May 2, 2011

She wanted to maintain her routines as much as possible, including her fitness routines. Obviously sparring was out of the question, her sessions at the overcrowded gym were to be stopped but running was fine. And so run, she would.

It was already becoming a chore, fatigue winning out most mornings last week. And even on the mornings she did manage to drag herself out of bed early enough, keeping her pace was difficult. Runs turned into jogs, jogs turned into a brisk walk.

This morning, however, she was determined. She had managed a three-mile jog, keeping a steady pace. By the time she arrived back home, she felt like her muscles were on fire. But the burn was good, so good. She had missed this, even if this was only a fraction of what she used to be capable of. It felt good.

She entered her apartment, the room dimly lit by morning sunlight shining through half-closed blinds. She walked to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, and cracking it open. The cold water cooled her core, refreshing her and quenching her thirst. She pulled her earbuds from her ears, placing her iPod on the counter before picking up her phone to check for any missed calls.

The animated voice sounded through the line, "You have one voicemail message."

Hey kid.

Her face dropped. She recognised the voice instantly, stomach churning in response.

It's Royce.

Her heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly want? They hadn't spoken since she arrested him. Not for lack of trying, on his part, but she had consistently refused to answer. He stopped calling after a while. The last she heard, he was living in LA.

I know I got no right to ask, but I need your help. I just got back into town and the fire's coming fast. Please call me.

The line cut out, leaving her stunned, conflicted. Old wounds, reopened by the sound of his voice. How dare he call her and ask for her help after what he did.

Her phone began to vibrate in her hand, her ringtone sounding immediately after. She answered without a second thought, bringing it back up to her ear.

"Royce?" she asked, habitually hopeful.

"No, it's Castle."

She sighed, swallowing her disappointment.

"You okay? Were you expecting Royce?"

"What? No, it's-" she had to get a grip, pull herself together. She couldn't be so thrown off by a simple voicemail. "I'm fine. What's up?"

"I was thinking about coming into the precinct today."

"Oh." She swallowed. Her throat felt dry, mouth like cotton. She reached for the bottle of water, sipping slowly.

"That is if you're okay with it." His voice was cautious, she had him feeling unsure.

She swallowed the mouthful of water, trying to pull herself together. "Yeah, yeah of course. I just-" She hesitated, oh God, the timing. "I won't be in until after 10 today."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she answered after a moment. "I have an ultrasound."

"Oh." Silence. Three long seconds of deafening silence.

She wasn't sure what his expectations were in regard to this side of things. A part of her had wanted to invite him to join her. She wanted him to be a part of this, she wanted this baby to be his. But, if it wasn't, all of this just seemed… cruel.

"I'll see you after 10, then?" He reworded his initial sentiment: if you're okay with it.

"Yeah."

"I'll bring coffee," he added, hanging up almost immediately after.

Guilt twinged in her gut. She should have told him. But at the same time, he hadn't asked about any of this. He had been here before, with Meredith, he knew what to expect and yet he hadn't asked a single question about appointments or ultrasounds. Did he not want to be involved in this way? Or was he giving her space, respecting her privacy? Was it on her to initiate these conversations?


It was 10am, on the dot. The elevator doors rolled open and he walked into the bullpen with as much feigned confidence as he could summon. Two coffees in hand, he strode towards Beckett's desk. It had been weeks since he had been here, and he was feeling out of place.

"Out of luck, Bro." Esposito's voice beckoned his attention. He turned on his heel, turning his attention towards the break room, where Espo and Ryan were just leaving. "Beckett isn't here."

Castle recognised this tone of voice, the body language on both men as they slowly approached him. He was in their bad books. He smiled, trying to show them that all was alright.

"I know. She should be arriving soon, though. So, I thought I would have a coffee ready for her." He placed the to go cup on her desk.

"Does she want you here, Castle?" Ryan's voice was much softer than Espo's. More caring, more concerned. Less get out of here or I'll beat your ass. Castle appreciated it.

"Did she tell you she didn't want me here?" he questioned.

"She didn't have to tell us. Weren't the unanswered calls enough?" Esposito's overprotective big brother act was all bravado, Castle knew that. But he hated the fact that the boys – his friends – had painted him as the bad guy. Obviously, they didn't actually know what was going on. Surely, if they did, they would understand that this wasn't his fault.

"Javi, leave him alone." Lanie stepped out from the break room. She had been well hidden by the boys' stance; Castle hadn't even realised she was there. "It's good to see you, Castle."

She wrapped her arms around him, embracing him with compassion. The act was unusual and seemed to confuse the boys just as much as it confused Castle. But he was never one to knock back a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, just for a moment, and then they both pulled away.

"How was the tour?" she asked. It wasn't the question she truly wanted answered, but it would do for now.

He let out a long sigh. "It was long. Uneventful. Not a lot to report, unfortunately."

Lanie smiled. "Well, I'm glad you're back." She looked over her shoulder to her boyfriend, who was eyeing the interaction curiously. "Javi's missed you," she added with a smirk.

Esposito looked at her, betrayed. "Lanie, what the heck?"

"It's okay, I missed you too," Castle laughed. He wasn't too macho to admit it. The team here was like family. He had missed them all while he was away.

They heard the familiar ding of the elevator announcing its arrival on their floor. The doors opened and a very solemn-looking Beckett stepped out, hands in her jacket pockets, eyes focussed intently on the floor on her feet moving as she walked the familiar path to her desk.

About halfway to her destination, she looked up, noticing the group for the first time. All eyes were glued to her.

"Hi," she greeted, feeling rather self-conscious under all the eyes.

"Hi," four voices echoed back to her in almost perfect unison.

"Uh, I brought you coffee." Castle pointed to the cup on her desk.

Her eyes moved to the cup, eyeing it as if it had offended her in some way. "Thank you," she muttered, lifting it from the desk and slowly bringing it to her lips.

The smell filled her nostrils. The same caffeinated scent she used to enjoy so much, now caused her stomach to churn. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and sipped. Decaf, disgusting, but she would force herself to tolerate it. Because she appreciated this, appreciated the normalcy that Castle was offering in the face of so much upheaval. She appreciated him, his presence, his support.

"I was hoping to catch you, actually," Lanie stated, gaining Kate's attention. "Can we talk?"

"Um, sure." She placed the coffee back on her desk, offered Castle a small smile of appreciation and then followed Lanie into the break room. She closed the door behind them, for a little extra privacy. "What's up?" she asked, casually.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. You seem kind of out of it," her friend noted, concerned.

"I'm fine," she reassured with a smile, but it was far from the truth. She was overwhelmed. Life kept coming at her, wave after wave, and she felt like she was drowning.

"You can talk to me," Lanie insisted.

Beckett looked over her shoulder, through the cracks in the blinds that covered the break room windows. The boys were still hovering by her desk but seemed immersed in conversation. She looked back to Lanie, pulling a small, folded piece of paper from her pocket and handing it to her friend.

"Oh, my goodness," Lanie cooed, running a finger delicately along the printout ultrasound image. "That's a baby. An actual baby." She had dropped her voice to a whisper. It hadn't really hit her yet, the reality of this, the notion that her friend was actually carrying a child. She could only imagine how hard this would have hit Kate. "Are you okay?"

"Should I have told Castle about the ultrasound?" she asked, avoiding the question.

"No," Lanie answered with confidence that only lasted a second. "I don't know, maybe?"

"Royce called me this morning," she jumped to the next thought that had been gnawing at her, hoping Lanie would manage to keep up.

"What the hell did he want?"

"Help."

"What did you say?"

She shook her head. "I missed the call. He left a voicemail, but I haven't called him back."

"Are you going to?" Anger faded to concern, concern for her friend and all that she had on her mind right now.

"I don't know if I can. I can't deal with this right now, Lanie." She scrubbed her hands over her face. "It's just… it's too much."

The break room door slowly creaked open and Esposito poked his head through the gap. Lanie placed the printout face down on the table, resting her hand over it casually, hiding it from sight. Both women looked to Esposito, giving him their undivided attention.

"Cap wants us down in records," he stated, an apologetic look on his face. His shoulder budged the door open further, revealing Castle and Ryan hovering behind.

Lanie looked back to Beckett, eyes darting down to the paper under her hand. Beckett reached out, taking it, and slipping it into her pocket. She was subtle, but not subtle enough to avoid Castle's observing eyes.

"Maybe we can meet you down there in a few minutes?" he suggested, looking to Esposito for acknowledgement. Espo nodded.

"I should go, let you guys get back to work." Lanie gave Beckett's hand a gentle, supportive squeeze. She walked toward the door, placing a kiss on Esposito's cheek and saying her goodbyes before leaving.

Ryan and Esposito followed suit, leaving Castle and Beckett alone in the break room.

"How did it go?" Castle asked once they're alone. She nodded, not trusting her voice to successfully hide the array of emotions she was feeling in this moment. "Is that a picture?" he gestured toward her, taking his best guess at what she had so slyly hidden away from sight moments earlier.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is." She was hesitant to show him, but he held out his hand.

"May I?"

She pulled it from her pocket, handing it across to him. He glanced at the information printed at the top of the frame: Katherine Houghton Beckett, 11/17/1979. He searched until he found the information he was seeking: GA = 6w5d.

"Six weeks?"

"They estimate from last menstruation, not conception," she explained.

"You know, I never really understood why they did that. I always assumed conception would mark day one, you know?"

She chuckled, "Yeah. I guess it's just easier. Not everyone knows the exact day they conceived."

He stared at the image in his hands, the small unmistakable figure in a sea of grainy greyscale. He felt… nothing.

"Everything seems to be okay?" he asked, passing the printout back to her.

She nodded, taking the image from him. The baby was healthy, growing as it should. But things still seemed so far from okay.

"We should go," she urged. "Montgomery will be waiting for us."

"Right," he accepted that this marked the end of this conversation. He held his hand out, gesturing toward the door. "After you."

He followed her to the elevator, studying the back of her head as if it would offer him the answers she wasn't willingly giving up. Today was one of those days where he regretted getting out of bed. Today just didn't feel right.

And he couldn't pinpoint why.


The Captain's special assignment for the team was… a distraction, at least. They had spent the day sorting through cold cases. A serial killer in Pittsburgh had confessed to running rampant in New York City for almost six years over a decade ago – and now the NYPD was scrambling to save face.

After hours of digging through files, they had a pile of twelve maybe's that they would pass along to the cold case investigation team to look into further. They wouldn't say it was a waste of a day – far from it, in fact – but it was tedious work, and no guaranteed win.

The one thing that she would count as a win, however, was how easily they fell back into working together. Although the day was long, draining, it wasn't awkward. They fell back into the old dynamic – the push and pull – that she was used to, that she had counted on time and time again. And for the first time in weeks, her mind wasn't a chaotic minefield.

They had just finished packing up for the day, when Montgomery entered the conference room, face sombre.

"Everything okay, Captain?" Beckett asked sincerely.

"Beckett, Castle, you can go," he dismissed, moving his attention to Ryan and Esposito. "A word in my office, detectives."

He took his leave, pacing across the bullpen to his office. The boys exchanged worried glances, wondering what the issue could possibly be. They placed the file boxes they had been packing onto the table and then headed to Montgomery's office. Montgomery closed the door behind them, risking one more glance in Beckett's direction before doing so.

"I wonder what that's about," Castle mused.

"I don't know."

She kept glancing up at the Captain's office as she packed away the last of the files, concern gnawing at her. Castle passed her the lightest of the boxes, then stacked the remaining two to carry himself.

They trekked down to the records room in silence. He could feel her growing more anxious by the minute, the peace she had managed to find throughout the day draining away from her as her thoughts began to swirl again. He wanted to help her, to calm her, but he just didn't know how.

By the time they got back to the bullpen, Montgomery's office was empty.

"Maybe they went home?" Castle suggested, a plausible scenario.

But she wasn't convinced. "Yeah, maybe."

She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair, slinging it over her forearm.

"Walk you out?" she offered, conjuring her best attempt at a smile.

He appreciated her efforts. Right now, that's all they had. Effort. To make this work, to make things right again, would take effort on both parts. He appreciated that she was trying, despite her apprehension.

"Sounds good." He smiled. They walked to the garage in silence, but by the time they got into their respective cars, they felt one more step closer to being okay.


He hadn't taken off yet, hadn't even started his car, when his phone began to ring.

"Castle," he answered, eyes on Beckett's car as she drove away.

"Yo, Castle, you still with Beckett?" Esposito's voice came through the speaker as a broken crackle. Cell reception in the garage was shoddy at the best of times.

"She just left. What's up?"

"Mike Royce is dead."