A prompt fill for the GoodLuckStana fundraising campaign in support of the Children's Hospital L.A. Prompt stated at the end.

And Everything Nice

It's so quiet out here.

Pale morning sunlight brushes across the wooden floors, tickles her toes, bathing the large open living space in gleaming brightness. Kate squints, steps up to the French doors. She knows the window pane will feel slightly warm to the touch if she presses her hand against it; knows also that the chill will nip at her nose and earlobes and toes if she steps outside.

The late November morning dawns cold, waves crashing onto the shore in the distance. She watches the ocean for a while, its relentless push and pull, the white foam that crests against the sand and the seagulls circling above in search of food.

She'd become used to the quiet. The serenity. She'd gone straight from convalescent leave to bedrest, and at first she struggled with the inactivity, yet it didn't take long for the Hamptons' house cast its spell over her.

She never expected she'd be the one who savored it - the silence of each day, the paced rhythm of life. No phone calls, no late nights or interrupted sleep, no missed lunches or dead bodies or the constant onslaught of questions, facts, clues rattling through her mind.

It'd been her life blood, once. She finds she no longer misses it.

Kate runs a hand over her stomach, cradles the small curve beneath her thick terry robe, her skin warm to the touch. It's an unconscious move that she catches herself making all the time. Soon, life will stop being quiet. There'll be noise - a different kind of noise than her life ever had before. But for now she relishes the tranquility of their days.

Soon, decisions will have to be made. She finds herself a little lost when she tries to think about it, unsure of what's next. Unsure of everything but this, this little life inside her growing healthy and strong despite it all; this life that gives her bone-heavy fatigue and morning sickness at all hours of the day, growing pains in her stomach and heartburn.

She doesn't care, revels in every small moment; quiet joy in her heart.

She turns at a noise behind her, smiles at her husband who's just appeared in the doorway, adorably rumpled from sleep, dressed just in boxers and a wrinkled t-shirt, his hair sticking up at all angles.

"Good morning, babe," she says, and Rick rubs his eyes, smiles at her. Warmth spreads through her at the love that radiates from him just at the sight of her.

"Hey. You been up long?" His voice is still a little rough from sleep and a shiver travels down her spine.

She shakes her head, and he shuffles over to the coffee maker, places a filter inside, adds coffee grounds, pours in water, flips the switch. Soon the scent of fresh coffee permeates the kitchen and she inhales deeply. Even just the smell is revitalizing, and luckily, coffee is not one of the scents that makes her nauseated these days. She's had to learn to sustain herself on only one cup, but she savors it daily; savors it while she sits with her husband out on the porch in their Hamptons home, wrapped in a thick blanket, to the sound of the ocean waves and the taste of salt in the air.

The doorbell rings and their eyes meet; Kate consults her watch but it's early, much earlier than they expected their first guests.

She moves to the door, sees the familiar silhouette of her father through the pane of glass. Her heart leaps. It's been a little while since she's seen him, and she's missed him while he traveled the country, catching up on the weeks of work he missed or postponed while she and Castle recovered from the shooting.

"Hey, Dad," she says when she opens the door, and then she embraces him, stays there in the cradle of his arms where she can smell his familiar scent, the comfort of wood and pine and flannel even though he never actually wears flannel.

"Katie," he murmurs, holds her tight, and she can feel in his embrace how much he needed to see her too, to reassure himself that she was healthy, thriving again. "You look so much better."

She's gained some weight at last; her cheeks are no longer hollow, her ribs no longer showing like a washboard beneath her skin, her waistline slowly rounding out.

"I'm doing better." She feels Rick appearing behind her, and disentangles from her father.

"Hey, Jim. So good to see you," her husband says, and the two men hug. Kate can see the relief on her dad's face that Rick, too, seems fully recovered.

It'd been a long road for both of them, months of pain meds and rehab and complications, but they did it together, hiding from the world out here in the Hamptons where there is peace, where the endlessness of the ocean and the persistent rise of the sun, the revitalizing energy of crashing thunderstorms kept them going, reminding them that life would go on, that they were making it, one day at a time.

She's not sure she ever wants to go back.

"Come on in." She invites her father inside. The two men follow her, and she tightens the belt around her robe. "Sorry we're not dressed yet."

"Oh no, I'm sorry, Katie, I showed up way too early. I just wanted to see you." She looks at him, understands. They have a family now; there's a stepdaughter and a mother-in-law, good friends who complete their small group. Everyone will be coming later today for their family Thanksgiving, and most will stay a few days, but for now she's glad to get some time just with her father.

"Coffee?"

He nods.

"I'll get it," Rick says, and she nods at him gratefully.

"Let's sit outside." She points her father toward the French doors. "It's so peaceful out here, and we have blankets."

Out on the patio Kate sinks onto the chaise lounge that has become her preferred place in the mornings, wraps herself into the thick fleece, while her father takes the Adirondack next to her.

Rick pushes through the French doors, places coffee mugs on the small side table between them.

"I'll just go get changed," he adds, disappears back inside, and Kate leans back in her chair, lets her eyes sink closed for just a moment, savoring the new day - the sunlight that tickles her closed eyelids, the salty tang of the air, the wind that tousles the strands of her hair, curls them around her face. And the coffee, that glorious flavor of bitter liquid married to the sweetness of the cream and vanilla.

"You look like you're doing really well," her dad says again, and she opens her eyes, finds her father's gentle gaze on her. She supposes he would wonder why she still isn't back at work, but he doesn't ask.

Her heart leaps, the flutters in her stomach intensifying. There's something about sharing news like this with her father, something about the life-affirming reality after everything they've been through, after almost dying yet again, and making it against all odds. She's nervous and excited, feels the tears well at her eyes before she's even said one word, and where is Rick? She doesn't want to say it when he's not by her side. Her thoughts are scrambled; she's scrabbling for something else to say, anything to keep the secret inside, and her father's watching her with that silent yet penetrating gaze against which she never stood a chance.

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, startles herself. Her eyes fly up to her father's, and his widen, just as surprised as Kate, stunned.

"You-?"

She nods, feels the joy leap from her at last, overriding her nervousness; her lips, her cheeks, her whole face stretching into a wide smile and her voice breathless around the words. "Yes. I'm pregnant. You're going to be a grandfather."

"Katie-" Her father whispers her name, his voice rough, and silent tears are running down his cheeks, one after the other.

"Oh, dad, don't cry, please-" Yet she can't help but cry herself, sniffs back her tears. Kate reaches for his hand, his palm dry and papery against hers, and her father drags her into his arms, folding her into a tight embrace, arms banded around her back. She feels like a little girl again, safe in her father's arms, taken care of, loved.

"My little girl," he murmurs into her ear and she buries her face against his neck. "It's really true?"

"Yes," she nods against his neck. "Yes."

Kate hears the French doors open, feels more than sees her husband joining them. Rick sits down in the chair next to her father, and Kate looks over at him over her dad's shoulder. Their eyes meet and his look is warm, smiling at her with quiet joy, watching father and daughter have this moment together.

They sit like this for a long while, Rick's presence nearby giving her strength as she shares this with her father. She doesn't wonder what he's thinking about, knows they're both aware of the presence that's missing among them, the person who would've been beside herself with joy, the one they both miss equally, every minute of every day.

"I miss her so much, dad," she whispers against his neck, her throat clogged with tears, and her father's arms tighten around her once more, cradling her, giving her the comfort she needs.

"She would've been so proud of you, Katie," he murmurs. "So ecstatic."

When at last they pull apart, Kate digs a tissue out of the pocket of her robe, dabs at her eyes, laughing self-consciously.

Her dad suddenly jumps up, whooping with joy. "I'm going to be a grandfather!" His voice echoes into the morning-silence of the beach as he fist-pumps the air. Kate laughs, feels the delight seemingly all the way down to her toes.

"Rick!" He turns for her husband, and Rick jumps up. Her father grabs Castle's shoulders, hugging him tight, slapping his back. "You take good care of them, son," he orders, and Kate sees the stunned surprise on her husband's face at the name bestowed upon him. Son.

Rick nods. "Of course, Jim. Always."

"How long-?" He turns back to Kate.

"Just hit fourteen weeks," she answers. "I had to be on bedrest for the majority of the time; the doctors were concerned about the viability and my body's strength after my surgeries." One of the bullets had hit her through her abdomen; she'd lost one ovary, had almost bled to death. 'Miraculous,' her doctor had proclaimed with a stunned look on his face, 'just miraculous'.

And she'd thought that was appropriate; wasn't that what all the great love stories were about? Beating the odds?

"So we're still out here."

"And are you going back?" Leave it to her father to read all her innermost thoughts and concerns with just one look.

She shrugs, her hand once more curved to her belly, looking out over the wide blue-green sprawl of the ocean and the horizon beyond. "I don't know." So much had been happening and she's questioning all her choices; the drama seems so far away now, and she feels drawn somewhere else. She just can't quite figure out where yet.

She finally feels at peace.

"We're considering our options…" she says at last. "For now, there's just this." She brushes her thumb over the curve of her belly, her eyes drawn to her own lap.

"She's the only thing that matters."

"She?" Her father's eyes widen, his voice almost soundless, and Kate realizes what she's revealed. She nods, grins up at her father, feels the joy welling through her at the thought, warm and fluttery and filled with endless possibility. They'd done early genetic testing; her doctors had highly encouraged her to have the latest blood test available to rule out any possible complications or issues, and so, at barely 13 weeks, they had found out just a few days ago.

"Yeah. We're going to have a little girl."

END

Prompt: "Something where Rick and Kate tell her father that she's pregnant and he's ecstatic (preferably after season 8)." - prompted by whyiseverythingcooltaken dot tumblr dot com and filled as a gift for a generous contribution to support dot chla dot org slash pages slash goodluckstana.

Many thanks to Jo and Alex for excellent beta services.