Misconception
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Kate isn't sure how she's supposed to talk to the grandmother of her unborn baby after said grandmother just discovered - well, how that baby got made, and in such vivid detail.
But she's dressed, and that can only be a plus, and she also has Castle's fingers at the small of her back, nudging her into the living room as if he has a right to that, to touching her.
Also the nudge helps keep her moving.
Martha is sitting in the exact same chair Alexis took for the exact (hopefully not exact) same conversation, but she holds the ultrasound in both hands like something precious. And Kate has no qualms about leaving it right there, in those hands. Safe.
Castle gestures for the couch, but Kate sinks down gratefully, not even needing the prompt, and Martha beams at her, uncharacteristically silent.
Weird.
This is weird.
She's going to have a baby, and Martha is that baby's grandmother, and the only thing not weird about this is the fact that Castle is the father. Why is that not weird? It just feels right, like settling into place.
Castle sits beside her and drops his hand on her knee (oh, we're doing that now?) and his mother straightens up in her chair like a girl, practically wriggling. Kate has never seen their resemblance so startlingly before, how Castle's eager childishness is a reflection of his mother's same energy and verve.
Kate's family has never really done verve.
"Oh, I can't hold it in," Martha bursts out. "I'm so excited. Are you two excited, darlings? How wonderful-"
"We're - I'm excited," Castle says, glancing back at her.
Kate stiffens. "I'm excited," she defends.
"No, I know you are-"
"But I bet you're also terrified," Martha interrupts. "It's to be expected, darling Katherine. I completely understand. Don't mind him; he's as tentative as a lamb when it comes to you. Richard, please do stop worrying. She's here after all."
Worrying. Tentative? Not what she saw in his kitchen. Felt in his kitchen.
She slides a look to Castle; he's abashed, like a boy.
"I think it's a boy," she blurts out. Oh, hell.
But Castle beams, sneaking a look her way.
"Of course, a boy! But it could be a girl," Martha warns. "Wouldn't that be - oh, but either way, how special. When did this all - well - happen? How far along are you, darling?" Her eyes dart between them, but she also keeps glancing down at the ultrasound, a kind of bemused tenderness on her face for the whole world to see.
Kate could really take lessons from her on how to act so graceful within such awkward social situations. "I'm - a little over twelve weeks," she says.
"Twelve weeks. Three months! To think you two have been hiding all this time. I never - well there was a moment. Oh, Richard, was the whole - you know-" Martha swirls a hand in the air. "The Vegas trip and everything? An act? It was quite convincing. I was appalled at your choice in-"
"It wasn't an act. There was no act," Kate says quickly. "We aren't together. Weren't together."
"We weren't," Castle affirms, another quick glance her way. "But we are now. Of course."
"Of course," Martha echoes, but some of her exuding joy has drained out. "Of course, darlings. Well."
And have they left Martha speechless? Does everyone think they're some terrible mistake? Mistakes after mistakes.
It's such a terrible idea to get married. But she wants to. She wants to, scary as it is.
"I have been trying," Kate says. She feels defensive again, sitting here with her knee pressed against his and a photo of his baby in his mother's hands. "I've been - trying. I didn't mean to make it seem like I-"
"It's okay," Castle says quietly, fingers on her knee again. "I know you're trying." He squeezes, his eyes are on hers, no need for this, stop. She stops, helpless, but it's in her like grief.
She's trying. She is trying and she hoped it was enough, but it never is. Trying isn't doing, and people's hearts change. People move on while you struggle to catch up. They have one foot out the door. "I never really expected you to wait for me," she says.
"You're worth waiting for," he chokes out. "Worth every bit of it - even if I did a terrible job waiting these last few weeks."
Martha huffs. "You really did do a terrible job, Richard."
Kate laughs, startled out of herself by the interruption. She forgot, for a second, they're here.
"Twelve weeks ago you two-" Martha gives a wave of her fingers between them "-and yet you listened to me when I said it might never happen? Well. I am done giving you my sought-after advice. Pearls before swine. Especially when you choose not to give me all the details. How was I supposed to know?"
Kate is very still, frozen in place at his mother's inadvertent confession. Martha told him it might never happen? Martha - convinced him to - what? Leave her?
And suddenly Kate can see right through Martha's effervescent act, right through it. She's ashamed, and wanting forgiveness, same as Castle. Wanting Kate's forgiveness for her part in things.
Martha told him to pass her by.
God, that hurts.
"Mother," Castle sighs. "I wasn't going to tell you that we - for a night." He's making the same gesture Martha used, waving his fingers between himself and Kate. "It seemed an aberrance, a mistake-"
"It wasn't a mistake," Kate says harshly, finally finding her voice. She realizes her hands are clasped just under her sternum, protective.
Castle turns back to her, face blank. "I - no. I never thought - well, I did think so. When you - but that was a misunderstanding. That's all. No mistake, Kate, we just have the worst timing."
"You two have the worst communication," Martha scoffs. "You make your own timing. You didn't talk after that night?"
"We talked," Castle defends.
"No," Kate sighs. "I left a note."
"Which I didn't get," he mutters.
"It was on the bedside table." She squirms in her spot; this feels like an inquisition. Every choice she made being picked apart. "I propped it up. Against the alarm clock."
"I believe you," he says, shrugging. "I never saw it. I never saw it and you were gone and it felt more like an invention, a dream I was trying to believe in, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I-"
"Don't be petulant, Richard," his mother says. "It doesn't make you sound sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry," Kate murmurs, shifting her body so that Castle is between her and Martha, just Castle. "I think we've canceled each other out by now. I'm tired of being sorry."
"But I am sorry," he sighs. "It'd be a lot better story if I had waited for you like I thought - like I said I would."
"I don't need a better story." She wraps her fingers around his wrist, his hand still on her knee. "I don't need a white knight. This isn't Sleeping Beauty - fairy tales aren't real."
He only looks sadder. "But it should be. For you. You deserve a fairy tale."
Kate chews on the inside of her cheek to stop the flood of emotion that threatens. Instead she leans close and brushes her lips at his ear. "Just that you think I do - that's all I need, Rick. That you think I deserve the fairy tale."
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