The sound of someone banging on her door jolts her from her alternate reality. She opens her eyes, and pushes aside her bedclothes. She scurries to the door in a t-shirt, with her bare feet smacking against the hardwood floor. She looks out the peephole, and groans. She unlatches the door, and unhooks the chain. She pulls the door open, and looks at him.
"Castle what are you doing here?"
"You know I asked myself the complete opposite question last night. I couldn't stop asking myself why I wasn't here."
"I think that we both know the answer to that."
"I had to come see you. There is something that I wanted to run by you."
"Castle it is six thirty in the morning, on a Saturday. You shouldn't be here."
"I needed to talk to you."
"About what? Look, Castle if this is about the baby... we can talk about that, but I don't think that now is the time. You could have called."
"That isn't really what I am here to talk about."
"I know that you will want to be involved if..."
He cuts her off, "Kate can I come in?"
She nods, "Yeah, I guess."
She takes a step back, and allows him to enter the apartment. He closes the door behind himself.
"There is something we need to talk about."
"It's really early," she points out.
"Would you like me to make you some coffee?"
"You're welcome to have some," she answers.
"You don't want any?"
"I haven't drank any coffee in months," she admits, "but I will gladly make you some."
"I would appreciate that."
She heads into the kitchen. He follows her, leaning against the counter as she begins to make a pot of coffee.
"I want to talk about what happened with you, and Esposito."
"I don't want to rehash this. Castle why do you have to make this so damn complicated?"
"You are the one who did that, or at least you think that you are."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"What with the envelopes sitting on your dining room table?" he changes the subject, sensing her apprehension.
She closes the lid of the coffee maker, and turns to look at him, "They're test results."
"Your test results?"
"Yeah."
"How long have they been sitting there?"
"The MRI is from yesterday."
"And the other?"
"The DNA test is from about three weeks ago."
"Why is it still sitting there unopened?"
"Because I haven't been able to muster up enough courage to open it."
"I'm here for moral support."
"But, that isn't the only reason that you're here, is it?"
"You know that I always have ulterior motives."
"Yes," she confirms.
He looks at her, standing in the kitchen, in front of the coffee maker, wearing his t-shirt. He smiles, "I see that you're wearing my shirt."
"Yeah."
"I am going to need that back, so if you would be kind enough to take it off I would really appreciate it."
She ignores his suggestive comment, and chooses to cut to the chase, "Rick what are you doing here?"
"I told you I want to talk about what happened between..."
She cuts him off, "And I told you I didn't."
"Then maybe you should open those envelopes first. Why are you putting it off?"
"Because maybe I'm a little bit scared what the results might say. It is entirely possible that I didn't want to be alone when I opened them, but I couldn't..." she trails off.
"You could have called. You can always call."
"You're here now, so you're right, I should open them."
"Okay," he stretches his hand towards the table.
They find themselves parked at her dining table a few moments later. She sits at one end of the table. He sits right next to her. She stares at the envelopes. She pushes the envelopes across the table to him.
"You want me to read them?" he quizzes.
"Yes," she nods in confirmation.
"Which one do you want me to read first?"
"The MRI."
"Maybe it is best if you don't know the paternity."
"What would make you say that?"
"Will either result make you love the baby any less? Will either one of them make you want her any less?"
"No."
"But it might make you like yourself less?"
She nods, hating that he knows her so well. Despite her best attempts to hide her true feelings, he can read her, without a single word coming from her mouth.
He opens the first envelope. He pulls out the papers inside. He looks at the scan, and then at the consult report. He smiles, and hands it to her.
"I was right."
"I know. After you left I spoke to the hospital, and to Kaylee's family."
"You're not dying. You do not have a brain tumor. The hospital never contacted you, because they thought you might not sue them if you didn't know."
"Which makes me feel like an even shittier human being."
He tears the next envelope open. He reads the results to himself. He looks over at her, but doesn't offer her the piece of paper.
"How do you want this to turn out?"
"I want this all to be a dream."
"I assure you that it's not."
"I know, I have the ultrasound pictures to prove it. Just tell me what it says."
"You're sure?"
"Just tell me!" she insists.