A/N: Just so you know, I have some real life commitments in the next week, so I'm publishing this one a little earlier than planned, and Chapter 10 will be a little longer, as I've only just started it. You've all been so wonderful and supportive of this story, I didn't want you to have to wait! Thanks, all of you, so much!
Special thanks again to Jo, Katherine, and CB! You three are my heroes! :-)
"Castle, I'm pregnant."
Thankfully his hands were hovering close enough to the counter top so that the wine glasses, when he released them, landed gracelessly, but without damage.
To be honest, his mind was whirling at such a dizzying rate that the condition of the wine glasses were the least of his concern.
She was pregnant.
Little pieces of evidence fell into place in his mind.
Her figure, for example. It made complete sense. He had been trying not to ogle her, but he hadn't been able to help noticing that her breasts were fuller than he remembered them being, and her clothes oversized. On one occasion in front of the murder board, he had been surprised by the way her shirt sat across her middle. He had never been able to recall Kate Beckett having a tiny pot belly.
At the time, he had thought it adorable. At the time, he had thought it proof that she was actually taking care of herself and eating properly, in spite of her job and her tendency to skip meals.
The peppermint tea was another example. He had been foolish enough to think that she had gone off coffee because it reminded her of him, in the same way that he had stopped drinking it – but no. A mere break up wouldn't stop Kate Beckett from getting a caffeine fix.
Then there was the fact that, aside from the crime scene, he hadn't actually seen her leave the precinct since his return. Now that he thought about it, it was completely out of character for her to make the boys do all of the running around while she twiddled her thumbs at the precinct.
It all made sense now.
She was carrying a child.
Most likely his.
The thought made his heart soar momentarily, before it landed with a thud.
He had no idea if it actually was his. For all he knew, it might be someone else's. They hadn't been together in weeks, and she was an insanely attractive woman- it would have been easy for her to find a man willing to bed her, if she were in the mood.
He nearly puked at the thought of some other man touching her, being with her, building this life with her – taking everything that should have been his.
Then again, the other possibility, that it was indeed his, was even worse – because she hadn't told him before now, and if they hadn't been working this case together again, she might not have told him for weeks or months.
She might have cut him out of his child's life all together.
The thought made his blood boil and his heart sick.
All the dreams that he had spent the summer painting – spilling his soul into the portraits on paper by way of his letters to her; every one of them pointed to this ending – having a child with her, building a life, creating their 'always' – and every one of them was shattered by the realization that she had purposely cut him out of all of that.
Her actions in how she had gone about ending their relationship suddenly came into sharp focus.
If she had known then, and he hadn't been able to give her a firm answer on where their relationship was headed, of course she had bolted. It was classic Beckett.
It was the summer she was shot all over again. She had gone off to lick her wounds, without giving him so much as a reason.
His anger burned brighter, fueled by the acid taste of his dreams dying before his eyes. He felt like screaming and raging and punching, his internal reaction so terrifying he didn't know what to do with himself.
He forced himself to gasp in a deep breath, then another, grasping every iota of self control that he had left.
Maybe his summer of solitude had been better for him than he realized, because he was able to push his anger down from an explosive force and gain control of it, although he wasn't sure the dark fury it morphed into was any less destructive.
He could hold a rational conversation, though, without screaming at her. That was an improvement. Everything about this stung in the worst possible way, but a show of rage right now might just tip the disastrous situation over the edge into an irrecoverable one.
Time to clear up the unknown.
"Is it mine?" he asked heavily, taking a deep breath and looking her in the eye.
She flinched, her dark eyes reflecting how much that question hurt, and there was a small measure of satisfaction to be found there; he was hurting, too, right now, so join the club, Kate.
Her shoulders slumped.
"I deserved that," she conceded. "Yes, it's yours."
The tiniest swell of victory washed through him. At least he needn't be jealous of someone else creating a new life with the woman he...
...He didn't even know how to finish that thought.
He loved her. Yes, still, even beneath the anger. But she had broken his heart again, and in this moment, he couldn't see how it could ever be mended.
She watched as his face became a mask of stone, cold and distant and unmoving.
His question had hurt her more deeply than he could ever know. Of course this child was his! There was no way she could bring herself to touch another man when her heart was still completely, irrevocably his.
He had ruined her for anyone else.
Because of him, she knew now what real love felt like. He was the most selfless, forgiving person on the planet, and in that moment she swore to herself that if he could just find it in his heart to forgive her one more time, he would never have to do so ever again.
The way he was staring through her, eyes empty and mouth set in a hard, lifeless line, made her wonder if perhaps this time she was unforgivable.
When he spoke, his voice was low, steady, and chilling; likewise his whole posture was rigid with tightly coiled rage. "When were you planning on telling me? The kid's eighteenth birthday?"
She gasped, his words shredding the few shards of hope that had sprung up in her chest, leaving them scattered around her, bleeding out.
For some reason, she had never imagined his anger could run so cold. She had expected fireworks and explosions, not... this.
The only time she had ever seen him anywhere close to this angry was when...
...someone had taken his daughter away.
Shit.
She began speaking quickly, tripping over her words in a babble to get them out, to make him understand. "Castle, I tried. I came to the loft three weeks ago to tell you. You weren't there. I only found out you were on tour when I saw the pictures of you in Hawaii in the paper. I only found out you were back when you showed up at the crime scene yesterday–"
"You didn't know about this before you broke up with me?" His words pierced her conscious, and she all but withered away before him, crushed and broken. Never had she wished so hard to be able to go back in time, to be able to fix one mistake.
She felt tears well behind her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. She refused to cry. Her tears would achieve nothing except possibly make him feel as bad as she did, and he didn't deserve that. She lowered her head, though, to hide them from him. "I knew," she whispered, offering no excuses.
Finally, some emotion cracked through his voice, the agony of a drowning man. "Why, Kate?"
She closed her eyes, ashamed of her actions. She was tempted to lie, to give him any other reason, but...
...but he would know. He probably already knew, just needed her to say it.
Through clenched teeth, she worked the words free. "I was scared."
The statement hung in the air between them, taunting them both. She almost expected the next sound to be the door slamming behind him. Instead, he pushed for a better answer.
"Of what?"
She swallowed, forcing the words to dislodge from her throat. He deserved this. He deserved so much more than this. "All I could think of was Meredith." She was speaking so low she wasn't sure he could hear her, but it was all she could manage. "You told me once you only married her because she found out she was pregnant, and you wanted to do right by Alexis. So when I asked you where our relationship was headed – so many times..." her voice trailed off miserably.
He picked up the tale, his voice dull with self-loathing. "You thought I wasn't interested in building a future together."
She nodded, lifting her eyes to sweep over his face, wordlessly beseeching him for forgiveness. "I never meant to put you on the spot. I just... I panicked. I thought if we were still together when I told you I was pregnant, you'd feel you had to marry me. Then, somewhere down the road, you'd grow to resent me for it." Her head sank once more, "I figured it would be better in the long run if you hated me now rather than later."
She heard him let out a breath, the faint rustle of movement that suggested he was hanging his head, too. She didn't dare raise hers to see if she was right.
The silence stretched, the hum of the refrigerator almost deafening in the stillness. The kitchen clock steadily ticked away, creating a cacophony of passing time.
Finally, he sighed.
"What now, Kate?" he asked, defeated. "What do we do now? I want to be angry at you. Shit, Kate, I'm so angry right now, I want to destroy something. Only you're right, I brought this all on myself by not speaking up. You gave me plenty of opportunity, and now our relationship is in pieces, and this baby..." his voice broke, and she heard him swallow, too full of emotion to continue.
Her heart was completely in his hands. "I love you, Castle. I never stopped. I'm willing to do whatever it takes..."
"That may not be enough, Kate," he cut her off gently. "I love you, too – I always will – but... how do I ever trust you again? It's just like the summer you were shot. You were hurt, and you made the decision to run, everyone else's needs be damned."
This time when the tears pooled she did nothing to stop them, allowing them to run freely down her face, drip off her chin, and soak into the material of her shirt.
He sighed. She heard the rustle of fabric as he straightened up.
"I need to go. I'm sorry, Kate. We will talk again, but right now, I need some space to think," his voice became more distant as he moved to the entryway and donned his jacket. He paused before he left. "You should eat something. You need to keep healthy, for the sake of..." his voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat.
The next sound she heard was the door shutting behind him.
He walked home.
He had too much to think about; the idea of being confined in a cab sounded like torture. He needed to walk it off, in the hope that his long strides would burn off his nervous energy so that he could try and think.
Kate was pregnant.
Kate was carrying his baby.
Kate had broken up with him, knowing she was carrying his baby.
His mind whirled over the facts, around and around, unable to settle on any one train of thought before skipping to the next, his emotions ranging from elation to despair and back again.
In all his wildest dreams, he had barely allowed himself to even wish for a child with Kate.
It had been one thing he had yearned for more deeply than any other, and the idea that she had purposely cut him out of this experience. even if he now at least knew her reasons for doing so, sucker punched him every time his mind fluttered past the thought.
The burn of the conversation with Kate turned his dream a nightmare.
Being a father was his single greatest accomplishment in life. In spite of all his many failures, in spite of relationships turning sour and books being torn to shreds by his critics, the one thing he had managed to do right was be a good father to Alexis, to stand by her as she grew into the amazing, tenderhearted, talented, strong young woman she was today.
His one secret dream had always been to give Alexis a sibling or two. He adored being a father; the problem had been Meredith. No, Meredith had certainly not adored being a mother, nor was she suited to be one. He wouldn't wish her on any child- certainly Alexis had never deserved such a parent. Likewise, Gina, although professionally brilliant, was not mother-material. She had enjoyed Alexis, it is true – had always been sweet to her – but they had never truly bonded, and Gina had never so much as a hinted that she was interested in having a family of her own. If anything, she had expressed relief on more than one occasion that she had been able to enjoy the perks of being Alexis' stepmother without having to deal with the unpleasant aspects of raising a baby or toddler.
When he met Kate, and subsequently fell in love with her, he had been left in no doubt that here, finally, was a woman with whom he could truly partner with in having a family. Yes, she would probably want to continue working, even from fairly early on in the child's life, but he was more than happy to play househusband – would be overjoyed to, in fact, and adored the aspect of his chosen career that made such an option available.
He had been able to so clearly imagine them parenting together, partners backing each other up in this new area as seamlessly as they worked together at the precinct, balancing each other out and making up for each other's flaws, yin and yang.
That she could even conceive the idea of parenting his child without input from him shook him to the very depths of his being. As someone who had grown up without a father, who had raised a daughter as a solo parent, it went against every fiber of his innermost, secretly conventional soul to not make every effort to give their child a stable, two-parent family if at all humanly possible.
But that had been exactly what Kate was afraid of, wasn't it? That he would want so deeply to be there for his child that he would propose to her on the spot, the same way he had done with Meredith.
As if the two women were even comparable.
Meredith was only ever meant to be one in a long string of not-Kyras. She had never been meant to be a permanent fixture. It just so happened that she had fallen pregnant with Alexis, who had been his whole world from the moment he found out she existed.
Kate, on the other hand, was the love of his life.
Right now, he hated that fact.
Right now, it excused too much.
It was the truth, though. He was irrevocably in love with her, and even now, in the height of his hurt and fury and betrayal, he couldn't deny it. It was part of his DNA.
If he married Kate Beckett, it wouldn't be because she was pregnant, and it wouldn't be out of some sense of ill-placed obligation or duty. No, he'd both been there and done that. If he married Kate Beckett, it would only be because he couldn't see there being any happiness in a future that didn't include her.
He had just done such a poor job of showing her, had been so afraid of scaring her off, that she had honestly believed that he would marry her solely for the sake of being part of their child's life.
He had never more regretted his inability to articulate his feelings when she had tried to talk to him before all this began.
Perhaps that was what he was most angry about, the fact that all this misery had been completely preventable, if only he had had the courage to speak up months ago.
He knew his Kate. He knew her deeply, intimately. He knew how she reacted to things she felt she had no control of, how her first instinct was to fly when confronted with something that terrified her on an emotional level. He knew her tendency to make a decision and act on it without consulting anyone around her.
He knew her.
He should have foreseen this. Well, as much as he could have foreseen an unforeseen blip in their methods of birth control, just enough for an accidental – but not unwelcome – pregnancy.
Looking up, he realized with a start that he was barely a block away from the loft. Crossing the street, he headed toward his building, nodding to the doorman on his way in.
Stepping off the elevator, keys in hand, he paused before the front door. He could hear his daughter and mother chatting and laughing together.
There was no hiding it from them.
It was time to face the redheads.
Kate sat there for a long time.
She had finally told him the secret that had been consuming her all this time, and while she hadn't expected things to go well, necessarily, things had gone worse than she had anticipated.
What did she expect, really? She was two weeks into her second trimester, and she had only just told the child's father she was pregnant.
Not all of that had been in her control, though. Her cheeks still burned at the way Eduardo had gently turned her away from the door, explaining that the loft had been shut up for the duration of Mr. Castle's book tour. He had been incredibly sympathetic, but the simple fact that she hadn't known he was away was telling in itself, considering just a couple of weeks earlier, she had been all but living at the loft.
She had known that there was meant to be a book tour, of course, but last time she had spoken to him about it, he had been talking about getting Paula to condense it down to two weeks. She had actually gone so far as to contact Paula to find out when he would return, and was surprised to discover he had extended the tour for six weeks. The other woman had been gentle and sympathetic in her own brusque way, offering to pass on a message to Castle for her- but she had balked at the idea, asking Paula to keep even that phone call to herself.
She would wait until he was back and tell him then.
She simply couldn't bring herself to tell him over the phone.
It just seemed too cruel.
He deserved that to hear it in person, any way.
After all, she hadn't been able to tell him earlier. Not if she didn't want to find herself rushed down the aisle, marrying a man who was only going through this for the sake of their child.
It had been the thought that consumed her; the idea had become an obsession and she'd truly convinced herself that he wasn't interested in their relationship developing beyond the status quo. Reading his letters that morning had caused the bottom to drop out of her world when she had realized just how wrong she had been about everything.
His silence at the beginning of the summer had sounded like a rejection of any deeper relationship with her, when what it had really been was his fear of saying too much and scaring her away, in case she didn't want things to progress to marriage and children.
It was a bit late for that, though, Rick.
Standing, she cleared away the untouched takeout containers, scooping minimal portions into a bowl and reheating it in the microwave, stacking the rest into the refrigerator. When her food was warm, she ate it standing, hip leaning against the counter. It tasted like cardboard, but Castle's words rang in her ears.
This little one needed nourishment, even if his or her mommy didn't want food.
When she was done, she placed her bowl in the sink, filled it with water so that it would soak, and, while she was there, downed a glass of water.
Exhausted, she headed into her bedroom, stripping off her clothes as she went, dropping them in a pile in the corner she would sort out tomorrow – or on the weekend.
She reached for her sleep shirt, but paused before the mirror, turning side on and gently skating her hand across the small bulge in her abdomen.
It had first appeared practically the moment her second trimester started, exchanging places almost overnight with the constant nausea that had practically debilitated her in the past months.
Working with dead bodies while constantly battling the almost overwhelming need to puke ones guts out at the drop of a hat did not make for a happy lifestyle.
Still, she had persevered, and although she was pretty sure the boys and Lanie had some strong suspicions about exactly what was going on, they had yet to ask her any questions directly – which almost guaranteed that they knew.
Gates knew.
Kate had dropped into her Captain's office first thing one morning and explained. Gates had been more than accommodating. After all, Iron Gates had managed to have two children while working her way up the ladder. Kate was no longer under any illusions about just how highly her Captain thought of her. Granted, she wasn't Montgomery, but that made the respect she had slowly earned worth even more.
Under the Captain's recommendations, Kate had slowly adjusted her leadership style to accommodate the pregnancy, given the high risk nature of her field of employment. She sent the boys out to do more, taking on more of the paper pushing herself. She hated it, but it was what she had to do to keep this baby safe.
This baby may well be the only piece of Castle she would ever be able to keep.
At least she would be able to tell the child that she had loved his or her father.
She had no idea how Castle was going to take things from here. She resolved to abide by whatever decision he made on the subject. It was all she could do, now, after cutting him out of the first months of her pregnancy. She knew him, knew that it was eating him up inside that he hadn't been here for her holding her hair back as she emptied her stomach, or sharing her joy at the first discovery of the tiny bump.
She'd have to go maternity shopping soon enough, but for now some of her looser shirts were mostly concealing her condition.
Donning her sleep shirt, she crawled into bed. It was early, but after this evening's debacle, all she wanted to do was sleep. She curled up on her side, her arms wrapped protectively around her bump.
"I don't want to do this without him, kid, but if that's what happens, just know that no matter how sad mommy gets, she loves you," she whispered down to her stomach, feeling a little foolish in the dim glow of her bedroom.
Eventually, though, she managed to fall asleep.
Alexis and Martha paused mid-giggle when Castle closed the door.
"Dad?" his daughter asked hesitantly when she saw his face.
"Richard? What's wrong?" his mother stood from the bar stool, taking a hesitant step towards him.
He sighed, hanging his head.
They deserved to know, regardless of what happened from now on between himself and Kate.
Still, they both looked worried about him, and he screwed his face into something resembling a smile so that at least they would hopefully infer no one had died.
"I, uh... I need to talk to you both," he said wearily. Martha pursed her lips, running her eyes over his admittedly haggard appearance, before instituting herself as director.
"Alexis, darling, heat up some leftovers for your father, and perhaps make us all some of your wonderful hot chocolate? Richard, go take a moment to freshen up. I'm sure whatever it is you have to say will wait, yes? We can reconvene in the living room in about five minutes," she commanded, waving him off towards his room with typical flare.
He trudged to his room with no small measure of relief, more than happy to strip out of his clothes and use the facilities, washing his face while he was at it, before donning sweatpants, a t-shirt, and shrugging his favorite robe on just to help him feel snuggly. It wasn't really late yet, but his mother's directions had all the makings of a midnight chat, so he might as well be comfortable.
Exiting his bedroom, he smiled in gratitude as his mother and daughter brought three steaming mugs and a plate of delicious-smelling food over to the coffee table. He sat in the middle, Alexis curling up on his right, and Martha lounging gracefully on his left.
The food smelled terrific. His stomach grumbled, and he reached for it without thought. A long day at the precinct followed by a long walk home was hungry business, apparently.
"By all means, talk around your food, just as I taught you," his mother commented dryly.
He swallowed. "Sorry, I'm just hungry. I didn't get dinner."
"We thought you were hoping to get dinner with Kate?" Alexis asked. He refrained from another mouthful just long enough to explain.
"We got take out on the way home, but... we never got as far as eating it," he said, quickly shovelling another couple of mouthfuls in. Once the edge had been taken off his hunger, he placed his plate back on the coffee table so he could take one of their hands in each of his.
Both women sat forward a little, sensing the gravity of his actions.
"Kate's pregnant," he said heavily.
Alexis gasped. Martha squeezed his hand, willing him to continue.
"It turns out that's why she broke up with me. She asked me – repeatedly – where I saw our relationship going, and I didn't want to scare her away by telling her I wanted to be with her forever, so I said nothing. She thought that meant I didn't care." He sighed, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. "She thought if she told me while we were together, I'd feel obliged to marry her, like I did with Meredith," he said.
"But Dad – how could she not know?" Alexis asked, her other hand sandwiching his big one between hers.
He turned his head toward her, twisting his lips into a self-depreciating smile. "I never told her," he said simply.
"So what happened this evening?" Martha asked carefully.
"We fought. I, uh.. I didn't take her keeping it from me well. Then I left," he replied.
Martha released his hand, reaching instead for her hot chocolate. "I see," was all she said.
He sat up swiftly.
"Mother? You don't seem to be surprised about this," he accused.
The grande dame merely smiled and sipped her beverage.
He glared at her. Behind him, he felt Alexis sit up so she could observe from over his shoulder.
Under both their stares, she caved.
"Well, I already told you I bumped into Katherine the week before you got back," she said airily. "I simply neglected to mention that it was outside an OB/GYN clinic, and I might have caught a glimpse of an ultrasound printout just before she tucked it away."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he spluttered.
"Or me?" Alexis demanded, a note of hurt in her voice. He sat back a little so he could wrap an arm around his daughter.
Martha, however, remained calm. "It was none of my business, Richard. I told her when you were due back, and figured if she didn't make some effort to contact you after a week, I'd step in. As it happens, that poor girl was killed and you came together without my meddling."
"Don't you think I should have been told?" His anger was rapidly rising again at this new information. His mother frowned, placing her mug back on the table.
When she spoke, she was quite stern. "Richard, you know as well as I do that it wasn't my place to say anything, besides which, you might remember that I know firsthand what it is to be a woman alone and unexpectedly pregnant. Do try to see past your own wounds and show some empathy to Katherine. Yes, she should have told you sooner – but you said yourself she was unsure of where she stood. That, my boy, is on your shoulders, not hers."
He stood then, paced away, too angry to admit his mother may be right. He hadn't thought of how alone and scared Kate might have been, discovering her pregnancy, then finding out that – as far as she could tell – he wasn't interested in anything more than a shallow relationship.
He heard a rustle of fabric behind him as his mother stood. "You'll do the right thing by her, Richard. I know you will," she said gently.
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "What if she doesn't want me to?" he asked quietly.
His mother laid a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her. "From what I've seen of the two of you, the only time you've been truly miserable is when you have chosen not to pursue her. This one's worth fighting for, kiddo," she said, kissing his cheek and then sashaying up the stairs.
He watched her go, thoughts and emotions churning through him at breakneck speeds, one after another after another.
Alexis' voice nearly gave him a heart attack. She'd been so uncharacteristically quiet throughout that last exchange with his mother, he had nearly forgotten she was still curled up on the couch.
"Daddy?"
Her voice was so tiny and unsure, nothing at all like the confident, joyful young woman he was used to.
He was by her side in about three strides, wrapping his arms around his baby girl.
"I'm here, Pumpkin," he murmured, holding her close.
She curled into his chest, clinging to him in a way that she hadn't done in years. "I know I'm all grown up now, and it shouldn't even matter, but if you and Kate get back together – Dad, will you still want me?" she asked in a tiny voice.
His heart dropped, shattered. He tugged her more fully into his lap, cradling her as if she were a baby herself. "Always, Alexis. No matter what. Even if I marry Kate and we have twenty children, I will always love you," he assured her fiercely.
He felt her take a ragged breath. "Promise?"
"Promise," he replied, kissing her on the crown of her head.
They stayed that way for several minutes.
"Your hot chocolate is probably cold," she observed, and he laughed, allowing her to settle back onto the sofa again. He picked it up, took a cautious sip.
"It's still a little warm," he said, shooting her a playful grin before guzzling the whole thing. She laughed at him, then turned serious.
"Are you happy about this, Dad?" she asked quietly, more like the responsible young woman he knew.
He sighed. "Aside from these circumstances? Yeah, I am. I've always wanted to give you a sibling. I just couldn't ask it of either your mother or Gina."
"I've always wanted a sibling, too," she said quietly. "And I think Kate's going to be a great mom."
"You might just be right, Pumpkin," he replied, sighing deeply once more. "The question is – will she be great alone, or will she let me do this with her?"
She leaned up to kiss his cheek before standing. "There's only one way to find out, Dad," she said, and headed upstairs for the night. "Ask her."
Thoughts?