Chapter 5

Remy's? I'm a bit confused walking through the door. I'm not in complete control of my body, just following the momentum of my legs striding confidently through the door. On the upside, nothing hurts anymore, a serene calm overriding the past few weeks of physical and mental pain. None of that nagging pull of my various wounds. None of the nausea either, a small victory I suppose. I recognize the classic diner booths and small tables, the counter framing the back wall, my cop-honed perception recognizing it as Remy's Diner. But this is different. Clean, devoid, the edges fuzzy, unformed. If I focus on something, it takes shape, but as soon as I look away it disappears into ethereal mist. Like things are buffering, none of the objects actually exist. No one else solid is in the diner, which is also strange. This is New York City, and Remy's is a 24 hour diner; there is always someone here. Today, there are just people-shaped blobs, shadows, and partially formed mists. Featureless, no one looking at me, or even facing my direction. My body is still moving, halfway across the empty diner, beelining for my favorite table when I suddenly stop.

Mom is sitting at one of the booths. Unlike the others in the diner, her features are sharp and clear. She hasn't changed since the last time I saw her fifteen years ago, the morning of January 9th, 1999. I was home from college, on winter break, taking some time to have a homemade breakfast together with my mom. Even though she had work, and I had plans to see friends, she still took the time to make breakfast. Scrape together any time we could, even for the little things. I missed those breakfasts. And now she was here, in Remy's, waiting for me.

"MOM!" I bound to her as she stood from the booth. We embrace, a hug only mom could give. A hug I've needed every day for the past fifteen years. Fifteen years. I've imagined what I would say, what I would ask, what we would talk about. People who have lost a loved one sometimes linger on what that conversation would be like, given one more chance. I can't lie, I've wanted more than one chance to have this exact scenario. Is that why I'm here now? Not wanting to lose this, I refocus on the moment. All of the things I wish I had my mom for these past few years come flooding forward. But I can't find the words, just tears. Tears I thrust back. I can feel Johanna tensing as well, doing the same thing with her emotions. We are so alike.

Wordlessly we part, our fingers dancing playfully trying to maintain contact as she motions me to sit across from her in the booth.

She breaks the silence with a slight smile, "Hi Katherine. I've been waiting for you." She pauses, tilting her head to assess my condition, "I hear you have news."

I answer her with a confused look and a slight shrug, trying to be playful. I don't want our only chance at conversation to be serious. "About what? What do you want to know?" What I don't say is, where do I start? It's been an awful long time. I don't know what she already knows, what she has had a hand in. What is she specifically looking to talk about?

"Oh Katherine", she pauses for a beat, her slight smile transitioning to a full chuckle, " Great choice in Richard, by the way." She reaches for a milkshake that has just appeared in front of her. There's a matching one in front of me. Strawberry, my favorite.

She continues after a thoughtful sip, "You could have spared a lot of hurt, you know. If you would have just let him in, let him love you years ago. You don't always have to do things the hard way." She takes another sip to ease the tension. Embarrassed, I hide my blush behind a sip of my own milkshake. I know she's right, she always is. The moments that I could have told Rick how I felt, could have saved us both from the misery, flash before my vision. We settle into the silence and I allow her stern motherly gaze to inflict my deserved punishment.

Just as I think about it, a plate of fries appears before us. No waiter, just thought about it and it appeared. I could ask how, but something stops me. I don't want to ruin this moment. We dive in, as if I'm 19 again, and she is giving me advice about life and boys on a quiet Saturday morning. She keeps eyeing me though, silently prodding me to answer her original query. I allow the weight of it to finally sink in. She already knows, I can feel that in her soft gaze, but she wants me to tell her. She wants the precious mother daughter moment. If she already knows, then why am I nervous? Jittery butterflies have replaced the nausea I haven't quite gotten used to yet.

"Mom," I take a fortifying breath, "I'm pregnant."

Her face lights up, the joyous smile I've missed all these years radiating off of her being. She reaches out her hand, and I grab it across the table. I'm making her a grandma, the pride pulsing through our held grip. She is beaming, blushing, bringing her free hand up to wipe the tears pooling near the corners of her eyes.

"I'm so happy for you, Katie."

I beam back in a sheepish half smile, a sort of embarrassed pride. While I'm excited that she knows, I've really screwed all of this up. I'm pregnant while trying to piece together a marriage I blew up. I'm trying to build a life with a man who got shot in his own home because of my own decisions. I'm attempting to recover from yet another round of bullet wounds. None of this is the right way to do it. But it's too late now.

"Lily," she ventures, finally breaking the silence, pulling me from my jumbled thoughts with a slight shake of my held hand.

"What?" I'm confused, her statement coming out of nowhere.

"Lily. Call her Lily." Mom insists.

One word in the statement blows me away, "Her?" I inquire, incredulous.

"Yeah. You're having a little girl." She chuckles, "She's going to be lovely."

Recalling the one crazy case from years ago with the time traveler, I'm reminded that fate had kids lined up for Rick and I. Three if I recall correctly. This is just one. And apparently it's a little girl. I'm wondering how my mom knows any of this. I'm barely far along enough to have the first definitive ultrasound. But I hold back my questions.

She can sense my hesitation, responding with a shrug, "A mother's intuition Kate. We just know things."

Slowly blinking to push back tears that have appeared in the corners of my eyes, I want to ask her to coach me through all of this. How to balance being a mom and a professional. Instead, all I venture is the lame question, "Why Lily?"

"That's what we were going to call you. But your dad convinced me to go with Katherine instead. I'm glad he did. But I've always loved the name Lily."

We revel in the moment, hands held across the table, milkshakes mysteriously not melting, munching on our also bottomless tray of fries. I gently close my eyes, nodding at the love we are transmitting. Sorting through the never ending list of all I want to ask mom while I have her here.

The density of emotions in the air is starting to make me uncomfortable though, so I glance around, trying to identify the distinctly Remy characteristics. They remain shadows, not doing my internal tension any favors.

"If you know all of this, then…then why are we here?" She joins me in observing our surroundings, letting her silence provide my answers. Realization sinks in. I feel no pain. I can discern no solid shapes. There remains only one conclusion. I try to conceal my panic, facing her, struggling to push out a whisper, "Mom… am…. am I dead?"

She meets my gaze, then directs it at the table. "No Katie, not yet. But if you keep fighting everything….." her voice trails off, directing her eyes to our held hands. Her words strike deep, but she is right. "You need to focus on your recovery," she continues, motioning knowingly to my torso, "Let people help you. For our Lily."

I know she is right, and I really did need the reminder. I want to stay here with her, have her coach me through this chaotic mess I've put us and myself in.

"Kate, you really need to stop fighting everything." She repeats, making sure I understand. Suddenly a sharp pain hits me in my torso, a deep stabbing where I just recently received a bullet wound to the spleen. I snap my eyes shut letting the vertigo pull me down.

I hear her repeat it again, her voice weaker, farther away, coming through a tunnel. Distorted.

"Kate, you need to stop fighting everything."

Castle's voice drifted into Kate's consciousness, the echo of her mother's words still reverberating in her mind. Her confusion is further stoked by the presence of a large comforting hand enveloping hers. Not her mom's hand, but Rick's. Kate un-scrunched her face, gently opened her eyes, tilting her head to the voice. Expecting her mother, Rick's large form startles her. He was sitting in one of the hard plastic hospital chairs, backlit by the recessed window along the wall. Perception coming in waves, she realizes she is once again in a hospital bed, tethered to an IV. The pain she felt in her torso at Remy's a very real bandaged section of her body. With his free hand, Rick is grasping the binding of her journal in his lap, his eyes sparkling with tears.

Unsure of what to do, what to say, Kate manages to whisper, "Stop what?", her voice weak and heavy, laden with confusion and exhaustion.

Stop blaming yourself. Stop beating yourself up over everything. Stop driving straight into a concrete wall. He left all of those things unsaid, opting instead for a soft, "Stop fighting so hard."

These weren't words she wanted to hear right now. Fighting was all she knew how to do. What she resorted to when uncertainty dominated. But her mother had also told her to stop fighting, just moments ago. Stop fighting so that she could give their little girl a chance. Their little girl….. Knowing her mom was right, Kate let silence fall in the room, the melody of her heart beat playing gently from the overhead monitor.

Swallowing against her pain, Kate turned again to Rick. "You weren't meant to read that." She meant it to be tinged with more anger, but it came out closer to sad and weak. Looking away, anywhere but at the love of her life, she squeezed back tears, still processing all that had occurred.

He knew he had promised himself earlier that he wouldn't read it. He had written on the blank pages instead, trapping his anxiety in staccato plot lines of their love, their life, as he had camped in the surgical waiting room. The OBGYN and surgeon had returned with the news that the baby was going to be okay, but that Kate had had an infection around her intestinal stitches. They had cleaned up as much as possible, but she would have to be more careful about her medications and diet moving forward. She would have to be more diligent if both her and the baby were going to survive this. Both good and bad news. As he waited for her to be moved to recovery, Rick found himself paging mindlessly through her journal pages. The letters were tight and frantic, much different than her usual flowing cursive. He supposed it was due in part to her shoulder immobility. Possibly also due to her desperate retreat into her emotions, evidence of her circling the abyss. Reading her words felt like a violation at first. But he needed to know how she felt. What had started as a violation now was a clandestine mission to save her from the abyss a second time. She was given a second chance, and he would make sure she didn't squander it.

"I know," he offered as an apology, letting go of her journal to gently cup her chin in his right hand, guiding her head to face him. "Please stop fighting." He stared into her hazel eyes so intently, trying to portray the love he had for her. For them. For their future child.

Closing her eyes to guard against his intensity, she let a few tears leak past her eyelashes. He was right. She was running head long into a concrete wall, trying to recover on her own. Trying to do it all. Instinctively she brought her hand to her lower abdomen, tracking a point just above her pelvis, snapshots of memory flooding her vision. She had been home, alone for the first time since the shooting. The memory of the intense flutter and cramping, the overwhelming feeling of being incredibly hungry but simultaneously wanting to puke. The lurch of a dry heave had caused her to grip the kitchen counter as her internal wounds pulsed. She recalled wondering when she had last eaten anything.

"The baby is okay." Castle responded to her movements, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb over the back of her right hand, just below the IV port. Back in the present, she kept her eyes closed. Kate simply nodded, letting the tears track unashamed down her face. Her mom had told her the baby was okay, but how was Kate supposed to explain that to Rick? How was she supposed to explain any of this?

"It was just responding to your body's stress." He continued trying to soothe her, now rubbing his hand along the side of her face, brushing away her tears. No use in hiding what was going on. Hiding is what got her here. Hiding wouldn't help her recovery. Truth would.

"Kate," he let his right hand go from her face, using it to completely envelope the hand he was already holding, anchoring her to this reality. "you developed an internal infection around your stomach wounds. Your body was fighting itself so hard. It almost….." he trailed off, noticing the pain in her eyes as she stared through him, through the veil of tears. It took everything in him not to crawl into the hospital bed and hold her. Wrap her up and protect her from any future pain. Instead, he leaned into her, half on-half off the edge of the bed, guiding her sobbing form into the crux of his shoulder, her nose tickling his neck. This was incredibly stressful on his itching and irritated sternum wound, but he didn't care. He only needed her. They held that position for a long time.

Castle continued to hold her, even after she stopped sobbing and fell asleep exhausted. Nurses had bustled in and out, checking her vitals as best they could without disturbing the cuddled couple.

This latest episode had earned Kate Beckett another week in the hospital. It had only been two days since their cuddling reconciliation after her second surgery, and she was already making incredible improvements. She was looking rosier and was more active. The festering infection had wracked her body hard, and now that it was under control, her internal tension was also releasing. Her entire care team had coordinated, finally settling on a system of pregnancy safe antibiotics and pain medication. Less pain meant more engagement, and she was finally being a willing participant. The OBGYN had also changed course, allowing more pain medication than before and Rick could see the immediate change in the love of his life.

Morning had just dawned with Castle grudgingly fighting the light on the uncomfortable hospital couch. Yes, he knew it was bucking protocol to be staying in the hospital; Kate may or may not have threatened the nurses that tried to force him to go home overnight. He only went home to change clothes and shower, and that was usually somewhere in the middle of the day. Kate was finally eyeing discharge, just having to prove she could keep down an entire meal and walk one lap around the hallway. The walk she was already doing a few times a day, slow and deliberate, but the food was a different story, something that wasn't completely within her control. Rick looked around, wondering what had woken him, perceiving Kate attempting to push herself more upright. Dr. Burke knocked on the door frame again, announcing his arrival to this rare "out- of - clinic" call. Rick pushed himself off the couch, still half asleep. Wishing Kate goodbye with a small kiss to her forehead, he handed Dr. Burke her journal on his way out. Rick respected the process, and would make himself scarce for a few hours, knowing this was just as necessary as her physical improvements as well. He, however, was still partially asleep struggling to keep his anxiety at bay.

Going home meant facing the blood stains, her haunting form curled on the floor, the fort of pillows he had constructed that had been actually making her more uncomfortable. Being at the precinct without Beckett made him feel like an interloper, a visitor that had long outstayed his welcome. He chose instead to do a morning walk in the park, meeting the exercise requirement of his own recovery. While it sounded good, it started to make his chest tight after only forty five minutes, his breathing becoming more ragged. He ended up wandering listless to his P.I. office, an asthmatic sounding zombie beelining through the door. Hayley and Alexis were both on their laptops.

"Dad?"

"Hmmm", Alexis' voice had pulled him from his incoherent thoughts as he trudged through the anteroom.

'What are you doing here?" Her voice rose with anxiety as she made her way around the desk. Castle had stopped in the middle of the room, like a dementia patient who just realized where he was.

"Uhmmm". A slight whistle rasped through his lungs as he spoke.

"Is Beckett alright? Dad, what's wrong?" Having stood and strode quickly around her desk, she was now facing him, shaking his arm forcefully, attempting to bring him into this reality, to get something other than short unintelligible answers.

"Yeah… yeah. She's okay." shaking his head, he tried to breathe slower. Was he still half asleep? Why was he so disoriented?

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Oh." Looking around, his face changing with the recognition of the familiar, his voice also modulating to a more subdued tone, "She…she was meeting with Dr. Burke. I didn't need to stick around."

Hayley had remained seated, but her eyes had widened with concern as the conversation flowed in front of her. She also relaxed a bit, adding, "So you came here?"

"Uhhh… yeah. Not sure what else to do." He eyed an open chair, a mission he could fulfill.

"Rick? How have you been?" Hayley ventured, leaning back in her chair to better assess the situation.

Collapsing backwards into the chair, he winced as his chest tightened in protest. He had been so focused on Kate's recovery the last few days that he had abandoned his own. Focusing on slowing his breath, he searched for the right words.

"Yeah.." he hesitated, "Just…. tired."

"That's more than obvious." Hayley's characteristic sarcasm rang through the room.

"Dad, stay and rest." Alexis was standing over him, still not convinced. "If Beckett is okay, then rest. Focus on you for a bit. She's not going anywhere."

"I know. I just…. I can't lose her." His sincerity was palpable. He looked up into his daughter's eyes like a lost child, a role reversal he wasn't mentally ready for.

Alexis placed her hand on his shoulder, fortifying his love. "You haven't dad. You have done everything right. She's on the mend now, because of you."

Closing his eyes, some rogue tears escape his lashes. The last month had been challenging for everyone. But Alexis was right. Beckett was on the mend. He had kept her from the abyss mentally, and had been there to assist her physically. And she just needed to keep down a solid meal today and she could go home. His own recovery was also going okay, just intermittently painful when he pushed himself too far, like today. Maybe he could afford some rest. The couch in his P.I. office was significantly more comfortable than the one at the hospital. And he wouldn't be interrupted by vital checks, doctors, Kate being restless and trying to see if she could push herself just a little bit further. He might actually be able to squeeze out a few hours of actual rest. Looking up into his daughter's eyes, he nodded his consent, allowing her to wrap her arm under his shoulder. She led him to the couch in his private inner office and took his phone. A few hours of semi-quality rest would do him good.

"Hey", Castle stepped into the hospital room, sparing the knock because his hands were full. He had achieved an entire four and half hour uninterrupted nap at his office. Alexis had fielded update texts from Kate, explaining the revolving door of doctor checks she had while Castle was gone. Kate was sitting upright in the bed, a half-eaten meal on the tray table in front of her, next to a strip of ultrasound pictures.

Her face opened up with a smile, something he hadn't seen from her in a month. Was that even a hint of a blush?

"I… ugh… I heard you were opening a flower store. Figured I'd pitch in." He offered with a nervous chuckle, his head peeking sideways around the massive bouquet of flowers that was filling his hands. He had noticed them at the flower shop between his office and the hospital, demanding the taxi to pull over and wait for him, practically jumping out of the moving vehicle. The bouquet was honestly quite large, a couple of vibrant orange tiger lilies filling the foreground, matched with pink flight lilies trying but failing to be subtle next to them. To cap off the entire ensemble a massive peace lily, mid bloom, poked up the middle.

Kate actually laughed out loud, the levity quickly punctured by a short gasp of pain. "Wow. You didn't have to…" she let it trail off, the blush of her face for real this time.

Castle swelled with pride as he took a few more steps into the room. "I did. They called to me. I couldn't stop thinking about lilies for some reason today. They reminded me of you. Of hope. I needed to get them."

Kate's blush deepened as her eyes darted between his face and the bouquet. He set the obnoxious display on the edge of her tray table, nearly covering up the ultrasound pictures.

She reached forward to protect them, repeating, "Rick, you really didn't have to do this," her movements being interpreted by him as a welcoming fall into his soft kiss to her check. After his kiss, his gaze was drawn to the precious cargo she had reached for.

Ultrasound pictures of their baby, nine weeks old. Fuzzy and unformed. It was still super early, but the OBGYN had been excited about her recovery progress so far, and thought that the reassurance would help buoy Kate through continuing her recovery at home.

"Rick, I need to tell you something. Something about her." She rubbed her fingers lovingly over the photos.

"Her? It's too early to know that for sure Kate", his face moved from excitement to confusion in quick succession. "She's fine…right?" His facial expressions dance finally ending in deep concern.

"Yeah. Yeah, she's fine. It's going to be fine." Kate pulled the pictures closer, "Sit down. Please. I want to talk to you about it."