Author's Note: And now for Lanie's reaction…
Then Came Love
Chapter 18
Fortunately—or something, since the word wasn't appropriate when talking about a homicide—the new case after the Eliska Sokol one turned out to be a straightforward one. A man found out his wife had been having an affair with the victim and killed him for it.
They solved it the next day and Kate took advantage of the free evening, with the case closed, to have Lanie come over.
It was time she told Lanie about her condition—if only because she knew Lanie would probably go ballistic if Kate waited much longer to tell her.
She considered, and discarded, the idea of meeting up with Lanie at a restaurant because she knew Lanie too well to think Lanie would be able to stay calm about her news and Kate did not want her private life broadcast to an entire restaurant. No, for this talk with Lanie, she needed privacy.
Of course, deciding to tell Lanie was the easy part. Actually doing so, well… Lanie wouldn't actually hurt her, Kate told herself bracingly. Lanie tended to be more bark than bite, at least where her friends were concerned. This might not be the easiest conversation she'd ever had with Lanie but certainly nothing to be apprehensive about either. And really, she'd survived telling her dad about her pregnancy, after a one-night stand no less, so telling her best friend couldn't be more awkward than that.
But for all her pep talk, she still found herself letting out a breath, inwardly steeling herself, when she heard Lanie's familiar knock.
"Hey, Lanie."
"Beckett, it's about time you suggested a get-together. Any longer and I was starting to think I'd need to kidnap you myself," was Lanie's version of a greeting.
Kate shrugged a little. "It's been busy, you know how it gets," she excused vaguely.
Lanie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and you're all work and no play, I know."
Kate ignored this familiar refrain on her lack of a social life, quickly changing the subject to that of dinner, suggesting a few restaurants to order from. With dinner ordered—a spinach salad and a sandwich for Kate and a pasta dish for Lanie—Lanie headed for the kitchen, taking out two wine glasses and reaching for the bottle of wine she'd brought with her. Lanie was quite at home in Kate's apartment and it was only when she'd already poured her own glass before she glanced at Kate. "How much do you want?"
"None for me, thanks," Kate hurriedly answered.
Lanie blinked and then narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Kate.
Kate tried not to squirm or otherwise react. It was ridiculous to feel so self-conscious, almost guilty; there was no way that Lanie, even as a doctor, would simply be able to look at Kate and guess her condition. If only because Lanie would never consider pregnancy was even a possibility for Kate considering her starkly single life.
"You sick? There've been a few times the last couple weeks I've wondered if you might be coming down with something; you seemed a little off and I know you wouldn't call in sick for anything short of the bubonic plague. And now you're not drinking anything when I know you're not on a case?"
"I'm not sick," Kate answered truthfully. "But I do have to tell you something."
"Okay," Lanie agreed.
Kate made a rather awkward gesture with a hand. "Why don't you sit down?"
Lanie did so, taking the seat across from Kate at the table. "Well, don't be so mysterious, what is it?"
Kate let out a breath and just said it. "I'm pregnant."
There was a beat of silence as Lanie gaped in a way Kate had never seen her usually unflappable friend do. "You're what?!"
"Pregnant," Kate repeated, unnecessarily. "About three months along." 12 weeks and 5 days, her mind inserted. (It really was weird knowing the date of conception so exactly.)
"Kate Beckett!" Lanie's voice was approaching shrill. "Have you been getting it on with someone for three months and you didn't tell me?!"
"No! It's not like that! Not at all," Kate added for good measure. "It was just a one-time thing and I didn't mention it at the time because I, well, I wasn't exactly proud of it and it didn't really mean anything." (Which was true, she told herself, but why did it sound… wrong, somehow, to say That Night hadn't meant anything? It really hadn't, not at the time, she mentally insisted; it was only the consequence of it that meant something—everything.)
"Katherine Beckett, are you telling me that you had unprotected sex with some stranger? Damn, girl, he must have been really damn hot for you to lose your head that much."
"No, it's not like that either," Kate denied forcefully, trying not to feel a flare of defensiveness. Really, how dumb did Lanie think she was, to have unprotected sex with a random stranger? She was a cop and she'd worked in Vice; she knew all about the danger inherent in that kind of thing. (Castle wasn't a stranger but he was really damn hot, a little voice in her mind unhelpfully inserted. She ignored it.)
Lanie made a small face at her. "Yeah, I didn't think that sounded like something you'd do. So, exactly what was it then? Who was it, more importantly? And have you told him?"
Kate let out a breath, again. Yeah, this part of her confession was definitely the harder part. "It was with Castle and yes, I've told him."
Lanie blinked and then— "You had sex with Castle?!"
Kate inwardly winced at the screech—there was no other word for the tone of Lanie's voice.
"Wait, you had sex with Castle three months ago and you didn't tell me?!" Kate wouldn't have thought it possible but Lanie's voice rose even further.
Here it went. Ugh. Sometimes, Kate really wondered how she, someone who was practically allergic to talking about her private life, had ended up friends with someone like Lanie, who barely acknowledged the concept of a private life existed, or at least not where sex was concerned. "It was like I said, it was just the one time and it didn't mean anything."
Lanie gave her a mock scowl. "Oh no, girl, you are not getting out of explaining. This is Castle we're talking about and you kicked him out of the precinct over the summer! How did that even happen, if you'd already slept with him?"
Sleep hadn't been involved, the imp in her brain interjected and Kate stomped the imp flat. Not thinking about it and it wasn't important.
"It was after I'd kicked him out. He, uh, came over and we were… arguing and then, well, it just happened."
Lanie's expectant expression didn't change and after a long pause, Kate found herself finishing, "And that's it." The silence might have prodded her into saying more—which was her trick in interrogations, damn it!—but it didn't mean she had to say anything substantive.
"Oh no," Lanie shook her head. "That was so not it. Don't think you're getting off that easily. You had sex with Castle. The man who wrote a sex scene about you that had me reaching for a glass of ice water and—wait, was tequila involved for you too?"
Kate almost choked. "No, it was not! And I am not Nikki Heat!" And if Castle ever wrote about anything remotely resembling their sex life, she would—wait, what, their sex life? She and Castle didn't have a sex life! Because she and Castle were not going to have sex again, absolutely not, not ever, not again.
(You know you want to, the persistent imp in her brain spoke up. Kate shoved the imp into a padlocked steel cell. Nope, not listening.)
Lanie arched her brows at Kate with a marked air of expectation and then after a long minute, prodded, "And?"
"And what?"
Lanie rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb with me, Kate Beckett. You had sex with Castle. The Richard Castle. You gotta give me something. Come on now, is he as good in bed as his reputation suggests?"
"We didn't make it to a bed," she corrected and then almost clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling heat scorch her cheeks, as Lanie let out a crack of gleeful laughter. Shit. She had not meant to say that, at least not in that way. She'd only been thinking to fix an inaccurate statement of fact to avoid answering the question, not even thinking about how it would sound.
"Damn, girl!"
She gritted her teeth and tried, without success, to will the blush in her cheeks away. "I'm not talking about this anymore, Lanie. It happened, it was just a one-time thing, and now I'm pregnant, that's all."
"Oh come on, Beckett. I'm your best friend so you have to tell me something. At least tell me it wasn't bad."
Kate huffed and directed a half-hearted glare at her friend, which Lanie met with another prompting look, and after a moment, Kate gave in and dutifully parrotted, "It wasn't bad." Understatement of the millennium. It had been the polar opposite of bad by a country mile. But she was, she inwardly resolved, only going to tell Lanie this much, if only to get Lanie off her back.
Lanie drooped. "I gotta say, I was expecting more than that. Considering Castle's vaunted reputation with women and how in sync you two always seem to be when working together and the way the chemistry between you two is so strong the village idiot couldn't miss it. I guess you never really can tell from looking at a guy if he'll be any good in bed."
"That wasn't what I—It wasn't bad! It was great!" she blurted out and then clamped her lips shut. Shit, she hadn't meant to admit that.
A smirk curled Lanie's lips as she almost cackled (or maybe that was just what it sounded like to Kate.) Damn it. Lanie had been baiting her into admitting what she had and Kate had walked right into it! Goaded into it because she hadn't wanted Lanie to think badly of Castle even when it came to his skill in bed—which was absolutely absurd—and she didn't know why she cared so much what anyone, whether it be Lanie or her dad or anyone else, thought of Castle. And to be tricked into admitting such a thing, like some rookie! Damn it!
"Damn, girl," Lanie drawled, waggling her brows.
"It was just the one time," Kate said as repressively as possible. "That's it."
"That is so not it, Beckett, because damn, you're pregnant. You're going to have a baby."
Lanie's whole demeanor changed, softened, and Kate had an idea, pushing herself to her feet.
"Where're you going? We are not done with this talk, Beckett."
Kate waved a placating hand. "I know. I just thought of something to show you."
She went into her kitchen and opened one of her drawers, taking out the folded paper that was the printed sonogram image. (What, she kept copies of the image safely tucked away all over her apartment—well, not all over, one in the kitchen, one in her desk drawer, and one in her nightstand. One of which she would be giving to her dad the next time she saw him.) Castle had the DVD of the ultrasound at the moment; she had kept it the first couple days and then slipped it to him and she expected he would return it to her in the next day or two. As if they were already practicing for splitting time with the baby.
She returned to the table. "Here." She unfolded the sheet and placed it on the table, her own eyes roaming eagerly over the now-very-familiar image.
"Awww."
There, distraction achieved. Any trace of Lanie's usual brash demeanor vanished as she melted.
"Just look at that, your little doodlebug," Lanie cooed and Kate blinked. That was a word she'd never thought to associate with Lanie. Lanie cut open dead bodies for a living, she was the last person Kate would have expected to coo of all things and turn sentimental over a sonogram image. Kate herself might do so but she, at least, had the excuse of hormones. (And it was her baby, she had a right to be sentimental about her own baby.)
"Do you know if it's a girl or a boy yet?" Lanie asked, not looking up from the sonogram image.
"No, the technician said the baby wasn't positioned right for us to tell yet."
Lanie finally looked up. "Knowing you and Castle, this baby is pretty much guaranteed to be gorgeous and probably brilliant too." She paused and then repeated, "You and Castle. You're having a baby with Castle."
"I'm aware," Kate responded dryly.
Lanie made a face at her. "Don't give me that tone, Beckett. You know that's not what I mean. I mean, this is a big deal for you and for Castle. It's going to change everything. You said you told him. How did he react?" Her eyes narrowed into a look that boded no good for the target of said look. "He wasn't a jerk or anything, was he?"
"Castle's been great," Kate hurried to answer—truthfully, trying to ignore the little flare of irritation at Lanie's lack of trust in Castle. And why Kate felt so defensive on Castle's behalf, she didn't know.
Even now, when she stopped to think about Castle's reaction—and everything he'd done since then—she was aware all over again of how well he'd reacted, how very lucky she was, how good a man Castle had proven himself to be. "He's been really… nice about everything, kind, supportive."
She remembered, again, the way he'd offered to have a blood test done, so readily. She could hardly believe something like a blood test was making her chest flutter but somehow, in this context, it was. Not so much over the blood test itself—that sounded weird—but what it meant, what he was willing to do for her sake. The way he brought her tea and sustenance, the way he comforted her and reassured her. Even, yes, the way he'd looked into her mom's case, to help her. And he thought she was extraordinary. All of that was… evidence. Evidence that he cared about her. As a friend, as a coworker, as the woman who was pregnant with his baby—and she wasn't ready or willing to go anywhere beyond that in speculating about Castle's emotions.
Lanie smirked. "Oh, has he now? You admit he was great at sex and now you're praising him. Are you really sure there isn't more going on between you and Castle now?"
"We're just friends, Lanie," she said firmly—and told herself it was true.
"Not just friends, Beckett, you're having a baby together and that's a lasting tie. And if you're serious that nothing more is going on between you and Castle now, I gotta ask, why the hell not?"
"Lanie!" Kate sputtered. "It's complicated. And," she hurriedly tacked on, "how do you know Castle is even interested in a relationship?"
Lanie snorted. "I have eyes and I've seen the way he looks at you sometimes."
Kate tried not to blush. How did Castle look at her? "He's—that's not—we're friends," she managed, not that coherently, but then fortunately, there was a knock on the door, heralding the arrival of their dinner.
Less fortunately, the reprieve afforded by the food didn't last for long. Lanie waited only until they had both taken a few bites of their respective dinners before she fixed Kate with a look.
"So tell me again, exactly what's so complicated about the idea of you and Castle getting together? You're single, he's single, you're certainly attracted to each other—and don't even try to tell me you're not—and he cares about you. Maybe you don't see it or you're just not ready to admit it but he does."
She tried to ignore Lanie's guess—it was a guess, had to be—as to Castle's feelings. "It's not that simple, Lanie. We're having a baby, remember?"
"Believe me, I'm not forgetting that but I think it's just one more reason you and Castle should be together."
Kate shot Lanie a look. "You are not telling me you think I should get into a relationship solely because of a baby. A baby is not a good enough foundation for a relationship."
Lanie returned the look. "No, I'm not telling you that but the baby wouldn't be the foundation of your relationship with Castle. I'm saying you should seriously think about being with Castle because he likes you and you like him and you already know you're good together physically.`` Now, Lanie waggled her brows at Kate.
"I don't like him, not like that," she protested and tried desperately to tell herself it was true. He was irritating, after all (okay, so not that irritating and not all the time), and cocky (well, except for the flashes of vulnerability he occasionally showed), and immature (except when he wasn't), and had she mentioned exasperating? (He was also smart and funny and surprisingly thoughtful, devoted to his family—and hot, don't forget that, the persistent voice in her mind interjected. Shut up, that's not helping!)
Lanie gave Kate a pointed look. "Uh huh," she drawled with as much skepticism as if Kate had announced an intention to quit the force and become a professional gymnast. "Pull the other one."
There were times having a friend who knew one so well and wasn't shy of pointing that out could be very annoying. Kate tried to scowl but suspected it came off looking more petulant than not.
"You know I'm right, Kate," Lanie prodded. "And I say this as someone who listened to you rant about Castle for the first weeks you worked with him this past spring. And now you're standing up for him."
It belatedly occurred to Kate that Lanie's initial suspicion over Castle's reaction might have been feigned, a trap. Damn it, how had she forgotten how devious Lanie could be.
"Oh fine," Kate huffed, "so maybe he's not bad to have around." It was as much as she was willing to admit aloud, even to Lanie. She did like having him around. At work—and oh fine, just in general too. She liked… spending time with him, enjoyed his company, but that didn't mean she liked him like that.
Except... she was also attracted to him—very attracted.
Oh shit. Put like that… so maybe she did like him. Damn Lanie anyway.
Kate rallied. "Anyway, whether I like him or not isn't the point because nothing is going to happen between Castle and me, not again. It's too much of a risk."
"A risk? Beckett…"
"It is a risk," Kate insisted, interrupting Lanie. "We're friends now and that's enough for us to co-parent together, strike a balance, but anything more than that? No, it's too much, I can't take that risk."
"Yes, of course, because being with a man who's handsome and funny and sexy is such a terrifying prospect," Lanie drawled. "I need to find me a prospect that terrifying."
"Don't play dumb, Lanie. You know that's not what I mean. You know me, you know I don't really do relationships."
"No, you mean, you haven't really tried to do relationships, there's a difference," Lanie corrected. "Not since Will and he barely counted."
"He counted, of course he counted!"
"Well, sure, technically but refresh my memory, how long did you consider possibly going to Boston with him and how many nights did you call me up crying after he left?"
She hadn't. On either count. Kate opened her mouth and then closed it again. Damn Lanie, again. But really, what did that matter? So Will leaving hadn't broken her heart, bruised it but not broken it, so what? That didn't mean she hadn't genuinely cared about Will or that their relationship hadn't been important to her.
Lanie smirked. "Exactly. And now you have a baby to motivate you to really try to make a relationship work."
"I just can't see it, Lanie. Castle and I, we're too different. He's… Richard Castle, and I'm… just a cop, and if we try for something and it blows up in our faces, we'll still be stuck seeing each other a lot because of the baby, only then it'll be awkward and weird." And painful, but Kate left that unsaid.
It was terrifying enough just being pregnant, thinking about the baby and remembering what had happened to Eliska Sokol's—or she supposed, more accurately, Melissa Talbot's—son. Not just the congenital diseases but all the other illnesses and accidents that could happen to a baby, a child. Kate knew all too well just how cruel life could be and the idea of anything happening to the baby was enough to make her freeze in fear.
Adding the probability of a wounded heart from a failed relationship with Castle—no, she couldn't handle it.
Lanie sighed a little, sobering. "Look, Kate, I get that it's scary. It's always scary to think about getting into a real relationship and yes, you do have more at stake here because of the baby, but never taking any chances isn't a way to go through life. And you deal with risks every day just because of what you do. What kind of cop would you be if you always played it safe?"
"That's work, Lanie, it's different. You know it's different."
Lanie eyed her for a long moment before sitting back. "Just think about it, Kate. That's all I'm asking." She paused but then, being Lanie, had to add, "And I'm pretty sure the baby would love it if you and Castle were together."
"Lanie!" That wasn't fair! And anyway, she couldn't just run out and get married and move into a house with a white picket fence or something just for the baby.
An unrepentant smirk tugged on Lanie's lips but she lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Let's talk about you and how you're feeling. Obviously you're not drinking anymore but what about everything else?"
With that, Lanie smoothly switched into doctor mode, a change which Kate greeted with some relief. Being grilled by Lanie about her diet and exercise wasn't precisely fun but it was more comfortable than talking about her relationship with Castle.
A couple hours later, after Lanie had left, Kate found herself feeling vaguely… unsettled, if that was the term. She tried to settle down to read but couldn't focus, her eyes wandering to her bookshelves, to the row of Castle's books. She got up and retrieved the sonogram picture, drinking in the well-remembered image. Her baby, her and Castle's baby. She flattened her hand over the faint curve of her stomach. She could not say she felt ready to be a mom but she couldn't help but wonder, try to imagine, what it would feel like to actually hold her baby. If she felt this emotional just from looking at the sonogram picture…
Oh god, what would she do if anything happened to the baby?
She felt a fresh stab of fear and she gave in to impulse and called Castle. She tried to tell herself it wasn't about his understanding her fears or even his ability to cheer her up but simply that she should tell him Lanie now knew about the baby.
"Beckett, you have impeccable timing," Castle greeted her. "Your telepathy is almost spooky. I was just sitting here watching the DVD of the ultrasound."
Amazingly—or not—she felt a little flicker of amusement break through her fear at this so-characteristic greeting. "It's not telepathy, just coincidence."
"Sure, if you want the boring explanation," he pretended to be disgruntled before adding, more brightly, "Oh, I wanted to tell you, I thought of a nickname for the baby. Sprout. It works whether the baby is a boy or a girl and it's appropriate because the baby is so small right now but he or she will sprout and grow."
Sprout—it was… kind of cute and seemed to fit, somehow. "Not bad for a writer," she teased.
"So you like it?" She could picture the way he would perk up, reminding her of a puppy, adorably so. (Oh god, when had she started to think of him as being adorable?)
"Sprout," she repeated softly, addressing the curve of her stomach rather than him. Did the baby like the nickname, she wondered absurdly.
"Our little Sprout," he echoed equally quietly.
Our—she didn't know how or why the one little word could affect her so. "Castle," she found herself blurting out.
"Hmm?"
"I can't stop thinking about Elisa Sokol's baby boy."
She heard his sigh. "I know; that kind of tragedy would haunt any parent. But I made an appointment to have a blood test done first thing Monday morning and the results should be back in a few days so we'll at least know."
"Oh, thanks. I'm going to call my doctor on Monday too. But what about all the other diseases or accidents? I keep thinking about it, every illness I've heard of coming to mind." It was irrational and she knew it but she couldn't seem to help it. She just… didn't know how to deal with this kind of helplessness, the uncertainty and lack of control over something that had the potential to devastate her so much.
"I know it's frightening but you can't focus on all the bad things that might happen, you'll go crazy. Believe me, I know," he responded gently. "The vast majority of kids grow up healthy. And for what it's worth, remember I'm rich. If anything does happen healthwise, we can afford to get the best medical care in the country, the world. Anything human medicine can achieve, we can pay for it, even if it takes every cent I have."
Oh, she hadn't thought of that. She'd never thought she could be so glad that Castle was rich but for once, she found she really was. There were still limits to what modern medicine could do but in so many ways, modern medicine, especially where cost wasn't a factor, could achieve near miracles too. It was an extra level of reassurance. "Thanks. That does help."
Castle's words, the thought of all he could and would give to the Sprout, reminded her of what Lanie had said, about their baby being guaranteed to be gorgeous and smart. "Oh, I told Lanie the news."
"I was wondering when you were going to tell her. How did she react?"
She had no intention of telling Castle most of what Lanie had said so she temporized, "She was surprised, even shocked, but once she got over that, she was excited. You should have seen the way she cooed over the sonogram picture."
"Lanie cooed?" Castle huffed a brief chuckle. "I can't picture that. When I think of Lanie, she's always holding a scalpel, ready to slice and dice dead bodies."
She grimaced at the rather too picturesque phrase, writer that he was. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too."
He paused. "And, um, she's not… mad at me?" he asked, a touch of diffidence entering his tone.
"No, she's not mad," she answered. That was certainly true. Lanie's opinion of their relationship—or more accurately, the relationship Lanie thought Kate and Castle should have—was certainly proof of that. "Besides," she added teasingly, "big strong man like you, I think you can take little old Lanie."
"Yeah, well, big, strong man that I am, Lanie has scalpels and all those other instruments of potential murder and mayhem at her disposal. I do have some sense of self-preservation."
"Oh really?" she drawled. "I wouldn't have said that was a noticeable aspect of your personality, Mr. Playing-Poker-with-Russian-Mobsters-and-Baiting-a-Murderer."
"Hey, it worked out okay, didn't it? We caught the killer and no one ended up hurt," he defended.
"Just my dignity," she quipped.
"Since you did save my life, I appreciate your sacrifice," he said with mock formality that was still underlain with some sincerity.
Her traitorous heart gave a little flutter at his words, his tone—but then he added, "Also, I have to say, you looked super hot as a Russian pro—"
"Do not finish that sentence, Castle," she interrupted him. And he was annoying again.
"Right, shutting up now."
She could picture him miming zipping his lips and found a small smile escaping her almost in spite of herself. She didn't know how he did that either, aggravate her and then in the next instant make her want to laugh.
He was quiet for a long moment but then he began—because of course he would—"So you've told Lanie. I guess Captain Montgomery is next?"
She made an involuntary face. "Right, thanks for reminding me. I'll tell him on Monday." Ugh, another conversation she was not looking forward to. And she knew Captain Montgomery would put her on restricted duty too and she wasn't thrilled at that idea either, even if she understood it. She looked down at her stomach. She would be doing it for the Sprout.
"I think that's my cue to wear my bulletproof vest into the precinct on Monday," Castle mused.
She huffed a laugh at the mental image of Castle strolling into the bullpen wearing his Writer vest. "I hardly think Captain Montgomery will shoot you."
"Oh, he might not. I'm more worried about the boys."
"Ryan wouldn't shoot you either."
"I notice you don't promise Espo won't shoot me," he affected injury.
She hid a smile. "Espo used to be a sniper. If he wanted to shoot you, a vest wouldn't stop him."
"Your concern for my safety is touching," he drawled. "Excuse me while I wipe away tears."
She couldn't help another laugh. "Don't worry, Castle. I've got a gun too, remember, and Espo wouldn't dare draw on me."
He heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. "My hero."
"Really, I'm just trying to avoid the paperwork I'd have to fill out if you got shot in the precinct," she quipped.
It was his turn to laugh. "Thank goodness for paperwork then."
"Spoken like a true writer," she teased.
"Thank you for noticing," he shot back and she grinned.
The call ended a few minutes later and she belatedly realized that she was relaxed, even content—and her free hand had come up to play with her hair. She hurriedly dropped her traitorous hand—and threw a mental scowl at the absent Lanie. It was Lanie's fault, she decided, for making her think… things… about Castle, about her relationship with Castle.
But whatever she thought—or felt—about Castle, it didn't matter because the baby, their little Sprout, had to come first and she wasn't about to risk upsetting this balance of friendship and partnership she'd found with Castle.
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: With thanks to Trinity Everett whose future stories were the inspiration for the Sprout nickname. And as always, thank you to all readers and reviewers.
