Esposito's bulky, muscular frame makes the newborn in his arms seem out of proportion, too small for the world that surrounds her. It sparks an absurd need in Kate's chest to protect Neve from everything, take the baby back inside herself and keep her there, always.
She forces her eyes away, staring at the window instead, and takes deep breaths until she's managed to dispel the feeling.
"You okay?" Esposito asks in his usual blunt manner, moving closer.
Beckett returns her gaze to him, notices with a flicker of a smile how careful he is with the girl, how adept too. Lanie would melt to see it.
"Just exhausted," she admits, glad that she can at least be honest about that. Castle has been so worried about her that she'll say just about anything to soften the concern in his eyes; it was a relief when Ryan took him down to the cafeteria for coffee.
Oh god, coffee.
She would kill for a sip of it.
"My body feels like it could fall apart any time," she confesses instead with a little laugh, closing her eyes briefly. "It's ridiculous. I had heart surgery before; this should be easy in comparison."
Esposito's dark eyes rest on her face, too much knowledge in them. "Maybe physically, it should," he says. "But when you were shot at Montgomery's funeral you didn't have a family waiting for you when you woke up. You didn't have a baby girl who needed you."
She grits her teeth and swallows, can't hold his gaze. Damn it. She forgets sometimes how similar their personalities are, how easy it is for Espo to understand the way she thinks - and he's a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for. That's part of what makes him such a good detective. "I guess not," she reluctantly agrees, her throat squeezing. If only, if only she hadn't been at the precinct that day-
"Not your fault though," he points out, resting his thigh against the edge of her bed. His large palm cradles the baby's head, and Kate watches, entranced, as the tiny eyes open. "You couldn't possibly have known what would happen. No one could have."
"I put her in harm's way," she rasps, feels the familiar fist of guilt closing over her heart. It is her fault; she went to the precinct because she missed it, because she couldn't wait to get back to work, and she risked her daughter's life-
"Stop that," Esposito says sharply, startling her eyes up to his. He's intent, his mouth set, almost severe. "The 12th is one of the safest places in the city. You know that. That nutcase should never have made it through; he wouldn't if dumbass Officer Marshall had done his job right. Nobody could've seen this coming, Beckett."
She presses her lips together, nods slowly. He's right. She knows he's right. But- "How are the others doing?" she asks, suddenly eager for a change of subject.
Javier gives her a penetrating look but lets it slide, humoring her. For now. "Hastings got discharged yesterday, and Johnson and Turner should get out any time now. Turner's got a splintered wrist, and that shit takes time to heal, but they should all be fine."
"Good," she murmurs. She's been selfish, thinking only of herself and her baby, and it's a relief to know...
"Captain Gates asked me to congratulate you on her behalf," Esposito adds, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I think she had half a mind to come here herself and see the baby. Yes," he coos, looking down at Neve and tickling the small, round belly, "she wanted to see you. She wanted to see little Snow White. You're famous, you know that?"
Kate gapes at him, too many questions surging in her mind, unable to choose one. "I - what-"
He flashes her a laughing glance, the little bastard, and she finally gathers herself. "Snow White?"
"Neve means snow in Italian, Beckett. Portuguese, too. Don't tell me you didn't know that."
Oh, great. Maybe she should've gone for Castle's weird spelling after all. "It must have slipped my mind," she hisses, can't believe she condemned her little girl to a life of being called Snow White by Esposito. And- "Gates is coming here?"
"Nah. Ryan managed to dissuade her. You owe him a week of Ferrari, he said."
Of course.
"But - seriously?" Beckett isn't sure she believes it. "She wanted to come see our baby?"
It's true that the captain has been surprisingly supportive (and by supportive Kate really means that Gates didn't kick Castle out of the precinct the moment she learned about their relationship) but a visit to the hospital is-
A step that she wouldn't expect Victoria Gates to take.
"She was here the night you were admitted," Esposito points out, opening his mouth wide at the newborn in his arms.
"Yeah, to make sure her people would pull through," Beckett shoots back. "Not because she wanted to see Neve."
Javier stops making faces at Neve long enough to give Kate a strange, serious look. "You don't realize, do you?"
She arches an eyebrow at him. "Realize what?"
"I'm only half-joking when I say she's famous," he says, nodding down at the little girl. "Hell, the whole precinct is dying to see her. What do you think? A Castle and Beckett baby? People at the 12th have been rooting for you two ever since Writer Boy started following you around. Most of them keep quiet about it because they don't want to intrude, but it's there, Beckett. And everybody's really happy for you guys."
She stares at him, can't even begin to think of an answer. He's - he's gotta be joking, right? She doesn't even know all the names of the guys working at the precinct. Why would they give a damn about her happy ending?
"Oh, shut up," she breathes out, feels a burning heat radiating from her cheeks. It can't be true. It just can't.
Esposito shrugs, returns his attention to the baby. "Whatever you wanna believe. I'm just saying - Neve's got her very own fan club already. Oh, yes you do," he stage-whispers to the girl, widening his eyes dramatically. "That's right. How exciting, huh? You're a star. You're a star, Snow White."
Beckett sinks her teeth into her lower lip, the warmth spreading to her chest now, her fingers itching to reach and touch as her daughter wriggles her little legs, parts her round mouth on a small sound.
Maybe Neve can pull off that nickname after all.
"Castle."
Kate exhales loudly, giving him a look, and he immediately steps back, shuffles to the side until his shoulder bumps into the wooden panel of the elevator.
Beckett is fine; she told him she was fine, that all she needed was space. He's not stupid. He can learn. He can.
If only she didn't look so tired, if only she didn't have her free hand pressed to her abdomen where he knows the stitches from the C-section are-
No, no. She will dismember him if he asks how she's feeling.
So he brushes his hand over Neve's head, lets the silky hair tickle his palm. The girl is sound asleep, full of the bottle he gave her before they left the hospital, and she's drooling all over the red fabric of the baby carrier. Adorable.
A soft ping calls for his attention, the doors opening in a smooth glide, and he catches Kate's eyes on him before she quickly steps out into the corridor. He follows, perplexed by that look on her face - was that envy? - but it all scatters when she reaches the door and gets out her own key, skillfully working it one-handed into the hole.
This is it.
Kate might not be his wife (yet, the hopeful half of him wants to add) but this is their first time coming home as a family, the first time that Neve has been to the loft. His heart does a funny pirouette, his throat suddenly thick with emotion, and he can't help but wish Alexis was here for this.
He was the one who pushed her not to cancel her participation to the NYU exchange program with the University of Edinburgh, even after they learned about Kate's pregnancy, and he knows if he had to do it again he would give her the same advice. He wants his daughter to take every opportunity she's offered, to live her life fully and without regrets.
But still. It's not completely right without her.
"Castle, you coming in or you wanna spend your day in the hallway?" Kate asks from inside the loft. The open door beckons, inviting, and he finally remembers to move his feet.
"Coming," he answers, a hand around Neve's back, and he slowly, breathlessly makes his way inside their new life.
Castle is in the shower when she hears the baby monitor, the initial soft whine quickly escalating into a full-blown cry.
Kate pushes back the covers and sits up too fast, wincing when her stiff muscles protest, the heavy throb starting in her shoulder. Damn it.
She grabs the sling and adjusts it around her neck, letting it take the weight of her arm off her shoulder, and then she eases onto her feet, slides out of their bedroom. She wanted for Neve to sleep in the study, if not in the room with them, but the doctor insisted so heavily on Kate needing rest that Castle flat out refused. And she couldn't very well move the wooden cradle one-handed.
She jogs up the stairs, walks past Martha and Alexis's empty rooms. Neve's voice gets louder with every step and Kate's chest constricts in response, little sparks of panic flying at her heart.
"Oh, sweetheart," she says as she makes her way to her daughter, takes in the baby's red, scrunched up face. "It's okay, baby. Mommy's here. It's okay. What's wrong, beautiful?"
She runs her fingers over the round cheek, the soft onesie, and for a few seconds Neve quiets, Kate's presence registering with her. Then she opens her mouth and lets out a sharp, desperate cry that slices right through her mother's chest.
Beckett looks up, hoping for a miraculous apparition from Castle, but no such luck. Great - he hovers around her all day, never leaves her alone, but the one time she needs him he's in the shower. "You're gonna be okay, sweet girl," she murmurs, glancing down at Neve and offering her index finger for the baby to wrap her hand around.
But their daughter won't take it, only slams her little fist into Kate's palm, and the panic that Beckett's been trying to keep a lid on overflows, floods her chest. "What's going on, Neve? Are you hungry? You just gotta wait for Daddy, love. I can go make you a bottle, but you gotta wait for Daddy to lift you up, okay?"
Fuck, she hates this. She hates feeling this helpless, unable to give her baby the comfort she needs. What if Neve is sick? What if there's something really wrong and-
Kate shuts her eyes for a second, sucks in a breath, then cuts an assessing look to the sling around her shoulder, the depth of the bed. All it would take is a handful of seconds - leaning down, gathering her daughter, arranging her onto her good arm. Surely she can handle that.
Neve's voice rises to an even higher pitch and Beckett's hesitations evaporate. She slips the strap off her neck, letting the sling drop to the floor, and she sets her jaw as she leans over the crib.
"Come here, sweetheart," she says, sliding her hands under the baby's armpits. And then she lifts-
Tries to lift. Either the girl is surprisingly heavy, or Kate is surprisingly weak, but the pressure on her shoulder sends bright flashes of pain sizzling through her arm; her grip on Neve loosens, the baby falling back onto the mattress with an unhappy shriek. Beckett bites sharply into her lower lip and curls her trembling fingers around the edge of the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Jesus, what was she thinking-
"Kate?"
She slowly lifts her eyes. Castle's already walking in, wearing jeans and nothing else, his still-wet hair spiking in every possible direction; he goes straight to the crib and easily picks up Neve, soothing nonsense on his lips as he cradles her to his chest. The image should melt Beckett's heart, but instead she feels an irrational, overwhelming surge of jealousy, has to close her eyes so he won't see.
"What happened?" he asks after a few seconds, a little breathless, a little anxious. He must have seen the sling on the floor.
She lets out a shaky sigh, a hand coming up to her face when she realizes the presence of moisture on her cheeks. Wonderful.
"Nothing," she breathes between clenched teeth. "She was crying; I think she's hungry. You should take her downstairs."
There's a beat of silence and Kate finally slits her eyes open, half-hoping she'll be alone. But no; Castle is still here, his blue eyes filled with concern, Neve whimpering against his chest.
"Kate," he murmurs, and she can't take it, the worry and sadness in his voice, can't take any of it.
"I'm fine," she says just as she becomes aware of the furious stab of pain in her shoulder, the blood that throbs even in her fingers. "Just - go feed her, Castle. She was crying her eyes out. I'll be fine."
He doesn't answer, but instead of heeding her words he squats down, the baby carefully balanced against him, and picks up the sling. He stands up again, slowly, and slides the strap back around Kate's neck; she can't suppress her shudder of agony when his hand skims her shoulder.
"Beckett," he scolds, but she's had enough. She's not his daughter; she's an adult, entitled to her own choices, right or wrong, and she simply can't deal with him right now.
"Go, Castle," she repeats firmly, averting her eyes as she cautiously works her arm back into the sling. "Your daughter's hungry."
He turns around, waves of reluctance rolling off him, and moves for the door. He pauses when he reaches the hallway, as if hoping that she will call him back, but Kate keeps her mouth shut, watches his shoulders sag before he disappears.
She waits a moment more, until she's sure he's not coming back - and then she collapses down to her knees, lets her silent tears spill over her cheeks.
Red, red, red.
Castle jerks awake with his mouth open on a silent scream, the vivid scarlet of Kate's blood smeared behind his eyelids. He sucks in a string of gasping breaths, the horror still so real and weighing on his chest, until the soft familiarity of his bed, the quiet of the night finally sink in. He rolls onto his side, orienting toward Kate, but her side is empty, the sheets cold.
He's on the verge of a panic attack when his eyes stumble onto the baby monitor on the bedside table, the white little antenna shining in a thin ray of light.
Right. Neve.
The baby must've woken up and Kate went upstairs to change her, feed her - or maybe just rock her back to sleep.
Castle drops his head back onto the pillow, the taste of relief in his mouth, can't tear his eyes from the monitor, the physical, tangible evidence that Neve is real, that Kate isn't dead. That his dream was nothing but a dream, striking and terrible as it was.
It should be enough. He wills it to be enough, wills his body back to sleep - god knows he needs it - but there's a lingering anxiety, an uncertainty that pushes him, sluggish and staggering, out of bed.
The doctor cleared Kate to use her arm a couple days back (moderately and wisely, he said) but Castle keeps picturing her struggling, the memory of that day when he found her in tears in the nursery following him. He's not worried about Neve - Beckett would break her own arm rather than let something happen to the baby - but he is worried that Kate will overdo it.
He grabs a t-shirt and pulls it over his head, heads for the living-room. He's half-asleep still, his thoughts spiraling into nothingness, so when Kate materializes in front of him at the bottom of the stairs he slams into her, nearly sends them both to the floor.
"Sorry, sorry," he grunts, catching himself with a hand to the wall, the other curling around her elbow.
She lets out a small sound that he thinks might be a laugh, her fingers soft on his forearm, and the air rushes out of him when he feels the warm press of her lips at his throat. "What you doing out of bed?" she whispers, squeezing his side.
"Bad dream," he rumbles, wrapping his arms around her. She's long and lithe, pliant against him, and he doesn't remember her being so tender since the day they came home with Neve. He understands - he knows how hard it must be for her, how fierce and independent she is - but he's missed this.
Them.
"Poor baby," she smiles against his neck. And he doesn't even care that she's laughing at him, because her mouth is at his jaw next, brushing feather-light kisses to his skin, sending a long shiver of delight through his veins. "I'm sorry," she breathes, stroking the short hair at his temple, but he doesn't want to hear it, dips his head to find her lips.
She parts her mouth with a hum, meets his tongue for a slow, languid dance that soon has his heart aflutter, a warm wetness pushing at his eyelids. "Kate," he murmurs when she breaks the kiss, overwhelmed and silly with love.
"Let's go back to bed," she says, lacing their fingers, her thumb so soft at the back of his hand. "We both need the sleep, Castle."
He follows her wordlessly, when all he really wants is to stay there, their bodies flush in the dimness of their living room, and never let go.
