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Alexis and Javier were having dinner at Alexis's favorite pizza restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall place near the Columbia campus. Alexis had just finished filling Javier in on her conversation of the day before with her dad and Kate. "Everything I said was true," she concluded. "I just didn't tell them your name."

"Did you want to?" Javier asked.

"I'm not ashamed of you, or of us," Alexis said firmly, lifting her chin. "We're not doing anything wrong. I just...It's all still so new. And I know that your dad's not supposed to like your boyfriend, at least at first. He hasn't liked anyone I've dated so far. But he already likes you. You're friends. You've been friends for a long time. I don't want to wreck your friendship with my dad, or your friendship with Kate, either."

"I don't want that, either," Javier said, "because the truth is, Alexis, Castle and Beckett...they're not just my friends. They're my family. Castle and Beckett...Ryan and Jenny and Sarah G and Nick...that's my family. I haven't seen my old man since I was five. My mom and my abuela are both dead. My entire personal life is at stake here." He reached across the table for her hand now. "And I want it to be at stake. I know that Beckett is capable of handing me my ass. And I've seen Castle go after perps that are threatening Beckett, so I'm not crazy enough to think that he wouldn't come after me too if I did anything to hurt you, or if he and Beckett thought I was stepping out of line with you in any way."

"I don't want to rush anything," Alexis said, "but I don't want to cost you anything either, Javier. I don't want to cost you your family."

"Let's get one thing straight right here and now: you could never cost me anything, Lex. You have made my life so much fuller and so much better. And Kevin and Jenny are on our side."

"That's another thing: I don't want people picking sides here," Alexis said worriedly.

"Your dad's never gonna think any man is good enough for you," Javier pointed out.

"That's true," Alexis agreed.

He looked her right in the eyes now. "But I'm going to do everything I can to prove to him, and Beckett, and Martha, that even if I'm never good enough for you as far as they're concerned, I will never stop trying to be good enough for you."

Alexis's expression softened. She leaned across the table to kiss him quickly, chastely, since they were in public.

"Gram's opening in Steel Magnolias next weekend in Pennsylvania," she said. "Opening Night is sold out, though." She looked apologetic now. "We're going up for Opening Night and we're staying the night at this place called Lambertville House because Dad and Kate both said they don't want to try and make the drive back to New York City that late at night. They're a lot more cautious now...understandably so."

Javier nodded. "Actually, I already knew Opening Night was sold out, and that's okay. I have to work that night and Saturday anyway." The news that he had to work, and the fact that they were still keeping the true nature of their relationship a secret from Castle and Beckett, didn't stop Alexis's face from falling in disappointment.

Javier reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper. He laid them on the table and said, "It's a good thing I called and got these tickets for the first Sunday matinee the day after Martha announced she'd gotten the part, then."

Alexis fumbled for the tickets on the table and looked from them to Javier in surprise. "Eighth row center?" she exclaimed.

"Best seats in the house," Javier replied. "Well, best seats in the house they had left for that matinee. I did try for front row center, but-"

He was cut off when Alexis got up from her chair, because she couldn't reach across the table to hug him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Thank you," she said. "I would love to see my grandmother in Steel Magnolias with you."

Javier hugged Alexis back, his nose level with her shoulder, breathing deeply of her scent—lavender soap, apple shampoo, and just a hint of fabric softener, along with the late-summer sunshine.

The hug lingered for a long moment, then Javier and Alexis released each other.

When Alexis had resumed her seat, Javier shoved their plates and the pizza pan aside and reached both of his hands across the table. Alexis placed her hands in his, and as they looked into each other's eyes, Javier gently squeezed Alexis's hands and said, "I'm not going to do anything to ruin any of this. Us, keeping Beckett and your dad as part of my family, not having people taking sides...I got this, Alexis."

"No," she said, making his heart skip a beat in fear. "We've got this, Javier. You and me, together. I know how well together can work. I've seen it with my dad and Kate."

Javier was floored and hopeful all at the same time. "Are you..." He stopped, cleared his throat, and then started again. "Are you saying you want us to be like your dad and Beckett?"

"Well, I don't think it'll take us four years to decide what, exactly, the nature of our relationship will be," Alexis said. "But their relationship is the standard by which I measure all others."

"They're one of my standards too, for relationships," Javier said. "Kevin and Jenny are the other one."

"Kevin and Jenny have a solid relationship," Alexis agreed. "So we know we have excellent role models. Well, minus the four years of denial and dating other people Dad and Kate went through."

"I don't want to date anybody else but you," Javier said earnestly.

"And I don't want to date anybody else but you," Alexis replied just as earnestly. They fell silent, just looking at each other in wonder. "I think we'll know when it's time to tell Dad and Kate about us."

"Now we just have to avoid somebody else spilling the beans to them first," Javier remarked.

"Gram won't say anything, and neither will Lanie," Alexis said.

"Kevin and Jenny won't say anything either," Javier replied.

"So when we're ready, we'll be the ones to tell Dad and Kate about us," Alexis said.

"You've got a deal," Javier agreed before letting go of one of Alexis's hands to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear.


Peppermint turned out to be the morning sickness remedy that worked best for Kate. Peppermint tea, and the little hard peppermint candies, became staples for her. She started keeping handfuls of the peppermints in her pockets so they were at hand during the day, and she had a main stash in her bedside table. The worst of the morning sickness actually did come in the morning, but certain smells would trigger nausea and the occasional vomiting in her in the afternoon or evening, leading to a ban on bacon in the loft for the duration when the mere scent of the bacon Rick was frying for BLTs one night for dinner sent Kate rushing to the bathroom to throw up. But Kate maintained that the throwing up, and the sometimes-crippling nausea, were totally worth it, and finally snapped at Rick to stop looking guilty every time she paled or rushed for the bathroom. The next instant, she apologized for snapping at him but pointed out, "We both want this. And pregnant women are nauseous and throw up. I'm glad I'm not around dead bodies anymore, because the first time a dead body made me puke, Lanie would know I'm pregnant, and the jig would be up!"

"We need to announce the baby to everyone at the same time, and in a special way," Rick agreed.

"No billboards, skywriters, or full-page announcements in the Times," Kate reminded him, pointing a warning finger at him.

He didn't even look disappointed at the reminder, Kate reflected. "We'll come up with something better, and more intimate," Rick promised.

The morning they headed up to the cabin, they made a stop for coffee, and Rick insisted on ordering for both of them. "You didn't throw up today, and the nausea wasn't even too bad," he pointed out. "Moving around too much might bring it back."

Kate grimaced. "Perish the thought," she said.

Rick had another motive for ordering their coffees, however. When he and Kate were back in the car, Kate driving at her own insistence since she was feeling good and she knew where the cabin was, Rick handed Kate her coffee, and one sip made the surprise register starkly on her face.

"This is my usual coffee!" she exclaimed.

"It turns out that it's perfectly safe for you and the Sweetpea for you to have one ten-ounce cup of coffee, or the equivalent of two hundred milligrams of caffeine, a day, without any adverse effects," he replied.

"And you know this how?" Kate asked.

"Search engines, and verifying it with Dr. Elliott," Rick replied.

Kate set her to-go cup in the cupholder, leaned across the console, and kissed Rick hard and fast. "You are getting so lucky later," she said as she drew back, beaming. "Real coffee!"

"Only the best for you, Kate," Rick replied earnestly.

They got on the road again. "There's no Wi-Fi at the cabin," Kate said out of the blue.

"You mentioned that," Rick replied. "I didn't bring my laptop."

"There's a TV, but we don't even have cable up there," Kate continued.

"I wasn't planning on watching much TV, but okay," Rick said. "Seriously, Kate—a cabin, a fireplace, you and the Sweetpea...that's all I want and all I need."

"Good," Kate said. "Good. That's—that's good."

It was a rare thing to see Kate nervous, let alone as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But Rick Castle knew Kate Beckett better than anyone else on the planet. "Kate," he said gently. She subtly loosened her grip on the steering wheel, and Rick saw the color return to her white knuckles, the set of her jaw still grimly determined. "This is the first time you've been to your dad's cabin since the summer after you were shot at Montgomery's funeral, isn't it?"

Kate took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Yes," she said after a long moment of silence passed. They were on one of the back roads, not more than ten minutes from the cabin, and Kate pulled the car over to the side of the road, parked, and turned off the ignition. She took another deep breath and turned to look at Rick there beside her. "I really do want to take you to the cabin. I wouldn't have put it on my list if I didn't," she said. "But no, I haven't set foot up there since that summer. I wasn't ready to face it again. I'm still not sure I'm ready to face it now, but I have to face it, Rick—for myself, for us, for the Sweetpea." Her palm rested on her abdomen. "I know all too well how the past can cast a shadow over you for years if you let it. I defined myself by my mother's murder until you came into my life and made me want to get beyond it as much as I could."

Rick reached over and took the hand Kate didn't have resting over their growing child in his, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. "When my mom died," she continued, "I put all the great memories of her in this mental box and locked it up tight and shoved it down inside me underneath all the grief and the anger and the relentless drive to find out who took her away from me and my dad and why. It's only been in the past few years that I've started sifting through that mental box, and ever since we found out about the baby, she's been in the back of my mind almost constantly."

"In the place I used to occupy before you admitted you were crazy about me?" Rick asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"You still have the same place in my mind you always did, Rick. It's just gotten bigger since we officially became us," Kate replied. "I want the Sweetpea to know about my mom. I want us to be able to take him or her to the cabin, and go apple picking, like I used to do with my mom, and I want to bake apple pie with the apples we picked with him or her, like my mom and I used to do. I want us to go ice skating, like my mom and I did. I want..." She swallowed hard. "If we have a girl, I want to brush her hair the way my mom brushed mine, and I want her to watch me doing my hair and makeup when you and I are getting ready to go out for a date night, and paint her fingernails and put just the faintest dusting of makeup on her so you can tell her how beautiful she is, the way my dad used to do before he and my mom went out for the evening. I want her to know that there is nothing she can't do or be, and I want to be there for her until she's older than I am now. Of course, the same applies if he's a boy, except for the hair and makeup."

"In that case, we'd better keep him away from Mother when she has one of her parties for her theater friends," Rick joked. Kate gave a watery chuckle. He turned serious again immediately, though. "You know, if you really don't feel ready for this, Kate, we can turn around and go home. We don't have to do this today."

"We're almost there," Kate said. "And I want to do this today. This particular shadow has been hanging over me long enough, Rick. I won't lie; I'm scared I'll have a panic attack. I'm scared I'll have screaming nightmares, or flashbacks to sitting in the dark night after night that summer, holding my gun, wound so tightly that the touch of a feather would make me shatter into a million pieces, forcing myself not to shoot at the sound of a hooting owl or a raccoon foraging in the garbage or a tree branch scratching against a window in the middle of the night.

"I can face this now, even being as scared as I am, because I'll be facing it with you. I can face anything as long as I face it with you."

Rick squeezed Kate's hand. "Then we'll face it together. And whatever happens, Kate, whether it's panic attacks or screaming nightmares or flashbacks or whatever, just let it happen. I promise, I will be there to hold you, and to get you through it, to catch you if you fall."

Kate nodded. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," Rick replied.

Kate started the car again, put it in gear, and they drove the rest of the way to the cabin in silence. Rick hadn't been entirely certain what to expect, but when the cabin came into view, his jaw dropped.

He was getting to know Jim Beckett a lot better now than he had known him before, but whenever Kate alluded to her father's cabin, Rick pictured a rudimentary bachelor type of place, a small roughing it hangout where Jim went to escape the city, do some fishing, maybe get in touch with his inner Thoreau, if he had one.

The cabin was made of logs, but that was the only rustic thing about it on first sight.

Jim Beckett's cabin was two stories, with a wraparound porch, and a concrete foundation with two small windows visible, revealing what was probably an unfinished basement. The roof extended into an overhang that covered the three steps up to the porch and the front door.

The upper level had four dormer windows, two pairs of two, which Rick surmised were the bedrooms. One pair faced the front yard, the other pair was on the far right side of the cabin.

Kate gently braked, put the car in 'Park,' and shut off the ignition, looking over at Rick, who was looking up at the cabin. "Not what you were expecting?" she asked.

"No," he admitted, awed.

"It's a getaway place. No cable TV was the rule, but we weren't big into nature. I'd go fishing with my dad sometimes. Mostly he'd fish, and Mom and I would bring books to read. The lake and the dock are 100 yards out the back door," Kate said. "There's a fireplace"-Rick noticed the chimney at those words—"two bedrooms, one bathroom, unfinished basement, living room and kitchen. Pretty basic."

Kate got out of the car, and Rick followed after her, snagging their two suitcases from the trunk.

The interior was homey and inviting, Johanna Beckett's doing, no doubt. Two armchairs in dark brown, with a matching couch in front of a coffee table, sat on a woven rug in alternating shades of brown, tan, white, and ivory. Overstuffed brown-and-white striped throw pillows sat on either end of the couch. A 19-inch television set, circa 1998, sat on top of a black lacquered television stand opposite the couch and coffee table. One whole wall was comprised of a stone fireplace with a wooden mantel, and the iron-and-brass floor lamps beside the armchairs match the smaller lamps on the end tables flanking the couch.

The kitchen held a small table with four chairs, stove, refrigerator, microwave, toaster, and of course a coffeepot. The kitchen was done in yellow-curtains, paint on the walls, even the Formica countertops were yellow. Actual yellow, that is, not yellow with age.

The stairs leading to the second level were carpeted in tan right up the middle, the wooden planks of the steps peering out on either end where the carpet ended. Kate led the way upstairs, Rick following her with their bags. At the top of the stairs, she turned left. "This is my...our room," she corrected herself as she entered the bedroom. "Bathroom's across the hall. My parents' room is down the hall. Their room overlooks the front of the cabin; ours overlooks the side yard, with the big pine tree. And speaking of the bathroom, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. And no, I don't have to be sick," she added at his concerned look.

The room held a double bed with a nondescript floral print comforter and plain white pillowcases on the pillows-"I upgraded from the old twin bed the summer I spent out here," Kate explained—with nightstands holding small lamps flanking the table. A wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed, and a wooden five-drawer bureau with an oval mirror hanging on the wall above it were across from the bed. The windows overlooking the side yard were on the right side of the room; the closet was behind the bedroom door.

Rick set the bags on top of the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, figuring he and Kate could unpack later.

He figured they'd take the same sides of the bed they slept in at home, Kate on the left, himself on the right.

It was when he was giving the room a closer inspection that he noticed the object resting next to the lamp on the nightstand on the left side—Kate's side—of the bed: a dog-eared, well-worn paperback copy of Flowers for Your Grave.

Kate returned from the bathroom to find Rick standing next to her side of the bed, holding the mass market paperback copy of Flowers for Your Grave that she had left on the nightstand when she had made the spur-of-the-moment decision in the middle of yet another harried night to leave the cabin and return to her apartment in the city.

"When my dad brought me up here to recover that summer after I was shot the first time, I insisted we had to stop at Barnes & Noble on the way out of the city," she said. Rick looked up from the book in his hands in time to catch her nod at the book. "That was the reason. They had most of your books, but that was the only one I bought that day. I read it all the way through five times while I was up here. So even though you weren't with me that summer, Rick, you were with me. That was not a random purchase. I picked that book because that was the book that brought us into each other's lives...the Tisdale case."

Every time Rick thought Kate couldn't possibly surprise him more, couldn't possibly make him fall more in love with her, she went and proved him wrong. She did it again now.

She crossed the room to stand beside him and looked at the copy of Flowers for Your Grave in his hand. "I was such a mess that summer. I was so broken, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to gather up all the pieces of myself and put myself back together, and I was scared that if I let you do it, because I knew even then that you could do it, that I'd ruin us, because I was so not ready for all of this back then. But I needed to have some part of you with me while I was recovering from that first shooting and all the baggage it left me with, and this was it." She reached for the book, not taking it from him, but taking hold of it herself, so they were both holding it now.

"You've been a part of me since the moment we met, Castle," she continued. "Me being me at the time, I was afraid of it, and I fought it. I didn't know if I could do this, us, be in a real relationship with you. But you waited. Sometimes not so patiently, but I thank God every day that you never gave up on me."

"I will never give up on you, Kate," he replied. "I understand why I couldn't be here in person for you then, but if my words helped you at all, I'm glad you at least had them. Glad, and humbled."

"Richard Castle, humbled?" Kate asked. "Where's a pen and paper? I need to write down the date." Then she gave him one of her breath-stealing, dazzling smiles.

He smiled back at her. She let go of the book to hug him then, and with the book still in one hand, he hugged her back.

After lunch, Kate and Rick went for a walk in the area surrounding the cabin. The trees were wearing their autumn finery, the leaves brilliant, vibrant shades of red, orange, and gold, unspoiled by the kind of pollution from traffic and factories that made most leaves on the trees in the city turn a brittle shade of brown that matched their crumbling texture.

"It's really beautiful up here," Rick said as he and Kate strolled hand in hand towards the lake. "Thanks for bringing me here. We'll have to bring the Sweetpea up here."

"Will you be disappointed if we're having a boy?" Kate asked.

Rick stopped short, causing Kate to stop short too. "Whoa, where did that come from?" Rick asked. "Of course I won't be disappointed if Sweetpea's a boy. I'll just have to come up with another nickname for him, because I just can't call our son' Sweetpea.' Not without picturing Popeye and Olive Oyl with their Sweetpea. Whose kid was he, anyway? He wasn't Popeye and Olive Oyl's. He wasn't Bluto's. Wimpy would have only had a kid if the mother was a hamburger. I guess I didn't watch enough Popeye cartoons growing up to get an answer."

"I'm serious, Rick," Kate said.

"So am I," he said. "I'll have to Google that when we get home, find out exactly what the story was. But I'm also serious about being thrilled to have a son with you, if that's what we're having."

"But you really want a girl," Kate pressed. "A mini-Beckett. You said so in the hospital."

"Of course I want a girl who looks and acts like you," Rick replied. "Just like you want a little boy who...well, looks like me." Rick looked at Kate seriously now. "Boy or girl, as long as you and our baby are healthy, that's all I want."

"If we have a boy, how would you feel about 'Alexander' for a name?" Kate asked.

Rick considered this for a moment. "It would be okay for a middle name," he said.

Kate smiled. "Remember that case from years ago with the psychic?" she asked.

"Vivian Marchand," Rick said, nodding. "It turns out she was right, after all. A beautiful woman did one day move into my loft, and she's going to stay with me forever. And it wasn't my mother."

"Well, her daughter told me, during the investigation, that she had a little of what her mom had, that she had dreams about people sometimes, and she had a dream about me and that she felt very strongly that she was supposed to tell me something important. She told me that I would meet an Alexander, and he would be extremely important to me, and at some future date, he may even save my life."

Rick beamed. "That was no coincidence! She was talking about me!"

"She was," Kate agreed. "So 'Alexander' for a middle name if we have a boy is okay with you?"

"Absolutely," Rick replied. "I actually had a thought about a middle name if we have a girl."

"I know you want a mini-Beckett, but we're not naming our daughter after me, not even her middle name," Kate said firmly.

"I didn't figure you'd go for that," Rick replied. "That's not what I was thinking. I was thinking our hypothetical future daughter's middle name should be 'Johanna.'"

Kate's eyes welled with tears. "Yes," she said instantly. "Yes. Definitely."

"Great, so now all we have to do is come up with first names," Rick said.

"Nothing trendy," Kate said firmly. "And nothing weird."

"And no comic book or sci-fi characters," Rick said. Off Kate's look of surprise he said, "Oh, like that wasn't going to be the next caveat out of your mouth."

"It was," Kate replied. They wandered down toward the lake and walked to the end of the dock, but the breeze off the lake was cold for late September, and Kate shivered involuntarily. Rick immediately took off his button-down shirt and draped it over her shoulders.

"Let's head back to the cabin," Rick said. "I'll build a fire. We can't have you and Sweetpea getting cold."

"A nap sounds good too," Kate said, linking her arm through his as they made their way back to the cabin. "We'll need our energy for later." She gave him a saucy smile.

He turned his head to kiss her temple as they walked, and she felt him smile against her temple. When they got back to the cabin, he built a fire in the fireplace, and they snuggled together on the couch.

And when Kate fell asleep with her head on Rick's shoulder a few minutes later, he pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and covered her with it, then just sat there, holding her and watching her sleep and being grateful for how blessed he was to have her and their baby-to-be.