The weeks continued on, and she learned quickly how carrying a child can affect a person's life. Though she continued her normal job for a while, three months into her pregnancy she stopped doing field work, unless it was to attend a crime scene. But even then, the smell of the bodies started getting to her, and she threw up twice at scenes before deciding to give those a rest, too. She's started doing more deskwork, letting her partners take the leads on the cases, and she was the one to research and check security videos and everything else that her partners have always done. Talking to suspects, too, has begun to lessen in numbers, whether it's because she began to lash out more at them in an unprofessional manor, or she was just too tired to get mad.
Her husband called her every day at work to make sure she was doing alright. Sometimes, if she was in an angry mood, she would completely blow him off. Other times she spent almost twenty minutes talking to him, and had to force herself to hang up and keep working, knowing she'd see him that night.
She started showing early on. Though no one directly came up to ask, the precinct knew what was going on. She got smiles from officers she'd never met, and even HR was being kind. It was like being pregnant gave you a pass; it was an excuse to get treated nicely by strangers.
Tonight she sits at her desk after a long day's work. They caught a break in their case, where a robbery gone bad leaving a 23-year-old cashier dead, and her partners were in interrogation, trying to get something out of the suspect's girlfriend.
She piles up the files she's been digging through all afternoon: phone records, emails, customer lists from a local gun store. She pushes them to the side of her desk, leaving a wide open spot in the middle. She considers putting her head down and closing her eyes-just for a few minutes-when her partners bust out of interrogation, smiles plastered on their faces.
"We got her to talk," her partner says.
"And? Anything?" she replies.
"More than just anything," the Irishman starts, than looks to the notepad in his hand. "She said Eddie's out of the city, he left a day or two ago, but he's not gone for good. He left his guitar at a buddy's house in Queens, and he wants to pick it up. Tomorrow."
"You got an address for the house?" she asks.
"Yup. And a time. He bought a ticket with her credit card of a train out of Grand Central tomorrow evening, but his girlfriend said he's going to his friend's house around 1. It's when they always meet."
"We're getting a team ready for tomorrow," her partner continues, "one for each spot, in case we don't catch him in Queens. But we've done all we can for tonight." He looks at her, slightly relaxing his eyes as he speaks. "That means you're done for the day. You can head home, detective."
"Really?" she questions. "There's nothing else you need done? I'm doing fine guys, I can stay a few more hours. It's not like I've been running around all day, I've been sitting here. I'm not totally useless."
"Kate, we're good," her partner assures her.
"If we need any more help," the Irishman offers, "we'll give you a call, okay?"
She sighs, knowing they'll be stuck here for hours, while she's relaxing at home.
"Hey," her partner says, "lead detective's orders. No disobeying."
"Yeah," his partner says as they start to walk away, "thanks for giving that to him. His ego's never going down."
She laughs as they leave, watching them disappear behind a wall. She looks at her watch, and sees that it's around time for dinner. She leans sideways to grab her purse from its drawer, careful not to squish the bump that is continuing to grow on her stomach, and once it's retrieved picks up her phone.
Her husband answers on the second ring, like he's waiting at her beck and call. "Another phone call? This is either very good or very bad."
She smiles. "It's the former actually," she tells him. "The boys let me off early today. I'm heading home now."
"Home in time for the normal dinner hours? Oh boy! We must feast like knights."
"You know Castle," she says as she heads to the elevator, "now that you mention it, you wouldn't look too bad in plated armor."
"I'll add that to my list of 'Things to purchase at the Renaissance Fair.' Got an ETA?"
"Half an hour, hopefully," she says as she presses the down button.
"Perfect. Prepare your taste buds for the ultimate meal!"
She laughs as she hangs up the phone, too entertained by her husband's enjoyment to tell him she probably won't eat whatever he cooks. It's not that it won't taste good, she's sure it's probably excellent, but the pregnancy has screwed up her eating habits immensely. She gets in the elevator as it arrives and heads to the garage, glad that the boys let her off a little early today. It'll be nice to be home.
She finds him setting the table in a neat and orderly manner, and steam coming out of the pot on the stove. He looks up when she walks in and smiles. "Excellent timing. Another couple of minutes and it'll be ready!"
He walks over to her and takes her purse before she even has the chance to reach the table and put it down. He puts it down, then lightly wraps his arms around her, careful not to squeeze the life growing in front of him. She returns the gesture and leans forward for a quick kiss. "Hey there, cutie," he says her, happy to see her healthy and well after a day spent away from home.
She laughs at his compliment. "Hiya, handsome."
They stand there, arm in arm, looking at each other for a moment. He suddenly moves his hands around her to rest on her stomach, the bulge growing bigger every day. "And hello to you my extremely intelligent and gorgeous unborn child." He leans down and kisses it, her hands leaving his neck to rest onto of his. He does this almost every day, and though at first it was kind of annoying, she's gotten used to his touch, and looks forward to when he does it. It's comforting to her, seeing her husband care so much about this child. He's already been through the process with Alexis, so she wonders everyday how much more he actually knows about all of this than her. She's read some books and talked with doctors and friends, but she still doesn't feel like she's doing it right. Not until she sees her husband, holding her stomach and talking to the child growing inside of her. Most of her fear washes away in these moments, because she's reminded she's not doing it all alone.
"So," she speaks, ending the silence, "what's for dinner?"
"Oh nothing to extravagant. Just some eggplant parmesan with some steamed veggies and mashed potatoes."
She looks at him surprised. "You made all of that in half an hour?"
A satisfied look appears on his face. "What can I say, I'm amazing."
He takes her hand and they walk into the kitchen. He heads to the fridge and she stops to look at the stove. The eggplant is cooking, and up close the smell suddenly hits her. Her nose wrinkles and she looks at it again, and is overcome with disgust of the texture and taste of eggplant.
He comes back over to her and smiles. She takes his arm to hold him back from heading to the table. "Castle, thank you so much for cooking dinner. It was really sweet of you to do that on such short notice."
"Well, feeding my pregnant wife does seem like something that should take priority in my life." He sees her eyes flit down and to the side, and she slightly bites her lip. His smile fades and becomes an exasperated sigh. "But you just smelled the eggplant and hate it because of your silly messed-up taste buds."
She takes both his hands in hers. "I'm sorry. It looks great, really, but…"
"…you need to eat something else." He leans over and turns the fires on the stove off. "Well, I tried. You're up. What would you like?"
She turns around and heads for the fridge, opening both doors and the freezer, deciding on her next meal. She suddenly sees the two things she wants and pulls them out, turning around to show him with a smile on her face.
He looks terribly confused. "That's your dinner? What sounds delicious? Frozen waffles and pickles?"
"Yes. Exactly that."
He sighs once more and takes them from her hands. "Go sit on the couch, I'll call you over when it's ready."
She kisses him on the cheek. "Thanks, babe." Heading over to the couch, she calls out, "Oh, and can you grab the mustard, too?"
"Whatever you say, crazy pregnant lady."
She plops herself on the couch and grabs the latest fashion magazine sitting on the table. Though Alexis is only there during the summer, if she's home at all, she never cancelled the subscription to the hind-end seller. Considering her husband likes to spoil her with things as often as possible, he leaves the magazines on the table in hopes she finds something she wants to buy. She sits there now, flipping through the pages and the gorgeous outfits, when she notices a story next to one of the models. She starts reading it, but immediately regrets doing so. The model talks about her hard upbringing; how her mother was always working and never around, her father practically non-existent in her life, and how she had to bring up her siblings on her own. The story was heartbreaking, and suddenly she was softly crying.
"Alright," her husband says as he approaches the couch, "your ridiculous idea of dinner is-"
He sees her crying and immediately sits next to her and pulls her into his arms. "Kate, hey, what's wrong."
She looks up at him through her tears. "What if I'm a horrible mother?"
He look softens even further. "Kate, no. You're going to be a great mother, I promise."
"How do you know?" she continues. "I mean, my work has been my life, and when I'm not working I'm here, still probably talking about work, and you come to work with me, and what if I never see them? What if they grow up thinking I'm terrible because I'm gone all the time? I mean, I should stop working then, right? At least until they know I'm not a bad mother-"
He pulls away from her and holds her arms in his hands. "Kate," he says, and she looks down, ashamed of a failure at motherhood to come. "Kate, look at me." She looks up, tears flowing from her eyes, concern plastered throughout her face. He knows this reaction has to do with her hormones, but he also knows that the feeling she's having has to stem from a little piece of truth buried inside that she doesn't want the world to see. "You are going to be a great mom."
She tries to interrupt, but he cuts her off. "No, let me finish. I have met thousands of women in my life, maybe even more. And many of them have been mothers. None of them were as smart as you, or as strong, or as passionate about life as you. And somehow, they managed to pull the whole motherhood thing off. Take my own mother, for example. I grew up in an unconventional way, due to her line of work, and I managed to turn out good enough for you to pick me. If that's possible, anything is. But I know for a fact that you…you are extraordinary. And you will be an incredible mother to this kid."
Her tears have stopped and she smiles, coming back from her emotional high because he reeled her in, she folds herself back into his arms and holds him tight. "Thank you. That helped."
He kisses her on the top of her head. "It's true." He smooths her hair with his hand as he speaks again. "You still want your dinner?"
She ponders her earlier chosen combination and shivers in disgust. "I don't think so. What was I thinking?"
He sighs once more. "Okay, well, I'm down to the last option before I give up entirely: pizza?"
She sits up and looks at him, a grin across her face. "With spinach and extra cheese?"
"Sounds good. Let's just hope you don't change your mind before it gets here."
"Hey," she rebuts, "no promises from the crazy pregnant lady."