Castle 1. The Reveal

_**AN: **Happy Birthday AC! Thank you for bringing me into the fray. :)_

* * *

.

**Expectations**

He hates this. Seriously, this just isn't fair. She so rarely has a day off in the middle of the week, and instead of spending it lounging in bed with her, all her delicious nakedness aligned with his, he has to sit through Black Pawn meetings. Really dull meetings. Final edits, tour schedules, press releases, details, boring details. Seriously, doesn't he pay people for that?

Castle bounces his toes against the ground, stealthily reaches for another sugar-glazed donut. On second thought, maybe he's already had enough sugar. He can't sit still; it is a gorgeous day outside, the sun dancing gaily through the double-glass windows, and he imagines the heat flittering off the hot asphalt on the streets, the heavy smell of humidity and dry dust, greasy hotdogs and ice cream, and children jumping and screaming in the fountains.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, jolting him out of his day dream. He glances up but everybody around the conference table is animatedly discussing the six or seven line summary on the back of the book jacket and honestly, why is he even here?

He fishes the phone out of his pocket; can't stop the grin that spreads over his cheeks when he sees that she sent him a message.

Kate.

A text message with a photo.

Actually, it is only the photo. She didn't write anything with it, just sent a picture of herself. Curious, he taps the display and it blows up to full screen.

God she is so utterly, breathtakingly beautiful. It hits him every time, sends hot dancing shivers through his blood.

She is wearing white three quarter pants that show off her slim, tan calves; flip flops on her feet and a purple sleeveless shirt, revealing equally tan arms, lithe yet so strong underneath, and so sensitive when he meticulously runs his tongue up the inside of her elbow…

He squirms in his chair, restless to get out of here, trying to rein in his overeager imagination. Wants to go join her wherever she is, whatever she is doing. Speaking of…

Castle peers at the picture more closely. She is leaning with her back against the trunk of a tree, her slim body relaxed, one knee pulled up for balance, with her foot pressed against the bark. Her face is upturned, eyes closed and the sun is coming in from behind her, outlining her entire silhouette in bright, iridescent light, as if she is glowing.

His heart thumps loudly against his ribcage. She is so incredibly, stunningly gorgeous. He may have to have that picture framed.

* * *

.

The next message arrives about an hour later. He snorts a little when he opens the photo to full screen. She went to the zoo?

Gina elbows his arm, gives him an icy glare and he hides the phone, pretends to pay attention for about thirty seconds before he picks up the phone to stare at her picture once more.

She is dwarfed by a thick wooden pole that reaches high into the sky; has her hands wrapped around it and a leg swung up high in the air behind her, laughs brightly into the photo as she goofs around. There is a large, round nest perched atop the pole, holding two storks that regally look down at the world.

He loves this side of her, the playful fun girl that can find joy in almost anything. He always knew she had that in her but now that they're dating, he gets to be a part of it, all the time, and it's an adventure every day, a joyride he never wants to jump off again. Her happiness is all he ever wanted.

He smiles, pleased, slides the phone back in his pocket.

* * *

.

It's just after lunch when she sends yet another photo. They spoke during his lunch break, of course. She just wanted him to feel as if he was with her during the day, she admitted softly when he asked her about the images, and it's exhilarating, almost overwhelming, knowing how much she misses him too.

However, it does not help him decipher her next photo. Because it only shows a crate packed full with fresh cabbage heads. She must be at the farmer's market. She loves it there, always admires the variety of flowers when they stroll through the stands on Saturday mornings, and he buys her fresh fruit that she eats immediately, the warm sweet juice running down her chin in tantalizing trails.

But she isn't even in the picture, only a vegetable.

The next image pops in a mere minute later. A close-up shot of a pea pod, cracked open along its walls, the peas nestled inside, round and plump and bright green.

He is utterly confused. He feels like she is sending him a message and he isn't getting it.

Is she making him dinner? Inviting him for dinner? But she knows he's not particularly fond of any food that is green.

* * *

.

It is a couple of hours this time before Kate sends him another message and he is getting restless, impatient with it. There is a mystery to decipher, there is his woman waiting for him and they really must wrap this up quickly; he is reaching the end of his patience. He needles Gina until she finally gives in and restructures the afternoon meeting so he won't have to stay any longer than another hour.

His phone hums and this time, he excuses himself for a moment, hides in the hallway before he pulls up the photo.

She is at the loft now, and- what _is_ she doing? He barks out a loud laugh at the image. She is standing in the kitchen, barefoot, and wearing an apron. The woman has probably never worn an apron before in her life! Said apron is tied around her high, too; instead of around her waist, she has the strings cinched together just under her breasts. She's put her hair in an orderly, 1950s style bun, and the whole outfit looks like a Halloween costume gone wrong.

So maybe she is making him dinner, but then why the apron, why is she barefoot when she frequently complains that the tiles are too cold against her soles (he is already planning on having floor heating installed for her soon). Something niggles just at the edges of his brain; something he feels he should be able to put together but he cannot put his finger on it.

Kate, what are you trying to say?

* * *

.

It is with the next one that he finally gets it, and he cannot believe it took him that long to put it together. He's sure he won't live that one down.

He is in the middle of shaking hands, saying his good byes and 'great job's and 'thank you's when her message pops in; he glances down and realization swamps hotly all over his body, leaps to his heart and he can barely concentrate on who he is speaking to, can barely breathe, probably sounds like an incoherent fool but he doesn't care, it doesn't matter, nothing matters but this, her, Kate, and he makes his excuses rapidly, needs to just get home, right now.

He stares at it more thoroughly during the elevator ride down, can't stop staring at it during the taxi ride.

She is standing next to the oven, in the photo. The oven door is open; she has the rack pulled out and perched atop the rack is a single hamburger bun.

It's a bun. In the oven.

And the stork.

And she was glowing.

The cabbage patch, and a pea in a pod.

Wearing her apron high. Barefoot in the kitchen.

The photos arrive faster now; she seems to know that he finally got it. She's sitting at the table, smiling brightly, part smug and part sultry, such an alluring contrast, with two plates in front of her.

Eating for two.

He silently urges on the elevator that has never before gone up to his loft as slowly as right now. His heart is leaping so fast, almost makes him feel nauseous, he is stunned and excited and exhilarated and-

He should've gotten her flowers, a huge bouquet, or maybe a gift, she deserves a gift, all the gifts really, anything, everything. But what, what could he get that is as gigantic as-? Then his phone hums again-

And there is nothing in the world that would make him go anywhere but to her now.

The picture is grainy, milky blue and white, just a big bubble shape with a little bubble inside, formed just like a kidney bean, but he's seen these before, knows he's staring at his entire world, right there.

She follows it up with a text this time.

"When are you coming home… Daddy?"


	2. 8 Weeks

**EXPECTATIONS**

**AN: **This is for all of you lovely readers and reviewers! You've asked (begged, demanded, sobbed for, pleaded) so nicely for me to continue this story and then the idea took hold in my head too, and didn't let go and kept growing and now here we are and clearly, I am not immune to peer pressure. I am also undoubtedly insane, starting yet another multi-chapter story when I can barely keep up with the ones I have going; however, I do have a very specific idea/schedule in mind for this story that makes it pertinent that I start posting this now. The updates will have their own purposeful pacing. You have spoiled me so amazingly with all your many reviews for this – please do keep it up. :)

If you made it through this epically long ramble of an author's note and are still here, I thank you. I hope you will enjoy this journey.

* * *

**EXPECTATIONS**

_Interlude_

"Kate." He rushes inside, hurries through the loft, can't wait to see her, needs to feel her, wrap her in his arms, because he can't believe, he can't- Where is she? "Kate!"

She's sitting on the bed, legs outstretched and leaning back against the purple fluffy bed pillow he got for her, and a book on her lap.

"Took you long enough, Castle." She teases, but when she lifts her eyes up to him, there is a layer of insecurity clouding the green of her eyes.

His heart is beating so hard, he can't control it, doesn't know what to do, just stands there, absolutely stunned, the delight robbing him of his words. Staring at her, his beautiful amazing Kate, and this miracle, and his throat is clogged, he can't-.

"Are you… okay with this?" She asks solemnly, her eyes wide and shiny. "I mean, we didn't exactly… plan it."

It's like ice water in his veins, the questions and uncertainty lining her voice, but surely she must know-

"Well, we didn't exactly… _not_ try," he points out rather inanely, and why is he still standing there like an imbecile?

"Come here," she whispers, holds out her hand to him and then he leaps forward, laces his fingers through hers as he stands by her side, his face looming over hers. She blinks up at him, earnest and soft and asking silent questions, and he runs his fingers along her cheek, down to her jaw; cradles her chin between his fingertips to tilt up her face.

"Kate." He murmurs her name, is filled up to the brim with awe and immeasurable bliss and gratefulness, for the love she has for him, for getting to be the man by her side, to experience this with her. Oh god she's going to have a baby. _Their_ baby.

"I've always wanted more kids," he speaks the words against her lips, quiet and earnest, needing to soothe her, dispel all the worries he saw dancing in her mesmerizing eyes.

"I've been waiting for the right woman." And then he kisses her, feels her lips soft under his mouth, warm and welcoming as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"You, Kate." He lingers, deepens the kiss slowly, intent on filling her to the brim with his gratefulness, his wonder and exhilaration, his unending love for her.

She mellifluously arches under him, her eyes filling with tears, and he kisses along her cheeks, sipping the salty trail off her skin. He crawls on to the bed next to her, snuggles his face against her belly, delicately kisses a circle around the still invisible mound.

"How long?"

"Six weeks," she answers quietly, carding her fingers through the short strands of his hair. "I found out this morning; just a routine appointment, I didn't even suspect anything."

He sighs, rests his ear and cheek against her stomach, imagines the tiny, kidney bean-shaped creature bouncing around within its still spacious cavern, kept warm and safe inside of her.

"I made another appointment in a couple of weeks," she continues, dancing her soft fingertips over his forehead, down his cheek. "So we can hear the heartbeat."

His breath catches at that and he clenches his fingers around hers. The heartbeat. Wow. He snuggles in closer, wishes it were possible to hear it through her skin.

"I mean, if you want to come," she asks carefully, as if she isn't quite sure and he raises his head quickly, looks up at her.

"Of course. I'll be there for _anything_," he promises quietly. Because of course he will. There is nowhere else he'd rather be, nobody he'd rather do this with.

She smiles, her eyes shining brightly, sweet pleasure and amazed happiness, and he wraps an arm around her slim waist.

"I love you, Kate." Sinking back onto her stomach, he presses another lingering kiss onto her lower belly. He imagines baby in there, like a pea snuggled in a pod; his mind flashing back to the picture of the pea pod she sent, and his writer's brain still can't believe he didn't get it right there. "And I love you, little Peabody."

"Peabody?" She snorts incredulously, "like the dog?"

"No." He nudges his nose into her belly button, inhales her sweet scent. "Like Amelia Peabody from the mystery novels."

She laughs quietly, and it's deep and kind; it's the laugh that always tells him how much she loves him, despite all his quirks and annoyances or maybe a little bit because of it. He holds her tightly to him, silently promises to keep them safe and warm, forever.

* * *

_8 weeks_

"Listen to this, Kate!" He nudges her shoulder excitedly and she turns her head to look at the magazine he has opened in front of him. "At eight weeks, webbed fingers and toes are poking out from your baby's hands and feet!" He sees this tiny baby shape in front of his inner eye, swimming in its safe, fluid-filled bubble, waving arms and legs, like little fins. "Oh and he has eye lids."

She smiles at him indulgently. "How often have you read all this stuff by now?" Well okay, so he may have been reading a few too many pregnancy books and magazines and newsletters all at once, and enthusiastically providing her with minute detail of each new development. But he's just so excited, and somehow that makes him feel closer. Kate can feel her body changing but he can't even see a bump yet and it's all so unbelievably surreal.

But she snuggles her cheek against his shoulder, pulls her legs up on the padded waiting room chair next to him. "And _she_, she has eye lids."

He grins at her. "You don't know that," he needles her playfully. "See, it even says here," he points his finger at the paragraph in the magazine, reading out loud. "The external genitals still haven't developed enough to reveal whether you're having a boy or a girl."

She huffs at him, closes her eyes but the smile stays on her face, wide and blissful and undeterred. He chuckles, loves this new side of her. She's been convinced she is having a girl since they found out, and there is no telling her otherwise. Not that he intends to; he's having way too much fun with this role reversal. He loves it. His Kate, usually the fact-based, skeptical one, simply believes in something, with no proof and it's just too delightful. And adorable.

"Doesn't mean the gender isn't already determined," she insists, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing tightly. "And I just _know_."

"Hm hmm," he hums, "your gut speaking to you again?"

"Well you said yourself that it has magical properties." She blinks up at him and laughs, joyful and teasing, and bursts of happiness pop and fizzle through his insides.

"Of course it does. It _is _growing our baby," he answers quietly, because he is just stunned, so stunned and awed by all of this and he adores her so very much and so he kisses her, soft and lingering, his fingers tangled in her hair. She sighs into his caress, her eyelashes tickling his cheek.

"Kate Beckett?" They pull apart at the voice of the nurse drifting over to them. "We're ready for you," she adds with a pleasant smile, and Kate unfolds her legs from the chair to get up.

He rests his hand at her lower back while they walk into the examination room, not so much guiding her as he is drawing from her strength because suddenly his stomach is in knots and his insides fluttery with nerves, the excitement leaving him so bouncy that he feels as if he might lift off the ground at any moment.

* * *

He sits by Kate's head, their fingers laced together as her obstetrician runs through the barrage of initial questions. Ever so coolly, Kate answers everything smoothly, as if it's an exam that she spent weeks preparing for. As if she weren't sitting there in a paper gown with her bottom bare underneath it while he blushes several shades of red a few times.

"Let's take a look then, shall we?" Dr. McMillan finally says while directing Kate's legs up into the stirrups, and then she reaches for the wand-like, scary-looking contraption. He did prepare for this; he did his research and knew this would be a vaginal ultrasound, knew what the device would look like so he suppresses all inappropriate jokes of what this contraption _actually _looks like but it still makes him flinch.

"This might be a bit uncomfortable at first," the obstetrician warns and then Kate hisses a bit, squeezes his hand tightly and he really, really doesn't like this; he cannot stand seeing her hurt. He runs his fingertips across her forehead, caresses her temples in small circles until her breathing evens out.

"I'm okay, just startled." She blinks open her eyes, looks up at him with a small smile.

"Here we go," the obstetrician gets their attention and they both raise their eyes to the small screen across from them as the doctor turns on the image, and then his heart clamors in his chest, blood rushes in his ears, loud like the ocean, his eyes riveted because this, this is, oh he has no words to describe how… spectacular this is, how overwhelming.

He didn't remember that those pictures were so clear; with Alexis' he would tilt his head and squint his eyes and it still couldn't tell what was what, it was more like the Enterprise getting attacked but- Wow, he can actually recognize baby's silhouette! There's a head bubble and a body bubble, little arm bubbles on each side and leg bubbles on the bottom. As if a kid had formed it with play-doh. He grins, looks over at Kate for a moment but her eyes are riveted to the screen, wide open in silent astonishment.

"Looks like baby is turned toward us right now," Dr. McMillan points out, indicating the brown-greyish outline on the screen. "Here's the head," she specifies, pointing to the round contour that makes up half of the baby's size at this point. "Then the torso, and here you can see its arms," she shows them the tiny shapes that look like balls attached on each side because they are still so short and they are seeing her from the front. His mind fills in the blanks, imagines her tiny belly button, and the cutest little nose, a rosebud mouth and large, fathomless green eyes. Just then a ripple goes through the tiny body.

"And that was baby moving!" Dr. McMillan clarifies and then Kate giggles, laughs out loud, clear and unguarded and he looks at her face, her beautiful face, and there are tear tracks streaking her cheeks but her eyes are sparkling and her smile is stretched wide, and he is still stunned that he gets to be with her. He kisses her, right then and there, quick but deep and intense, adoring her as he delves into her smile, shares her happiness.

The doctor smiles indulgently when they pull apart. "Everything looks good; baby is healthy and developing just as expected at this point. Would you like to hear the heartbeat?"

Kate nods, squeezing his hand and then Dr. McMillan turns on the volume and the room immediately fills with a thumping sound, like the whomp-whomp of helicopter rotor blades, fast and loud. He can hardly breathe.

"It's so fast," Kate whispers, astounded. They both know that it's supposed to be this fast; they've read all about it but hearing it for the first time is still utterly breathtaking. And really, really so awesome.

"Baby's heart rate is about double of mom's heart rate," the obstetrician explains. "This is just what we want to hear."

They sit quietly for a few moments, entranced by the thump-thump of the tiny human growing inside Kate.

* * *

They leave the clinic hand in hand and as the warm June sun heats his scalp, he thinks about what to swaddle baby in when they take him home from the hospital in January. _Her_. Take her home. It'll be icy cold. Maybe there'll be snow! They could get one of those cozy snowsuits for her that's lined with fur inside, and has a hood and it could be pink, or bright purple. Kate loves purple.

January 22nd. 225 days. Wow, it all seems so unbelievably far away still. He immediately downloaded an app that would put a countdown clock on his phone and now '225 Days' blinks gaily at him from his screen. Kate had glanced over his shoulder, laughing as she told him to remember that only five percent of all babies are born on their calculated due date. And then she had nibbled her lip for a moment, contemplating, before she wordlessly handed him her phone, and he had downloaded the countdown clock for her too.

She tugs on his hand and he stops, turns toward her. Looking at him with a bright smile, she laces her arms around his neck and tilts her body into him, right in the middle of the sidewalk.

"You know, I'm pretty sure she has the assumed conception date wrong."

"Really?" He murmurs, wraps his arm around her waist, still so very slim. May 2nd didn't hold any particular significance with him either but he knows it's only an estimate and besides, they haven't exactly been inactive.

She nods, nudges her nose against his. "Yeah. It's an anniversary baby."

Anniversary? Oh. "Oooh." _That_ anniversary. He grins. Yeah, the night that he took to a deluxe suite at the Hotel Plaza Athenee even though it was a Tuesday. But it was May 7th. And they didn't spend the night sleeping very much.

Sometimes he can't believe that it's only been a year. Then again, they've been in a relationship for years before she ever showed up at his door, drenched and apologetic and wanting him, loving him so much that it still takes his breath away.

"Hm hmm," she hums against his lips, kisses him gently. "That's when it happened."

Then she pulls away, smiles dazzlingly at him. "And it _will_ be a girl, Castle."

_TBC_

o

"_Webbed fingers and toes are poking out from your baby's hands and feet, his eyelids practically cover his eyes, breathing tubes extend from his throat to the branches of his developing lungs, and his 'tail' is just about gone. In his brain, nerve cells are branching out to connect with one another, forming primitive neural pathways. You may be daydreaming about your baby as one sex or the other, but the external genitals still haven't developed enough to reveal whether you're having a boy or a girl. Either way, your baby — about the size of a kidney bean — is constantly moving and shifting, though you still can't feel it." ('Your Pregnancy at 8 Weeks', BabyCenter(dot)com)_

_ o_

* * *

_**AN:** Mr. Peabody is a fictional dog who appeared in the late 1950s and early 1960s animated TV series 'Rocky and his Friends' and 'The Bullwinkle Show.'_

_Amelia Peabody, an Egyptologist and amateur detective, is the protagonist of a series of mystery novels, the Amelia Peabody series, written by Elizabeth Peters._


	3. 10 Weeks

**10 WEEKS**

* * *

_**206 Days To Go**_

It's a familiar sight these days, finding her hunched over the toilet bowl, her slender body wrecked with the spasms of dry heaving. He wets a wash cloth with cold water, sinks down next to her. They are long past feeling any embarrassment in that situation. Stroking her hair off her forehead first, he wipes the beads of sweat off her skin, before he cradles the wash cloth behind her neck. Her head falls back against the relief of the cool fabric and she closes her eyes on a sigh, sinks against his chest.

He doesn't remember it being so hard. The mood swings, the morning sickness - which should really be called evening sickness in her case - everything is a strain on her and while she takes most of it in stride, he struggles with the fact that there is so little he can do to help her. If he could take on any of her symptoms for her, he would do it in a heartbeat, but he can only sit by and he feels so helpless all the time.

The entire process seemed so much more of a breeze with Alexis, and it makes him wonder if Meredith just didn't have as many symptoms, or if he was too young and stupid to truly understand what he needed to do, to be there for her. How much did he mess up their relationship as well, not supporting his wife at the time as much as she would've deserved? He isn't sure, he simply cannot recall enough details, but he hopes that he is a better man now, tries to be good for Kate, attentive and anticipatory of her needs, because he cannot fathom Kate feeling alone in any of this.

He did this to her.

"What was it this time?" He asks, running his fingertips through her hair, caressing her scalp in the way that she likes, slow comforting circles, his nails just slightly scratching.

"The Chinese food," she moans, tilts her face up and blinks her eyes open. "Baby hates Chinese food. It's my favorite, Castle!" There is such despair in her voice that he can't help but chuckle, just a little bit, at the dramatic flair, all the while strumming his fingers down the ridges of her spine. The corners of her mouth quirk up in a minuscule smile.

"'S not funny, Castle!" She pokes his chest admonishingly but belying her actions, she snuggles her face into the curve of his neck, and he feels her body slump, relax into the protective embrace he provides.

This is what he can do for her. Give her comic relief, and hold her up when she needs it.

He sure hopes it is enough.

* * *

"You need to eat something," he urges, sliding a plate with a piece of dry toast in front of her. He's done research, believes she might be able to keep this down and surely she must be hungry because she is always starving in the evenings.

"I can't," she murmurs, pushes the plate away.

He sighs. He knows she's lost a few pounds, and shouldn't she be gaining weight? He can't keep the worry from climbing through him all over again, harsh and cloying in his throat.

"But Kate, the baby…" He knows it's the wrong thing the moment the words leave his lips.

"I know what's best for the baby, Castle!" She snaps, pushes her chair back and its legs screech along the floor as she gets up. "Stop treating me like a child!" She stalks past him, rushes to the bedroom and slams the door behind her.

* * *

She finds him a little while later as he is hunched over the desk in his office, the latest Nikki Heat outline open on his laptop but he cannot concentrate on the fictitious character's adventures, instead just clicks through random pages on the Internet. She stops next to his chair, cards her fingers through his hair, and he looks up at her.

"Dried papaya," he blurts out. "It says here that it really helps with the nausea. I'll go and buy you some of that," he rambles on while she keeps caressing his head, her fingers trailing down over his cheek.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she sighs, smiles at him with a sadness that makes his heart lurch. He tugs an arm around her waist, pulls her toward him and rests his face against her belly, nudges his nose into the barely visible mound.

She cradles her arms around his head, holding him close. "I _hate_ being this moody."

But he shakes his head, _no, no_, lifts his head away to pull her onto his lap instead. She comes willingly and he wraps his arms around her as she perches on his legs, tugs her close against his chest.

"You're having a baby. You get to be as moody as you like!" He announces categorically because seriously, what her body, what she has to go through to do this, who is he to have an issue with any of it? He can't even imagine how hard, how confusing, how scary it might feel. His writer's imagination runs amok with scenarios and yet he doesn't know, he is not a woman, he really has no clue and he feels so helpless not knowing how best to provide for her. But he wants, _needs_ her to know with absolute certainty that she gets to feel whatever she feels without ever feeling guilty.

She chuckles at his statement but then she goes quiet again, and her sigh dances across his cheek.

"It can be so… overwhelming," she tries to explain, her voice wistful and he nods, tugs her closer, breathes in her familiar, comforting scent.

Kate trails her fingers over his cheek, then cradles his chin between her fingertips, tilting his head toward her.

"I'm okay, Rick; _we_ are okay, baby and I. It's not unusual to actually lose some weight at first, I checked with my doctor, and I'm able to eat more for breakfast and lunch. We're _fine_." She seeks out his eyes, looks at him seriously, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "But this is scary enough without you questioning me," she admits softly, and his heart lurches at her honesty, at the concern and sorrow in her eyes.

"Oh god Kate I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He feels like an idiot, putting even more pressure on her when she is just as scared and oh god why is she scared? But his thoughts are cut short because suddenly her mouth is on his and she kisses him, her lips soft and forgiving and her tongue hot and needy as it seeks his. He opens to her; his blood tingling like it always does at her touch and she delves into him, full of longing and love and forgiveness and depth.

"You… are… wonderful," she promises against his lips, punctuating her words with kisses before she leans her forehead against his, and he shivers against her, snuggles her close into his arms, relief spreading through his limbs that she seems to be feeling well taken care of by him.

He turns her around after a little while until they both face his laptop, and hits a few keys.

"Let's watch it again," he murmurs into her ear and she nods with a smile. He hits play and the 3D animation of a ten week old fetus that they must've already watched a hundred times begins anew. The baby bends its little elbows and knees, kicking up a storm. The animation focuses in, shows its tiny organs growing, functioning, then zooms back out. They see the tiny fingers, no longer like fins, and eyelids, and ears, and nostrils. Another zoom and they are shown teensy fingernails, and soft peach fuzz developing on baby's skin. And like every time they watch this, his heart leaps as he imagines Amelia swimming and growing inside Kate. He rests his hand on her belly, hopes baby can feel his warmth, his love soaking through.

Kate hangs on tightly to his torso; he can feel her heart hammering through her pulse point.

"We can be scared together, Kate," he urges, hopes he can give her the reassurances she needs. "I'll always be there." She turns toward him, her eyes shimmery and trusting.

"And you'll be an amazing mother."

* * *

_**204 Days To Go**_

"Ugh, I miss coffee," she groans on a yawn, dropping her head into the cradle of her arms on top of the kitchen table.

Yeah, he can relate. He had bought her decaf coffee immediately, once they knew she was pregnant, so she could at least enjoy the beloved flavor if not the jolt of caffeine, but shortly after their first ultrasound, the morning sickness had hit her full swing, starting with, of all things, the scent of coffee. He had locked away all coffee and they were sipping their way through variations of tea instead, with questionable success. Some flavors were admittedly tasty, but there is just no replacing the bitter allure of a good cup of coffee.

"Tea?" He asks her anyway, trailing his fingers along her exposed neck for a short moment and she shivers under his touch.

"Yeah," she sighs dramatically and he heads further into the kitchen, grabbing the vanilla and almond-flavored white tea that is her current favorite.

He's tired as well. Last night he took her to the theater, and when they came home, he had undressed her slowly, trailed his fingers and rained kisses up and down her beautiful body, caressed her soft skin, her breasts that were getting larger, her belly that was now showing just slightly when she was naked. Over and over until she quivered and arched under his touch and then he made love to her, languid and intense until his name fell off her lips in strangled, breathless moans.

"What would you like for breakfast?" He bends down, already reaching for the skillet.

"Eggs and fried potatoes and lots of cheese!" She answers excitedly, a sparkle in her eyes at the prospect of her feast and he grins at her fairly constant craving of all things fried and cheese.

He puts a couple of potatoes in the microwave to cook, then grabs eggs and three different grated cheeses from the fridge. At least it is Sunday, he thinks as he cracks eggs into a bowl, starts whipping them. They can just hang out today, maybe have a nap later. Since she had to inform Gates of her pregnancy a few weeks ago, after she spent a few mornings in a row throwing up in the precinct bathroom, she has been put on desk duty, which includes regular eight to five work hours and never being on call. Kate doesn't have an easy time being chained to her desk, having to send the boys out on their own, but he loves getting so much time with her and truth be told, he thinks she loves it too.

The knock on the door startles him out of his reverie.

"I'll get it." Kate gets up, heads for the door and pulls it open.

"Alexis, hey." She greets the girl, surprised but not unpleasantly so, and he looks up, makes eye contact with his daughter. She smiles a small smile, tentative and apologetic as she steps inside.

The truth is, he is disappointed in his daughter, for probably the first time in his life. He was so excited telling her about the baby, about the sibling she would have, so thrilled to share his happiness with his amazing child, the way he always shares everything exciting with her but instead of the enthusiasm he had expected, Alexis had been shocked, and rather cold about the news. He never expected that and it jarred him to the bone.

It was Kate that had talked him through it, like she so often had over the years, helping him see a different perspective when he reached his limits. Saying how Alexis only ever had him as a true parent, and that they shared an intense bond that she would now fear she would have to share, might fear she would lose altogether. That his daughter deserved some time to adjust to the news of suddenly getting a sibling, just as they had needed time to adjust to being parents. That he shouldn't worry because she would come around, he'd see.

And so they had just not talked about the baby for a while, he and Alexis, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt him, deep inside.

Alexis breaks the eye contact first, focusing on Kate once more. "How are you feeling?" She asks quietly, still tentative but there is no unkindness in her voice, only interest and hushed concern. That is the child he recognizes, and he subconsciously takes a deep breath, slow relief spreading along his skin like a soothing balm.

"I'm fine," Kate answers brightly, as if there never was any discontent, while she reaches for Alexis' hand, squeezes it tightly. He can see his daughter reacting to the unspoken comfort, unfurling as if liberated from a large weight, and her face blossoms in a true smile, that beautiful, wide smile that has always warmed his heart.

"Good," she sighs, quiet but content. They are silent for a few moments, the three of them, letting the fresh dynamic settle.

"I brought you something," Alexis finally picks up the thread of conversation, producing a large box, gift-wrapped in pink sparkly paper from a plastic bag she had brought with, and hands it to Kate.

"Dad told me about the way you let him know about the baby," she narrates while Kate slides off the ribbon and unfolds the gift-wrap from the box. "So I got you this."

Kate digs into the box, grinning widely as she finds what is housed inside, and pulls it out with a flourish.

"Castle, look!" She calls in his direction without taking her eyes of the gift, laughter in her voice. "It's a Cabbage Patch Kid!" She holds up the squishy doll for all of them to see, its baby face all fat cheeks and big eyes, with curly brown wool as hair sticking straight up on top of its head.

He finally shakes himself out of his reverie, walks over to them, taking in both the doll and his daughter.

"She's got brown hair, like both of you," Alexis explains, watching Kate closely while the older woman takes in the gift. "And I gave her green eyes, like yours, Kate."

Kate shifts her eyes to Alexis, smiles at her so soft and sweet that Castle can feel his heart warm, melting the dagger of ice that had been stuck in it ever since Alexis had rejected his happiness.

"Thank you, Alexis. I absolutely love it." Kate wraps her arms around the younger woman, tugging her into a tight embrace for a few moments and Alexis' eyes close; he can see his daughter soaking up the warm comfort given to her. He can relate. There is no comfort that compares to being in Kate's arms. When they pull apart, Alexis shifts her eyes toward him.

"I named her Amelia Peabody," she admits shyly, pointing to the nametag that dangles from the doll's chubby arms. And warmth rushes through him at his amazing child, who had listened to every word he had said even when she was upset, who had remembered and who was trying to make amends, trying to be a part of this new family they are becoming. He wraps his arms around her and she falls against him, her slender arms tight around his torso as she clings to him, sniffles "I'm sorry Daddy" against his chest.

"I'm sorry too," he murmurs, runs his hands up and down her back in comforting strokes. Over Alexis' shoulder he looks up at Kate, who is watching him with her warm 'I told you so' expression, her eyes full of pride… and love.

* * *

o

_By week ten, your baby is a little over one inch long, barely the size of a kumquat, and weighs less than a quarter of an ounce. Your baby's head makes up half the length of the body. Vital organs — including her brain, kidneys, intestines, lungs, and liver — are in place and starting to function. Your baby's limbs can bend now. His hands are flexed at the wrist and meet over his heart, and his feet may be long enough to meet in front of his body. The baby is actively swallowing amniotic fluid and kicking her legs._

_Tiny nails are forming on fingers and toes (no more webbing) and peach-fuzz hair is beginning to grow on tender skin. Her eyes are fully formed, but her eyelids are fused shut. She has tiny earlobes, and her mouth, nose, and nostrils are more distinct. (See ' ' and 'American Pregnancy Association' newsletters)_

o


	4. 12 Weeks

**12 WEEKS**

* * *

**_194 days to go_**

She swings a leg over his lap, the strong muscles of her thighs straddling his hips as she rises above him, a magnificent goddess, naked and alluring and devastatingly seductive.

It is still early; hazy morning light is streaming in through the window, bathing her skin in shimmery silver and he runs his hands up her thighs, cradles them around her middle where her waistline is gently thickening. He caresses his thumbs over the soft swell of her stomach and she shivers, circles her hips against his, soft longing pressure, and heat simmers under his skin.

He follows the track of his eyes with his fingertips, up her sides and over the plump curves of her breasts, heavier now as they fall into his hands, the areolas darkened, larger. All the changes are slowly softening and rounding the contours of Kate's body and it's one of the sexiest things he's ever seen. She's so stunningly beautiful; his heart quickens and for a moment he can't believe that he finally holds her in his arms, that this extraordinary woman chose him, loves _him_.

His breath hitches low in his chest as he takes her in, his caresses sure, familiar as they trip along her sweet skin, determined in their path and she gasps, leans forward to capture his mouth with hers, her tongue meeting his with deep, knowing strokes and he pulls her closer, her body flush against his, soft skin and curves and delicious friction. He's flushed with want, his body climbing to find her, feel her closer, ever closer, needing her so much that it aches. She raises high, joins their bodies and a shudder of pleasure ripples through her muscles. He wraps his arms around her back as she rolls her hips into him, stammers her name into the curve of her neck.

* * *

Her piercing scream reverberates through the loft, a sound so penetrating like he's never heard from her before. Cold fear slices through his insides; she was just making breakfast before heading to work but his brain goes into overdrive immediately, swirling with horror scenarios of burn wounds and cut-off limbs and he drops his tooth brush, races out of the bathroom only in his boxer briefs, the foam from the tooth paste still plastered around the corners of his mouth.

"Castle," she whispers, terror lacing her voice, lining her face as he finds her, standing stock-still in the kitchen. His eyes travel down her body. Bright red blood is running down her legs, pools starkly on the light tiles of the floor.

Then she faints.

* * *

He's never been as grateful that he spends such an inordinate amount of money having a driver on stand-by as right now, when Garcia expertly weaves through the traffic, rushing them to the nearest emergency room.

He cradles Kate's head on his lap, runs his hands down her cheeks, over her arms in what he hopes are calming touches but a steady stream of tears is quietly, incessantly running down her cheeks. She's got her legs drawn up onto the seat, her legs firmly clamped together and he's sure he's never been as afraid before in his life. Not even when Alexis was missing when she was little, because he could do something then, he could search for her, yell her name, call the police, he could _do_, but here, now, he is utterly helpless. The only thing to do is wait… and hope.

The lump is heavy in his throat, hot tears are threatening behind his eyelids but he resolutely pushes them down because if he feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest, then how bad must it be for Kate? He's got to keep it together for her, he _has_ to.

He caught her just in time before her head hit the hard ceramic tiles when she passed out, gathering her in his arms as he called her name, his voice tinged with desperation, nudged her cheeks for her to wake up, _Kate, please wake up_.

She came to soon after, was only out a few seconds in total but it was enough to send tendrils of icy terror through his veins. He lifted her onto the couch, called her doctor first, then the driver. And then he gathered her into his arms and carried her downstairs to the car. She felt so slight in his arms, too quiet as she nudged her face into his neck, let him carry her without protest.

Sweat runs down his forehead. He threw on the first clothes he could find, sweat pants and a hoodie, and he is sweltering in the 100 degree July weather, but he doesn't care, it doesn't matter, nothing does but Kate and the little baby girl they both love and want so desperately.

"We made it to twelve weeks," she whispers tonelessly, staring out the window as houses and trees flash by. "I thought we'd made it." Finally she turns her head, and her eyes are large, the fear in them so stark that he feels punched in the stomach.

"What if I lose her?" She sniffs, sobs forlornly. "I can't lose her, Castle."

"Shhh." He gathers her closer, tries to instill some calm in her he doesn't feel himself. "You won't…" But he doesn't know, does he? He can't make her promises. _He doesn't know._

"It'll be okay," he murmurs instead, rests his cheek on top of her head. "It'll all be okay." It's inane, and miserably inadequate, and he hopes with all his might that he's right.

* * *

"Let's see what's going on," Dr. McMillan's tone is serious, but she does not seem overly panicked or worried, and the icy fingers around his heart loosen just a tiny bit.

Dr. McMillan starts prodding three fingers against Kate's stomach, her pushes creating valleys in Kate's skin. Baby can feel that, Castle inanely thinks, he is sure he read somewhere that baby will squirm now if you push on the abdomen and _please don't hurt her_.

"Are you in pain or did you experience any cramps or contractions?" The doctor asks.

"No," Kate answers quietly, shaking her head, her fingers clenched tightly around one of Castle's hands. He nudges a finger down her cheek until she turns her head, looks at him. Her eyes find his, tears still gathered at its corners and his heart feels shattered at the forlorn glimmer in her eyes. He trails his fingers up and down her cheek, over and over, trying to calm her as much as he can.

Dr. McMillan pulls up her chair, sits by Kate's legs and helps her into the stirrups before continuing her exam. "Describe the bleeding."

"It just started… gushing," Kate recalls, her words still a toneless string, "I only felt the warmth, at first."

"There was a lot of it," Castle adds, "bright red. And then Kate fainted."

"That was likely the shock," Dr. McMillan provides, dips her head under the sheet again. "No clotting or lumps of any kind?"

"No," Kate answers quietly, but then some of her defiant spark, her natural urgency seems to return. "Please, Dr. McMillan, what's going on? Is the baby okay?"

* * *

The fast thrum of the heartbeat reverberates loudly in the examination room and relief rushes over him, leaving his eyes watery, his hands shaky. He squeezes Kate's hand, tugs it up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, then presses her hand against his cheek, squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, taking in the noise of their baby's heartbeat, fast and loud and _alive._

"Heartbeat is perfect, 160 bpm," Dr. McMillan analyzes and he opens his eyes again, his gaze riveted to the screen and the new images, can make out the shape of her head and rump, and then a leg and even the foot as baby kicks, _actually kicks_ around in there! He grins, flutters of excitement replacing the icy tendrils of fear that had frozen him.

"Length about two point two inches, right on target. Baby moves, swallows fluid, I'm seeing reflexes develop…" She trails off, turns around to face them. "Everything looks good, growth is what we would hope, baby is healthy."

Kate keens beside him and he turns toward her, sees her eyes pinched shut, tears still running down her cheek, her chest wrecked with wretched sobs from deep within her and his stomach clenches. He gathers her in his arms, tugs her head into the crook of his neck.

"Kate, it's okay Baby," he murmurs against her ear, running his hands up and down her back. "She's fine, Kate. Healthy. She's fine." Slowly the sobbing calms under his caresses, until she nods against his neck, and pulls away, faces her doctor.

"What happened?" Her voice is roughened from crying, but strong again, brave.

Dr. McMillan points to the ultrasound image frozen on the screen, runs her finger along one of the sides of the outline.

"You have what is called 'placenta previa,' a condition where the placenta implants unusually low in the uterus, close to or covering your cervix. In your case," she points her finger to a grizzly grey area, "it is here. As your uterus expands, this causes extra strain, and a blood vessel burst, leading to your bleeding."

"What does that mean?" He is confused, if baby is fine then how bad could this be?

"In about eighty percent of cases where we find it this early, the placenta eventually migrates to where it needs to be as the pregnancy progresses and your uterus expands, and it's no longer a problem."

"What if it doesn't?"

"If it persists until the end of your pregnancy, it can cause profuse bleeding especially during delivery. We'd have to watch you very closely, and you'd have to have a c-section."

Kate grips her fingers around his thigh, her nails digging into his skin as she sucks in a deep breath.

"But I'm okay for now and we just… wait?"

"Well, bleeding is always cause for some concern. Even though baby is fine now, we want to make sure to be cautious. I'd like to avoid any additional strain or pressure on your cervix for a while, so I'm putting you on modified bed rest for four weeks." The doctor looks sternly at both of them as she lists the requirements, and from the corner of his eyes he sees Kate's eyes widen, her teeth digging into her lower lip at the restrictions placed on her daily life.

"That means no working, no driving, no household chores. You may sit up, take a shower, walk around a few steps at home, but generally, I want you to split your day between your bed, and your couch. Avoid stairs as much as possible, and no sexual intercourse or orgasms of any kind."

* * *

When Kate is safely wrapped up in bed, he walks into the kitchen, intending to get a glass of water but his eyes fall to the bloodstain instead, still stark and red on the floor and suddenly his knees go weak, a sob tearing from deep within his chest and he sinks to the ground, his back against the kitchen cabinets. He drops his head onto his knees, can't stop weeping, the sobs hiccupping harshly out of his chest.

Only slowly does he become aware of the presence by his side, the soft fingers trailing through his hair, caressing his shoulders. He blinks open his eyes, turns his head slightly to find his mother sitting next to him on the hard tile floor.

"They're okay, Mother, they're both fine," he sniffles out the words, tries to pull himself together but the sobbing overtakes him once more, the anxiety he suppressed all day gushing out of him in waves of tears and body-wrecking shudders.

"Let it out my boy, let it all out," Martha murmurs soothingly beside him, her arm slung around his back as she holds him through his weeping.

He calms down slowly, the sobs calming to quiet breathing, only the occasional hiccup of his chest gasping for oxygen. His mother silently hands him a tissue and he cleans his face.

"I was so scared," he admits solemnly. It's been a very long time since he cried in his mother's arms, but he can't find it in him to care. There is no embarrassment, only her calm presence and the soothing knowledge that when he truly needs it, she's always there.

"I know." She squeezes his hand between both of hers and they sit in silence for a while.

"Remember George Dukakis?" She finally asks and he turns his head to her.

"Husband number two? Sure." He actually rather liked that one, come to think of it. At least as much as he remembers. He was still a little kid, then.

"For a long while I thought he'd be the last one, too. I really loved him."

"What happened?"

"I wanted you to have a sibling, and he really loved kids, so eventually I got pregnant. I lost the baby. And a second one." She tells it quietly, matter-of-fact and the lack of embellishment is the clearest indication of the pain she still holds inside.

"I can't believe I never knew." There's no accusation in his voice, only somber surprise. He should've known. He remembers his mother happy with George, smiling widely, laughing, dancing in the kitchen. There's always a story.

"You were so little. There was no reason to burden you with this. But we were young and stupid, and we couldn't handle it. The pain, the sense of guilt, the recriminations… Eventually he left, but I don't know who drove whom away."

He leans back against the kitchen cabinet, stunned by this facet of his mother's life, stark and harsh against her flamboyant, live-life-to-the-fullest attitude.

She turns toward him, cradles her palm against his cheek. "It's okay to be scared, Richard. But she needs you to be there," she urges, her voice serious.

"She'll need you, no matter what she says," his mother adds with a wink, and they grin at each other for a moment. But he nods, understands. He'll be there. There's nowhere in the world he'd rather be than by her side.

"You and Kate, you have something very special. Don't let a moment of that pass you by."

* * *

He crawls onto the bed, faces her. Kate is curled on her side, her Amelia Peabody doll squished in her arms as she sleeps. _Sleeping beauty._ He smiles to himself. Scooting closer he reaches out, trails his fingers over her face, down her smooth cheek and the sensitive skin of her neck. She scrunches up her nose, nudges her face further into the pillow, murmuring incomprehensible sounds.

He should let her sleep, he doesn't want to wake her but he can't stop touching her, needs the comfort of feeling her silky skin, the strong muscles underneath, the reassurance of her presence, healthy and alive beside him. He caresses his hand down her arm, over her hip and thigh, then back up to her abdomen, cradling his palm over the small swell of her belly. His heart hammers against his ribcage but he takes a few deep breaths, trying to grasp, to remind himself that they are okay, both Kate and baby are fine. They're _fine_.

Kate squirms under his touch, then grabs her fingers into his shirt, tugs herself closer until her face is smashed against his chest, her body pressed tightly to the length of his.

"Love you," she slurs into his chest, and then her body slackens, fast asleep once more. He wraps his arms tightly around her, throws a leg over her hips, gathering her into him, cradling her as close as possible; wishes he could tuck her inside of him because it's never close enough.

* * *

_o_

_From crown to rump, your baby is just over 2 inches long, about the size of a lime, and is now almost fully formed. She looks unquestionably human now – her eyes have moved from the side to the front of her head, her ears are right where they should be, and tiny tooth buds are beginning to appear under her gums. _

_The most dramatic development this week: reflexes. Your baby's fingers will soon begin to open and close, her toes will curl, her eye muscles will clench, and her mouth will make sucking movements. She's already busy kicking and stretching, and her tiny movements are so effortless they look like water ballet. You won't feel your baby's acrobatics for another month or two, nor will you notice the hiccupping that may be happening now that the diaphragm is forming._

_( Babycenter dot com, and American Pregnancy Association newsletters)_

_o_


	5. 14 Weeks

**14 WEEKS**

* * *

_**182 Days To Go**_

He wakes slowly, drifting for long hazy moments with only the whisper of her voice skating past his ears. He rolls over toward her, quirks open one eye and finds her sitting back against the headboard, deeply involved in her daily morning ritual. The early morning sunlight bounces over the soft, mussed curls of her hair, her eyelids low, focused. Her hands cradled protectively around the naked skin of her belly, calmly conversing with her baby, sweet murmured sounds of love and reassurance and hope.

She'd thrown herself into bed rest with the same single-minded determination that she applies to everything else. He knows she's restless, and her mood swings often get the better of her; he knows she misses her work, misses exercising, misses being active… but she doesn't complain about it, is determined to move as little as possible if that is what her baby needs, if that will only ensure that she won't lose her. As if she can control nature by the sheer force of her strong will.

He listens for a while, enchanted by the quiet beauty of this moment, _their _moment together, mother and child, and his heart swells, almost bursts from its seams, his love for her a fluttering aching thing caged in his chest. A little wistful too, watching the intrinsic connection between the two of them, this magic, mythical bond between mother and unborn child that he can never be a part of.

But then her eyes flutter open, an affectionate smile on her lips as she comes out of her reverie, turns her head toward him.

"G'Morning." Her voice is low, sweet, layered with a trace of need as she turns her focus on him. She crawls closer and he opens his arms for her, gathers her into a tight embrace, her slim body cradled to his chest. Her forehead rests in the crook of his neck, the small bump of her tummy nudged against his hip and he feels her exhale, the drop of her weight as she relaxes into him, drawing him in. He runs his fingertips up and down the smooth skin of her back, his nails slightly scratching just the way she likes, the way that almost makes her purr and she shimmies against him, her eyes fluttering closed once more.

* * *

He hums to himself, a random string of notes that he just made up in his head while he scoots sideways through the doorway, maneuvering the bouquet through its frame. Okay so yes, maybe he overdid it just a little bit. This thing is huge. Heavy too. An explosion of pink hues the size of a wagon wheel. Pale pink Asian lilies and a lot of pink roses, alstroemeria and waxflower (who named something so pretty 'waxflower', anyway?). But this is a special day, so important, and so he went to the flower store around the corner and picked out every version of pink blooms that he could find, emphasizing to the guy with the black eye make-up and lip ring and ridiculously tight, shiny pants how spectacular it needed to be and well, he may as well admit that it got out of hand just a little bit.

Kate looks up at him from her perch on the couch, cradled into her big nursing pillow, iPad on her lap.

He lifts the flower bouquet into view. "Congratulations!" He squeaks, his excitement hard to contain but it's been two weeks, two weeks since his heart had almost shattered into a million pieces in his chest but she's doing so well now and they made it to fourteen weeks and it's so big and important, this milestone where the risk of a miscarriage drops to a minimum. "You made it to the second trimester!"

She stares at him, her eyes wide, sitting stock-still… and then she bursts into tears.

Her weeping jars him to the bone, wrecked sobs from deep within and he drops the flowers onto the nearby table, rushes over to her side, his heart hammering with worry. He folds her into his arms and she wraps around him willingly, her arms clinging tightly to his waist while her tears soak into the collar of his shirt.

"Shhh, Kate, it's okay Baby," he murmurs nonsensical words near her ear, his hand running up and down her back, hoping he can calm her down. "Okay, okay, shhhhh…"

It takes long moments until her sobbing slows down, her chest only occasionally hitching from a jolted intake of breath. She sniffles into his neck, and this version of her, hormonal and needy, this vulnerable Kate, it just wrenches at his heart, makes him feel so helpless. He twirls his fingers into her hair, circles his fingers over the skin of her nape soothingly. "What's wrong Sweetheart? Did something happen?"

She shakes her head against him, stays quiet for a while, her long deep breaths the only sounds she's making.

"I'm scared, Castle," she finally admits, her voice so small that he has to strain to hear her words.

He tilts up her chin with his fingertips until she's looking at him, her eyes swollen and watery from crying. Running his thumb over her cheekbones, he collects the traces of her tears. "Of what?"

She sighs. "Every day I talk to her, and I _feel_ like she's there but I don't know, I just don't _know_. What if she's not okay; it's been two weeks and what if she _isn't_ fine?"

Castle drops his forehead against hers, breathing her in for a moment because it's true; all this time he's just believed, hung all his hopes on reaching this fourteen week milestone but she's right, of course; there is no proof, only the snapshot of a heartbeat during an appointment so seemingly long ago. She can't feel the baby's movements yet and Kate doesn't have an easy time just believing, she needs proof, hard evidence. His heart aches for her, wondering how long she's been holding in this devastating fear. _Knows_ that it's likely been from the moment they stepped out of the hospital, as he huddled her from a wheelchair into the cushioned seats of the car.

And he can't even tell her that everything will be okay.

"Let's have another appointment, check on our baby." He cradles his palm around her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll hire someone to come here. We can have someone come by every day if you'd like." He holds her eyes with his, captures another lone tear that is trailing down her cheekbone, and nods reassuringly. "Whatever you need, Kate."

"Okay," she nods, drawing in long breaths. "Thank you."

"Of course."

She sniffles, her teeth snagged against her lower lip, and then she leans forward once more, snuggles her face into his neck, unwinding against him and he cradles her tightly to him, so very relieved that he could lighten her concerns.

"I miss my mom, Castle," she suddenly admits, her voice quiet, resigned. "I miss her so much."

He sighs inaudibly, wraps his arm tighter around her back, giving her what little he has to offer.

"I know."

* * *

_**181 Days To Go**_

The technician, Clarissa, is young and blonde and vibrant, her teeth blindingly white, her smile wide as she briskly sets up her equipment while hovering around Kate, speaking sweetly and pampering her in every imaginable way. She better be stellar for what he's paying for this service but what does it matter when this will give them peace of mind; it's only money. _Obstetrician to the rich and famous_, he had joked with her when they had found the clinic information online yesterday but it was likely pretty close to the truth.

And then Kate relaxes on the bed and Clarissa waves the wand of the portable ultrasound machine and the loud, fast thump of their baby's heart fills the silence of the room. Kate visibly relaxes at the sound, melts into the pillow with her eyes closed, her smile wide, just listening to her child's heartbeat.

The technician rattles down vitals and numbers but the only thing that makes it through to Castle are the words 'healthy' and 'active' and 'everything looks fine' while he stares in fascination at the much clearer, sepia-tinted imaging of the high-tech 4D ultrasound.

He can almost taste the relief against his tongue, feels as if another boulder has been lifted from his shoulders. He had no idea how much he needed this as well.

He blindly reaches for Kate's hands, grips his fingers around hers. "Look at this."

The image is zoomed in so closely that he can see baby's spine, the whole outline of her head, the circle of her ears, forehead and eye sockets and chin and lips and this is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen in his life. This tiny fetus and they can already make out her features, like a really old, slightly blurry photo. "She has your nose, Kate!"

She giggles next to him, a happy, warm, elated sound and he can practically feel the anxiety sliding off her, her body relaxing, her mind soothed.

Baby's arm jerks up, toward her face and, oh- "She's sucking her thumb," Kate exclaims elatedly, her eyes wide and they both stare at the sucking motions of those teensy cheeks.

She squeezes his fingers, rests her temple against his shoulder while they watch their baby flip flop around on the screen, arms and legs waving and jerking, bouncing around, healthy and active and _alive_.

* * *

_**180 Days To Go**_

He stumbles out of his office, eyes blurry from staring at the bright screen of his laptop for so long, his mind soothed now that he has freed the extended scenes of Nikki's battle with the serial killer on to the paper that kept playing over and over in his head, nagging and talking, overwhelming all his thoughts.

The lights in the living room are low, interspersed with the bluish flickers of the TV, its sounds murmured, indistinct. He stops short at the sight, rubs his eyes to clear the cobwebs.

"Hey." His voice is raspy from disuse. His mother looks up from the couch. "How long has she been out?"

Kate is lying on her side, knees drawn up, fast asleep with her head resting on his mother's lap.

"A little while," his mother shrugs, looking down at Kate for a moment and Castle ambles closer, plops himself down on the couch at the other side of her.

"What are you _watching_?" He asks, the ridicule in his voice more playful and teasing because he already recognizes the familiar actors, the poufy 80s hairdos and vibrantly colored clothing.

"Temptation Lane, of course." She looks at him reproachfully but then her eyes twinkle enthusiastically, one of her hands waving through the air as she elaborates. "I didn't know your girl here was that big of a fan. She remembered all these old storylines, and she got really excited about all my behind-the-scenes gossip."

"She used to watch it with her mother, whenever she was sick," he explains and his mother quiets, stares at him for a moment.

"Oh, well…" She sounds flustered, turns her head to Kate, running her fingers over the younger woman's head and down the long strands of her hair. Kate exhales deeply, shifts an arm closer to her chest but she doesn't wake up. "She is quite wonderful."

He wholeheartedly agrees with that assessment. He watches both women quietly, his heart full. "Thank you Mother. She really needed this."

She looks up at him, her eyes brimming, bright and intense. "Don't mess this up, my boy." Her finger is up threateningly, pointed just under his chin, but the ever-present wink in her eyes is there just the same. He chuckles, nudges her arm with his and she rests her head against his shoulder. _Not for anything in the world_.

"I love you too."

* * *

_o_

_This week's big developments: Your baby can now squint, frown, and grimace - thanks to brain impulses, her facial muscles are getting a workout as her tiny features form one expression after another. She can grasp, too, and if you're having an ultrasound now, you may even catch her sucking her thumb._

_In other news: Your baby's stretching out. From head to bottom, she measures 3 1/2 inches — about the size of a lemon — and she weighs 1 1/2 ounces. Her body's growing faster than her head, which now sits upon a more distinct neck. By the end of this week, her arms will have grown to a length that's in proportion to the rest of her body. She's starting to develop an ultra-fine, downy covering of hair, called lanugo, all over her body. Though you can't feel her tiny punches and kicks yet, your little pugilist's hands and feet (which now measure about 1/2 inch long) are more flexible and active. _

_(Baby Center dot com)_

_o_


	6. 15 Weeks

**15 WEEKS**

* * *

_**170 Days To Go**_

He drifts into consciousness to the pressure of her lips, soft but insistent, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Her kiss is sloppy, one of her arms draped over his chest, her hand curved around his neck, fingers digging into his spine. His heart thunders, the curl of want hot in his abdomen and he drinks her in, sucks her into his mouth greedily, god he's missed this, tasting her sweetness; love and want on her tongue.

Her leg is draped over his hips, the hot feel of her pelvis pressed against his thigh, rubbing up and down and she moans into his mouth. He drags her closer, further into him, can't feel her close enough, _Kate Kate Kate_- and then awareness jolts him; his eyes spring open. Suddenly he's fully awake and shit no, they _can't._ They can't do this.

"Kate," he murmurs against her lips, nudges his nose into her cheek but her eyes are still closed, her movements into him insistent but unmistakably slack. She's mostly asleep, unaware, purely instinctual in her need for him.

He nudges her again, more insistent this time, tries to still her against him and she wiggles in his grasp, murmurs a low _'I want you'_ while she roots for his mouth. And it aches, deep inside his chest, to have to turn her down, to not be able to touch her, give her the pleasure and release she is seeking with him. God he wants her too but they can't.

He holds her around her upper arms, stills her advances. "Kate."

Her eyes spring open, dark and aroused and surprised. "Castle," she gasps and then she pulls away quickly, drops onto her back on the mattress, an arm slung over her eyes. "'m sorry."

"No, no," he grasps for her other hand, laces their fingers together. "Don't… I…" But he doesn't know what to say. She breathes harshly, her chest rising and falling, her breasts rounded and enticing under her t-shirt and the arousal still hums through his blood unrelentingly.

She drops the arm off her eyes, slowly rolls onto her side and faces him. Her eyes are dark and serious as she skates her hand over to his hip, dipping a finger underneath the waistband. "I could…" She presses her lips together for a moment, gazes up at him while her hand wanders. "At least for you."

"No." He grabs her wrist, stills her hand while he shakes his head. "No, Kate. We're in this together." She swallows hard but then she nods, understanding and appreciation shimmering in her eyes. She runs her hand up over his chest instead, then cradles her palm around his cheek. Her touches so tender that it clogs his throat.

"It's just… I miss your touch," she admits quietly. "Except when you massage my muscles, you barely ever touch me."

_Oh Kate._ The trace of hurt in her voice is unmistakable and it slays him deep inside; it's the last thing he wanted but he guesses it's true, he's just been so careful, curbing his instincts, his ever-present want for her; tried not to tease her. He laces his arm around her back, tugs her closer. "I didn't want to make it harder for you," he explains solemnly.

She nods, skates her thumb over his lip before she presses a quick, soft kiss against the corner of his mouth and then she twists in his embrace, lies on her back again within the embrace of his arm. She arches her lower back, shifts her hips, restless against the mattress.

"It's just… I feel so _good_ now. I have all this energy, and I'm restless and excited and happy but I just have to sit here and that's okay, I'll do it all but Castle," here she finally shifts her face back to his, her darkened eyes searing into him, glazed with lust and her fingers are clawing into the mattress edgily.

"I'm dying here; I can barely stand it, I want you _all_ the time."

His heart leaps in his chest, loud and forlorn and aching, for her, with her. Didn't he read about this somewhere, increased libido and second trimester, but there is nothing they can do about it, leaving her to fight her instincts, her needs constantly. He wants to weep because he wants her too but even more so because he feels swamped with helplessness.

He trails his fingertips over the side of her face, down her jaw and to her chin, and then he kisses her, tenderly touches his lips to hers, and when he deepens the kiss he keeps it slow, calming. She arches into him, one arm draped around his shoulders but the rest of her body seems to slacken, sink into the mattress and then he knows what he can do.

"I'm here for you," he paints the words onto her lips, then trails a line of kisses over her cheekbones, her jaw. "Let me touch you."

Her eyes spring open but she nods, so full of trust that his stomach flip-flops. Even after all this time with her, he is still amazed at the depths of her trust in him; how she understands him.

He raises her sleep-shirt up and over her head, then pulls off the soft boxer shorts that she had appropriated from him and taken to sleep in, until she is completely naked, lying tumbled over the sheets, her skin virtually glowing within the dim New York City lights that invade his bedroom even at nighttime.

"You are so magnificently beautiful," he murmurs at the sight, taking in the familiarity and the now noticeable changes of her body. Her breasts fuller, the areolas larger, darkened. The slightly rounded curve of her belly. The faint thickening of her waistline, probably still invisible to anybody but him, so familiar with the shape and feel of her.

He wraps his hands around her waist, then rides his palms up her sides, his fingers skirting along the underside of her breasts but then back down to her stomach, around her navel, before he cradles his palm over her abdomen.

She shivers in syncopation with his touches, her eyes fluttering closed. He continues the journey of his hands down her thighs, her calves, then back up. Long strokes over her skin, adding slight pressure; his touches meant to calm, not arouse, and he can feel her body relaxing in increments, the tight thrum of arousal and restraint bleeding into the night.

He rubs along her arms, down to the underside of her wrists and back up, over her shoulders, her neck, knows that this will help disperse the blood flow from its concentrated pool to her midsection into all of her limbs. Her breathing calms under his ministrations, and he repeats his soothing motions down her body, smoothes over her ribs, her hips, down her thighs, calves, and back until he reaches her shoulders once more.

Kate's eyes stay closed, her breathing quiet and regular, he knows she's almost asleep once more. He nudges her softly; she rolls onto her side instinctually, and he spoons his body along her back, cradles an arm around her torso, his hand on her chest where he can feel her calm, reassuring heartbeat.

* * *

"We should go on a date tonight," he announces and she looks up from her iPad.

"Castle you know I can't go anywh…" She trails off mid-sentence, her head tilted, watching him observantly. He can't stop grinning at her, proud of his idea, his plan, bounces up and down on the heels of his feet.

A smile, almost a smirk blooms on her face and she sucks the corner of her mouth between her teeth, her lips pursed. A trademark Beckett look and damn if it doesn't make his stomach flutter instantly. "Okay," she agrees, raises a knowing eyebrow at him. "Will you take me in my stylish sweatpants?"

"Huh?" What's that got to do with…

"I don't have anything to wear, Castle." She mostly laughs at herself but he can hear the slight hum of frustration in her voice at the fact that she is still a captive of the loft. "All my bras are too tight already, and I can't button any of my pants."

Oh. He didn't realize… Guess she did put on a few more pounds by now; her curves slightly more rounded. He wonders… He could... "I'll handle it," he grins at her proudly, mulling over his burst of inspiration. "Leave it up to me."

* * *

He knocks on the bedroom door. "Kate?"

"Why are you knocking?" She laughs from the other side. Oh, true, guess he doesn't usually knock at his own room.

"Are you decent? I've got… company with me." He looks over at the woman next to him, who smiles back.

"Uhm..." He can practically hear her thinking in there; has to suppress a laugh. "Sure."

He swings open the door, beckons his guest to enter after him. "Kate, this is…"

"I'm Lynette." The diminutive, excessively well coifed blonde strides past him purposefully, heading right toward Kate, a hand outstretched in greeting. "I'm with 'A Pea in the Pod' maternity wear."

Kate shifts on the bed, adjusts from being curled on her side against her body pillow to a sitting position, looking startled for a moment as she shakes the woman's hand, but then she shifts her gaze back to him, a smile breaking over her face.

"Really, Castle?" She smirks. He winks at her. But really it's just the greatest, hottest store for maternity clothes, all the stars go there, he's researched it. The name of the place was just icing on the cake. He holds her gaze for long moments and her smile softens, melts into him and oh, she's so breathtaking, his blood tingles, his knees go wobbly.

Lynette clears her throat, startles him out of his trance. "Shall we get started?" She addresses Kate.

And then her entourage of assistants flies through the door, wheeling in three large clothes racks, setting them up before discreetly disappearing once more. Lynette shifts through one of the racks, pulls out a handful of hangers. "Let's start with the most vital part; fitting bras." She smiles knowingly at Kate, presenting a first set of items to her.

He shuffles on his feet, doesn't quite know what to do with himself and both women turn toward him, staring. Oh, _that's_ a look. "I'll be… uhm… outside," he murmurs, then quickly makes his departure.

* * *

He picks her up at the door, just like a proper date, except it is at their bedroom door and he won't wait for her to get up and let him in. She smiles at him from her perch on the bed, tender and expectant and his heart leaps in his chest. She's so beautiful, _glowing_, really.

He steps close to her, hands her the single, long-stemmed red rose he's brought for her, and then he leans over, kisses her softly, tasting strawberry lip-gloss and Kate, her lips warm, her mouth entrancing.

"You ready to go?" He murmurs. She nods and he laces an arm around her back, the other under her knees, and lifts her up into his arms. She squeals in surprise, wraps her arms around his neck to hold on.

"Uff," he groans, "you really did gain weight," he teases her, grunts exaggeratedly.

She slaps his shoulder. "Jerk." But it holds no power when it's accompanied by her giggling. And oh, how he loves her like this, this Beckett that lets him pamper her sometimes, loves this playful, fun, amazing woman.

"You know," she switches tactics now, nuzzling her nose underneath his ear, her breath dancing along his skin, hot and enticing and he has to clench his legs to keep his knees from buckling. "I _can_ walk a few steps…"

He shakes his head. "Not where we're going. No stairs, remember?" And then he carries her up to the rooftop.

* * *

"Dinner and a movie, my lady," he announces when he carries her through the metal door onto the roof.

He is a bit proud of himself for pulling all this off within a day; he's so relieved that the weather has been holding, the August heat having subsided, its remnants only glimmering in the air, leaving the night pleasant and comfortable. He really hopes she'll like it, and his stomach lurches nervously. Carefully letting her down, he keeps an arm around her waist while she stands up, looking around. He follows the sweep of her eyes over the rooftop terrace, trying to see how she would find it.

Her mouth is open, eyes wide, luminous and sparkling with the reflections from the strings of white lights he has strung around the balustrade of the terrace. He's set up a table with candles, her favorite Chinese take-out, now that she can enjoy it again without the nausea, and this fabulous non-alcoholic red wine he's found. Two cushioned lounge chairs are facing the large movie projector screen that he rented for the night.

She turns back toward him. "Castle, this is beautiful," she breathes the words, smiles blissfully while she deeply inhales the evening air. She has had to be mostly inside for the past weeks and he can practically see how the slight breeze invigorates her senses.

"_You_ are beautiful." He sweeps his gaze up along her body, and she turns one full circle for him, showing off her dress. It's a midnight blue fabric that shimmers alluringly, draped over one shoulder while leaving the other bare, cinched underneath her breasts, then falls down fairly straight to just above her knees.

"Oh hey, look at this," she grins at him, then takes the fabric on her stomach between her fingertips and pulls it out straight. "It's got room to grow!" She giggles at the large dome that the dress now forms and he can't help it, feels almost overwhelmed by her and he swoops forward, cradles his palms around her face and kisses her, deep and intense, sipping at the happiness and love and excitement that is bursting from her mouth. She sinks into his arms, his kiss, fluid and warm and tantalizing and he can barely contain it, this burst of passion, the depth of his feelings, and "I love you, I love you Kate," he urges the words into her mouth.

She trails her fingers down his cheek, his neck, her touch so very tender. "I love you too." Then she wraps her arms around him, snuggles tightly into his embrace and he holds her for long moments, silently, soaking her in.

"Come on," he finally nudges her, a little worried that she's been standing for too long. "You need to sit back down."

"Wait," she stops him, her palm against his chest, "not quite yet." She watches him closely, her eyes honest, her hand caressing up and down his chest, almost hypnotically.

"I just wanted to say…" She trails off, her lips tucked between her teeth for a moment but then she runs her hands up his shoulders, cradles his face between her palms. "Thank you. For being so wonderful with me, with all of this. You're _amazing_."

Warmth rushes through his blood, weakens his limbs, spreading such relief that he's doing this right, that he's good for her, to her. He and Meredith were never right for each other, but he was younger and stupid and he knows, he _knows _he wasn't as good to her as he should have been when they were having Alexis. He drops his forehead against Kate's.

"Anything for you, Kate."

* * *

_o_

_Your growing baby now measures about 4 inches long, crown to rump, and weighs in at about 2 1/2 ounces – about the size of an apple. She's busy moving amniotic fluid through her nose and upper respiratory tract, which helps the primitive air sacs in her lungs begin to develop. Her legs are growing longer than her arms now, and she can move all of her joints and limbs. Your baby's bones are beginning to ossify, which means that if an x-ray was taken the skeleton would be visible. Although her eyelids are still fused shut, she can sense light. If you shine a flashlight at your tummy, for instance, she's likely to move away from the beam. There's not much for your baby to taste at this point, but she is forming taste buds._ _Your baby's skin is very thin, and his/her blood vessels can actually be seen through the skin. (babycenter dot com and American Pregnancy Association)_

_o_


	7. 18 Weeks

**18 WEEKS**

**AN: **Thank you to all of you who are sticking with this story, for your excitement and your lovely and kind reviews. There are no words that can adequately express how appreciative I am of your continued enthusiasm.

I have fallen slightly behind; my apologies – on our 'official' timeline, Kate is already in her 19th week at this point. She'll be 20 weeks pregnant next week (halftime!), which is when you'll get a next chapter. :)

* * *

_**150 Days To Go **_

_Finally, oh god finally_, he thinks as the door falls closed behind them and Kate wraps her arms around his neck, slants her mouth on his, at once intense and willing, her body bowing into his embrace. He missed touching her so much, her soft skin against his fingertips; the way she squirms, writhes when he caresses her, drives her wild; the sounds she makes, enticing and feverish and sexy as hell.

He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist, clings tightly to him while her tongue dances in his mouth, and he feels her added weight in his arms and damn if that doesn't completely do it for him. He carries her to their bedroom in quick strides, cannot wait to feel her again, map the changes of her body with his hands, his lips, his tongue. He'll worship her, his amazing woman who had to fight all her natural urges and instincts, her innate nature to make it through six weeks of immobility.

_It all looks good but just to be safe, to err on the side of caution_, the doctor had said when she had prescribed another two weeks of modified bed rest after the initial four, but Kate had taken it with single-minded determination, like always, and he has no words for how amazed he is by her, how grateful and proud.

He lets her sink onto the bed, slowly peels off her clothing, piece by piece, following every patch of newly exposed skin with his lips and the wet trail of his tongue. She mewls, squirms underneath him, her fingers fisted into the sheets, her pale skin contrasting starkly with the dark red sheets, a long line of lithe muscles and enticing womanly curves.

"Hang on," she presses forth the words and he lifts his mouth off her breast. Kate grabs for a pillow, scoots it underneath her hips. "Better for my back," she explains for his benefit."

He makes a mental note of that, will make sure to not forget to give her that extra comfort from now on; in fact maybe he should do some research, check what positions might be recommended, better for her… But then she cradles her palms around his face, pulls him toward her mouth once more and all coherent thought vacates his brain.

Finally, they are cleared, the growth of her uterus having moved her placenta to where it needs to be; mother and baby are very healthy, and Kate is allowed to go about her daily life again, move around, go back to work, have sex. She had wrapped her hand around his thigh during the entire car ride home from the doctor's office, teasing him with her fingers that grazed ever higher on his inseam, the flicker of her lashes when she looked at him and the press of her body against his side. Not shy about what she wanted, needed and of course he'll give her anything, everything, but he'll make it slow, drawn out and intense until she'll no longer remember her own name.

She feels familiar but also new, her shape different now, filled in, softer. Her breasts are full, her waistline thickened, her belly now visibly rounded and protruding and it's one of the most remarkable sights he's ever seen.

"You are so beautiful." The brush of his mouth paints the words onto the skin of her stomach, over the peaks of her hipbones before he travels lower and she shivers, arches her pelvis toward him in a sharp bow.

(…)

She's curled on her side, watches him with those clear, wide eyes and her beautiful, beautiful smile, so filled with warmth and love that it still makes his heart tremble. Sometimes he wonders if that will ever stop, if he will ever not just be amazed by her, but he cannot imagine how that would be possible. It's been five years and there was never a time when she didn't captivate him with her smart wit and staggering intelligence, her teasing, her smiles, her gorgeous face, her hotness. Even when he was mad at her.

"How did we ever survive four years without doing this?" She sighs, runs her fingers along the side of his face. "This was hard."

"Uhm yeah, I'd say so," he wiggles his eyebrows at her and she blushes - actually blushes at that still - and hides her groan in her pillow.

"Shut up."

Castle runs his fingertips over the curve of her cheek, her shoulder and the length of her arm, finally trailing around her belly. She raises her eyes to him, scoots closer, and he presses his palm onto the warm curve.

"Can't believe our baby was hiding from us today."

Dr. McMillan tried, but the baby was turned, legs folded over, covering its girl – or boy – parts. They tried to nudge her, he even talked to Kate's belly right there in the doctor's office but to no avail, their tiny human steadfastly held her own. Stubborn little thing already. And he had been so excited to find out; he really, really wanted to know.

Kate laces her fingers through his on top of her stomach. "It's a girl," she announces, just as convinced as ever, smiling at him.

He chuckles. Then trails his thumb along the rim of her navel. "Can you feel her yet? Moving around?"

"I'm feeling things, from time to time. But I can't really tell if it's her," she sighs. "It's very slight."

"Yeah she's still so tiny."

"Five and a quarter inches," Kate elaborates proudly. "She's going to grow fast now."

He folds a leg around her, pulls her securely into his embrace and she nuzzles her face against his neck. Her breath skirts across his skin, her body so warm and soft and sweet, and he holds her more tightly, sighs into her hair, a hitch of air bursting from his chest. Sometimes he still can't believe that this is real, that he has her, that they're going to have a baby.

Kate nuzzles her nose into his neck, slips her mouth along his collarbones, trailing a line of soft kisses up toward his chin. Then she lifts away, her eyes sparkling brightly.

"Baby wants some watermelon. Right now."

* * *

_**149 Days To Go**_

He looks up from chopping the bell peppers when she comes in the door, shedding her shoes, her purse, her light summer jacket.

"How was your first day?"

"Ugh, irritating," she huffs as she walks into the kitchen, sidles around the counter toward him. "Mostly paperwork and a lot of sitting around." She returned to work today now that she'd been cleared, but of course only on limited desk duty.

He turns toward her and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulls herself into him for a soft, drawn-out kiss. "Hey."

He grins, nudges her nose. "Hey yourself." He feels her stomach pressing into his when they do this now, warm and rounded and it still leaves him a little giddy every time.

Kate turns in his arms, facing the kitchen counter, one arm still wrapped around his waist. "What are you making?"

"Beef stir-fry."

Her eyes light up. "You gonna make it spicy?"

"If you want."

"Yes," she nods enthusiastically, then steals a sliver of the red pepper off his cutting board and starts nibbling it. "Our girl really wants spicy food today."

"Are you blaming all your food cravings on her now?" He winks, nudges into her hip. "You _do_ have a pretty decent appetite on your own, you know."

"Hey! Are you implying that I eat too much?" She tries to look indignant but can't quite suppress her grin. She slaps a palm on his stomach in retaliation and he huffs out a laugh.

Pulling her into his arms in one quick motion, he curves an arm around her back, bends over her. "Never," he murmurs suggestively, growls a little as he runs his fingertips over the smooth, rounded lines of her waist. "I _love_ your appetite."

She laughs at that and he captures the beautiful sound with his mouth, slips along the lines of her smile, the sweet curve of her happiness.

Kate is still smiling when he pulls away, and he meant to wait until after dinner but he just can't contain his excitement any longer.

"Come with me; I've got a surprise for you."

(…)

With a flourish, Castle swings open the door to what used to be the spare bedroom upstairs and urges her inside with him. He'd left the lights on earlier so everything would be illuminated just right when he presented it to her.

Surveying the layout once more, he scans his eyes over the new furniture, tries to see it with fresh eyes, tries to imagine what Kate might see. The gorgeous white crib with its bedding and matching canopy, pink with pale yellow and chocolate brown accents. The accompanying changing table and chest of drawers, the white rocking chair with the thick, soft cushions. The curtains that repeat the pattern of the bedding, keeping the bright daylight out but bathing the room in warm, sun-kissed tones. The adorably frilly princess lights he fell for.

He turns toward her, eager and bouncy but the excited words stick to his throat, tighten his breathing when he sees her standing there, frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock, brimming with tears.

"Kate?"

"Why… why did you do that?" She presses out the words, her voice constricted, teary. Then she turns around and flees.

(…)

The absolute shock keeps him rooted to the spot for a few minutes, the questions assaulting his mind. He was so sure she would like it, and he doesn't understand; he knows she's come to like his surprises. Finally he can get his feet to move, follows the path she took, down the stairs and toward their bedroom, dread and worry like rocks in his abdomen.

Castle finds her lying on their bed, curled up on her side, arms curved around her torso. She doesn't react when he steps into the room, and he can see the tear tracks shining on her cheeks but instead of the hurt he had prepared for, her face looks… serene?

"Kate, I'm sorry," he murmurs, even though he doesn't know what he's apologizing for.

"Not now," she calmly dismisses his words but there's no bite in it; instead she stretches an arm out toward him, her palm open in invitation. "Come here, Castle." Her request is so calm, so stunningly reverent that he ambles toward her immediately, slipping his hand into hers when he is close.

Kate tugs on his hand and he kneels down in front of her, by the side of the bed. Lifting her shirt she guides his palm on top of her stomach, presses it flatly onto her skin. "Feel."

His heart hammers so loudly in his ears, at once leaping with excitement and expectation that he can hardly focus at first. He takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself, and then the feelings trickle through, the soft flutters against his palm, seeping through from underneath her skin.

His eyes widen and he's breathless with the stunning beauty of it. Looking up at Kate's face, he finds her watching him, smiling in silent awe.

"Is that…?

"Yeah," she sighs contentedly, "that's our baby moving."

Oh, there is another one, a light staccato pattern against his palm. "Wow." He's stunned speechless; somehow he doesn't vividly remember any of this magic with Alexis.

"How does it feel to you?" He wonders, tries to imagine but comes up completely blank as to how it might feel to actually grow a new person. "Inside of you?"

"I don't know, like…" She contemplates for a moment. "Popcorn popping." He grins at that, tries to imagine those little unpredictable bursts and pops on the inside of his stomach.

"It's never been this strong before," she elaborates, and he starts rubbing tender circles over the slope of her belly, subconsciously trying to calm their little one. He curves his other hand around her cheek, slides his thumb along her cheekbone.

"Maybe she doesn't like it when you are upset," he softly adds, half statement, half question.

Her eyes flutter and she sighs, nudging him toward her so he follows her lead, crawls onto the bed with her, lying down to face her. Kate quietly watches him for a few moments before she speaks.

"You don't get why I got upset, right?"

He shakes his head. "If you don't like it we can get other furniture. We can donate this set or maybe keep it at the Hamptons or-"

She presses two fingers to his lips and he swallows the rest of his sentence.

"That's not it. It's really beautiful," she admits, but the relief at her words won't come when it's accompanied by her sighs and the sad drop of her eyes. He's confused because if she likes it, then where is the problem?

"Then why the tears?"

"Rick, I've been cooped up in here for _six_ weeks. Six weeks of not moving and hoping she'd stay healthy and dreaming of what she might look like, of bringing her home. I've hung on to this; imagined walking through stores and choosing clothes for her, a stroller and a car seat and her furniture, all her stuff…"

Oh. _Oh_. She was excited about preparing for their child and couldn't do anything about it and now that she can, he took that away from and jeez, he's really an idiot sometimes.

"I'm sorry." He exhales harshly. "I just wanted to surprise you."

"I know, Castle," she whispers, nudges her nose against his and gives him a quick, tender kiss. "I know what you were trying to do and I really appreciate it, but you need to remember that you're not on your own with this one. You don't _have_ to do everything alone."

He stares at her, heart leaping in his chest because it hasn't consciously occurred to him but it's true, he's never known anything different than being solely responsible for his child, doesn't know how to not just handle it all. He sucks in a breath, claws at her, trying to wrap her closer, tighter into his arms because he didn't realize how he needed this, these reassurances, this clear certainty of her voice, in her eyes.

Castle squeezes his eyes closed, nudging her face into the curve of his neck but Kate bats away his hands, instead frames his face with her hands, her touch both urgent and incredibly tender, with so much love, all this remarkable love for him.

"This isn't like you and Alexis, alone against the world," she urges. "We do this together. I'll be here Castle. You know that, right? I'm staying around. I _will be_ here."

* * *

_o_

_By week 18, your baby is about 5 1/2 inches long, about the length of a bell pepper, and she weighs almost 7 ounces. Get ready for a growth spurt – in the next few weeks, your baby will double her weight and add inches to her length. Your baby's skeleton is changing from soft cartilage to bone. She's busy flexing her arms and legs — movements that you'll start noticing more and more in the weeks ahead. The patterning of her scalp has begun, though her locks aren't recognizable yet. If you're having a girl, her uterus and fallopian tubes are formed and in place. If you're having a boy, his genitals are noticeable now, but he may hide them from you during an ultrasound. _

_o_


	8. 20 Weeks

**20 WEEKS**

**AN:** Sigh. Real life. I'm very very behind. I'm so sorry! We're catching up now…

_Timestamp_: This is the halfway mark of the pregnancy and would be happening on Saturday, September 7th, 2013.

* * *

_**137 Days To Go**_

Who ever invented Saturday morning meetings, anyway?

He lets the door fall closed behind him, drops his leather jacket with a sigh of relief. At least it was over and it was barely noon. The whole weekend still ahead of them.

It was just so pointless. Why had he even been sitting there? He could've sworn they'd already discussed all the points his lawyers had brought up. It was just odd. Hmm. Oh well. He dismisses the thought, suddenly realizes how quiet the loft is.

"Kate?" His voice almost echoes through the large, empty spaces of their home, but there is no reply. He heads toward their bedroom, stepping more quietly now in case she is asleep. These days she's a little bit like a grumpy bear when he wakes her up accidentally. Well, a cute grumpy bear. Momma bear. He grins. Oh, she'd probably kill him if he ever called her that. Or poke him really hard.

Maybe he'll crawl back into bed for a while, take a nap as well. Just wrap his arms around her, tuck her into the arc of his body where she fits so perfectly, warm and sweet. He'll cradle his hands around her firm belly; maybe feel the slight flutters of their baby girl against his palm.

The thought warms him from the inside, his limbs at once heavy and drooping and he hurries toward the bedroom. Yet when he pushes the door open, the room lies empty too, with the bed made neatly, the blinds drawn. He steps inside, stands rooted to the spot for a moment. Where is she? Usually she'd send him a text, or leave a note if she left unexpectedly.

He scans his eyes across the bed and the nightstands, looking for a message but coming up empty, until his gaze comes to a halt at the closet. Hung up on the outside of his closet door is one of his suits. One of his very favorite suits, actually, the charcoal one with almost invisible pinstripes, a shimmer to the fabric that makes it look like silk, and is so very soft to the touch.

He steps up to it, finds it arranged into a whole outfit, with a matching white shirt, no tie though, but even a white, silky pocket square folded neatly into the breast pocket. Wait, that is not just the pocket square though. Peeking out from the pocket in the same triangle shape is a piece of paper.

Castle plucks it out of the suit, his heart already hammering as he unfolds the note. Handwritten in her large, flowing letters it reads,

"_Wear me." _

He grins, at once excited, his fingers tingly, heart fluttering. He _loves_ it when she does these things.

He takes a quick shower, checks his phone, dresses in the suit, checks his phone again but there are still no new messages. What _is_ she up to? Ah, well. He tries to censor his questing mind. He'll find more clues in whichever order she intended because he knows she'd have had it all planned out.

Wandering back out into the kitchen, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walks, he grabs the loaf of bread, opening the twisty tie around the plastic to take out a couple of slices, thinking he should make a sandwich, but maybe something non-drippy, no mustard or mayo or it's sure to land on his suit. Reaching for a plate he turns toward the kitchen island when he sees it.

His car keys for the Mercedes, placed in the middle of the island, with a note attached.

He grins giddily, reaches for the little white sheet of paper and unfolds it.

"_Drive me." _

Dismissing the sandwich he quickly grabs a Mojo bar instead; it'll stave off his hunger enough for wherever he is going, and he has no patience for food when Kate is waiting somewhere for him. Folding the suit jacket over his arm he heads down to the parking garage.

It's taped to the dash of the car, covering the built-in GPS screen. A photo of the Hamptons house, two words scribbled in black sharpie across the image.

"_Visit me." _

He smiles, staring at the house for a moment. They've stayed there frequently, ever since that first time, and was that really only a year ago? He can hardly imagine any of the rooms without her in it.

While he's driving, he plays with the radio, switching stations over and over but nothing seems to quite work for his mood and he just can't wipe the silly excited grin off his face. His mind drifts, thinking of her and what their life will be like once the little one has arrived, when they'll take her out there the first time, imagines Kate standing by the big picture window, overlooking the serene .

"_Halfway there_," he dictates a text into the voice app on his phone, sends it off to Kate.

'_Can't wait_,' is all the reply he gets but he can practically hear the evocative lilt in her voice, as if she's spoken the words out loud.

Parking in the driveway he jumps out of the car, his heart leaping excitedly with all the possibilities, expectant and eager and he calls her name into the quiet. "Kate?"

When there is no reply he steps into the house, calls her once more but here too, all remains eerily silent.

Closing the front door behind him, he glances around when he notices the rose petals strewn across the hallway, not haphazardly, more like… a trail?

He follows the path impatiently, ends up in the kitchen. The rose petals lead him up to the counter first, on top of which lies a single white rose, the stem cut short, holding his note underneath.

"_Find me." _

Rose petals, a white rose, and his suit, and it can't possibly… No, that's… His heart thumps heavily in his chest, blood roaring in his ears and his fingers shake as he lifts up the rose, sliding it into the buttonhole of his suit jacket.

The red path leads toward the patio doors and when he swings them open, he sees her immediately.

Standing in the knee-deep, reedy grass at the edge of the cliff where the rocks fall down toward the beach.

An ethereal vision in a flow of white.

He can't breathe, can't even move for a moment, stumbles over the threshold, his stomach fluttering, his body flushing with heat, with want, with the lure of possibilities.

And then she turns toward him and even from the distance he can see her smile, wide and warm, inviting him, guiding him forward and then he walks, each step bringing him closer to the woman he loves, this incredible, loving, surprising human being.

His future.

* * *

She holds out her hand when he is close enough, palm up and he folds his hand into hers, letting her draw him the last couple of steps forward until he stands in front of her.

He stares, just can't stop staring. Her hair is pulled away from her face, parted and clasped to the side in a thick, casual swoop, the rest of it falling in long, tumbling golden-brown waves over her shoulders and down her back. The gown caresses her body; wide straps hold it over her shoulders, the neckline a triangle that dips between her breasts, freely and unashamedly showing her scar and he loves this, how she's made it a part of herself, the past that formed her, that she's learned to overcome.

An oval clasp cinches the fabric just under her breasts, studded with rhinestones that sparkle in the bright afternoon sun, and pleats of fabric cascade down to her hips, expertly hiding her small baby bump, the skirt flowing easily down to the ground in long, silk lines of pure white.

She looks like a goddess.

Kate runs her fingers down his cheek in a tender, now so familiar caress, smiling up at him in a slight angle that tells him she's not wearing shoes with her gown. Her face is so beautiful that it almost hurts, a clench deep inside of him that makes him squeeze her hand, assure himself that this is real, that she's truly here, truly standing in front of him wearing a wedding dress.

There's warmth in her smile and tender want, but it's timid too and he can feel the anxiety that rolls off her, throbbing through his blood when she presses her palm over his heart.

There's so much she wants to say, he can see it on her face, can practically feel it with his heart but the words she chooses are simple, as minimal as the notes she's left to bring him here, and the only ones that matter.

"Marry me?"

* * *

There's a path drawn onto the sand of the beach, scatterings of red and pink rose petals that outline each side of the make-shift aisle, and ending in an infinity symbol, two circles that are intertwined in the middle. He recognizes the Hampton's Justice of the Peace who is waiting for them just beyond it, nestled into the cove of rocks that circles his part of the beach.

A few people line each side of the isle, bright, excited smiles greeting Kate and him from only those who are most important to both of them: Alexis, Mother, and Kate's father on one side, Lanie, Espo, and Ryan with Jenny on the other.

They walk down the aisle together, Kate's arm folded into the crook of his elbow, because she does not want to be given away, she wants to start this _with _him.

The words of the Justice are beautiful, speak of their shared past together, their connection to each other, but they blend into the roaring sounds of the waves washing up on the shore behind them and later he will barely remember any of it until he reads the script again because there's nothing as enthralling, as _vital _to him as looking at Kate in this moment, the shimmer of tears in her wide eyes, the dance of her hair that plays in tendrils around her neck, the serene smile that tells him everything. All the assurance he could have ever needed lies within the exquisiteness of her smile.

But he takes note of every word, soaks them inside himself as he listens to the melody of her voice, solemn with truth, insistent as she makes her promises, and his heart soars, so full that it seems to burst from his chest, overwhelmed but it's true, it's real, they made it and he knows, just _knows_ that they'll continue to be amazing together.

He steps closer and the world narrows to just the two of them, surrounded only by the endless sea, the breeze playing around them, the glare of the white sand against the warm sun. He presses his palm over her stomach, cradling their baby while the other hand rests over her heart, and he repeats the vows back to her.

I take you to be my partner for life.  
My lover and my best friend.

I vow to be your ally in conflict and your accomplice in mischief.  
Your greatest fan and your toughest adversary.  
Your protection in danger and your consolation in sorrow.

I give you my heart.  
My promise to walk with you, hand in hand, wherever our journey leads us.

Always.

* * *

_o_

_By 20 weeks, your baby weighs about 10 1/2 ounces. She is around 6 1/2 inches long from head to bottom and about 10 inches from head to heel – the length of a banana (from now on, baby will be measured from head to toe). Her arms and legs are in the right proportions to each other and the rest of her body now. She's swallowing more these days, which is good practice for her digestive system; her kidneys continue to make urine and the hair on her scalp is sprouting. _

_Your baby's sensory development is exploding! Her brain is designating specialized areas for smell, taste, hearing, vision, and touch. Some research suggests that she may be able to hear your voice now, so don't be shy about reading aloud, talking to her, or singing a happy tune if the mood strikes you._

o

* * *

**AN: Please visit my tumblr to see a picture of Kate's dress! nic6879 _dot_ tumblr _dot_ com**


	9. 21 Weeks

**21 WEEKS**

* * *

_**134 Days To Go **(Timestamp: September 10, 2013. Still at the Hampton's house.)_

He finds her outside, standing on the porch, looking out toward the ocean over the long blades of grass that the morning breeze sways gently in the serene meadow. The bright morning sunlight haloes her long tumbling hair, outlines the shape of her body and she looks like an angel. He presses his hand over his thudding heart, knows he's turning overly sappy – if he ever wrote this in a book he'd be laughed out of his writers' poker club – but her beauty is almost otherworldly and it makes his head swim, steals his breath.

She's wearing that tiny blue robe that barely covers her butt, leaves her arms naked, the one he's been particularly fond of ever since that very first trip when he took her out here. He'll never _ever_ forget the moment she let it drop off her shoulders and it curled around her feet, her body slim and naked and gorgeous in the bluish tint of the pool light. It's tighter around her middle now, he can see it even from the back; the belt cinched higher on her widening waist, the fabric more snug over her hips and he loves her shape, loves the obvious signs of her pregnancy.

She's carrying his baby. _Their_ child. He's joked with her once that all his dreams come true, but if he's honest, this isn't one he had truly allowed himself to even envision until it somewhat unexpectedly happened. And now she married him, too. They're _married_. It's been a couple of days and he still can't quite grasp it; it's almost too big, too amazing and he's pinched himself quite a few times so far, making sure he's not fantasizing.

"Good morning, Mrs. Castle." He steps behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and she leans against him, letting him support most of her weight.

Kate turns her head, eyebrow raised as she grins. "Good morning, Mr. Beckett."

He laughs. "Touché." She rests her head against his shoulder but he can almost sense the thoughts starting to race through her head, the tension rippling her muscles.

"Do you want me to take your name?" She asks quietly, her fingers playing over the veins on the back of his hand.

He turns his head, presses a lingering kiss to her cheek. "If there's one thing I've learned from my previous marriages, it's that changing your name does not a successful marriage make." He doesn't care. To him, she'll always be Kate Beckett anyway.

Curling his palms over her sides he turns her in his embrace until she's facing him. "I want you to do what _you_ want. Is that what you want?"

Kate sighs, staring at his chest for a moment, playing her fingertips over his sternum. "No," she answers, slowly shaking her head while she speaks. "I think it's a stupid, archaic tradition." She looks up at him then, her eyes wide and earnest. "It's… This is me, you know. My identity, who I've always been. My family's legacy, too. My mom carried that name. And I want to keep that." She quiets for a moment, fingers still over his heart. "I just… I hope you're not disappointed."

"Kate…" He lifts up her chin with his index finger until her eyes meet his again and he smiles at her, nudges his nose against hers.

"One of the things I love most about you is your independence, your fierce spirit, your identity. Kate Beckett is the girl that strutted into my life with her badge drawn and her prickly attitude and completely bowled me over. Kate Beckett is the woman I fell head over heels in love with. How could I ever be disappointed in that? I love _you_, I love who you are. You're your own person; I'd never dictate that to you."

A wide smile blooms across her face, her eyes are swimming and a single tear rolls down her cheek. "Damn hormones," she mutters, swiping it off her face with the back of her hand, and he chuckles, tucks her tightly into his embrace, her face nestled in the crook of his neck.

"I'll just call you Sweetheart or Baby or Honey Buns in public instead."

She snorts, pinches his earlobe hard with her thumb and index finger. "Just try it, Love Muffin."

"Are you making fun of my pregnancy-related weight gain?" He quips, and really, it's only a little padding; he still fit his suit very nicely and looked rather handsome on Saturday, if he may say so himself. Besides, he did read that it's completely normal for men to gain some weight and it's really not that noticeable, is it?

She trails her hand down over his chest to his stomach, her fingers splayed wide across his abdomen. "Not at all, Stud," she grins, quirking an eyebrow at him while she squeezes her fingers around the small tire around his waist. He growls at her and she laughs, such a beautiful, free, happy sound that he can't help but soak in, tucking her tighter into his embrace, his arms banded around her back. She relaxes against his chest, swaying with him in the morning breeze, almost like dancing to an inaudible tune.

"I'm sorry our honeymoon has to be so short," she suddenly sighs against his neck, her words muffled as she presses them over his skin. "I wish we could stay for a while longer." Her fingertips trail over his skin, up and down the length of his spine.

"Last full day," he sighs wistfully, looking out at the ocean over the top of her head. After her month of sick leave, he'd been surprised that she'd actually been given time at all, and he's thankful for every day because these past few have been the most blissful he could ever remember. "What do you wanna do today?"

She lifts her head, looking up at him with a mischievous grin, rubs her body against his like a cat. "You mean we'd actually want to leave the house?"

He laughs. Saturday after the ceremony they all had a lovely dinner together that had been catered; sitting outside on the deck with their small group of family and friends until it got dark, talking and swapping stories and laughing. Finally everybody had left and he had taken her to bed, grunting exaggeratedly when he carried her over the threshold and she had giggled and squirmed before he'd painstakingly peeled her dress off her gorgeous body, his fingers exploring every inch of her smooth skin, mapped every changing line of her shape, every spot that made her squirm and arch and moan. They hadn't left the house since.

Castle leans over, kisses her smiling mouth. "You're right," he murmurs, sipping at her lips. "Terrible, terrible idea." Kate grins against him, her palm curving over the back of his neck and then her tongue seeks his, delving deep inside his mouth, her body one long, undulating line arched into him. He runs his hand down her spine, over the curve of her butt cheek, nudging her high against him. A breathy moan tumbles from her throat, her fingers clutched into the fabric of his boxers and then she slips them underneath the waistband, her nails urgently digging into his skin. Pressing one hand over the back of each of her thighs he lifts her and she comes, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

"Seriously woman, how much weight did you gain?" He teases, laughing with her as he sways for a second and she bites his lip, sucks it into her mouth.

"Shut up and take me to bed."

* * *

She swings a leg over his hip, settling on top of him, her skin still sweat-slicked, glowing in the bright sunlight that is flooding the room. Her hair tumbles onto him, tickling his shoulders as she leans over his face, kisses him fervently, her body undulating against him and he can still barely catch his breath from the last round.

"Kate…" He murmurs into her mouth, calming her pace, his fingers trailing through her hair. "Kate, Kate..." She smiles against his lips, kisses him slower, deep and loving and he wishes he could soak her completely inside his body, needing her closer; nothing is ever close enough.

"I may… need a few minutes," he gasps, his skin quivering, muscles like jelly.

She kisses his jaw, down his neck, over his collarbone. "I know." Her fingers coast over his shoulders and down his arms, a soft and soothing path. He wraps his palms around her waist and she rises to sit, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. Caressing her belly, her ribs, her breasts he follows the lines of her body with his fingertips, staring up at her.

"You are magnificent," he murmurs, admiring the gorgeous creature perched atop him haloed by sunlight. His wife, his beautiful, beautiful wife. His heart thunders in his chest.

She smiles, her eyes shining with silent wonder, a palm pressed over his heart. "You're not so bad yourself, Mr. Castle," she whispers and wow, does that one line immediately take him back through the past, mapping their journey together ever since the time when she was still out of his reach, sitting across from him in a hotel room in L.A., and his heart was aching with desperate, irrepressible longing.

And now they're married and wow, he can't… it's still… "I love you so much." He surges up, wraps his arms around her, cradling Kate in his lap. "Thank you for marrying me."

"Of course," she murmurs, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you for saying 'yes.'"

"Kate…" He sighs against her neck, so utterly, devastatingly in love with her, so very relieved to have her. "How could I say anything else?"

"Does that bother you?" She asks quietly, lifting away to look at him. "I kinda sprung it all on you…"

He regards her quietly; thinking, wondering. It's not like they never talked about it. They'd just been taking it slow. Casual. And then the baby happened, and he didn't want to propose or push for a wedding just because of the pregnancy.

"You knew I wanted to marry you." There's not a chance in hell that he'd have said 'no'. And she is well aware of that.

She nods, biting her lip.

"Then why the sudden worry?"

"I'm not worried, it's just…" She sighs, plays with the hair at the back of his head while she grasps for words.

"Remember when we had that fight, a few weeks ago, about the baby's room?"

He nods.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it. Not what happened but the 'why.' And I just… I wanted to give this to you, to us. This reassurance that we'll have each other. That we wouldn't have to do this alone. _Anything_." Kate shift closer, her hands cradling his face, her eyes sparkling with intensity and even though he didn't ask, didn't even need this explanation, he senses that it's important to her to say this. Her skin is warm against his, her touch fiery and his heart can't stop racing, his throat clogged.

"I wanted to make those promises to you so you'd never have to question or worry again. I wanted to give that to you without a big production or stress or hundreds of people. I wanted to say those vows to you. I wanted to be _married_ to you."

He swallows the last words with his mouth, kisses her deeply, his lips, his tongue caressing her, rolling her underneath him, their mouths still connected as she sinks back into the mattress, welcoming him within the cradle of her thighs. He holds himself up so as not to press all his weight onto her belly, the blood rushing in his ears as he keeps kissing her and she whimpers into his mouth. "It was perfect," he reassures between a string of kisses over her cheekbones, the swing of her jaw line, down the flawless line of her neck because it was amazing and he can't even imagine a lovelier way to marry her.

She smiles, arches her chest into his caress. "Mmm…so you liked it?"

"I loved it." He punctuates his words with soft kisses onto her skin. "Best… surprise… ever." He nuzzles her neck, presses a palm over the rounded curve of her belly. "Just like this one."

Her fingers claw into the back of his head, her hips rising toward him, undulating with need, her breathing rapid.

"You don't tire out these days, do you?" He wonders, just so amazed by her, naked and sexy underneath him, wanting only him.

"No…" She answers breathily, presses his head lower with urgency. "I feel great. Have all this energy…" He follows her silent order, pressing kisses along her collarbones, nipping his teeth over the sensitive, thin skin and she sucks in a sharp breath.

"Everything feels so intense. Stark…" She moans as his mouth travels lower and she confesses, "…and I want you _all_ the time."

He nuzzles lower, lower, following the siren call of her body as it begs for his touch. She won't have to ask him twice.

* * *

"Maybe we should leave the house for bit," she announces, draped across his chest, her long limbs flung out over him. "Buy some souvenirs or something."

"Who brings back souvenirs from their honeymoon? Isn't it the sign of a spectacular honeymoon when you've not seen any of the sights?"

She grins, resting her chin on his chest as she looks up at him. "Maybe I just wanna show off my ruggedly handsome husband in town?"

"Really?" He lifts her face close to his, presses a lingering kiss to her lips. "Maybe I want to keep my drop-dead-gorgeous wife all to myself?" Kate laughs, sounding so very pleased with him and he wishes he could bottle the sound.

She relaxes back onto his chest, looking up at him with a smile, her voice quieter, almost wistful as she speaks.

"What do you think she'll be like? When she grows up?"

He contemplates for a moment, caressing his thumb over her cheekbone, but this is easy, it's not like he hasn't constantly envisioned her ever since he found out about her existence.

"I think she'll look exactly like you, with her eyes this fascinating mix of green and brown that changes shades depending on her mood, and those high, pronounced cheekbones. And she'll have the chubby, squeezable cheeks just like you did in your baby pictures." She smiles dazzlingly and he continues his tale, letting their little girl come to life in front of his inner eye.

"She'll love wearing her hair in pigtails with little bows on each side, and she'll insist that you tie them because daddy's are never straight enough. She'll be a spitfire, full of energy, never able to sit still, always brimming with ideas, making up stories and regaling us all day long with her relentless chatter."

"Like you," she grins, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Yeah," he nods. "But she'll be smart as a whip, really bright, always wanting to learn, soak up the world with all her senses. She'll be headstrong and fierce, but full of compassion and warmth." He runs his fingers through the strands of her hair, caressing her scalp. "Just like her mother."

Her eyes sparkle, filled with a tumble of emotions. "I love you," she whispers fiercely, presses the words onto his lips. "I love you."

"And I love you."

She sinks back onto his chest, smiling at him silently while he runs his hands up and down her back, mapping the curvature of her spine.

"Come on Castle." She lifts off him, swings out of bed, suddenly full of bursting energy, pulling him up after her as she heads toward the bathroom. "Let's go scope out some ridiculously overpriced Hamptons' designer clothing for precocious Little Ms. Castle-Beckett…"

He freezes, clasping her hand tightly and she turns back around when he doesn't follow, her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Castle-Beckett?"

She steps into him, laces her arms around his neck, smiling warmly. "Of course. She should carry both our names, don't you think?" He nods, not sure why it stuns him so but hearing it from her lips is just… magical.

"After all, she's half you, and half me."

* * *

_o_

_Your baby now weighs about three-quarters of a pound and is approximately 10 1/2 inches long — the length of a carrot. You may soon feel like she's practicing martial arts as her initial fluttering movements turn into full-fledged kicks and nudges. You may also discover a pattern to her activity as you get to know her better, realizing that she is not necessarily on the same schedule that you are. As your baby swallows amniotic fluid, her digestive tract is continuing to mature, and she also receives some of her caloric intake from the amniotic fluid. In other developments, your baby's eyebrows and lids are present now, and if you're having a girl, her vagina has begun to form as well (source: babycenter dot com)._

_o_

* * *

**AN:** I left a link on my Tumblr where you can see an image of what baby looks like at 21 weeks! The link also has a neat animation that shows baby's development and movements (21-27 weeks): Nic6879 _dot_ tumblr _dot_ com


	10. 24 Weeks

**24 WEEKS**

* * *

_**113 Days To Go**__ (Timestamp: Wed, October 2, 2013)._

He wakes slowly, his body weighted down and sluggish; dragged into consciousness by the soft murmurs that float past his ears.

He was writing again late last night, the words impatient, a furious stream running from his brain and out his fingertips that kept his mind occupied, on edge until that very last scene came alive on the page, the last word was in place. And then he stumbled into bed, exhausted and weary, and spooned around his wife who was sleeping peacefully, curled onto her side. An arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting over the noticeably rounded, firm curve of her belly and the length of him stretched against her back, along her long legs. He closed his eyes, breathed in her scent, and dropped off into oblivion.

His mind struggles, still clawing for the remnants of sleep but her voice sounds warm and intimate and he wants to be there, needs to feel and see and not miss any moment. He's wondered whether it'd calm down at some point, his eagerness, the giddy excitement, the absolute wonder at every small moment and change, but it doesn't, it's alive and bright in him, _exhilarating_.

His eyes open to the silver-grey light of an early October morning, sneaking in slivers through the half-opened blinds, and to Kate, sitting up against the headboard, knees drawn up and her hands cradled lovingly around her belly. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips stretched in a serene, intimate smile, and it makes his heart stutter. She's completely focused inward, just her and the baby, the two of them, mother and daughter. It's beautiful and private and there's a familiar ache that lances his insides, a yearning for something he isn't a part of, can't have, almost a stab of jealousy that he can't be part of this unit, can never have a bond as strong as what Kate has with their child, growing her inside of her body.

She's murmuring sweet nothings to her baby, her fingers tripping, rubbing her stomach and he swallows hard, listens to the calm melody of her words, trying to let it calm his aching heart.

As if she could feel his inner turmoil Kate reaches for his hand, entwines their fingers, and maybe she could because she presses his palm to her skin and the powerful kicks beneath it.

"She's doing her morning exercises," Kate murmurs, laughter in her voice, so much pure joy that it flares right through him, warm and soothing, and then he feels silly, stupid for feeling left out, for even allowing the thought to take roots. The belly is growing noticeably by the week now, so much rounder than barely four weeks ago when they got married and she could still hide it beneath the flowing lines of her dress. The kicks are stronger now too, coming at a fast rhythm, bulging out from underneath her skin and it's amazing, so amazing.

"She'll come out lean and muscly, if she keeps that up," he grins up at Kate, rolls over further onto his stomach, one leg draped over hers and pressed tightly into her side.

She smiles, doesn't reply though, instead she lifts a hand to his head, runs her fingers through his unruly morning hair, softly scratches his scalp.

"You still coming with me to my appointment this morning?"

"Of course," he nods, rubs his palm over her belly, long strokes that seem to sometimes calm their active baby. "I've been wondering…"

"Hmm?"

"Should we not find out about the sex?" Her fingers still in his hair, cradle the back of his head and the baby kicks particularly hard right at that moment, as if she approves.

"They'll ask in today's appointment, won't they?"

She nods.

"I mean, you're convinced anyway, you believe in this and I don't know what it is but these last weeks, months, it's been amazing not knowing and just _believing_ in this with you. I love that; it's _wondrous_ and I think we should keep that for us."

Her smile widens and he knows he's got her with this idea, with the unerring belief he's showing in her mother's intuition. They'd known with Alexis but everything about this experience with Kate is different, wonderfully different and he wants to hang on to that as tightly as possible.

"Okay." She nods, curling her soft fingertips around the rim of his ear, the edge of his jaw. "Yeah. Let's not find out the gender of our daughter," she grins at her own joke.

Suddenly she sucks in a deep breath, a sound like a mix between a squeal and a giggle coming from her throat. "Oh. There it is." She grabs his hand, moves it off her belly. "Watch this," she instructs, her eyes shining with mirth.

"Over here," she points to her left side and he stares at the two rounded bumps that poke up beneath her skin. "Those are her feet. See, she pushes off my side…" There it is again, thump thump beneath her ribcage and Kate sucks in another breath. And then it's like a wave of movements that rolls from her left all the way to her right.

"It's like she's doing somersaults in there," Kate explains, her fingertips tracing the pattern of movement along her belly, for him to see. "Here's her elbow, an arm… Oh this is her butt," she points at the thicker bump that appears right below her navel for a moment and keeps moving to the right until the kicks are on her right and everything stills. He's still staring in awe, his mouth hanging open when Kate takes his hand, presses his palm over her left side. "And now her head is over here, can you feel it?" He rubs her side and "yeah," he sighs in astonishment, able to make out the rounded shape beneath his hand and the layer of muscled skin of Kate's stomach. "Wow. She gonna do it again?"

"No," Kate shakes her head, straightening out her legs and settling deeper into her pillow. "She usually settles in after that stunt."

He lays his head on her chest, forehead nudged into the curve of her neck while he wraps an arm low around the curve of her belly where the baby has stopped her kicking. For long moments he just lies there, breathing her in, holding on tight, so tight, while her fingers draw nonsensical patterns over his scalp and nape.

"Appointment's at ten, right?" He mumbles sleepily, drowsy from the lack of sleep and the calming beat of her heart beneath his ear. She hums in agreement.

"Then let's get some more rest. If she sleeps, we should sleep, right?" He feels rather than sees the smile stretch across her cheeks, but she doesn't call him out, just continues to caress his head, his face, his shoulders, until he's drifting, hazy, gone.

* * *

"Here is your baby," Dr. McMillan says, turning the screen further toward them to see, and Kate's hand automatically seeks his, their fingers entwined tightly as they both stare at the monitor's image, completely entranced.

After Kate has been examined, her glucose screening done, the baby looked at and measured – about eleven and a half inches long and approximately 15 ounces now, right on track with her development – they were given advice about the signs of preterm labor, and what to look out for, especially given Kate's earlier issues with placenta previa. Kate's placenta had migrated further up as the uterus grew, Dr. McMillan was quick to reassure them, just as they had hoped it would, and she didn't expect it to cause further problems.

Relief rushed through him, the image of Kate's blood still too stark in his memory, the sense of fear ever-present, still vivid when he remembers. Though it would require lots of medical intervention, the baby would now be able to survive outside the womb, and that helps, too, scary though it would be - that she'd have a chance; they could give her every possible chance, they wouldn't have to lose her, should anything go awry.

But here she is indeed, the images so surprisingly clear, well defined and Dr. McMillan just holds the wand in place, allowing them to watch for a while. A small shudder ripples through the tiny body. "Baby's got the hiccups," the doctor clarifies as Castle watches in wonder at the tiny being, not even born and yet here they can watch her, see her already.

"Oh that's what that is!" Kate exclaims, her smile wide. "I can feel that."

"I'd assume you would, yes," Dr. McMillan agrees, closely observing the image on-screen. "I think baby's resting. You can nudge your belly a bit, see if the little one wakes up."

Kate does as suggested, pressing her fingers into her stomach, just where they can see baby's shoulder and the fetus fidgets, flails her arms for them, the tugs them tightly to her body once more. Kate repeats the move and then their little girl stretches for them, arms and legs straightening out, kicking and they can see every move, the images so clear, tiny toes and fingers, a lean long frame.

Dr. McMillan guides the wand to where the little one is most active and suddenly she flips, turns around, her face smudged right against the inside of Kate's belly, letting them stare right at her, as if she's pressed against a window. Castle's breath catches, the emotions so thick that he can barely hold back the rush of tears.

"She looks like you, Kate." He's awed, amazed at this first photograph of their daughter, rosebud mouth and tiny, straight button nose. The pronounced cheekbones and high forehead, the narrow chin, and he clutches Kate's hand, rests his cheek on her head. "Just like you."

* * *

He hangs out in the waiting room while Kate gets dressed, mindlessly leafing through pamphlets and magazines when a flyer sails from one of the magazines onto the floor. Castle picks it up, scanning its contents, about to put it back when the words arrest him mid-movement.

'The Ultimate Second-Trimester Check List', the headline proclaims, and he sits down with it, eyes glued to the items on the list. One by one, he reads through them, his heart thudding faster by the moment, the influx of panic like a freight train, running over him at full speed.

"You ready to go?" Kate's palm lands on his shoulder and he looks up at her, eyes wide, the list clutched between his fingers and he tries to nod.

"Hey, you okay? Castle, what's wrong?" She sinks into the chair next to him, resting a hand over his knee.

"Kate, this list…" He stammers, holds it out to her with shaking hands.

She takes it from him, running her eyes over the information, murmuring its title under her breath. "What about it?"

"All these things… Kate, it's almost over, we have what, three more weeks till the third? And we haven't done so many of these items we're supposed to have handled! We haven't done a prenatal class, or found a labor coach, or finished the nursery or planned your baby shower; we don't even have a baby name list…"

"That's because you keep making it longer every time I try to narrow it down…" She interjects, and she's smirking, actually smirking at him and why isn't she panicking about this too?

"Castle," she hums calmly, clasping her hands over his, her thumb caressing in soothing circles. "It's okay. Look how many we've already covered." Her voice flows through him like a soothing balm to his fluttery stomach, his thudding heart, and he glances at the list, sees what she means. 'Decide whether to find out the sex of your baby,' there's one right there.

"And so what if everything isn't done how and when some random _expert_ proclaims they should? We'll get it handled. Haven't we always found our own, unique way?"

He blinks up at her, finds her eyes on him, warm and smiling and he nods, at once calmed by her quiet resolve, her absolute confidence in him, _them_. She leans in, her eyes falling closed as she seeks his lips, kissing him softly once, twice.

"Come on, let's go do a fun one. Buy her some clothes to take her home in."

* * *

"My feet are killing me," Kate moans, dropping down onto the couch, the shopping bags flung on the cushions on either side of her.

They'd been to a variety of baby stores, spent hours browsing through the racks, admiring the large selection of clothes for a newborn. Little pink pants with grinning frog faces appliqued over the butt, small hoodies with fur lining for the winter, these tiny shoes and miniature socks with frills on top, and he couldn't get over all the dresses, each cuter than the next, frills and bows and pleats and oh, these little bloomers that went underneath, covering the diapered butt. It was all just too adorable and they'd giggled at the miniature outfits, holding them up to Kate's belly, and he'd bought pretty much every one she liked, despite her half-hearted comments that they wouldn't need nearly that much. But he loves seeing her happy, giving her everything she wanted, and it's not like they can't afford it. And really, he can hardly wait to see their little girl in all of them.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, tugging off her shoes, then her left sock before he cradles her naked foot between his hands, starts kneading the ball of her foot, digging his thumbs into the flesh.

Kate groans, at once sinking deeper into the couch, her head thrown back against the cushion, eyes closed in bliss. He rubs her foot thoroughly, paying attention to the soft flesh, the strands of muscles, listens closely to when she groans, when she winces, before he moves on to the right foot, digging and pressing, watching the tension flow out of her.

"Ugh thank you," she moans, her feet flopping to the floor. He raises, his knees cracking. "Oh hey, would you mind getting the lotion from the bathroom counter for me?"

He goes to grab it, comes back into the living room to find her still on the couch, but her pants unbuttoned and pushed below her thick waist, her shirt lifted to beneath her breast. He hands her the lotion and she squeezes a large dollop into her palm, warms it between both hands before she starts smoothing it over her belly.

"See," she says, winking at him, "just one more item covered from that list of yours. 'Start moisturizing your belly'."

Castle grins, kneels between her legs once more. "Let me," he murmurs, looking up at her and her eyes darken, more shimmering green than brown. She hands him the bottle and he repeats her steps, starts smoothing the lotion over her lower abdomen. She hums softly, her eyes closing as she relaxes back while he tenderly rubs the thick moisturizer onto her skin, precise and focused as he caresses the curves of her belly.

He grazes her hipbones, smoothing his fingers low on her abdomen and she hisses, her hips surging upward, at once seeking, eager for his touch. He kisses the line that trails down from her navel, murmurs his love over her skin, lower, lower, pulling off her pants and underwear. Looking up at her he marvels at her beauty, the long stretch of sinewy legs, that silky, pale skin, the curve of her stomach; her eyes are squeezed shut, her lips opened, shimmering wetly and she shivers, mewls his name.

"Another mark on the check list," he teases, nuzzling his lips up the length of her inner thigh. Her fingers grip his hair, eagerly trying to tug him higher. "Dedicate time to your partner."

* * *

_o_

_Your baby is starting to look like a miniature newborn. Her lips, eyelids, and eyebrows are becoming more distinct, and she's even developing tiny tooth buds beneath her gums. Your baby's growing steadily, putting her at just over a pound, about as much as a large mango. Since she's almost a foot long, she cuts a pretty lean figure at this point, but her body is filling out proportionally and she'll soon start to plump up. Blood vessels in her lungs are developing to prepare for breathing; her skin is still thin and translucent, but that will start to change soon. You may be able to see her squirm underneath your clothes now. Her brain is also growing quickly now, her taste buds are continuing to develop, and the sounds that your baby's increasingly keen ears pick up are preparing her for entry into the outside world, familiarizing her with loud noises. Turn on the radio and sway to the music – with her sense of movement well developed by now, your baby can feel you dance. (babycenter _dot _com)_

_o_


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