Castle has written another chapter and worked on his edits when the two girls and Dash explode into the loft, the boy shrieking with glee and Kate actually laughing. Rick's set up at the kitchen table to keep his posture straight (anymore than a day or two working in his comfy writing chair makes his spine curl), and he automatically saves his work and closes the laptop, then stands up to help put the stroller away.

"So how was the run?" he asks, and takes the jogging stroller from Kate, refolds it so he can get it in the hall closet while Alexis and Kate enthusiastically beam about their early morning exercise. He turns back around and spies sticky stuff all over Dashiell's mouth, even as Kate tries to clean him off with a wet wipe. "You guys stopped for ice cream?"

Kate actually blushes, meeting his eyes for a second, and goes back to wiping off Dash's face.

Alexis gushes, spilling the beans, of course, just like a good girl. "Kate suggested it. We stopped at Emack and Bolio's on Amsterdam."

"That's like. . .eight blocks from here."

Alexis leans in and gives him a hug, then produces, magically it seems like, a white bag from the pile of stuff on the floor of the entryway. "We got you some."

"Seriously. You ran to Emack's?"

"Yes. And then took a cab from there," Kate admits, flashing a sultry look at him that he totally doesn't get. Well, he gets it, yeah, but why? Why is she looking at him like she has plans for him, dirty, kinky plans? God, she *has* to stop looking at him like that in front of the children. "Too full to run after that. I had chocolate chip cookie dough. It was heavenly."

"I had brownie batter," Alexis admits. "And a scoop of cotton candy. It was sooo good."

"Cotton candy?" he asks, trying to distract himself from imagining Kate licking ice cream off a plastic spoon. But Kate letting cotton candy melt on her tongue is worse.

"Yeah. Cotton candy flavored ice cream. We got you mint chocolate chip though. And rocky road. Those are your favorites at Emack's right?" Alexis is pulling off her running shoes and socks, wrinkling her nose at the smell. "I'm gonna shower. And then I'm taking Dashiell to the club pool. Mom said it was okay."

All sexy thoughts fall right out of his head and he looks at Alexis, his almost grown-up daughter, then to his wife, Kate Beckett, Detective Beckett, for goodness sake, and what did she just say?

"Dad?"

Kate is looking at him, Dashiell has escaped her hold to wreak havoc out of their line of sight, and Alexis has stuffed her socks into her shoes, and is now waving a hand in front of his face. He snaps out of it, looks to his daughter, and nods. "Yeah. Pool is fine. Of course." They joined the neighborhood association a few years back so that Alexis could have a pool to train in, back when Alexis was certain she wanted to be an Olympic swimmer (was she twelve then?), and at the time, Rick was certain he would be using the weight room and the treadmills. Right. He does use the weight room some. Not often.

Alexis called her mom.

Alexis has darted off as well, leaving just him and Kate standing in the entryway. Well, Kate, technically, is still squatting down next to the spot Dash used to be in, the wet wipe smeared with ice cream in her hand, just looking at him. He almost can't breathe.

She stands up, tosses the wipe onto the pile of their stuff (keys, phones, a hat, water bottles, sippy cup, more wet wipes: jeez, there's so much stuff for just a run), and steps hesitantly towards him. "Are you okay?"

He nods.

"I'm sorry. She asked. I didn't know what to say."

He shakes his head, tries to swallow past the dryness in his throat.

"If you don't want her to. . .if it's not okay, you have to tell her. I'm not telling her she can't call me mom-"

He reaches out blindly and pulls her into him for a tight, crushing hug. He can't not squeeze. He tries to breathe past the ache in his chest, he tries to let up a little, tries to back off. Can't.

She is hard and unbending against him. "Is it wrong? Maybe it's wrong. She has a mom, a real mom, and I don't want to damage-"

"God, shut up, Kate," he chokes out and squeezes her harder, like he wants to squeeze the words right out of her. He buries his head in her neck, her hair cloaking him, and takes a ragged breath. "Before I do something really unmanly, and sob like a baby."

She brings hesitant hands up to his head, touches his skull, then pulls her fingers through his hair. He finds the will to collect himself, takes in another shaky breath, and finally steps back. He knows she really doesn't like weepiness in him, knows that childishness ticks her off, but maybe he's allowed this little indulgence. She's just let Alexis call her mom, for goodness sake, so he gets a free pass, right?

"So it's okay?" she says, lifting her eyebrows at him.

And he sees, really sees, the insecurity behind her calm, the question behind her stoic face, the fear hidden behind her careful and graceful poise. How has he known and loved her this long and not seen it? He's been blind. She's asked him before if she's a good mother, and he thought it was half-joking, thought she was being self-deprecating, thought it was just that reaction Dashiell engenders in everyone. But it's not. She's truly afraid that she's not enough.

"It's great," he answers stupidly, unable to find the words. "Holy crap. . .Kate. It's. . ." He shrugs, laughs because this is probably the most important thing he could possibly say to her, ever in their relationship, and he's speechless. "You are extraordinary."

"You're starting to repeat yourself."

"I only borrow from the best," he smiles. Castle cups her face in his hands, strokes his thumbs along her cheekbones. "I mean it. I don't know how I got to be so lucky. And not only do you love me, you love my daughter, you love my son. . .and I can't. . ." He shakes his head, growls to fight past the choke of tears in his throat.

She's chewing on her bottom lip. "She said I was a good mom." She tosses her head a little, still trapped by his hands, closes her eyes before meeting his gaze again. "We were at Emack's and I suggested getting you some ice cream and she just. . .she said, Can I call you Mom? and Castle, I. . ." She wraps her hands around his, draws them down from her face. She's not crying (even though he's about to), but her eyes are suspiciously wet.

And then she freezes, all emotion wiped clean. "Oh, shit, Dashiell."

"What?" he asks, bewildered.

"It's too quiet." She jerks out of his grip and runs for the kitchen.

"Did you use a knife this morning?" he hollers after her, slower to react but coming up behind her now.

"Yes. Yes, shit. Yes."

Fuck. Not good. Really not good. Dashiell likes opening the dishwasher and getting stuff out. Using it. "Did you lock the dish washer?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."

That probably means no. She's at the threshold of the kitchen, the center island blocks whatever view they might have, and she's rounding the corner near the dish washer, he's right behind her, his heart pounding-

He collides into her back, has to put a hand to the island, one on Kate to stop himself from tumbling. Looks down.

Dashiell has grabbed the knife out of the dishwasher. And the lid to a pot, and the wooden spoon and a coffee mug. He has specks of red down his shirt. Castle gasps.

But Kate is already rocketing forward, already has her fingers around Dash's wrist in that cop grip that immediately makes his hand go nerveless and his fingers relax. The knife drops and Castle scoops it up why did she use a steak knife this morning anyway? and tosses it into the sink.

Dashiell is protesting, loudly, over his stolen toy and shrieking at them both. Castle hunches down to look at the boy's hand.

A few slices, a flap of skin loose on his pointer finger, but not a lot of blood. The red on his shirt is from the bowl he must've spilled toppling it from the dishwasher. Bowl of fruity pebbles Castle had this morning for breakfast.

"It was me," he admits, hitting his palm against his forehead. "I had breakfast after you left. Forgot to lock the dishwasher back."

Kate's still inspecting the wounds; she's gone quiet. Castle reaches over and begins collecting the other dishes, gives her a moment. Dashiell won't even need a band-aid, though he might love to have one anyway. He'll wash the kids hand off in the sink when they get ready for the pool. It should be fine.

"Alexis and I had bagels. I had to cut the bagels."

"This is not your fault," Rick says, dumps the dishes into the sink. "I forgot to lock it back."

"I should've used a regular knife."

"Kate." He grabs her shoulder, ignores the way Dashiell is yammering and straining towards the sink for his lost toys. "Kate, listen to me."

"I hear you," she says, and that unfocused look in her eye clears. "I know. It's not my fault. Or yours. It just. . .it's just how it is. I got distracted. I got caught up in how good it felt to have Alexis call me mom, and how good it felt to think I was doing something right, and I forgot about Dash."

"No," he hisses, and pulls her up, jerks her away from their son. "Don't you do this, Kate." He doesn't even know what he's asking her not to do, only that every encounter with their son seems to reinforce some twisted belief in her head, some idea that she doesn't measure up. It scares the shit out of him to see that in her face, to feel her crack a little each time something goes wrong. Like one day she'll break.

She shakes her head. "I'm okay."

"Alexis is taking him to the pool today. I bet you he half-drowns five times before an hour is up. She's a strong swimmer; she was a lifeguard last summer. Dash will be fine with her; she'll probably get him all worn out. I want you to stay home with me. Okay? Please. Stay here with me, let me write in bed with you. Like we did before he was born."

She lifts clear eyes to him, no trace of whatever it was that he caught a glimpse of earlier. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"I know you are. But I'm not. Please stay with me today."

She watches him for a sign of pity. Castle does his best to keep any thoughts that he might be coddling her, might be pampering her, out of his head and off his face. If she even suspected, for a second, that he was trying to fix her, repair her, heal her somehow, she would be off with Alexis and Dash trying to prove something she doesn't ever need to prove.

"Okay."

"Thank you," he whispers and wraps his arms around her. But he lets go quickly, keeping in mind how little she likes to be touched when she feels especially hurt, and glances back to the kitchen floor. Dashiell is yanking hard on the kitchen cabinets, trying to get at the stuff under the sink. It's baby-locked, of course, but Castle can imagine the thing breaking under the force of Dash's thwarted anger. "Dashiell, sissy's going to take you to the pool! Are you ready to swim?"

Dashiell is immediately distracted. He lets go of the cabinet door and claps both hands together. "Sin sin sin!"

Kate laughs, but it's a garbled and breathless sound that Castle really doesn't like to hear.

"That's right buddy, swim. You get to swim with Alexis today. She'll be right back down to take you, so let's get your swimming trunks on and all your pool toys. Huh, buddy?"

"Sin, sin." Dashiell uses both hands to push himself up to standing, then darts for Kate, colliding with her legs and tugging. "Carry you," he begs.

The thing in her eyes is back, but maybe a little mended, Rick thinks, watching her face soften as she leans over. "Sure, baby. Momma will carry you."

Once up, Dashiell wraps both arms around Kate's neck and gives her kisses by touching his open mouth to her cheek, looking pleased with himself. "Tiss, Momma."

"Thank you baby. I think Daddy needs a kiss too." Kate turns towards him, and this time there's an apology on her face. Shame. For falling apart a little bit.

Castle leans in and lets Dashiell repeat the open-mouthed slobber routine, then kisses him back. "That was a great kiss, thanks Dash. Now it's my turn." He grabs Kate by the elbow and plants a kiss on her as well, slow and just as wet. When he breaks free, there's peace again in her eyes. "Kiss, Kate."

She smiles at him, long and slow, the light coming back into her face. "Thank you."

He drops another one to her lips, softly, and grins back. "So Alexis wants to call you mom. I think that's perfect."

"If-ict!" Dashiell shrieks. "If-ict, if-ict!"

This time, they both laugh. And his chest eases a little.