Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

A/N This chapter is for Pen to Paper Writer, who has often asked, and always so nicely, for more about Eliot. I hadn't dropped in on Eliot in ages, and am grateful to PTPW for nudging me back.

I love weekends because we're all together. Gram usually comes over, and Docky always has Sunday brunch with us. Sometimes on Saturday morning I stay in bit a little bit after I wake up and wait to hear Mom in the kitchen. She gets up early to go for a run and I like to listen to her talk to her sneakers, which makes me laugh. Most people don't know how funny Mom is because she's so badass. I'm not supposed to know that word or say it, but I can't unremember it, can I? I remember almost everything, even when I wish I didn't, like where a baby comes from, which Tyler at school told me. He pinky swore that it was true.

This morning I was lying in bed so I could hear Mom talk to her running shoes, but I heard something else instead.

"I'm really worried about Eliot," she said.

"You're always worried about Eliot because his IQ is off the charts." That was Dad, and I could tell he was sleepy. "But we've got the best help in the world for him."

"It's not that."

I got out of bed and stood by my door so I could hear better, which I knew I shouldn't because I was eavesdropping, which means secretly listening. It's not polite.

"This is going to be a real conversation, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I know you had a lot on your plate yesterday and don't want to do this first thing in the morning. But it's important."

"It's okay." He yawned. And then his voice got all soft the way it does a lot when he talks to Mom. "He's a happy, well-adjusted, six-year-old boy. Isn't that the greatest thing? And the most important? When he got home from school yesterday afternoon he was so excited telling me about kinematics—which of course I had to Google. And then he decided to play tag with the twins and some other kids. He got a skinned knee followed by a chocolate chip cookie and all was right with his world."

Dad Googled kinematics?

"I know, but that's not it. Last night, about half an hour after we tucked him in, I had to go upstairs for something. His light was off but he was talking."

"Probably reading his Kindle aloud."

"No, he was talking to the dog."

"To Scrapple? We all talk to Scrapple. I talk to him a lot, and unlike other members of this family he never talks back to me."

By then I was looking down over the top of the stairs and saw Dad kiss Mom on the shoulder, which is better than when he kisses her on the mouth.

"But that's the thing, Castle." She took hold of his hand and didn't let go. "Eliot was talking to Scrapple as if the dog could talk back to him. As in have a chat with him. Exchange information. Ideas. Tell jokes."

I hope Scrapple didn't hear her say that because he might be insulted. He tells great jokes.

"That seems like a normal thing for a kid to do, especially one with a great imagination. Plus he loves Scrapple."

"No. I stopped to listen. Eliot would ask a question and then wait for an answer. And then he'd respond as if he'd gotten one. It was weird. I stood out there for about ten minutes, until he said, 'Night, Scrapple, sleep tight.' I was about to tiptoe away when he said, 'Really? Should I ask Mom and Dad?' And then there was a little pause and he said, 'Okay. I will'."

Oh, boy. Uh-oh. Mom and Dad talk to me sometimes about the consequences of my actions. That's what they say. "Eliot, you have to think about the consequences of your actions." I didn't think about that when I was talking to Scrapple last night because I didn't think that someone could hear me. I'm usually careful about the way I talk to him, but last night I wasn't. When Gram is exasperated she says, "I KNEW this day would come!" I guess I KNEW this day would come but oh, boy. Here it is. Maybe Gram would know what to do but I sure didn't.

"I think you're worried about nothing but an overactive imagination, Kate. I have one, too, after all. It's made us rich."

I'm not supposed to say we're rich but it's okay for Dad to say it to Mom because they're married to each other and share everything.

"Castle, please stop trying to pacify me. This was different."

Then Dad stuck his jaw out and blew air from his mouth. It made his hair fly around above his eyebrows. "Do you want me to say something to him?"

"No, I want us both to say something to him. Otis and Abby are going to a birthday party at eleven. I was supposed to drop them off and then take Eliot to the Planetarium, but I think we should use at least some of that time to talk to him."

Scrapple must have jumped off my bed just then because his toenails went click, click, click the way they do on the wooden floor and I had to scrooch back right away so Mom and Dad didn't see me. And then I picked up Scrapple and came down the stairs and made sure I made plenty of noise so that they would turn around and see us. And they did.

"Good morning, sweet pea," Mom said like she always does even when she isn't worried that I think I can talk to Scrapple, which she wasn't until today.

"Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad." I put Scrapple down. "What's for breakfast? I'm starving." That's what Dad calls "a diversionary tactic." It means saying something to make other people stop thinking about what they were thinking and make their minds go to something else. I thought if I talked about breakfast they would stop thinking about me talking Dog. That's what Docky calls it. Talking Dog. Which he can do, too.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Dad said. He grabbed me by the back of my PJs and then he swung me around. He likes to do that. I like it, too. "Scrapple needs to go out, first, right? So why don't you put on your jeans and your socks and shoes and you and Scrapple can go downstairs with Mom while I make sure the twins are up and start cooking. Okay?"

"Aren't you going for a run, Mom? It's Saturday morning."

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow I'll do my loop twice."

"Eight point five miles, right? 'cause usually you do four point two five."

"Right."

"I like eight point five. Did you know the square root is two point nine one five four seven five? Well, it's more but I think six numbers after the decimal point is enough."

"If it's enough for you, Mister Wizard, it's definitely enough for me." Then she kissed me on top of my head. "Now go get your shoes and socks so we can take Scrapple around the block."

"Don't forget your pants, Eliot."

Scrapple said that. I wanted to tell him, "You're lucky you can go out on Broome Street without any pants. If I did that Mom would arrest me," but I didn't. Instead I ran back to my room for my clothes. While I was fastening the straps on my sneakers—they have Velcro which makes this cool sound—I was trying to figure out what to say when Mom and Dad asked me about talking to Scrapple. Mom thought it was weird. I don't want her to think I'm weird. When I was on the third step of the staircase I got a good idea. I could ask Docky to help me! He's a grown-up and worldly-wise. That's an expression I learned from Gram. I hope I will be worldly-wise when I'm older, like ten. Ten will be my first age of double digits, so I could be worldly-wise by then.

"Ready, Mom. I'll get Scrapple's leash." I was hoping that she wouldn't say anything about it while we were outside. I guessed that she'd wait for Dad because they like to talk to me about stuff together, but just in case I tried a diversionary tactic again when we got to the sidewalk.

"Do you think Dad is going to make waffles?"

"He might. Is that what you're in the mood for?"

"Yeah. And I was thinking we could invent some new toppings."

"Eliot, I want to sniff the fire hydrant, so don't walk past it, please. I think you might be distracted by waffle toppings."

I can't wait to tell him that I wasn't distracted by them, I was trying to distract Mom!

"What kind of new toppings?"

"We could have pineapple and macadamia nuts and coconut and call them Hawaiian waffles."

"How about Alaskan waffles?"

"I don't know, Mom. The only thing I can think of for Alaska is salmon and I think that would be yucky."

"You like ice cream on waffles, though, so how about Eskimo Pie waffles? Since lots of Eskimos live in Alaska."

"You crack me up, Mom."

"You crack me up, too, Eliot."

"Did you know they're Yupik and Iñupiat in Alaska? But nobody says Yupik and Iñupiat Pie, do they?"

"I don't think so."

"Maybe I'll just stick with maple syrup this morning."

"Stick with syrup? That's pretty good, Eliot."

My diversionary tactic turned out to be fun. And it turned out that Dad really was making waffles. Sometimes I think he's a mind reader.

After we finished eating Mom got Otis and Abby ready for the birthday party they were going to for someone in their nursery school. They had an argument about which one of them got to put their finger on the ribbon while Mom tied the bow. The twins have dopey arguments like that all the time, but they're only four, so I guess you have to expect it. Like in the car yesterday Otis said, "We're going to Brooklyn's tomorrow," and then Abby said, "No we're going to Brooklyn tomorrow." And then I got to be the big brother, which I am anyway, and say they were both right because they were going to Brooklyn's party and she lives in Brooklyn. I'm glad Mom and Dad didn't name any of us Manhattan.

Mom and Dad knew I was excited about the Planetarium and if I didn't mention it they might be suspicious so I said, "I can't wait to see the movie about Pluto. I think it's unfair that it used to be a planet and now it isn't one."

"That's science," Dad said. "We find out new things all the time and sometimes that means having to rethink other things."

"Eliot? We're going to have to make our visit to the Planetarium short today. We can see the Pluto movie but then Dad and I have something we want to talk to you about."

"Can't you talk to me another day?"

"No, it's important."

I really, really, really, really wanted to call Docky, but I'm not supposed to do that without asking first, so I kept my mouth shut except to say "Okay."

The movie was good, but we came home right afterwards. I just wanted our conversation to be over with because I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be good. At all. We sat on the sofa together, with Mom on one side of me and Dad on the other. And when Mom started to talk Scrapple came out of nowhere and jumped up to lie next to me. He is the best dog in the world.

"I want to ask you something. Last night I overheard you talking to Scrapple and it sounded to me as though you were having a conversation with him. There's nothing wrong with that, and I know you love to make up stories, just like Dad, but I'm worried because it didn't seem like a story. It seemed to me that you really believe Scrapple can talk."

"He does. To me. All the time" There. I said it. I just want her not to think it's weird.

"Eliot," Dad said. "Doctor Doolittle can talk to animals—"

"And Mary Poppins. She can."

"That's true. But Doctor Doolittle and Mary Poppins are characters in books. They're imaginary."

Docky and Scrapple are my best friends. I didn't want to tell, but I had to. "Docky isn't imaginary and he can talk with Scrapple, too. And he's a real doctor."

Mom turned the color of this piece of paper. I've only seen her do that a couple of times, when she was mad or scared. I thought she was mad at me, but maybe she was afraid, too. She said, "What?" And then she said it again. "What?"

I couldn't tell what Dad was. But he looked at Mom and she looked back and then she looked at me and she was very calm. When she is very calm that is scary. And she said, "Eliot, you know the difference between truth and fantasy. I'm proud for you that you have a wonderful imagination, but this is serious. If you're telling me the truth, or you think it's the truth, that you and Doctor Perlmutter can talk with Scrapple, that makes me worry."

"But Mom, I promise."

"Eliot."

"Dad, I promise. Please can I call Docky? He'll tell you I'm not making it up."

Dad was really, really quiet for a long time which he never is. I bet I could have counted to a thousand Mississippis before he said anything, but finally he did. "Kate, I'm calling Sidney. Right now. I think—. I think Eliot is right." He took his phone out of his pocket and pressed Docky's number and left a voicemail. He said it was really, really important.

Mom looked upset, so I took her hand and held on to it like she did to Dad in the kitchen this morning. It was her left hand that has her rings. She only wears her diamond ring when she's not at work. I like it because it's so sparkly and when she looks at it she always smiles like she doesn't know you can see her.

"Mom?" I tugged her hand. "It's just like when you and I speak French together. Oui, je parle français. Only with Scrapple it's oui, je parle chien. Yes, I speak Dog."

Scrapple thumped his tail and rolled his eyes up at Mom, even though she wouldn't know what he was saying. "Eliot speaks Dog fluently. Like a native dachshund."

I didn't want to thank him out loud, so I scratched him behind his left ear, which is his favorite spot. I think he is left-eared.

Dad's phone rang and he answered it but walked into his office. I could hear his voice but not the words. I was still holding Mom's hand when he came back out. "Sidney's right around the corner, buying a new omelet pan. He'll be here in a couple of minutes."

Mom got up. "Will you excuse me, please?" She sounded like an announcement on the subway, like she was far away or might be a robot. She wasn't far away, though, she just went into the kitchen.

I was going to go with her but Dad shook his head so I stayed on the sofa. He sat down and put his arm around me, and then we heard a knock on the door. Scrapple got there first, jumping around and barking like crazy. It was Docky. He gave me a big hug and whispered, "I hear you've had a hard time. I'm sorry. We'll straighten this out." And then he patted Scrapple and said to Dad, "I'm going to speak to Kate for a moment, if that's all right."

When Docky got to the kitchen, Dad kind of squinted at him and Mom. "Why don't we get out the Legos? We can build something and you don't have to worry about your sister and brother demolishing it."

So we did. I don't know how long a moment is supposed to be, but Docky and Mom had been in there for a long, long time. Dad and I were halfway through making a chariot with wheels and I said, "I bet you're doing a diversionary tactic on me, aren't you?"

That made him laugh, so that made me happy. "You're getting hard to trick. I'll have to up my game."

"I think your game is really good, Dad."

"Thank you. I think you're flattering me. But you know what? Even though it's getting hard to trick you, it's still easy to tickle you."

Dad is the greatest tickler in the world. He made me laugh so hard that I didn't even notice that Mom and Docky had come into the living room. But Scrapple put his nose on my hand, which he likes to do, and said, "Look who's here." That made me sit up fast.

"Eliot, could you come over here, please?" Mom was standing by the coffee table, and she must have made coffee because there were a bunch of mugs on a tray there, and a thermos, and a plate with cookies. If there were cookies she couldn't be mad at me. That was good, but I was still worried that she thought I was weird, which is a million times worse.

I was almost there when she put her arms out and pulled me against her and hugged me harder than she ever hugged me in my life. It was like a Guinness World Record hug. "I'm so sorry, sweet pea. I'm so sorry. Let's sit down."

We all did, on the sofa, but Mom lifted me up. "I'm glad you're not too grown-up to sit on my lap. I think this is the best place for you to be when I apologize. I accused you of not telling the truth, and that was wrong of me. I should never have doubted you when you told me you could speak Dog, and you know why?"

"No."

"Because you are my wizard boy, the one who could talk to Otis and Abby before they were born. If you could do that, why shouldn't you be able to talk to Scrapple? Do you remember how upset I was when Docky told me you spoke to the twins?"

"Yeah."

"And do you remember what I called you afterwards, after I really understood everything?"

"You called me your little translator."

"And what else did I say?"

"You said I was an amazing boy."

"You are my amazing boy. You amaze me every single day. One of the things that I love most about Dad is that he believes in magic. I never really did before I met him and I still have a hard time with it. I'm so happy that you inherited that from Dad, believing in magic. And you're pretty magical yourself, you know." She gave me another hug then, and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "I need to tell you that more often. Remember the first time I did?"

"When I wrote that book for you and Dad for Christmas? When I was two?"

"That's it. I called you my little magician. And you are, even if you're not so little anymore. Now, Docky and I had a long talk, and I'm very grateful to him for helping me to understand everything. And he had a great idea about a demonstration that you, he, and Scrapple can do for Dad and me. A kind of magic show, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll let him explain it."

Docky and I got up from the sofa but Dad went to his office. "Isn't Dad staying for our demonstration?"

"Absolutely. He can't wait for it. But he has to get some things you'll need for it."

"Eliot, what we're going to do is ask Scrapple a question. And when he answers, which only you and I will be able to understand, each of us will write down what he said. Aha, here comes your father with pencils and paper for us."

"We're each going to write it down?"

"Yes."

"Oh! I get it! Because we'll write the same thing and then Mom and Dad will know that we really can talk Dog. In case they don't believe."

"Eliot, we totally believe you," Dad says. "But this will be so cool for Mom and me."

"Why don't you ask the question," Docky said to me.

I wanted it to be a really good one, and then I decided. This all started because Mom heard me with Scrapple last night, even though it seems like about a year ago. I promised Scrapple that I'd ask Mom and Dad something and I hadn't. So now I would.

"Hey, Scrap, remember last night you told me something and I said I'd ask Mom and Dad about it? Would you tell Docky and me, please?"

"I said that was bored with my dog food which I've been eating since I was three and I want to try another kind. Simon, the cocker spaniel on the fifth floor, loves the duck meal one."

"It won't make you quack will it?"

"No."

"Okay. Did you get that, Docky?"

"I did. Shall we fill in our papers?"

"Yeah!"

Docky can write a lot faster than I can and also I don't know cursive yet which is quicker than printing, but he waited for me to finish and then he gave his paper to Dad and I gave mine to Mom.

They read them, but not out loud, and they smiled. "Let's trade," Dad said to Mom, "so we can compare."

And they did and then they laughed and clapped their hands. "Wow," Mom said. "Wow. All three of you, take a bow."

And we did.

It turned out that Mom hadn't made coffee, she'd made hot chocolate for all of us. Except Scrapple, because dogs can't have chocolate. But on the plate of cookies there were also two biscuits for him. Dad held one up.

"Is this okay Scrapple? Or do we need to get a different kind? Because I don't want you to get bored with your treats."

"I love these peanut butter ones. I'll let you know if I want a change."

Docky and I looked at each other. "You tell the first part, Docky."

"All right. He said, 'I love these peanut butter ones.' Now you translate the rest."

"He said, 'I'll let you know if I want a change'."

"This is going to take some getting used to," Mom said.

"Not for me," Dad said. "I'm already a thousand percent involved."

So the morning I was afraid was going to be bad wasn't bad after all, it was good. And it got even better, because after we finished our hot chocolate Mom said, "C'mon Eliot, you, Scrapple, and I are going on an errand."

"Where?"

"To the pet supply store. Scrapple can show us what kind of food he wants."

We found it in the store, right away, and bought a bag and walked home. When we were in the elevator I said, "Can I ask you something important?"

"Of course, you always can."

"You don't think I'm weird, do you?"

Just then the elevator door opened on our floor. Mom took my hand and we got out, but there was no one else in the hall, and she stopped. "Eliot? Were you worried about that?"

"I was afraid you would think I was weird. That would be worse than even if you didn't believe I could speak Dog."

She hugged me so hard that she broke her own Guinness World Record from before. "Never," she said. "Never, never, never. And you know what? I wish I could speak Dog with you."

"Well, we can always speak French."