A/N: This bit includes references to hallucinogenic plants and nudity. The author does not endorse or condemn either condition, except to suggest that you check your local laws before indulging in either.

The night was humid, like the Midwest in summer, and Kate watched as a few fireflies floated near the trees. She was sitting on a log, facing the lake, and from behind her she heard a faint peal of laughter. Then a man, singing - or trying to. More laughing, and now she had to turn around and make sure it wasn't someone with a mask and an axe.

No, it was a nearly-naked man, singing and staggering and laughing. Clad only in plaid boxers, he was making a beeline for the water and Kate knew he was about to dive in - just as surely as she knew he was high on something. Bad combination.

"Hey!" she said sharply as he drew even with her. He halted abruptly and spun to look in her direction, nearly losing what little balance he seemed to have, and Kate stifled a laugh.

"Hey yourself," said the man. He started ambling toward her, not weaving like a drunk, but more like someone who needed glasses and wasn't sure what they were looking at.

"Wanna sit?" Kate asked.

"No, I'm in a hurry, thanks," he said, then burst out laughing again, head down, hands on his knees. When he caught his breath, he looked up at Kate. "I'm in hot pursuit," he said, a bit more seriously.

"Of what?"

"Shhh," he said. "I'm hunting screwy - scwewy wabbits."

Howling with laughter, he finally came close enough to sit on the other end of the log - and missed, landing on his butt in the damp grass and leaves, which made him laugh all the louder. Kate decided not to help him up, as he seemed happy enough where he was, but when she leaned in to get a look at his face -

It really didn't surprise her any more. This man looked almost exactly like Castle the first time they met, with considerably less clothing. His hair was a bit longer than she remembered.

"What's your name?" she asked when the howling died down.

"Wabbits," he admonished hoarsely, holding a finger to his lips, so she lowered her voice to a stage whisper and asked again.

"Luke," he almost-whispered back. "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Except, it's Jack, Connor, Luke, and Bobby. And Maggie. And…"

He seemed to lose his already tenuous train of thought, and his words trailed off as he gazed out over the water.

She looked around and saw no one else on the landscape, and very few lights in the cabins, which were some distance from the lake. (What was it with lakes, in these visions? thought Kate.) When she turned back she found Luke staring at her as if mesmerized.

"Jenny?" he said, frowning.

"Kate," she said. "I'm Kate."

"Whew," he said. "For a second I thought you were my wife."

I am your wife, thought Kate in frustration, just - not the wife in this dream.

Luke rose and stood with his hands on his hips, studying her, apparently making up his mind. He briskly pulled off his boxers and laid them daintily on the log beside her, sat down on them, and turned to look at her as if they were on a busy sidewalk in broad daylight.

"What brings you to our lovely lake by the - lake?" he asked.

Kate caught something odd in the scent of his breath.

"Have you been eating mushrooms?" she asked.

Luke gasped. "Have you been spying on me? Did Jenny send you?"

His shock and outrage were hilarious, as was the grin that belied his attitude. Kate couldn't help grinning back.

"No one sent me," she said, and it was the plain truth. "I'm a private detective, taking a break from a case."

"Private dick, eh?" he leered. "I got one of those, myself."

He looked pointedly downward and Kate let her gaze follow his.

"So I see," said Kate. "You won't be needing my services, then. I'll keep the mushrooms out of my report."

"Very kind of you." He crossed his right leg over his left and Kate caught a glimpse of another familiar feature, the tattoo on his right hip. "Jenny doesn't mind the weed," he went on confidentially. "But she hates when I do 'shrooms. Says it makes me all loud and obnoxious. And confrontational."

"Does it?"

"I guess," said Luke. "I don't usually remember. That's why I mostly smoke weed. Less expensive, and it doesn't mess with my memory."

Kate was fascinated by this matter-of-fact account. She didn't usually deal with suspects who were high - they were sent to sober up in a holding cell before they were interrogated.

"Where are you staying?" she asked then. "Or do you live around here?"

"Dad's cabin," said he. "With Matthew, Mark, and John."

"You mean, Jack, Connor, and Bobby."

"Yeah, them. Hey, do you know my brothers?"

She chuckled and did not reply, which didn't seem to bother her companion. He got to his feet again and took a few steps forward, hands on hips again, surveying the terrain. Kate took the opportunity to admire the nicely rounded and muscular buttocks thus displayed.

"I think the perimeter is secure," she said finally. "You can, um, stand down now."

Luke turned and looked at her with suspicious eyes. "No wabbits?"

"No wabbits," she said. "You should go back to your bunk. I'll sound the alert if anything develops."

The cartoon-style dialogue seemed to reassure him; he nodded once, then turned sharply and started to march off toward the cabins. Kate snatched up his boxers and scampered after him.

"Here you go," she said when she caught up to him. He took the shorts and stopped walking for a moment, looking puzzled.

"Why do I need these, again?" Luke asked, as if he'd forgotten.

"In case you need to cover your ass," said Kate with a nearly-straight face. Even drunk!Castle wasn't this scatterbrained.

"Right," he said and started walking again, Kate in his wake.

She'd just make sure he made it back to his cabin, then maybe she'd walk around the lake. Unless the universe changed the setting yet again.

"Which is your cabin?" she asked.

"I think - that one," he said, pointing. The building indicated had several whirly birds on the lawn and an adorable painted sign that said "Granny Laughlin" over the door. Along with the frilly lace curtains, the place looked exactly the opposite of "manly" in the usual sense of the word.

"Are you sure?" Kate asked. "You said it was your dad's cabin. Is his name Laughlin?"

"Of course not." Luke frowned at her. "Riley. His name was Riley. Like mine."

"I thought yours was Luke."

"That's my other name. Riley's my last name. Like Matthew, Mark, and John."

"Oh, okay," said Kate. She'd distracted him sufficiently to guide him past Granny's house. "Won't your brothers be worried about you?"

"Nah. Bobby and Connor are snoring, and Father Jack, well, he doesn't worry. He prays. For all the good it does."

Sudden sadness flickered across his face and he stopped walking.

"Do you think there's a God? Like Jack believes?" he asked her.

Wow, that got metaphysical all of a sudden, thought Kate.

"Whether there is or isn't," she said, "surely there's no harm in praying, just in case. Maybe it helps Jack to feel better, at the least."

Luke's face lit up again and to Kate's alarm, he threw his arms around her and hugged her tight. He smelled of mushrooms and forest grass and beer and his skin was warm…

Kate slipped out of his embrace, suddenly wary of her own instinct to kiss him and cursing the universe for her confusion.

Luke just grinned and leaned in, shaking a finger to make his point.

"You're right," he said. "And - don't call me Shirley."

He turned and ran for the next house, where the lights were off. Kate did not follow this time, but watched as he tried the back door knob, eased the door open quietly, and looked back at her with a grin and a final wave of his shorts.

She waited for a few minutes, but there was no uproar and no further sight of Luke, so she started walking back toward the lake, shaking her head.

And she thought Castle was a charming man-child.

A/N: Nathan Fillion played Luke Riley, one of four brothers, all of whom have secrets, in Outing Riley (2004, also known as If Dad Only Knew and Doubting Riley).