[welcome of a lifetime, welcome to a lifetime]

He stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, switching it off with the tip of his index right as it hits the bottom of the denim pouch. His other hand reaches into his other pocket, his back pocket, and pulls out an unorganized bundle of bills that he throws at the cab driver, telling him to keep the change as his tip—he very rarely takes cabs when a ride is planned, like today's ride from the airport back to his building, but today all he really cares about is getting home.

He hops out of the cab, stumbling slightly as he tries to still himself for a second, the momentum of his quick jump almost sending him tumbling into the brick exterior wall of his building. The cab is already pulling away as he manages to regain his balance, one hand against the bricks as he takes a second to compose himself. As soon as that second is up, he's pushing the glass door of his building open and walking in a little faster, with a little more bounce in his step than usual.

"Hello, Mr. Castle," Eduardo greets him happily—he always sounds happy when he's welcoming people, it's a job requirement, but today it only makes Castle want to get up to the loft that much faster. "Welcome home." He turns towards the kind doorman-turned-friend and greets him with a simple thanks, the smile on his face making sure that Eduardo doesn't think he's upset. "I see you're excited to see Mrs. Castle, and I think she's excited to see you, too." He winks.

Castle just smiles and nods politely, knowing Eduardo has absolutely no idea that that's not at all why he's so excited to see his wife, that it has absolutely nothing to do with their usual reunion after a long time—and by a long time, he means anything over two days—apart. This has nothing to do with all the things he will surely do to her in the next few hours, as long as she's willing to.

This has everything to do with that text she sent him right before he boarded the plane a few hours ago.

He had been standing in the airport, waiting for the text he knew she would send. She always did, every single time he boarded a plane. It always read pretty much the exact same thing. Have a great flight. Love you. It was always the same, and he doubted it would ever change. After nearly three years of them being together and no change in her pre-flight ritual, he had a feeling it would always be the same.

She hadn't missed a text since the day they started dating, since that first book tour after the beginning of their relationship. Even when she had been working in DC, she somehow managed to send him a quick message before his flight—even it was hours before, since she was off to a crime scene or something and probably wouldn't be able to send it to him right before he boarded.

Every now and then, when he was flying home, she would add: Can't wait to see you ;), making her intentions clear, leaving him wondering what she might do that time. Usually, it would also make him think about all the things he wants to do to her the minute he sees her, the stress of a book tour behind him, the annoyingly bossy sounds of Gina and Paula's voices left behind for a while, to soon be replaced by the soft, loving, happy...and breathless...sound of Kate's lovely voice.

But that day, as he was about to board the final flight of his book tour, the one back to New York, back home, back to her, she was cutting it close. The flight was set to board in ten minutes as he flicked his phone on and off for what had to be the hundredth time—the worry was impossible to deny, after years of her being perfectly on track with his flights and her suddenly possibly missing one.

Just as he went to flick his phone on again, it lit up and beeped as it announced that she had finally sent the text message. Instead of her usual, though, it was a picture, a picture that made his heart leap in his chest and skip a beat and drop all at once. It was a pregnancy test, no result on it, still a simple, unused, white plastic stick that was sitting on what he knew was the bathroom counter.

Honestly, he had no idea what to think. He couldn't believe she was taking another one...without him there to either comfort her or celebrate with her—hopefully the latter, of course.

Before he could really make sense of his thoughts, his phone chirped again with another text. I'm gonna take it. I'll tell you the result when you get home, it read simply, as if to make sure he knew exactly what she was planning on doing, just in case he hadn't put the pieces of the puzzle together already. And then it chirped once again, one final time, illuminating the phone with a final text from her: Have a safe flight. Love you.

Over the intercom, they were announcing that his plane was boarding, so he really had to time to argue with her or ask her to wait for him to get home to take the test that may or may not change their life. Instead, he sends back a simple, short message: Can't wait. Love you too.

He didn't have time to wait and see if she'd send anything back—not that he expected her to, she never really did when he was about to board. The man's voice booming through the airport announced his flight again, and he headed off towards the gates. He was truly excited to finally get home to her...and a little scared, too.

The elevator seems to take forever to arrive at the first floor so he can get on it and home to his wife, even though he knows that it's taking no longer than it usually does. He's just impatient. So impatient that for a minute he seriously considers taking the stairs all the way up to his floor, even though his loft is on the highest floor of the building.

The only thing on his mind right now is her, though, and that pregnancy test that has as much power to make her jump for joy as it does to make her fall apart and into sobs and disappointment in herself.

Finally, the doors open to reveal the empty, shiny interior of the small cabin, a mirror on the far wall allowing him to see the odd mixture of fear and excitement that's spread across his features, that shines in his blue eyes. He tears his gaze away from his reflection and steps into the cab quickly, pressing the button to close the doors right after he presses the button for his floor.

Today, he doesn't really care about being polite or about letting others get on the elevator with him, offering to hold a woman's groceries or anything of the sort. He just cares about getting to his wife and finding out whether the test had the result she—they—were hoping for more than anything.

If he thought the wait in the lobby was long, the ride up to his floor takes an eternity. He watches impatiently as the digital numbers above the doors change with every floor that they pass, hoping with every change that they won't have to stop on the next floor. He doesn't have the patience to wait and be polite right now, or to hide his anxiousness. God forbid the elevator break down, he'd be horrible company for anyone who was in it with him.

When the doors finally open with a ding, he practically runs out and to his door, earning himself a curious glance from Mrs. Davis, his elderly neighbor. He just smiles at her as politely as he can muster at the moment. She doesn't really seem to care anyway, he decides, his hand already on his door knob and pushing the seemingly heavy piece of wood so the door is open.

The first thing he sees is her smiling face, her teeth all showing in their perfectly straight and white glory, something he rarely sees. Her hands are clasped together and hanging in front of her, hovering over her lower abdomen—most likely unintentionally, but he doesn't really care. And before he can even think of saying anything, she throws her arms around his neck, pulls him flush against her. He instinctively wraps his own arms around her waist, holding her as close as she's holding him.

And in that moment, he knows. He knows they've finally been given what they've been hoping and praying and wishing upon stars for, for so long.

He woke up to the pleasing, comfortable feeling of her pressed against his chest, her leg intertwined with his, her hand running over his chest, neck and through his hair, her voice soft in his ear as she told him to wake up. He pulled her closer before he even thought of opening his eyes, still marveling in the fact that she was his wife, even though she had been for six months at that point.

He heard her chuckle softly as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, her breath tickling the spot where the line of his neck met the muscle of his shoulder. He'd never get tired of that, waking up with her in his arms, her voice, her laugh being the first thing he heard in the morning, her touch the first thing he felt, along with her smile against his throat and the soft kiss she pressed there. He would be willing to bet almost anything that it was one of the most amazing feelings in the world, having Kate Beckett-Castle in his bed every morning, having her love him as much as he loved her—well, that was what she claimed, he believed it to be impossible.

He finally opened his eyes when he she pulled away from him slightly, quite a bit of her weight still resting on his chest, but her face pulling away from the comfort of his neck. The first thing he saw was her smiling face, her whole being almost glowing with still unexplained joy. He smiled back before his mind even had the chance to process his actions—her smile was contagious, it always had been and always would be.

"Good morning, babe," she said softly, still practically whispering to him before leaning down to kiss him quickly, softly, the perfect smile gracing her lips meeting his own. He finds himself pulling her even closer at the sweet caress of her lips, holding her body against his, his hand squeezing her waist gently until she pulled away and he loosened his grip on her. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Well...until a beautiful woman woke me up," he teased, making her smile widen slightly and a hint of a blush rise to her cheeks. He knew her well enough to know that whenever he complemented her, even after years or being together and months of marriage, she blushed. She had never been very good at accepting even the simplest of compliments. He had spent years trying to get her to accept them, still with very little success. He found it adorable, though. "So, uh...why did you wake me up?"

She didn't answer with words, pulling away from him instead, reaching over to get her phone off the nightstand. It took him a second to remember, once again, that it was her day off and there was no way they had a case. Well, the fact that it was her day off told him that, along with the fact that she never woke him up with wandering hands and whispers when they had a body drop.

When she handed him the phone, the screen was lit up with an image of what he quickly recognized as Ryan's living room, the familiar play symbol in the center in a slightly translucent white. Before even looking at her, he gently tapped the play symbol, making the sound of Sarah Grace's giggle echo through the dimly lit bedroom. He smiled to himself almost instantly, loving the sound of the happy baby girl—well, toddler, really. He loved his niece.

His eyes focussed on her, blond curls tied up in small pigtails. She wore a white top and a pair of pink pants that were rolled up at the ankles. He remembered the last time they had gone over to the Ryan household, the way she would ramp against the furniture and the way Kevin and Jenny had explained that they were helping her with her balance so she would walk soon. He had once done the same thing with Alexis, and she began walking soon later.

Jenny's voice soon came from the phone, the soft, cooing tone that she used only with her daughter. The camera jerked slightly as the cameraman—who he assumed was Ryan—took a step back to bring Jenny into sight. She was sitting cross legged on the floor, tapping the ground in front of her and telling Sarah Grace to walk to her, the young girl standing next to the couch, her hands against the cushions keeping her upright, her still half-toothless smile directed at her mother.

And then, he watched—along with Kate, who hand once again rested her head on his shoulder in order to watch the video with him—as the little girl they had grown to love like family, the same way they loved her parents, take her first, wobbly steps. Then, she tumbled to the ground right in front of her mother. Jenny was clapping, and he was pretty sure he heard some sniffling—whether it was from Kevin or Jenny, he'd never be sure.

"Isn't she precious? And Ryan's so happy, Castle. It's amazing how much one little person can change your life, isn't it?" she spoke softly, taking her phone and setting it on the bed next to her. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and nodded, knowing just how happy one little person could make you, how much they could change your life.

"That she is," he answered softly, mumbling against the top of her head, pressing another kiss to her hair. She nuzzled a little deeper into him, the tips of her hair tickling his neck and the bottom of his chin, her smile pressing against his collarbone. He tightened his grip on her again. "You sound awfully wistful this morning." He feels her nod against him, again, taking him by surprise.

"I want us to have that, Rick. I want to try," she said softly, not looking up at him, yet he could hear the smile in her voice, could practically see the love in her eyes. And he could here how wistful she was right then, could tell that she was imagining that video being one of them with their baby, the happy smile on Ryan's face whenever he spoke of his daughter being the one on theirs whenever they spoke of their child.

They had very rarely spoken of having children together. They had once decided, not long after the wedding, that they would wait until the time was right and the moment the time was right, one would tell the other. From there, they'd talk about it, decide whether it was the right time for both of them—which they both knew it most likely would be. And then, once everything was settled, once their minds were made up, they would try for a baby.

He had known from that day that she would be the one to take the first step. She was always the one to take the first step when it came to their relationship. She showed up at his doorstep, they got together. She asked him where they were going, he proposed. She implied that her apartment was probably a dusty mess, he helped her move all the things she had in DC into his loft. She said she didn't want to wait to marry him, they moved up the date.

And finally, in that very moment, she told him she wanted to try, they started trying. It was as simple as that. What Kate wanted, she got, especially when it was something he wanted so desperately, too. And this was something he wanted, a baby, with her. He had wanted to have a child with her since before they even got together, since very early on in their partnership.

"You want us to try for a baby?" he asked softly. That time, she looked up at him, a huge smile engulfing her face as she nodded, sure of herself, barely a hint of insecurity. It was obvious she knew he wanted them to try, too. He couldn't hide it. It was impossible. Her smile was, once again, contagious and he found it being mirrored by the one spreading impossibly wide across his face.

He never confirmed his consent with words and kissed her instead, telling her with the sweet caress of his lips that he wanted it, too, that he was ready. They both were. And they were going to try.

His grip on her tightens as he remembers that morning, the first day in the long journey to this very moment. She sighs contently as she does the same, making him bury his face deeper into her neck as she tightens her grip around his.

Her own face is buried so deeply into his neck that he feels her every breath, the warmth after she exhales tickling his skin. He feels the tears on her cheeks, the dampness being smudged in between her skin and his. He feels the upwards curve of her lips, their warm wetness against his skin. He feels the flutter of her eyelashes as they flutter with either the memories or the images of their future that play behind them. He feels the joy that radiates off her.

He's never seen her this happy, all hints of pain and insecurity gone as she melts into his embrace, into the way his hands run up and down her back. The pain of the past, the possibility of pain in their future, it's all...not here, at least, not in this very moment. She's happy. She's happier than he's ever seen her, and he doesn't ever want it to go away.

It tells him something, though. He knows her. And he knows that if there's any doubt, it will rain on any parade she has. He knows her well enough to know that any hint of doubt always overpowers any hint of joy she might be having.

He also knows her well enough to know that just one positive pregnancy test wouldn't make her this happy. He knows that she knows they can be defective, that the fear that it was a false positive would over power the result itself. Kate Beckett is not optimistic. If something can go wrong, she fears it will, with almost everything in her—unless she's at work, then she thinks she can do anything.

He knows that one pregnancy test wouldn't be enough to make her this happy, not after so many failed attempts and making a baby.

He came home from his meeting that day to a quiet, too quiet, apartment. Everything was in it's place, the dishes washed and put away, the blankets folded and draped over the back on the couches, the remotes sitting in a row on the corner of the coffee table—obviously, Kate had cleaned.

That was the one thing out of place, his wife. She was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in the kitchen, or in the living room. The lights in his office were off, as were the ones in his bathroom and, from what he could tell from his place at the door, the ones upstairs were, too.

Kate had been off that day, not even oncall. He remembered clearly apologizing countless times that Gina had inconveniently organized a mandatory meeting on her day off and that he wouldn't be home with her. Even though she had told him it was okay, he had still felt bad the entire morning—which he spent bored to death and thinking solely about her.

Lately, though, when she wasn't at work, Kate was relaxing. It was something he never thought he'd see, but when the OB told her that the stress on her body could very well be the reason they were having so much trouble conceiving, she started spending as much time as possible either resting or cooking or eating, being the wife he never thought he'd have—not that he ever wanted anything more than the wife he had. She was perfect. But this new Kate was different, maternal, even. She wanted nothing more than to have a baby, a side of her he hadn't even know existed until recently. She had even cut down her coffee consumption—which he didn't even know she would ever consider doing.

So, to come home and find that she was nowhere to be found was odd, extremely odd. She hadn't gone out, of that he was sure. She never went out without telling him anymore, didn't drop by work when she wasn't expected to, didn't sleep on the break room couch and didn't refuse to take days off—Gates didn't let her, anyway, not since she found out they were trying. He truly had no idea where she was.

After slipping off his shoes and jacket and setting them in the closet, organized, like the rest of the house, he went directly for their bedroom. He figured that, if she wasn't curled up on the couch or cooking dinner, she might be taking a nap. The minute he crossed the threshold, though, finding the bed made and empty, he turned to look somewhere else.

And then a soft whimper caught his attention, coming from the ensuite bathroom. He practically ran there, suddenly knowing exactly what was going on, where she was, why she was nowhere to be found. And he hated himself for not being there with her, for her.

As soon as he opened the door and switched on the light, his heart broke, a physical ache coming to his chest at the sight before him. She was sitting on the floor, her back pressed to the tub, her knees pulled up against her chest with her face buried between them, her brown hair cascading around her, hiding her from him. By his feet sat the familiar white test, cracked as if she threw it at something, the single pink line almost taunting him.

They had failed, again. She was crying because of the negative result, again. She was going to blame herself, again. He was going to blame himself, again. And she was going to spend the evening with red, puffy eyes, crying softly, wrapped in a blanket and debating whether or not another round of trying was even worth it, if it was only going to lead to disappointment, again. And he hated it, again.

Ignoring the negative test sitting on the ground, he went right for her, kneeling down beside her despite how hard the tile was. She needed him. He needed her to know he would never blame he for this, for the eight months they've spent trying to get pregnant only to be disappointed every single time.

He carefully shifted to be sitting the same way she was, but with his legs extended in from of him. His hand found her back, felt the shaking of her body upon contact and felt the tears begin to well in his eyes. Seeing her like this, so upset, so...broken...had always been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He hated seeing his strong, beautiful, mick-ass Kate Beckett tearing at the seams like that. He hated knowing that her cheeks were wet with her tears, that her heart was breaking, that her breathing was erratic. He hated having to sit down next to her like that and pulling her into his lap, running his fingers through her hair and whispering to her until the tears slowed.

As much as he hated it, that's how he spent that evening, only leaving her for the second it took to order pizza, and to take it from the delivery man. She had sobbed against him, blaming herself like he knew she would, breaking his heart in a way only she ever could. He held her close and told her that maybe the next time would be the charm, encouraging her to never give up.

She fell asleep before eight that night, the crying from that evening having rendered her exhausted. He laid in bed with her, holding her close, for over an hour before he fell asleep himself, dreaming of the day when he came home to find her happy, smiling and finally celebrating the conception of their baby.

The next morning, she was determined to try again, just like he knew she would be.

He knows his breath tickles her throat as he lets out a sigh of relief. This is that day, the one he dreamed of that night two months ago. Her lips press to his neck softly, like a silent thank you for not letting her give up, as if she's reading his mind. He returns the gesture, letting his lips linger over the point where the column of her neck meets her shoulder before pulling away.

She isn't wearing heels, so their height difference is more prominent than usual. He leans away from her neck and presses a kiss to the side of her head, right next to her ear, then to her temple, then her forehead and to her hair, finally setting his chin on the top of her head. She pulls away from his neck, resting her cheek against his chest as his hands continue to run up and down her back, hers still wrapped around his neck and holding him close.

"I took three," she says suddenly. He doesn't need to ask what she's talking about. Once again as if reading his mind, she's answering his unspoken question, confirming his quiet thoughts. "One yesterday...it was positive, but I didn't want to get excited," she confesses, her voice slightly muffled as she further buried her face into his chest. "And then...right after I sent you the picture I took the second one. It was positive, too, Rick, and I finally started to think...maybe it was true, you know?" He nods against her head, even though she doesn't need an answer. "And then one right before you got here, just to make sure the result was the same. It was, babe." He can hear the smile in her voice.

"I told you it would happen," he says softly, lovingly, not bragging, but more like making sure she knows how proud of her he is since she never gave up. He runs his hands up her sides once more before settling them on her hips, pulling her away from him only slightly, only enough to press his lips to hers, a soft and loving caress so unlike their usual reunion. But after ten months of wondering if this moment would ever come, it's so much better, coming home to find her happy and smiling and pregnant with the baby they've waited so long to have.