AN: I apologize that it's been so long since my last update. I'm truly sorry! Never enough time in a day... If you're still here to read this: Thank you for your patience, and I hope you'll enjoy the continuance of this story. I'm so grateful for the kindness and enthusiasm you've shown me; it means so much to me.

26 WEEKS

100 Days To Go (Timestamp: Wednesday, October 15, 2013)

He wakes in shock, gasps for breath, his body bounding up in bed. His heart hammers, his vision foggy; blood, there was just so much blood, and curdling screams and Kate, Kate? The images blur, coil together, fading already and nothing makes sense; he can't hang on to the stark pictures, doesn't want to. He swallows hard, a knot in his throat, mouth dry as he tries to get his bearings. His heart won't stop racing, the claws of fear sharp, digging deep. Blindly he reaches over, his hand feeling what his eyes can't seem to see and oh, there she is, the warmth of her hip beneath his palm, Kate, oh god Kate.

Relief washes over him like a wave as he runs his palm down her thigh, then back up over her hip, her waist, her ribcage. He takes comfort in her warmth and her shape and the deep rhythm of her breathing, healthy and safe and there's no blood, no blood. His heart calms slowly with each steady lift of her ribs, the little sigh she makes in her sleep when he caresses the slope of her waistline. He swallows the nausea, willing away everything else but this.

He blinks, eyes adjusting to the darkness in the room and it's too early, two or three in the morning maybe. Relentless rain is pounding against the window panes, his mind is racing and sleep no longer seems attainable. Kate stirs beside him. He stills his hand, remains quiet, hoping that she won't wake up. She needs her rest, lots of sleep for both her and the baby but she already rolls onto her back, her eyes struggling open while she seeks his forearm with the soothing touch of her fingertips.

"Rick wha's wrong?" She slurs, struggling to sit up. "You 'kay?"

He lies back down to make sure she'll stop trying to get up, and her slim fingers slide between his, her head turning to face him across the pillow.

"Yeah. It's nothing. Go back to sleep, baby."

She curls onto her side instead, eyes him solemnly. "Nightmares again?"

He blinks, flashes of his dream still too vivid, too red before his eyes and all he can do is nod.

Kate caresses his cheek, her thumb tender as she paints the rim of his cheekbone. "Castle, this has been going on for weeks, it's not nothing."

He wants to have answers but he has nothing, only visions of crimson and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. "I don't know, Kate." His eyes slide shut, defeated. "I don't know."

"Existential angst? Are you worried about being a dad again? We read about it in the book, remember, how that's common?"

And it's easier, easier just to nod. "Yeah maybe," he concedes, hoping that she's right.

She curls in closer, her belly pressed to his stomach as she rests her forehead against his. "You're an amazing father. I have no doubts that you'll be wonderful with our baby. And we're in this together, remember? You don't have to do this by yourself again. It'll be okay." She hums assurances against his lips and his eyes well. "We'll be fine."

He wraps an arm around her back, tugging her tightly to his chest, her face nudged into the curve of his neck. She kisses his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat, his collarbone and he just breathes, in and out, in and out, soaking in her scent, the calm and safety of her arms. He clings to her and soon her breathing regulates; he feels her sinking back into sleep, a deep exhausted thing these days.

For him, sleep won't come for hours.

He peels himself out of bed early, his eyes bleary, his body dragging with exhaustion. The hot spray of the shower is invigorating as the water pounds on his neck and shoulder blades. He spends long minutes just soaking up the heat, clouds of steam billowing in the bathroom. He shaves, dresses, then tiptoes through the bedroom, careful not to wake Kate.

For a moment he stops, just stands there staring. Her hair haloed on the pillow around her head, her face burrowed deep into the fabric; she's curled up on her side, one arm slung protectively around her belly. She's so beautiful, looks ethereal in the hazy grey light of an October morning, and his heart just aches with it.

Grabbing his coat he sneaks out, the loft door closing behind him with a soft click.

"Where've you been?" Kate calls out to him from the living room when he walks in, her voice oddly strangled and he rounds the couch - and arrests in his steps, can't do anything but stare, all words caught in his throat.

She's resting on her calves and knees, her thighs going up straight from the floor but then her whole torso is bowed over backwards, her spine curved in a high arch. Her belly pokes out, a distinct, full bulge by now and he wonders how she can keep her balance like this. But she's calm, breathing evenly, arms and head hanging down so that she's upside-down-looking at the wall behind her, the ends of her hair skim over her calves.

He's noticed the creeping changes to her movements that are a bit less graceful sometimes, a shift to her center of gravity and that slight outward tilt to her feet that will soon make her gait look like she's waddling. But it's stunning to watch, the way she still controls her body, her muscles flexing with strength beneath the pale sheen of her skin. She's curvier now, not just her baby belly but around her hips and legs and arms, even her cheeks. She looks healthy and yes, glowing, if he were to employ the cliched term, but it's never seemed truer than with her. At one with her body and with her child, the two of them a unit against the world outside and he's filled with inexplicable yearning. He leans his hip against the door jamb and waits for her, watches until she's mentally counted to ten and slowly rights herself, ultimately sinking back on her haunches.

"What's this?" Her whole face brightens when she smiles at him, her eyes finding him in the doorway and oh, he almost forgot while he stared at her, completely lost in thought. He pulls his arm out from behind his back.

"These are for you."

Her eyes widen as she takes in the spread of flowers he's brought for her. "Castle, this is huge!" She pushes off the floor, carefully rises to her feet, her voice breathless with surprise.

"It's one hundred." He awkwardly cradles the bouquet in front of him, holds it out to her.

"They're gorgeous." She fingers the velvety pink petals, buries her nose in the sea of color to inhale their scent. "You bought me one hundred roses? Why?"

He grins. "Can't I surprise my beautiful wife with flowers just because I wanted to?"

"I suppose you could." Kate purses her lips, eyes him knowingly. "But it wouldn't be you if there weren't a story to it."

"We're down to one hundred days today," he supplies the explanation, and her mouth opens in a surprised 'oh'.

"Wow yeah that's today," she breathes. Her eyes dance across the spray of pink roses, then back up to his eyes. "Seems simultaneously too far away and scarily close, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." They are silent for a long moment, both looking down at the one hundred pink flower heads cradled between them.

"Thank you, Castle," she hums, lifting to her toes to try to reach his mouth over the bouquet cradled between them. She brushes her lips to his, once, twice, her touch as velvety as the rose petals. "They're really beautiful."

He follows behind her as she walks into the kitchen, opens a cabinet to reach for the large crystal vase. He reaches past her, grabs the heavy vase before she can and she smirks at him from the side but she lets him. With the detachable sprayer she fills water into the vase sitting on the counter, while he leans his hip against the cabinets, watching her move around.

"Is it still safe for you, to do..." he points his thumb in the direction of the living room, "this?"

"Yoga?" She glances at him, and he nods.

"Oh yeah, it's safe. Don't worry, I'm doing specific pregnancy exercises." She shuts off the faucet, then puts the large bouquet in the vase. "In fact, it's supposed to be one of the best preparations for labor. Builds up your core strength, you know..." She arranges the stems, fiddles with the leaves while he watches her slim fingers move. "Plus the focused breathing is supposed to help you control your pain levels during contractions."

"Yeah though I guess you won't need that as much once you have your epidural." He reaches for the vase, carrying it over to the kitchen island for her.

"Who says I'm having an epidural?"

"Of course you're having an epidural, don't be ridiculous..."

"Excuse me?" Her tone has gone so icy, it could freeze water. It sure freezes him in his tracks; he places the vase on the counter and slowly turns around, his lower back pressed against the edge of the island.

Her eyes sparkle fiercely, angry and protective, a palm curved low over her belly. "This is my body, you don't get to decide that!"

And he knows he shouldn't have said that, not like this, should apologize but he can't; it's like there's a well spewing inside of him, a vicious, venomous sputter, red like the blood that paints his dreams. Fear like he's felt only once before, visceral visions, blood dripping from his fingertips and gut-wrenching pain and her name on his lips. It's overwhelming, he can't breathe, can't breathe. He doubles over, tries to gulp for air, his fingers clenched around the edge of the kitchen island as if it's the only thing that keeps him grounded.

Her arms encircle him suddenly, catching him, her body pressed into his. "Hey, hey... shhhhh, breathe Rick..." She whispers in his ear, her fingers running soothing circles along his nape and he clings to her, holds on, feels like he's drowning and she's his dry land.

"It's okay, shhhh, it'll all be okay..." She continues to soothe, worry in her voice at his undoubtedly odd behavior but he can't stop clinging to her, his fingers digging into her spine and his face pressed to her neck, into that soft curve where her scent is strongest, so warm and familiar.

His heart slowly calms, though his throat is still clogged, his insides feeling strangled as if they're being squeezed by a giant fist.

"What's wrong, hmm?" She pulls away slightly to cradle his jaw. "Is this what's been bugging you these past weeks? Why you have nightmares?"

"I... I guess," he shrugs, trying to suck in a deep breath. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Kate's fingers curl around his ear and she presses a soft but decisive kiss to his lips. "Let's get some air."

They walk the half mile over to Columbus park, her fingers laced with his and buried deep in his coat pocket. They don't talk; his mind is still reeling but he tries to focus on the warmth of her palm against his, the regular rhythm of her breathing as she walks next to him, and the delicate swirls of her scent. He inhales deeply, soaks the cool, wet October air into his lungs. Large puddles pattern the sidewalks and they swerve around them, their rhythm intuitively synced.

They sit down on a bench opposite the playground and for a while, they just watch the kids play, the little bodies bundled in coats, scarves fluttering as they run, jump, climb and fall, screech and giggle, a cheerful cacophony of colors and movements and sound.

"So which one will ours be?" She asks, squeezing his hand and a smile cracks through him at how well she knows him, knows that he's already seeing images in his mind of when they'll be sitting here, just like this, watching their own little girl. Knows also that creating a story will calm him, will center his thoughts until he's ready to face the deeper issues.

"She'll be the one all the way up there," he points to the top of the structure, a pointy tower with a rope ladder on one side and a curvy slide on the other. "Climbing as high as she can just to see if she can do it. Clever and brave and defiant, just like her mother." Kate snorts beside him, pinches the skin of his hand, but then she soothes the same patch with her thumb. "She'll have chocolate brown hair that's wavy and really soft, and she'll wear it pulled into bouncy pigtails, of course, with a big, red bows on each side. She'll wear the prettiest pea coats to look just like mommy. Be fancy despite the fact that she'll invariably get them dirty when she falls into the mud after she trips over a root because she was running too fast, always so eager to explore, facing the next adventure head-on. She'll be fierce, strong-willed, and curious, peppering us with questions all day long, and her wide smile will make every day just a little brighter."

"She sounds like a handful." He can hear the wistful smile in her voice.

"No doubt about it." He reaches across, lays his palm on her belly. The baby kicks just at that moment, like she had heard him. "I can't wait to meet her."

"Me neither," Kate sighs, leaning back against the bench.

And then the words come to him, the clarity that has eluded him until now suddenly much more lucid. "Kate, when you were shot..." He begins. The explanation comes slow at first, then faster as he digs toward the core of his deepest fears. "Those were the scariest hours of my life. You were lying in my arms, your blood streaming over my hands and it was still so warm and there was nothing, nothing I could do. I'd never felt so terrified, so utterly helpless in my life."

"Oh, Rick..." She scoots closer, pressed into his side, lays her hand on his back and the other on his thigh. Her touch is warm and insistent, anchoring him.

"And then we had that scare and there was so much blood again, and now we're approaching her birth and that fear, that feeling of helplessness, it's come back. Maybe I've watched too many scary birthing videos..."

"Good grief, those are scary."

"So very much," he shudders. "But I keep seeing all this blood, and I hear you scream in pain in my head and it's so vivid. It's overwhelming, and scary, because you'll hurt, I know you'll be in so much pain, and there could be complications, you could even die, I mean women still die during childbirth!"

"How'd you handle this the first time around?"

"With Alexis?"

She nods.

"Meredith had a scheduled c-section. Something about needing to have control over her schedule, seeing how she's an actress, plus she'd been told by various unreliable sources that she'd get her figure back much quicker than if she had a "normal" birth." He paints air quotes with his fingers. "Anyway, I was young and stupid and careless, I guess. All of it one big adventure; I just didn't realize the full extent of what all could happen, the risks involved... Anyway, the c-section went well but her recovery was a bitch." He still rather vividly remembers those long weeks of crankiness, and shutters involuntarily. From the corner of his eye he sees her bite back a grin before her expression sobers.

"So how long have you been feeling this way?"

He leans forward, watches the playground without seeing anything, knits his fingers together. "From the start, I guess. Just been getting worse lately…"

She gasps. "And you never told me?"

"I couldn't burden you with this. You're carrying our baby, doing all the hard work, the last thing you need to deal with are my stupid fears."

"None of this is stupid!" She leans her forehead on his shoulder, squeezes his thigh. "Not to me. Tell me what you're so worried about, share it with me. Please."

"It's just... Kate, when we go out in the field together, I can at least shoot or punch someone. Push you out of harm's way or throw myself in front of you, should it come to that. I feel like I could do something. And it's eating at me that there's nothing I can do to help you through this. I can't do it for you, or take the pain away. I need to be able to help you, to do something. It's my fault you're in this condition, I did this to you." He hangs his head, kneads his fingers until he can see his knuckles turn white.

"This isn't your fault. Hey, look at me." She curves a palm around his jaw, nudging his face toward hers and he finally lifts his eyes, sees the understanding in the foresty riot of color in her eyes. "We did this together. We created her, Castle, together, and it's the single most amazing thing I've ever experienced."

She hooks a leg over his thigh so she can scoot closer still, squeezes his fingers with one hand while the other keeps cradling his cheek so he can't help but look straight at her.

"And don't, for one second, think that you've not been helping me every day! Do you have any idea how amazing you've been?"

He blinks, gulps, can't speak when she's looking at him like that, so much love in her eyes, like he hung the moon just for her. He shakes his head, doesn't know why.

"Castle, you've been incredible! So excited and supportive from the moment we found out. You've been taking care of me in every way possible. You took all my mood swings in stride, and made me laugh when I was sad and held me up when I was so scared. You try to anticipate all my needs, you make sure I'm always comfortable, you bring me thoughtful gifts, find me any food that I crave. Anything I needed, and even things I didn't know I needed, you've given me. And no matter how big I get, how cranky or needy I feel, how complicated I am, you look at me and I know how much you love me, how awed you are of me. I couldn't have wished for a better partner than you."

His throat clogs and he stares at her, relief washing through him, her words like a warm, calming balm to the nervous churn of his stomach he'd been feeling lately.

She seeks to keep eye contact, her brows furrowed in that look he's seen her use thousands of times. That mix of warm compassion and absolute seriousness that is so uniquely Kate.

"But Castle, this is hard enough without you putting additional pressure on me on what to do, what decisions to make. We've already set the appointment with the doula, and we'll both see her and we'll look at all our options, go through the advantages and disadvantages, and we'll make a birthing plan. But you need to understand that ultimately, I'll have to decide for myself. I'm the one who'll have to do this; she's gonna come out of me! This one has got to be my decision. I know that's scary, and I'm sorry. I'm a little scared too, to be honest, but I need you to trust me on this. Trust that I'll make the right decision for me, for our girl, for all of us. Because this'll be the most incredible, and the hardest thing I'll ever do... And I want your support. I'll need you to be there, like you've been every day. That's how you'll help me, okay? You need to by my side, and support me. I just need you to be there. Can you do that?"

He nods, can't do anything but nod as he looks at the bravest woman he's ever known facing her next, life-altering challenge head-on. He's still concerned but he can see the reason of her argument. And Kate, this capable woman who can take care of herself in any situation needs him. She wants him to be her support and he can't let her down, he won't. "Yeah," he nods, his voice raw but certain now. "I can do that. Of course."

That bright, breathtaking smile breaks across her lips, pleased with him and relief in every line of her face, and his heart leaps and stumbles in his chest. He tugs her against him, tastes that smile in a lengthy, sweet kiss.

He'll do whatever she needs.

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Your baby continues to put on baby fat. As she does, her wrinkled skin will begin to smooth out and she'll start to look more and more like a newborn. She now weighs about a pound and two-thirds and measures 14 inches, about the length of an English cucumber, from head to heel. She's also growing more hair — and if you could see it, you'd now be able to discern its color and texture. She's inhaling and exhaling small amounts of amniotic fluid, which is essential for the development of her lungs. Your baby's hearing system (cochlea and peripheral sensory end organs), which began fine development during week eighteen, is now completely formed, and over the next few weeks, she'll become increasingly sensitive to sound. She may now be able to hear both your voice and your partner's as you chat with each other. In about a month, you'll feel her jump if she hears a sudden loud noise. The eyelids separate and the eyes are starting to open. Did you know that all babies have blue eyes in the womb, no matter what their genetic inheritance is? (Source: babycenter dot com)

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