Hours later after I'd woken up alone, nausea over came me like a tidal wave and engulfed me completely. Whatever small amounts of food I'd eaten were gone as I used the bed pan on the table beside me to retch into. After that, I didn't hold down anything else. Two days went by and I couldn't eat anything solid. The doctors chalked it up to the drugs and the pregnancy, but I didn't care. That didn't help me. At this point, I couldn't even be near Castle if he was wearing any kind of cologne because I felt so ill. This was yet another thing I was failing at as a mother.

According to Dr. Ripple, the baby was fine as long as I was staying hydrated by the I.V, but that I had to continue to try to eat something. Every few hours, I did my best to swallow some foul bit of food that I usually wouldn't mind eating, but if it got down my throat, it didn't stay there long.

I was sick of it. I was sick of all of it. I was sick of hearing the doctors tell me I would be fine. I was tired of being hooked up to a million machines. I was done with the thousands of times I had to try to convince the person sitting beside me that I was fine every time I threw up. It was exhausting. All I wanted was to go home and lay down in my own bed for a little while. I just wanted to stop feeling so completely miserable for just a minute so that I could cuddle up next to Rick and just sleep. Once the nurse left after taking away the most recently filled bowl thing, I coughed out, "I want to go home," in a wining, brittle gripe.

Rick looked at me and replied, "I know, Kate. I know."

When my coughing fit was over and I fell back against the best, I looked up at the ceiling and told him, "I hate this."

Again he echoed, "I know."

The part I hated most in all of this, however, was his constant, "I know." He didn't know. He'd never been shot. He'd never been puking his guts out and having to feel guilty about it because of another human inside him needing to be able to eat. He wasn't aware of the emotional side effects keeping me up and putting me to sleep for various reasons. He knew nothing. Nothing! I didn't lash out at him, because God knows he was trying to understand, but his constant "I know"s were getting to be too much for me to handle. Instead of telling him that, however, I said, "Castle, listen, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," he said with an unknowing grin.

I questioned, "Promise?"

"Yes, Beckett. I promise."

"Go home," I told him simply. He looked at me as though I'd told him to take a long walk off a short cliff. "You are tired. I am tired. And I don't need you babysitting me every step of the way. The only thing I need you to do is go home, get some rest and stop hovering."

He tried to argue, "Kate, I-."

"No, Castle, you promised. Please, just- get some sleep. I'll be fine," I insisted. At this point, I think he was too tired to argue. He didn't say anything, but let a defeated sigh come across him. While he stared down, clearly upset, I took his hand in mine and my thumb rubbed softly against the back it. "It'll be alright, babe. We'll be fine." He still didn't answer. I gave him a minute, but he didn't react. Just to fill the empty air, I told him, "I love you." He still didn't answer aloud. He just simply reclaimed his hand and laid a gentle kiss on my forehead, lingering there for just a second before he walked away.

Thinking of him being so upset pained me, but I didn't want him to continue to hang around and watch me be sick. I didn't want him to have to lose sleep and sanity just to watch me in pain and ill. I was trying to do what I thought was best for him, but I wasn't really thinking. When Javi came by a few hours later, he told me that Rick had gone back to the precinct to work. Ryan was still there with him, but he'd fallen asleep at my desk. Because Espo and Ryan and everyone knew I didn't want to know where they were on my case, they respected my request to not hear about it. In an effort to avoid this, though, the first question he thought of was, "So, how's the little one treating you?"

I answered, in pain, "Better than I'm treating her," but I did so so quietly he didn't hear me.

"What?"

"She's fine."

"She?" he asked.

I smiled and laughed at his surprise, "We don't know for sure, that's just my best guess."

"A girl?" he asked, seemingly confused or shocked.

Tentatively, I answered, "Yes."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just-," he stopped and then looked at me. My eyes forced him to continue, "I always thought you'd make a great mother to any little boy. I mean, you just know about sci-fi and video games and stuff. I don't usually see the dress-up, dolly side to you much." I actually couldn't stop myself from laughing under my breath. He was right. He and Ryan never really got to see the girly side of me. For the most part, the only time I was really girly was when I was getting ready in the morning and when I was out and about with Lanie. I mean, aside from the way I dressed and did my hair and stuff like that, I wasn't particularly girly in the work place.

After a bit more conversation, he could tell I was completely wiped. He left after telling me to get some sleep and I almost instantly passed out. For the thousandth time I dreamed of death. My mind went wild with the images of Rick taking that bullet instead of me. As he dove to save my life, he got himself shot. As blood seeped out of his spine, I watched the life leave his eyes as I begged him to stay with me. A single tear slipped out of his bloodshot eyes and crawled down his cheek as his eyes lost their focus on me and fell back into his eyelids as they heavily closed. Everyone disappeared and I was left alone, holding Rick's body and sobbing into his chest.

I finally woke when nausea woke me up. Again, I filled a bed pan and again I was left with no one by my side. I was still tired but I couldn't sleep. I just simply laid there, one hand on my stomach, one on my chest over my newly formed scar, just breathing. I had to focus. I had to calm my mind. I had to just- breath. It wasn't working. My mind was stuck on the thought of Rick being gone. I wanted desperately for him to be there. I pined for the comfort of his sky blue eyes. I knew that if I called him, he'd come, but- I couldn't. Instead, I sat there and breathed until I couldn't hold back the bitter tears that had been biting at my eyelids. When the floodgates burst, I wept into my the empty air with heavy, burning breaths.

Then, at the climax of my pain, I felt the caress of hands I knew instantly. I didn't have to look into his brilliant blue eyes to know that it was him when he scooped me into his arms and climbed into bed with me, cradling me as I sobbed into his firm chest. His scent, mild and gentle, soothed me into a state of acceptance that wrestled with lingering huffs of pain, but was calm enough to slip into the unconscious world without a haunting vision to wake me. For the first time in days, I slept without waking up in fear because I was in his arms.