from prying. They tell her it'll be okay. It's not enough and every minute feels like ten.

Lanie takes her out for lunch and scolds her for lying to him, for lying to herself. As they leave Kate is wrapped tightly in her best friend's arms and Lanie tells her to keep calling, that it's Castle and that she knows him, knows he'll come around.

Kate returns to the precinct feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful.


On the fifth day, she's recovered enough to notice that something's off with the boys, that something is missing. When she goes searching for a pen, she finds a half-drunk cup of cold coffee hidden in Espo's drawer; she laughs for the first time since it happened. It's cute, and slightly insane, and she couldn't love them any more for it. She presses a fresh cup into both of their hands and this time it's her telling them that everything will be okay.

Late that afternoon, she catches a suspect in a lie and sends him to prison for twenty to life. She informs the victim's family and they hug her so hard that it steals her breath.

"You're wasting your time," Martin had said.

"Bullshit!" her psyche had raged.

Her fists had clenched and blood had pounded in her ears. She had shown him exactly what she was capable of, of the difference she made every day. Looking around the box and thinking about how long it had been her domain, she had realized what she would miss if she took the offer; the one on one, the satisfaction of getting the right person and looking them in the eye.

How many families had she given closure to over the years? Dozens? More, probably hundreds. She wouldn't get that in D.C. She'd be relegated to a desk, to combing financials and cozying up to the power players; to people like the Deputy Director. He'd rubbed her the wrong way from the get go. The tinge of scorn as he'd spoken of the AG's grandchild had raised her hackles, and perhaps been her first hint that something wasn't quite right.

Sure, her name would probably have made it into the papers, her salary would have increased exponentially; but what comfort would that be if she had no one to come home and share it with?

She's glad she chose to stay; glad for Martin's carelessly tossed out words.

This is her home. And it's enough for now.


On the fifth night, she still hasn't taken the test. It's been almost two weeks since her period should have started and she really, really should, but the thought of doing it without him makes fresh tears spring to her eyes and so she tells herself that she'll do it in the morning.

With or without him, she'll take it in the morning.


On the sixth day, she wakes up feeling sick. Her abdomen feels heavy and there's a pounding between her eyes. It's a familiar feeling. She rushes to the bathroom thinking it all must have been a false alarm. She's been late before while under strain and this last week certainly qualifies as stressful, unusually stressful; it's been downright traumatic.

She's still late. She takes a Tylenol and picks up the phone to call him.

He doesn't answer.

With a heavy heart but a purposeful stride she goes to the bathroom and pulls the wrapper off the test. She simply can't put this off any longer.

Three minutes and she will have her answer.

The nausea that had disappeared since the park has returned full force. She strokes lazy circles on her stomach and tries to decide if it's nerves or... something else. She watches, pacing her apartment, as the seconds tick by on her father's watch.

At one minute, she thinks about everything she has thrown away because she couldn't gather the courage to talk to him, to sit him down and really ask where they were going, to let him in on her fears, her hopes for the future.

She doesn't want to do this alone, but she will if it comes to that.

When the watch reaches two minutes, she thinks about taking a peek at the test. A part of her is terrified that it will already be positive. She's ruined everything by keeping secrets and if it's positive then she's going to have to tell him. Bile rises in her throat at the thought. This has happened to him before and she knows how he responded. She doesn't want him making any rash decisions out of a misguided sense of duty. When he asks her…

If he ever asks her. Because after almost a week, she's beginning to wonder if what they had is salvageable.

If he ever asks her, she wants it to be for the right reasons.

She wants it with him; she wants is so bad it hurts. The last week has made it clear just how much she wants it; all of it. She wants her job at the 12th, with her friends and her dad close by. She wants Castle's ratty chair pulled up next to her desk, his roguish smirk and clever banter carrying her through each day.

Someday, she wants the chair to be empty because he's at home tending to a mischievous toddler with auburn hair and cornflower blue eyes. She runs a wistful hand over her belly. She's wonders what it says about herself that a small part of her is terrified that the test will be negative. Better something than nothing.

With thirty seconds left, she's interrupted by a frantic knocking on her door.

Her heart stops because she knows that knock.

It's him.


Was that mean of me to leave it there? I think it might have been.

I hope I did the finale justice and managed to weave it in believably with my tale. Can I get a "Hell yeah!" for my Martha? Boo-ya! Nailed it!