"That was two years ago. When the job came up you knew it was the perfect opportunity to distance yourself. You knew you were living on borrowed time, and you wanted to burn some bridges. You thought that it would be easier if you ended things this way. You hoped it wouldn't hurt us as much."

"I am sorry that I didn't tell you."

"You never followed up," he points out.

"I didn't want to know when my expiration date was. I just wanted to live my life until time ran out," she admits.

"You had to find a way to sabotage the relationships that you worked so hard to build. Tearing them apart was much easier than building them. It only took one act. It took one night, and too many shots. You didn't plan for things to go the way that they did. How could you be so cold?"

"It wasn't like that. I didn't plan any of it."

"You didn't plan on getting pregnant. That was never your intention because you would never choose to leave a child behind. You know what it feels like to lose your mother, and you would never want to inflict that kind of pain on someone else."

"You're right."

"So you came back here, and you decided that it would be easier if there were no complications, no loose ends. You knew that you had bought yourself some time, before any of us would reach out to you. You chose not to subject a child to this world without you in it, or at all. The world is cruel, and you know that."

She shakes her head, and walks away from him. He watches her as she reaches for something on the coffee table. She hands him the picture. He stares at it, finally silenced.

"And yet there it is. Despite everything it is still there."

He looks up at her, "You didn't..." he trails off.

"No. That was from yesterday morning."

"Did you get to hear the heartbeat?"

"Why do you think I am such a wreck? I am having a baby who is never going to remember me. I don't know how much time I have, but I know that it isn't enough. I created this nightmare. I created this child, and I am not even going be around to see it grow up."

"Did you tell your employer?"

"Tell them what?"

"About the baby?"

"No."

"Or the brain tumor?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Good."

"Good? How can you possibly think that any of this situation is good?"

"You should have a seat."

"Why?"

"Sit," he points to the barstools underneath her counter, a few feet away from them, in her kitchen.

She follows instructions. He remains standing. He places the manila folder on the counter. He opens it, and points to the image inside.

"It is a picture of my brain tumor," she looks over at him.

"It is a picture of a brain tumor," he corrects her.

"Castle I have seen this picture before. It is the one that they showed me at the hospital."

"Kate I don't know how to tell you this, but there has been a mistake."

"In my life? Castle there have been a lot of mistakes. What I don't understand is why you're here. Why did you come?"

"Because you need me."

"You should hate me," she counters.

"I don't hate you. I..." he begins.

She cuts him off, "Please don't. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"You are the one that did that."

"Please," she begs.

"You should have gone for follow up."

"So they could figure out the best way to saw my head open, and perform a procedure that could kill me anyway? Or maybe they could have done chemotherapy that would make me so sick that I wished I was dead."

"You thought that you had nothing to lose. Now you do. You have something to live for."

"I can't do the surgery, or any treatment now."

"I didn't say that you had to."

"Why aren't you angrier? You should be so angry that you never want to see me, or speak to me as long as I live."

"Because you are angry enough for the both of us."

"Castle I don't understand. Why are you here? Are you trying to punish me?"

"I am trying to bring you back."

"Bring me back?"

"From the edge," he clarifies.

"You can't. Castle you can't save me. No one can save me. I am a lost cause. Stop trying to fix this. You can't fix this. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but just stop."

"Kate I know that you think you did something terrible. I know that to me what you did was completely unfathomable. I just need you to listen to me."

"Castle I can't do this. I can't go down this road with you. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have. I made a mistake, and no matter how much I wish that I could take all of it back, I can't. You shouldn't be here. Not now."

"I'm not finished."

"What else could you possibly have to say?"

"Look at the name on bottom of that report."

"K. Beck."

"Exactly."

"Castle it is probably just a typo."

"Is that your birth date?"

"No," she shakes her head, after closely examining the picture.

"Because it isn't your MRI. I talked to the nursing supervisor that was on the floor. She asked if I was there on your behalf. She asked me if you were going to sue the hospital."

"For what?"

"Malpractice."

"What are you going on about?"

"That isn't your MRI. Apparently a technician in the MRI department misfiled the reports. This report belongs to one Kaylee Beck. The two of you were admitted on the same day. Kaylee had been receiving treatment to shrink the tumor, before they could remove it. They did an MRI to view the progress, and discovered it was gone. Six weeks later when she returned for another follow up appointment they found the tumor was still there, and it had grown. After investigation it was determined that there was a mix-up. The hospital chose to sit on the records because Kaylee's family sued the hospital."

"You're trying to cheer me up by telling me a completely ridiculous story that you just made up?"

"I didn't make it up. That is what happened."

"Kaylee Beck? So if I find her, and call her up she is going to tell me that she has a brain tumor, and the records were mixed up?"

"If you call her you're going to need some serious long distance."

"Why?"

"I doubt that she will be able to tell you anything."

"Why not?"

"Because Kaylee Beck is dead."