Heart of Stone

By

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Twelve

"I'd like to know if you'd be open to starting over from scratch." - Kendall Payne, "Scratch"

"Miss Harper?"

Alexis glanced up at the doctor, who was looking at her expectantly. She'd been staring at her baby on the ultrasound and hadn't been listening.

"How's your energy levels these days? Are you still exercising? Are you sleeping enough?"

The answers were nonexistent, barely, and never. Kevin watched her with poorly concealed anxiety. Alexis just nodded, then turned back to the screen. She knew what depression felt like. There wasn't much the doctor could do about it.

The rest of her weekly appointment went smoothly. All the tests had turned out well. Her baby didn't suffer any abnormalities. She was grateful for that. Her doctor gave her a speech about prenatal exercise and then finished up the appointment by telling them they could find out the gender at the next ultrasound.

"Can I speak to you in private?" Kevin asked the doctor. They left the room, and Alexis was given some time to clean up and stare at the ultrasound images.

Ever since Kevin found out about the baby, he'd become relentless in making sure both of them were healthy. He'd hired a private OB to make house calls every two weeks, and he'd bought an ultrasound machine. No more sneaking around for prenatal care. Everything came to her.

At sixteen weeks the baby was looking more and more like an actual infant, and she'd started to show. There was a small but clearly noticeable bump in her lower abdomen. She caught Kevin staring at it on several occasions in the past month, but of course he never touched her and rarely said anything to her anymore.

She missed him.

The door to the converted exam room opened, and Kevin came back in. Alexis kept her eyes glued to the image in her hands. The doctor emailed the images from each appointment to Kevin, but since Alexis couldn't access the internet, she got to keep the printouts. She'd started her own collection of photos in the bottom drawer of Kevin's bedside table. Mixed in with photos of the people she loved the most and the man who had stolen and then broken her heart were images of their child. It was almost poetic.

Kevin moved close, looking over her shoulder at the image in her hands. "It's getting big."

"He is," Alexis answered.

"We don't know the gender yet."

"Doesn't feel right to call the baby 'it.'"

Silence set in, but he didn't leave. Alexis wondered why that was. He'd just said more words to her in the last minute that he had in the last week. Since his confession, since the bridge they'd been building had been thoroughly shattered and the gap between them widened by the secrets each of them had been carrying, they'd settled into a lonely truce. Alexis still had all the same freedoms she had before, and Kevin took great care to make sure she was comfortable and well taken care of. The ridiculously expensive OB he'd hired was proof of that. A few baby books had mysteriously appeared on her bedside table one night, along with clothes that allowed for her expanding waistline. He was still taking care of her—and was almost obsessive in his need to make sure the baby was healthy—he just didn't come around anymore. There were no more late-night talks, no more falling asleep in his arms or being physical in any way, shape, or form. He was gone.

"Do you want some lunch?" Kevin asked.

She frowned, confused by his offer. He's worried about the baby, a voice in her head reminded her. His offer had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the child that depended on her to grow. "I'm not hungry." She walked past him and returned to her bedroom, curling up under the heavy covers and closing her eyes. Sleep was better. It was a win-win. It helped her baby, and it took her away from reality. And there was something about sleeping during the day, with the sunlight shining in through the window, that helped her feel safe. She'd been sleeping fitfully since the day Kevin had woken her up and then paraded her in front of Sloane a month before. That encounter had calibrated her body for stress, for the need to protect itself, and since that day she no longer entertained fantasies of escaping. Now that she fully understand what she was up against, Alexis knew she and her baby would be dead before she got off the elevator.

Alexis was just dozing off as a fruity scent invaded her nostrils, and her stomach protested loudly. She forced her eyes open, her gaze landing on the tall glass on her bedside table. Kevin had made her a strawberry smoothie—her favorite. He was anticipating her needs once again, assuming that she'd be hungry when she woke up. And he was right. She was always hungry.

She huffed at him in annoyance, emotions spinning, making her stomach clench. Why did he have to be so thoughtful? Why did have to do things that made it impossible for her to hate him? And why did he have to do those things and then keep his distance? It was beyond confusing. Would he be so accommodating if she wasn't carrying his child? Would he even care about her at all, or would he have thrown her to the wolves?

She immediately answered her own question. He'd still treat her well if she wasn't pregnant. She didn't even know how he felt about the baby—if he wanted it at all. Of course he would protect it. Of course he would do everything in his power to care for it. But that wasn't the same thing as wanting another child. Kevin's first child had been taken from him when he'd been living the perfect, normal life. His second child was being thrust upon him in the worst possible circumstances.

She turned on her side, her mind spinning. Whenever Alexis had imagined being pregnant, it hadn't been like this—of course it hadn't been like this—but she hadn't realized the simple luxuries that she hadn't given a second thought about. Like sharing the news with family and friends, like having a committed, stable relationship with the father of her child, like being able to come and go as she pleased and decorate a nursery without asking someone else's permission.

Whenever she imagined herself becoming a mother, she'd thought her busy, full life would open up for the child. She'd never imagined that her entire life would narrow down to having a baby. That it would become her only reason for not tumbling headfirst into the deepest, most smothering depression, for not recklessly breaking a window twenty stories up and seeing if she could catch the nearby fire escape without being killed. None of this was how either of them wanted it.

Unable to sleep, she sat up and pulled a small notepad out of the bedside table. The first page was a list of good and bad—a way for Alexis to attempt to wrap her mind around the impossible reality she'd been living for three months. She added an item to the good side of the list:

Takes care of me/the baby no matter what.

She looked down at the note pad. The list of good things ran almost the entire way down the page. In fact, Kevin list of virtues was easily seven or eight times longer than his list of sins. But those three items on the bad list held very powerful evidence.

A strawberry smoothie paled in comparison to multiple counts of murder, and no matter how many times she thought about it, she couldn't wrap her mind around Kevin Ryan, the man she loved, the father of her child, being a murderer. By that same token, she recognized the depth of his sacrifices for her, for her family. The lengths he'd gone to so her family would be safe made her a little sick, but that selfless protectiveness also made her love him even more.

She flipped the pages over, skipping over letter after letter that she'd written in the days since the revelation. The scientist in her had to have the list, the empirical evidence, but that wasn't enough. Alexis knew enough about the world, about people, to understand that nothing was as cut and dry as that. So she wrote letters. Just like she'd done in the three years they'd been apart. They helped her sort out her feelings. And there was freedom in writing the things you'd never be able to say.

Dear Kevin,

Today we saw our baby again. He's getting big—you said so yourself. My body definitely thinks he's getting big. I can't believe there's still five more months to go. I saw the way you watched me during the ultrasound, and I know why you're so worried, but you don't need to be. I won't let anything happen to the baby. I think that's the only thing we can agree on right now.

Kevin, I keep thinking about what you told me. And I keep ending at the same two questions. Why didn't you ask for help? You had connections. You had people who loved and cared about you. Why didn't you trust them to be able to handle Nolan and Sloane and all the demons from your past? I know hindsight is 20/20, but I really believe that everything could have been different if, instead of giving in, you leaned on your friends for support. Maybe I would have really died, but you wouldn't have had to live in this hell. Maybe I would have lived. Maybe we could have beaten them together. There's no way to know what would have happened, but it had to be better than this.

Of course, it's not as if I'm the virtuous one here. Virtuous people tend to not hide the existence of a child from its father, but you have to understand why I did it. After everything you've done to keep your loved ones safe, you have to see that I was only trying to do the same thing. I was just trying to keep our baby safe.

And that brings me to my second question. Since we seem to be on the same page as far as lies and secrets go, I keep asking myself this one question: If I were in your shoes, if you were lying dead on the ground in front of me and a madman was threatening everyone I loved, would I give in too?

I don't like the answer.

It was four in the morning by the time Kevin got home. He punched the new password into the elevator, riding it up to his apartment. Ever since he and Alexis had pissed off Sloane, Kevin had been extra careful. There was a new set of pass codes to get up to the apartment, surveillance cameras, and Kevin was alerted by text message every time someone used the elevator at all. He couldn't do much more than that, and it did help ease his mind somewhat to know that Alexis and the baby were just a little safer. It was the least he could do for them. Kevin's keys clanked on the kitchen counter as he headed directly for the fridge, pulling out a beer and twisting the cap off in one smooth motion. The bittersweet concoction slid down his throat, easing some of the tension that had been pulling him apart for the last month.

Predictably, Sloane had been a nightmare since Kevin had thrown him out of his apartment, and the bastard had been shoving work onto Kevin's shoulders as a small way to pay him back for the disrespect. As long as Nolan was still micromanaging the syndicate from his hospital bed, Sloane couldn't do much more than that. For the first time in nineteen years, Kevin was glad his grandfather was still around. The old man was the perfect buffer between Sloane and Alexis, even as he casually held the lives of Alexis' family in his hands. Jesus, how had he let this knotted up web of murder threats and blackmail become his life? When had this become his version of normal?

Kevin tossed the empty bottle in the garbage and pulled out another, letting the cap join its friend on his kitchen counter. All he wanted to do was drink and then crawl into bed for the next week. Not that he'd have a chance. Between quietly putting up with Sloane's hissy fit and trying to take care of Alexis, he was already stretched thin. More and more, Kevin was wishing he hadn't told his sister to stay away until he called her. He needed another set of hands, another pair of eyes. Alexis needed someone to talk to—someone who didn't have the blood on his hands that Kevin did.

Things had changed since the truth came out. Alexis had been surprisingly sympathetic to his situation, which was more than he could have hoped for. She didn't seem to hate him. She didn't seem to think he was a monster. But his truth was a heavy one, and the weight of it had taken a toll on her. Kevin could see it in her face as he told her each detail, and he'd seen it every day since then. He kept his distance, letting any tiny steps forward be entirely on her terms. Alexis hadn't once tried to bridge that gap. He'd been right to think she wouldn't want him anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Kevin pushed off of the counter and tossed the second empty bottle into the garbage. He needed sleep—as much as he could get. He dragged his feet down the hallway, stopping at the light spilling from under Alexis' door. Immediately, he changed his trajectory to check on her. Four in the morning was late, even for her.

The door swung open, and he found her stretched out on top of the bedcovers in the same clothes she'd been wearing that day. The empty glass on the bedside table was the only indication that anything had changed from nearly twelve hours before. Her eyes darted around under her eyelids as he tugged the comforter aside and lay her down on the cool bedsheets.

Her t-shirt rode up, revealing the tiny bump on her abdomen. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and touching it. Her skin was warm and soft. God, he missed her. He missed talking to her. He missed touching her. He missed her smile. Kevin had been keeping up with her pregnancy, and he was so relieved that the baby seemed to be in good health. He loved her baby bump. And as dangerous and foolish a situation as it was, he loved that a child made up of both of them was growing inside her. He kept the ultrasound images and videos on his phone, watching them when he knew he was alone. They had been his single comfort in the last exhausting, lonely month. He leaned over, brushing the lightest of kisses across her cheekbone before pulling the comforter over her.

As the blanket shifted, a notepad fell on the floor, and Kevin saw his name. Without a second thought, he picked it up and began to read.

Alexis was awakened by a terrible urge to pee. It was quickly becoming the way she started every day, and she sleepily stumbled to the bathroom. Pale, early morning light shone in through the window, casting the room in gray tones. It was enough to make her want to go back to sleep, but her stomach said she needed to eat first. She hadn't had anything since the smoothie the afternoon before.

She padded to the kitchen, already planning the quickest snack her stomach would allow before embracing her pillows once more. She'd tossed and turned for hours the night before. She wasn't anywhere near rested. She grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, eating it while leaning against the kitchen counter and following it up with a banana and a bottle of water. Her angry stomach welcomed the nourishment. She noticed two beer bottle caps laying on the counter, and picked one up. Kevin must have left them.

In her half-remembered dreams, Alexis had felt him nearby, had smelled his cologne, and warmed at the sensation of his lips on her cheekbone. But of course that was just a dream. Her gaze traveled from the kitchen and through the doorway to the living room. She hadn't been in there since her disastrous encounter with Sloane. From her limited vantage point, she could see another beer bottle on the coffee table along with an odd black shape, and something about it made her feet carry her inside the room.

Kevin was sitting up on the couch, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. His feet were up on the table. They were the shape she couldn't figure out. He looked different when he was sleeping. His walls were down, and he was vulnerable. More than anything else, he just looked tired. Completely drained. She wasn't surprised. It seemed like he was coming and going constantly. His hands rested on a notepad in his lap, and Alexis moved closer. Fear and embarrassment mixed when she realized he'd been reading her notepad.

She leaned over and carefully pulled the small book out from under his hand. The words "Dear Kevin" screamed out at her from the pages. And her heart skipped into double time. He'd read her letters to him—all the fear and insecurity and loneliness and confusion. He knew all about it. She ran her finger over a smear of ink that she knew hadn't been there before. Tiny, ink-stained circles were spattered across several pages. Had he... Had he been crying?

Alexis glanced back down at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes. She had a pair to match. His neck was pulled at an angle that had to be uncomfortable. She looked down at the pages again. One small paragraph was rendered almost illegible by the watermarks, but she knew what she'd written. The same sentiment had been bouncing between her mind and her heart for the last month.

Even after everything you've done, I still love you. But I don't know how to accept who you've become.

Her words had torn him open. The evidence was smeared across the page in front of her. Alexis kneeled next to him on the couch, giving his shoulders a gentle shake. He jolted forward, his eyes bleary, bloodshot, and unfocused. His gaze moved from her face to the notepad in her hands. "I saw my name," he tried to explain, his voice rough.

"Come to bed."

Her words could not have been more surprising to him. He shook his head in disbelief, and she stood up, taking his hand. "Come on. You need to get some rest."

"I'm okay here—"

"No, you're not." She tugged at his hand until he was standing next to her. "You look terrible." She led his half-sleeping form down the hallway. Exhaustion had made him particularly compliant.

"Together?"

She led him into the bedroom and closed the curtains. "Together." She dug through the dresser until she found one of the last pairs of sweatpants that remained in the room and threw them over at him.

"Why?" he asked as if he was afraid of the answer—as if her behavior had given him hope, and he was already preparing himself for the letdown.

"Because I'm tired of being alone, and I think you are too."

"But what about—"

She sought refuge under the comforter, her eyes heavy in the dimly lit bedroom. "Come to bed, Kevin."

The soft sounds of him undressing were her only reply, and soon the bed dipped down next to her. His fingertips brushed over her arm, his touch hesitant.

"Alexis?"

There were more questions wrapped up in those three syllables than she knew how to answer, even if she'd actually had the energy to do so. She found his hand, using it as a guide to sink against his chest. Heat pressed against her back, and she wrapped his arm around her waist, resting their entwined hands on her baby bump. Her tired body sang at the comfortable, warm position. "Go to sleep."

In no time at all, Kevin's rigid body relaxed, and she felt his breathing begin to even out. "I missed you," he whispered sleepily.

Before succumbing to her heavy eyelids, Alexis allowed herself just a moment to appraise the situation. She was in the arms of the man she loved, the father of her child, the enigma whose decisions haunted her just as much as they made her love him more. She felt safe, cherished—like she belonged there. Nothing had ever been so conflicting; nothing had ever felt so right.

"I missed you, too."

Across the city, Rick Castle was rocking his youngest daughter to sleep. Ever since Alexis had disappeared, Johanna had been plagued by nightmares. It was a good night if the child only woke up crying and screaming once, and Rick had spent most of the night soothing her. Johanna's tiny arms were wrapped around his neck, her head rested against her shoulder. She was sleeping again, only emitting the occasional sob, but Rick couldn't bring himself to be put her back in her bed. It was selfish, but a small part of him secretly enjoyed moments like this one, when Johanna needed him and he was the only one who could scare the monsters away.

Alexis had been gone for three months. He was beyond sick about it—beyond grief. Fear had hollowed out his insides, and that helpless panic had faded into tired determination. Of course he'd still look for her, of course he'd never stop looking for her, but he'd stopped getting his hopes up over every potential lead. He'd stopped letting those worst-case scenarios consume him. His body and mind had learned to live with this impossible situation, this new normal.

He still had a wife, a mother, and another daughter. He wasn't alone in his search, and he couldn't lose himself in grief. It wouldn't be fair to the family he still had, or the daughter whose disappearance had cast a shadow over all of their lives. Rick had exhausted his numerous contacts, the NYPD and FBI were still looking. Sooner or later, they'd find a lead. They'd find Alexis. Rick held on to that belief and tried not to think about what kind of state Alexis would be in when they finally brought her home. Thinking about all the things he had no power to change was enough to make him lose his mind.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Rick awkwardly shifted Johanna in his arms so he could reach it. It was a text message. He didn't recognize the number, but he had a pretty good idea who it was from. Hunt never used the same burner phone for long.

He also kept his messages succinct: "Look familiar?"

There was a photo attached to the message, and Rick pressed on the icon to open it. The photo knocked the air clean out of him.

"Son of a bitch."

There he was—the man who had been seen abducting Alexis. Rick had never hated a person as much as he loathed that nameless man, but he couldn't focus on that. That wasn't the part that had chilled him to the bone and sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Rick blinked at the photo, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him because the scene in front of him was impossible. It couldn't be real.

The anonymous kidnapper was shaking hands with Kevin Ryan.

Author's Note: I think I'll just leave it there for now.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are awesome, and I'm so glad you're enjoying this story.

Next time: Kevin and Alexis try to move forward, and Castle, Beckett, and Javi are forced to ask hard questions in the face of their newest lead.