Happy Saturday! I'm off to the local farmers market. :) Wahoo for eating local!


I finally managed to get Rick into the office when we returned from the precinct in the evening. "You have a book to finish before your son decides to escape." I told him when we got back; the threat finally hitting home. He'd followed me in for the afternoon, doppler in tow. He wanted to play with his toy. I was annoyed, but finally gave up when he agreed to keep it in my purse unless it was really needed. He trailed me like a puppy the entire day, instead of working on a book that was due before the birth.

The steady click of key strokes coming from the office assures me that he means business now.

Alexis helps me re-pack in the master bedroom while he works. The two of us laughing, as we unpack her hastily compiled bag.

A shirt, 3 kinds of lotion, 4 unmatched socks, a pair of regular jeans I may never fit again and two of Rick's T shirts.

"I was in full blown panic." She offers as I smile.

"First. Chap stick." I tell her. "I need it all the times, and I imagine in labor I'll need the entire tube. Second," I hold up a shirt that unsnaps near the top. It's my favorite and I'm fairly sure I'll be able to nurse in it. "Third, always bring double underwear." I add throwing in a few extra pairs.

"Four." She adds, producing my favorite pair of fuzzy socks and two plain pairs.

"Five." I proclaim from the bathroom and reappear with a new toothbrush I'd picked up for this purpose. We stop counting as I add the other things I'll want and need. I carefully top everything off with a little blue outfit. He's going to need something to come home in. Both of us are relieved when she zips the bag closed and drags it to the door. Rick smiles as we pass through his office.

"Ready?" He asks.

"Not until you guys name him." She teases us both. I follow behind her, protesting that I could have gotten it. "Let's make dinner." Alexis offers and we head into the kitchen together.


There is an oddly delicious amount of comfort food produced. Baked "fried" Chicken crusted with breadcrumbs and crushed cheese crackers. Mashed potatoes and freshly steamed green beans finish it off. Rick is lured out. The three of us eat together and laugh, though I suspect everyone is watching me.


The evening quickly dissolves into night. The night into morning. The day into a week and that week into the next. Other than sporadic contractions and a few strings of 5 or 6, things are uneventful. I feel almost like labor is avoiding me. With four weeks to go, I try to focus on the fact that he's growing and growing so he'll be completely ready to greet the world.

There are only two more weeks for me to work. There still isn't a name, though a list of 6 names sits on a note pad, on the refrigerator's white board and in Rick's notebook app on his phone.

I like Westin. Rick's got several he likes more.

Like Zeke. It's not even on the list, I dislike it so passionately. I told him having a child named for the first and last letters of the alphabet will only lead to him wanting a complete set. No way is that happening.

Ryan hasn't said a word about Jenny and it's eating me. I can't decide if he's embarrassed because he was wrong or if he's right and she wants to wait until the second trimester to share the news. I am about 2 seconds from asking him myself if I can just remember.

I stand by the door, watching as they unload our latest suspect from the car. A few people pass by on foot and stop to stare. "Keep moving please." I tell an older lady politely. My voice distracts her from the suspect, and her eyes fall onto my belly.

"Honey, look at you!" She proceeds to extend a hand. I leap back a step.

"Hands off." I tell her, barely containing the snarl. She scrunches her forehead in disbelief but moves on. Esposito is struggling to contain a laugh as we all make our way inside.

"No respect for the bump." He chuckles.

"Yeah." I growl. Whatever possesses people to touch pregnant bellies without permission is beyond me. You wouldn't touch a non-pregnant woman's stomach, so what makes this okay? I text Rick out of frustration. He replies with sympathy, wishing he could make them stop. He even jokes about getting some stickers made.


When I come home from work I'm pleasantly surprised to find my favorite thin crust pizza, perfectly topped with fresh tomatoes and basil. Alexis, comes down the stairs as we begin to pull pieces onto plates. She carries a small gift bag and plops it down next to me.

"I know it's okay for us." She explains in her own brand of wonderment, "But it's not okay for them." Her hand falls to my belly for just a second and her brother gives her a kick. I smile reassuringly. It is definitely okay for Alexis and Rick. Martha and my father fall into the same category, but since Martha moved into her own place we see both of the grandparents less frequently. I am torn between pizza and a present, the present winning simply because of her expectant face. I'm starving.

I pull out a white maternity top, and across the belly Alexis has created a design. It's a hand, circled and crossed clearly with red, like a no smoking sign. The words "Hands Off" sit below. I almost die laughing. I put it on and model. It fits nicely, with just a bit of space to grow, the logo falling perfectly across my stomach. I plan on wearing it whenever possible.

We all eat as I recount the nasty looks sent and received over the attempted belly grab.

I still struggle with cramps and occasional shooting pain unrelated to contractions. My doctor has been proactive and screened my blood work for kidney stones several times, always coming up empty, and dismissing it as contractions. Thankfully, tonight they are quiet.


When Rick emerges from his lair on Sunday evening, one of my rare weekends off duty and not on call, he's grinning from ear to ear. I'm sorting through a small load of baby laundry and inhaling the soft smell from the baby soap. I'm not really sure I can get up off the floor, but it was worth it to spread the load around me in a semi-circle.

"What?" I ask, suspicious of his smirk.

"Sent." He replies.

"Sent what?" I ask, still clueless. I find it amazing that my brain no longer connects the hooks and loops like it should. Pregnancy has officially eaten my brain.

"I'm done." He offers, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me lazily after seating himself beside me. "Book free. So, go on, pop him out." I look at him and arch an eyebrow, relaying instantly that it's not quite that simple.

"But you'll have to edit and change what they send back." I protest.

"It's not going to be much. I think it's the best Heat book I've written." He swears. "Let's go for a walk."

"I'm not really in the mood." I offer, going back to sorting.

"I'll help." Rick promises, sitting down and helping me fold tiny onesies in half and ball little pairs of socks. It doesn't take long before he's crafted a model on the floor. A little onesie, pants laid over that, socks below and a little baby hat crowning an invisible head.

"Cute. Now help, really, or find something else to do." I tell him frustrated.

"Sorry." He confesses as he slips two fingers into a pair of blue socks with a single stripe at the cuff and marches his two hands over and up onto my belly. He dances them around and a small smile crosses my lips. He's ridiculous more times than he's serious, but I love him anyway.

"Obviously you've got some pent up energy." I tell him. "A walk it is." With the couch for support and a little roll I've hefted myself up. "I'll change and we can go." He drops the socks into the basket without balling them up and I have to force myself to stay quiet.

"Awesome." He replies before gathering up the folded basket and heading upstairs to stow it away in little drawers. "I'll meet you at the door in five." He tells me as I head off into the bedroom to find a more comfortable shirt.

I find it. The shirt Alexis made me.

No touching.

I shed my button down off and pull on the white shirt. I'm anxious to see how it works. "Good choice." I hear gruff out from behind me. I turn and smile as I pull it over and smooth it down.

"Alexis is amazing. I'm proud to be in her life." I tell Rick.

"I'm proud to have all of you." He tells me as he comes over and pulls me close. His lips find mine and the heat envelopes us. I find myself wet and soft to his hardness in mere moments. I'm trying desperately to connect our pelvises as we stand, belly blocking the way. When I look up at him, his eyes are dilated and sparkling with the little fires that appear when he's turned on. I'm on the bed and naked before I can even process how fast this has gone, and a good amount of his clothing has disappeared as well. He brings me to orgasm twice with his hands and mouth before slipping off his boxers and fitting behind me on our sides. Spooned together his hands roam my breasts and belly, his erection pressing against my back. We know this works and he slides right in. It's amazing as always, but I just can't seem to come. And I need it, desperately, despite the two previous.

"I want to be on top." I tell him in a breathy voice. His gasps tell me I've taken him by surprise. Slipping free, Rick rolls to his back and moans as I straddle him, his penis sliding in easily amongst the wetness. "Feel okay?" I ask, suddenly conscious of how huge I've grown and how much space is consumed by the baby. While the baby isn't super low and I'm proud not to be a waddler, I'm still self-conscious.

"Perfect." He offers with a groan. I sit straight above him and his hands come to my breasts as I rock. It only takes a few thrusts before I know I'm teetering on the elusive orgasm.

"Rick." I hiss, "I love you." I tell him. I can hear the intensity swallowing him, the tiny noise he makes at the back of his throat giving way to something more.

"Kate." He groans before we lose it together. It's blistering and I'm not sure I've ever come so hard in my entire life. We pant and smile together before I roll off and have a fairly intense contraction. He studies my face as it pulls at my belly.

"Wow." I agree several moments later as it begins to diminish.

"Are you going to go into labor now?" He asks with pride, sprinkling light kisses across my body. "The book says sex and semen can move things along. Something about the hormones or something like that in my stuff." He repeats with pride.

"Probably not." I offer, "But I'm taking that book away from you."

"Let's go for a walk then." He chirps. "That's supposed to help, too."

"Let me pee first." I complain, rolling from our mess and heading to the bathroom.

Redressed and on our way Central Park for a nice long walk, I smile as we exit the cab we've taken down. Between often diffictult parking near the Central Park and the hassle of retrieving the car from our parking garage, it's easier to take a cab. His hand presses into mine as we walk. And walk. I have two contractions, but they're nothing like the one in the bed. I'm rather disappointed when we stop to watch some people tossing a Frisbee and the contractions completely let up. I sigh.

"Eventually." He consoles, though I'm not sure who's more disappointed that sex and a walk haven't done the job. "The book said it would help."

"The book hasn't met your spawn." I tease. "This child is difficult and not ready. He'll probably be late. Let's go home." He nods his agreement and we haven't made it even a quarter of a block before a lady comes up to me with a smile. I'm seriously going to lose it if she still tries to touch my belly in this shirt.

"Where did you get that?" She asks, indicating to my favorite piece of clothing. I'm caught unsure how to refer to Alexis. I'm not her mom and she's certainly not my step-daughter even if I do love her. She doesn't come up in conversation with most strangers and everyone else is aware that she's Rick's daughter.

"The baby's sister made it." I explain with relief for finding the appropriate words.

"It's great. She should sell them; I know dozens of moms who would love one."

"She should." Rick agrees as we begin our trek out of the park. I'm laughing when the second and then third woman stop us before we reach a cab stand, the final one is pregnant herself.

"At least no one touched me." I smile as we climb into the cab and head home. The cab driver eyes me suspiciously. I begin to wonder if the whole world thinks pregnant women stay home and only emerge when they're finally in labor. Has no one ever witnessed a pregnant woman walking around with the rest of the living? I'm about to say something vulgar when Rick puts his hand on mine and squeezes. It's all I need.


Lanie reads the next question in the app twice, before Castle hears her. He's weaseled his hand into Beckett's. Skirting around IV's and pulse-oxy monitors.

"I said, 'The person you'd least like to be stranded on an island with.'" She states louder. With a squeeze of Beckett's hand, Castle looks over to Lanie.

"Gina." He replies curtly, Lanie's mouth dropping open at the implications.

"What the hell does that mean?" His shoulders shrug and he runs his fingertips inside Kate's palm. No longer nervous about touching her in front of her friend, though he knew she'd squeal on him.

"Whatever you want."