Alexis and his mother leave not long after dinner despite how much he can tell neither of them want to go. But his daughter had enrolled in summer classes at Columbia to make up for the semesters she had taken off this past year, to take her mind off of her mourning, and his mother still had her acting school. He hadn't wanted them missing out on the few things that had kept them afloat over the past month, didn't want them making the drive back home in the dark either.

"Call at any time, day or night. Kate and I don't have new phones yet, but Jim says the landline is always working," Castle had reassured them both, hugging them as tightly as his brittle body would allow. "And maybe you can come back next weekend, start planning our Hamptons vacation."

"That sounds perfect, kiddo. I can't wait until you and Katherine are well enough to make the trip," his mother had gushed, cupping his face in her hands before she could leave the front porch for the Mercedes parked in the driveway. "My sweet boy," she had whispered, the smile on his mother's lips so adoring, so tender, it nearly brought tears to his eyes. "I am so glad you're alright, Richard."

"Me too, Mother," he'd smiled back, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead before she had glanced to Kate and Alexis exchanging words and tentative smiles a couple of feet away, a careful embrace that seemed to hold meaning. He's not sure what conversation had been had on the back porch only hours earlier, before he could join them minutes prior to dinner being served, but whatever it had consisted of caused the ice that had glazed over his daughter's eyes to completely melt.

"You two look after each other," his mother had said, the lines carved deeper into the skin of her face softening as she'd divided her gaze between him and Kate.

"We will. You and Alexis do the same," Castle had murmured, squeezing his mother's frail shoulders and he hoped that his resurgence would change that, retract the fragile quality his mother had adopted, the lack of stability to her smile and the constant shine in her eyes. He hoped the vibrant effervescence that made Martha Rodgers who she is would soon return to take precedence once more.

He had watched his mother and daughter climb into the car, done his best to wave, plaster on an encouraging smile as they had finally driven away, waiting until the headlights had disappeared through the trees to turn his back to the driveway. Kate had laced her arms around his waist before he could go back inside, rested her cheek to his clavicle and allowed him to cling to her while he breathed through the tears that burned in the back of his throat.

"They'll be back," she had whispered, her palms warm and heavy, bracketing his tailbone and anchoring him to the spot with her, to how good and right she managed to make every moment feel.

After how wrong it had all been, he savored every second Kate Beckett infused with righteousness.

"We'll be back," she had added, knowing it wasn't over for them. They were still playing ghosts, not ready to return to the living.

Castle had pressed his lips to the top of her head, his nose in her hair. "I know."

He'd noticed the drag of her body once they eventually drifted back inside, locking the front door behind them, the subtle hunch of her shoulders, the stiff line of her spine as she had shuffled into the kitchen to hug her father, whisper her gratitude before she had wished him a goodnight.

"The doctor will be here tomorrow morning," Jim had informed him when Castle stepped forward to do the same. "I briefed him on Katie's most recent injuries and on her current symptoms, so he plans to run a few tests."

"She's going to kill us," Castle had murmured, joking, but also not. Because she really might kill at least one of them for planning an impromptu doctor's appointment behind her back like this.

But Castle and Jim had both agreed it would be best to wait until morning to fill Kate in; she was too exhausted for anything more today.

"Kate," he calls now, the alarm clock on the bedside table reading midnight. They've been in bed since nine o'clock. A couple of old people indeed, aged by the pierce of bullets and induced trauma.

"Hmm?"

He had known she was still awake beside him, the circle of her thumb at his pulse ceaseless, the shift of her body restless. She had even taken half of the pain pill like she had the night before, but apparently, she was so wound up, not even the strength of medication could put her at rest.

"You could barely stand when we walked in, dead on your feet, so why are you still awake?"

She sighs, so careful so not to upset her chest, and gingerly turns her head on the pillow, seeks out his expectant eyes in the moonlit darkness. And for a second, he's lost in that, how ethereal she looks drenched in moonlight, how breathtaking it is to have her beside her, in bed with him, again.

"Why are you?" she counters, soft despite the deflection, and that's okay, he can be honest about it.

"Scared to sleep for the most part. Scared to wake up, realize it was all a dream, that you're a dream," he confesses and her thumb goes still over his wrist. "Your turn."

Kate shudders out a breath, slips her hand into the embrace of his palm and closes her eyes. "I dream of you burning… in that incinerator Mason had. Of you bleeding out on the kitchen floor again. I dream that I'm awake in the hospital again and you're not there. Telling me you'll never be there."

His chest is tight, as if his ribs have been cemented together and their foundation is crumbling, crushing his lungs and bearing down too hard on his already dilapidated heart.

"This is so inconvenient. I want to hold you and I can't," he mumbles, watching Kate's lips spill into a tiny smile, broken and watery, but a smile that parts for the small huff of amusement she releases.

"Here," she murmurs, opening her eyes and bracing a hand between them, rolling slowly onto her side even as he releases a noise of protest. But it's too late, she's already lying on her left side, molding her body to fit along the edges of his.

"Okay?" he asks, curving his palm along the forearm she lays over the reconstructed bones of his ribcage, breathing heavy at his shoulder, but managing.

"Better."

"Much better," he agrees, sliding his other arm around her back, splaying his hand at the middle of her spine.

"Missed being able to feel you like this, Castle," she breathes out, the heat of her words skittering across his throat and Rick taps the knob of her vertebrae for it. She isn't trying to torture him with the combination of her body so close and saying things like that, but she's still doing a fine job.

"And you claim you don't like snuggling," he grins, his lips at her crown and her fingers stealing beneath his shirt, her hand resting high on his abdomen, smothering the flame she elicited with the pinch of her fingers to his stomach.

"Try and sleep, Rick," she murmurs, her lips still curled upwards in the corners, her eyes falling closed once more, and the weight of her body so warm, reassuring, and right against his.

He finds that falling asleep isn't so hard after all, the drape of Kate Beckett at his side still the best way to ward off the nightmares.

Doctor Samuels arrives at eight the next morning and she's not happy about it. Kate had already been awake at his side, recovering from a recent trip to the bathroom, the amount of effort the task required, when the knock on the door had startled her. Jim had greeted the man, spoken his name loud enough to be heard from their room, and Kate had pursed her lips in frustration, turned her gaze on him.

"Did you have a part in this?" she questions, arching an eyebrow at him, and well, there had been no point in lying.

"Yes, I did," he admits, shifting up from the headboard to resist being crushed by the glare she pins on him. "I'm worried about you."

His wife squares her jaw, but she can't fight him on this, can't deny that she wouldn't do the same if he had been the one vomiting in the bathroom twice each day, upsetting the fragile state of his already damaged chest.

"Fine," she states, reaching over for his shirt, beginning to slip the buttons free.

Castle's brow furrows in confusion, but he doesn't try to stop her, whatever it is she's doing. "Uh, Kate, what are you doing?"

"If I have to get checked out, so do you," she quips, unable to quest higher than the middle of his plaid button down, exposing his abdomen to the cool air of the bedroom.

Rick maneuvers the last three buttons free from their fastenings. "Deal."

"Rick, Katie, Doctor Samuels is here," Jim announces from outside the door, knocking once before Kate calls back her acknowledgment and the door swings open to reveal her father and another man who looks to be about the same age as the older Beckett. Grey hair, kind brown eyes, an easy smile that could calm even the most anxious of patients, Doctor Samuel's is instantly likeable.

"Katie, good to see you again," Samuels greets, stepping inside the room. "And you must be Katie's husband, Rick? Jim told me a lot about you."

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Castle offers, his hand rising to shake out of reflex, but Samuels flicks his gaze to the exposed scar on Rick's chest, waves him off.

"You can call me Aaron, if you'd like. Now, Jim explained the majority of Katie's injuries to me over the phone, but I wasn't aware you suffered a gunshot wound as well?"

"Rick was shot at the same time I was," Kate fills in, the irritation in her eyes tucked away, her smile for the older man welcoming when he comes forward to stand beside their bed. "Essentially the same spot too-"

"His and hers," Castle chimes in without thinking, shooting her an apologetic look for the choked noise his joke jerks from her lips, but her doctor hides his smile and at least someone can appreciate his gallows humor.

"Anyway," Kate mutters. "I was actually hoping you could take a look at his as well."

"Of course," Samuels assures them, placing the medical bag in his grasp atop the foot of the bed. "I can check you both out separately or together, however you prefer."

Castle casts a glance to Beckett, but he already knows what he wants and so does she.

"Together is fine," Kate murmurs, her knuckles grazing his calf before she eases her legs over the edge of the bed, moving out of the way, he realizes. "Castle can go first."

Rick receives a clean bill of health from Doctor Samuels and it sets the uneven bump and stumble of her heart at ease until it's her turn to undergo the simple checkup, allowing the older man she's been treated by since her teen years to examine both of her injuries, assess the damage. Doctor Samuels had patched her up multiple times throughout her youth, stitches on her knee when she had fallen from a tree, ointment for a poison oak rash on her arm, Tetanus shot when she'd cut her side on a rusty nail; he had seen her last gunshot wound, only a couple of weeks after her dad had driven her out here to recuperate, when her father's face had always been ashen with worry each and every time he looked at her.

She trusted the man with her wounds, with Castle's, but there was something she needed to bring up that she trusted no one with, not even herself. And to talk to Samuels about it had apprehension blooming hot and brutal through her gut, but he was the only medical professional they had immediate access to, and she had to know for sure.

"Well, Katie, despite how horrible I know it must feel, both of the wounds are healing quite nicely," Samuels had announced, peeling the gloves from his hands, dropping them into the waste basket nearby. "What has me concerned is the vomiting your dad mentioned."

Castle perks up from across the room, sitting in a rocking chair by the window with his shirt half buttoned once more, his hair gold and his eyes a piercing cerulean in the stream of sunlight flooding through the glass.

Beckett bites her lip, holding the edges of her shirt together, her arms still shaking from the gentle range of motion test Samuels had asked of her.

"I - Rick, do you mind waiting for me in the living room?" Castle shoots her a startled look, hurt seeping into his features when she requests a moment alone with the doctor and oh, she doesn't want to hurt him, but she doesn't want to get his hopes up either. "It's nothing serious, nothing I'm trying to hide, just - kind of embarrassing," she mumbles, holding his gaze, letting him search hers until he found the reassurance he was looking for.

"Okay," he agrees, using the wooden arms of the chair to lever himself up without strain, walking across the room to drop a kiss to her head. "I'll be right outside."

Kate nods, gives him a tightlipped smile as he steps away from the bed, shuffles out the door and into the hallway. She waits until she's certain her husband isn't loitering in the hallway, listening in outside the door, before finally returning her gaze to Samuels.

But the older man already has a knowing gleam in his warm brown eyes.

"From what I've been told and what I've seen here, I can't come up with too many reasons for why you would be so nauseous, especially when it's triggered by things that never affected you before," Samuels comments and Beckett sighs, curls her arm around her abdomen.

"Could - could a baby have survived everything I have?" she whispers, fighting the urge to close her eyes, shield herself from Samuels's reaction, but her childhood physician merely tilts his head, his expression thoughtful, but that conclusive look in his gaze hasn't disappeared.

"Well, your body underwent a lot of trauma, and obviously, the most threatening of your injuries to a fetus would be the gunshot wound you gained to your abdomen," he states, gesturing to the covered wound. "But since the shot was rather high and if the fetus was only say… one to three weeks old? It could have very well been cushioned just fine within your womb and failed to suffer any effects of the bullet," Samuels explains, sitting back on the stool Jim had dragged in to place in front of the bed. "If pregnancy is the root of this, though, and the estimation of age is correct, I would want to at least put you on some vitamins so your baby is receiving as much nourishment as possible."

Your baby. Oh god.

"I don't - I'm-" Kate closes her eyes for just a moment, inhales slowly through her nose, exhales through her mouth, waits until the riot of butterflies in her chest fall still. "I don't want Castle to know this is a possibility yet. Not if it's something else entirely. It would… it would be too much right now."

"I understand," Samuels nods, reaching to his side for the bag open on the floor, sifting through the contents before lifting a slim box between them. "And since I had my suspicions and I know you haven't been out and about, I brought this. Just in case."

Samuels places the pregnancy test in her lap.

"I'm aware that traveling is a severe hassle right now, but if that test reads positive, contacting your OBGYN as soon as you can would be a really good idea, Kate."

Beckett nods dumbly, staring down at the typical pregnancy test atop her knees, curling her fingers around the box and glancing towards the bathroom.

"And as for the nausea, all I can suggest is to listen to your body - take it easy, stay hydrated, and get plenty of rest," Samuels instructs, offering his hand to Kate as he rises from the stool, and she accepts, grits her teeth and breathes out in relief once she's standing. "And if you, Rick, or Jim need anything at all, do not hesitate to call me."

"Thank you, Doctor Samuels," she murmurs, feeling like a kid again for just a heartbeat of a moment before the doctor releases her hand, nudges her towards the bathroom.

"Anytime. I'll tell your husband and your dad that you'll be right out."

The man disappears with his medical bag before she can thank him again, and Kate does the same, eases the bathroom door shut before Castle can barge in and see the test. If it's negative, she'll explain it all, tell him it was just a ridiculous hunch that she felt silly sharing. And if it's positive…

Kate pops open the lid of the box, slides the slim plastic stick into her palm.

She'll think of what to say if it's positive while she waits for the results.

"Rick, stop pacing," Jim huffs from the doorway, waving to Samuels as he pulls out of the cabin's driveway and maneuvers his car through the cluster of trees back towards the main road.

The older man had said that Kate was fine, that she'd needed to use the bathroom, but it's been nearly ten minutes since Samuels had emerged from their bedroom, since he had told Rick goodbye and strolled out onto the porch with Jim for a brief chat before his departure.

What if she'd had to vomit again? What if she passed out? What if she-

"Castle."

The call of his name is soft, muffled behind the partially closed door, and Rick jerks forward down the hall, winces and listens to Jim's gentle reproach, forces himself to slow. Her voice was calm, relaxed, not urgent, not in pain. She's okay, he reminds himself, repeats it in his head like a mantra, she's okay she's okay she's okay.

Castle steps inside the bedroom to find his wife in the bathroom doorway, propped up by the polished wood frame, waiting for him with her lips drawn up in a half smile.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he murmurs, shuffling deeper into the room to meet her in the entrance to the adjoining one. "Are you?"

Kate's eyes flicker from his, her chest rising with a careful breath below the shirt hanging on her body. Not the most reassuring response.

One of her hands flutters between them once he's close enough, her fingers hooking in his belt loop, not even having to tug to have him drifting as close as he possibly can. The concern in his chest is hot, a bubbling cauldron in his stomach, sending up heat to sear his sternum. She hadn't kicked him out earlier to hide something from him, that's what she'd said, but there had been a reason, one she wasn't telling him, and he had a feeling that whatever it was had to do with the expression of hesitance claiming her face now.

"Kate?"

Her other hand seeks his, her pinky hooking in two of his fingers, transferring a stick of plastic into his palm. Castle glances down in bewilderment – where had that even come from? – before realization registers, surprise and shock like ice water through his system, putting out the scalding worry and sending a hiss of steam washing through his torso.

"What - this - are you?" He chokes on his own questions, lifts the pregnancy test up to answer them before she can.

Positive.

"When I started getting sick, I had a feeling… but I thought it would be impossible," she whispers, her voice even but quiet, raspy. "I barely made it, so I couldn't fathom a baby surviving. But Doctor Samuels brought the test just in case and I - I just wanted to be sure before I told you."

He tears his eyes from the tiny digital screen, the two distinct lines, up to the woman inches away from him, biting her lip and dividing her gaze between his and the test in his hand. "You wanted to ask - that's why you wanted me to wait. To be sure."

"Yes," she murmurs, her fingers climbing from his pants to snag in the side of his shirt. "I didn't want to get our hopes up-"

"Hopes?" he gasps out. "You had hopes?"

The pearls of her teeth peek out from between the petals of her lips, tentative but blossoming wider with her smile. "The timing may not necessarily be the best, but while I was waiting for the results of that test, I realized I would have been more disappointed by a negative sign. I want - I want this, with you. I want you both so much."

"Oh, Kate." He has to lean down, smudge his smile to hers even though it causes him to ache. But she's so happy, brimming with joy that spills onto his tongue when she kisses him back, and it's too good, too good for him to even acknowledge the pain. "Love you. I love you so much."

Kate steals the test from his fingers, tucks it into his back pocket so she can claim his fingers, press his knuckles to the soft flesh of her stomach.

"I love you too," she chuckles, their teeth bumping when her smile stretches to match his.

"How long?" he finally remembers to ask, his body still hunched over hers, his thumb tracing the circle of her belly button.

"Samuels estimated six week to eight weeks," she reveals and Rick's heart stutters as he does the math, stands up straighter with the understanding.

"Six weeks?" Castle breathes, shock and awe and everything in between swirling through his chest. "That means you were - even when we were shot, it-"

"Made it," Kate confirms on a whisper, their fingers still curled at her stomach. "Even after the gunshot wounds and the trauma and the last month of hell, our baby made it, Castle."

"Our baby," he echoes, breathless with it. "We - we're going to have a baby. A little badass survivor baby."

Kate chokes on her laughter, but manages a nod of her head that brushes her nose to his. "Apparently so."

"Do you want… we can disappear, if you want to," Castle begins, blurts, eliciting the stitching of Kate's brow in gentle confusion, the tilt of her head. "I mean - no one knows we're alive yet and once they do, it's going to be hard for a little while, harder once the news of your pregnancy gets out, and I just want you to know that if you didn't want to go back, we don't have to."

The sparks of gold like joy in her eyes fail to dim, but her smile wavers at the offer, the suggestion.

"I can write from anywhere in the world," he pushes on, because she has to know, has to have all the options laid out in front of her. "We could book a flight to Paris, I know a guy who makes a living on creating fake IDs-"

"Rick," she chuckles, her hand rising between them, the tip of her index finger touching his chin, her nail grazing his bottom lip, unable to reach any higher. "Disappearing to another country, starting over with new lives, that might be safer, smarter. But that's not us," his wife murmurs, her fingers trickling down his throat, her thumb hooking in the hollow of his collarbones' convergence. "I like our life together, our story. And I want to be us, keep being us. Want our baby to know the truth."

"Oh, she'll love our story," he breathes out, returning his forehead to hers, but Kate's brow is hitching against his skin.

"She? You… you think it's a girl?" she whispers, gnawing on her bottom lip, as if she's trying to contain her jubilance from overwhelming them both.

"I - yes? Maybe. Just a theory."

"Mm, funny. I thought it might just be mother's intuition," she muses and he can barely swallow past the sheer happiness clogging his throat where her fingers rest, blanketing his chest, can barely manage to choke out his laughter.

"Connection?"

Kate grins, tilting her chin upwards to dust her mouth to his bottom lip. "Always."