Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the feedback and honesty. You guys are amazing! I was worried about having a too "Kate-POV-centric" slant to this fic, but apparently I've gone too far the other way, and most of you are frustrated with Kate and can't understand what she's thinking. Sorry about that! Hopefully this chapter starts to clarify where our dynamic duo are at, and the next chapter is Kate's POV (and rather heavy, since it will cover 'Knockdown') which will shake things up.

This chapter is Lanie POV.

Lanie was absolutely not dancing in the morgue.

Ok, so her hips were doing a little swaggle in response to the Kanye track the guys in toxicology were playing next door. That didn't count.

She was definitely not mid belly roll when she heard someone laugh behind her.

"I wasn't dancing," she blurted, spinning around.

"Of course you weren't," said a voice from the doorway. The medical examiner looked up to find Richard Castle's grinning face staring at her.

"Oh, it's just you, Castle," she said dismissively.

"Hey! Not 'just me'. People have queued for hours just to get a smile and an autograph from me. I'm a New York Times bestseller!"

"And the bestselling book of this century is Twilight. Turns out popularity is no arbiter of quality."

The writer staggered back, his hands flying to his chest and though he had been hit by an imaginary bullet. "You wound me, fair lady," he cried. "Although I may forgive you, just for using 'arbiter' in casual conversation."

Lanie rolled her eyes. "You come here for a reason, or just to try my patience?"

"I'm here for the report on the case. Beckett's totally snowed under, so I thought I could help out by coming to get it, and you could let me know anything important in person." He wandered around the room, idly poking at things.

"Oh," that's actually kind of sweet, Lanie thought. She almost felt bad for mocking him.

"Of course, I had no idea I'd get such good blackmail material while I was here. Is that hip swivel-bootie-shake a practiced routine, or do you just make it up as you go along?"

Scratch that. She did not feel one bit bad for mocking him. In fact, she wished she'd been harder on him. "Honestly, Beckett should be up for Sainthood, for putting up with you 24 hours a day."

Castle laughed in a distracted manner, picking up instruments from the tray before him and idly turning them over. Lanie made her way over to her desk in the corner of the room. "Put down the kidney dish and come over here," she ordered, feeling as though she was talking to a three year old. She opened the file on her computer and printed out a copy of the report.

As she picked up the report from the printer she turned to face Castle. He had put down the kidney dish, but was now wielding a scalpel, charging around the room thrusting the scalpel in his right hand out before him as though fencing an invisible sword-wielding enemy, his left raised above his head in a classic fencing pose.

"Castle!" Lanie shouted.

Castle dropped his arms to his side, looking guilty at the ME.

"Put down the scalpel," she growled.

He placed the scalpel back in the kidney dish.

"Walk over here. Do not touch anything on the way."

Castle shot her a sheepish look and walked across the room.

"Do not speak!" said Lanie, catching sight of the writer opening his mouth to talk to her. She shook her head. "I had been thinking how glad I was that Beckett had you to help with the boys. But honestly, I think they might be more mature than you are."

"I-"

"Do not speak!" Lanie repeated.

"But-"

"I don't want to hear it! You are going to stand there, and listen to this report, then you are going to return to the precinct without delay and communicate that information to Detective Beckett, do you understand?"

The writer mimed zipping his mouth shut, and nodded.

"Good."

Lanie informed the writer of her findings, and then handed him a copy of her formal report. Apparently, Castle was still intimidated enough from her outburst to head directly back to the 12th without messing up anymore of her lab equipment.

I wonder if Kate sometimes feels like she has seven year old triplets, instead of twins, thought Lanie as she watched the writer's retreating form.

Two days later, Lanie was back in the morgue, in body, if not in spirit.

God she was tired.

Lanie slid the morgue drawer closed, watching the body on the steel tray slowly disappear. She closed the door and turned the handle to make sure the door was sealed shut. She stripped off her sterile gloves and dropped them into the bin and disinfected her hands with a squirt of alcohol gel. She let out a sigh, then reached up to rub at the ache in the side of her neck, moving her head to stretch out the aching muscle.

Honestly, it was only nine-thirty in the morning. Of course, the fact that she'd been called at four am after just three hours of sleep, to pick up the body she had just closed up in the drawer probably justified her aching muscles.

She really needed a coffee.

After dropping off her Dictaphone with the report from her initial impressions of the scene and preliminary cause of death with one of the secretaries for typing, Lanie made her way down to the break room. She started the coffee pot and contemplated the rows of packaged sugary high fructose corn syrup pretending to be food that were lined up in the vending machine. Nothing looked even close to appealing, but her stomach was grumbling from her missed breakfast. Finally she decided on something pretending to be an oatmeal bran muffin and dug around in her scrubs pocket for a single.

There was a noise in the corridor outside the break room, and Lanie looked up to see Castle entering the morgue. It looked like he was headed to the autopsy room.

"Castle!" she called.

The writer looked up and caught sight of her, waving. He changed direction and walked over to the break room.

"Back again?" she asked. She looked around, but Castle appeared to be alone once more. "No Beckett?"

"Alas, our fair detective is at the precinct interviewing the next of kin and was unable to accompany me. You shall just have to impugn my dress sense, writing abilities and personal hygiene standards alone this morning."

The ME chuckled. "Oh I won't do that, Castle" Lanie assured him. "It's far too big a job for one person. I'll have to get Perlmutter to help."

He writer looked aghast. "Truce, Lady Parish," he cried, hastily pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and waving it in defeat.

"Aren't flags of surrender supposed to be white?" Lanie asked, gesturing to his blue handkerchief and raising one eyebrow.

"See, already assailing my fashion choices. You don't need any assistance."

The coffee machine let out a beep to signal it was done. Lanie poured herself a cup and gathered up her plastic wrapped 'oatbran muffin' from the vending machine, taking a seat at the break room table.

"What on Earth is that?" Castle asked, horrified.

"Breakfast."

Castle shuddered.

"Seriously, writer boy? Room full of entrails and blood spatter and you're like a kid in a candy store. But my vending machine breakfast grosses you out?"

"Not the 'muffin', the beverage accompanying it. I refuse to call that 'coffee'. It's an embarrassment to Starbucks everywhere."

Lanie took a sip of her coffee, just to aggravate the writer. "Starbucks? Seriously? And you call yourself a coffee drinker?"

"Beckett likes their Pumpkin Spice Latte," Castle whined.

Lanie raised an eyebrow.

"Ok! I like the little sugar cookies with the cinnamon on top too," the writer admitted.

"Remind me to never trust you with state secrets," Lanie said. "You'd crack faster than Humpty Dumpty in a hurricane."

Castle pouted. "Anyway, I was just on my way into the precinct after dropping the kids off at school, and Beckett asked me to swing by here and see if you had any preliminary findings from the vic this morning."

It was obvious the writer was changing the subject, but Lanie went along with it. "Marie Vandles, 48 years old, lived alone. COD was an insulin overdose. I'm pretty confident I'll be ruling this one as suicide. No signs of a struggle or any violence or injury. She's a nurse, and her workplace confirms that she would have easy access to insulin. Marie had a past history of multiple episodes of depression and had been extremely depressed despite medication and regular psychotherapy since the death of her only child last year. I'll need you and Beckett to check whether she exhibited any signs of suicidal planning over the last few days; giving away valuables, ending her lease, seeming inexplicably upbeat and the like. But she did leave a suicide note which has her fingerprints all over it, and then there's the sharps container."

"Sharps container?"

"You know those big yellow bins we have on the wall to put in needles and scalpel blades and things so no one can accidentally prick themselves?" Lanie asked. At the writer's nod, she continued. "Beside the suicide note was a plastic container with the empty insulin needle which was used for the overdose in it."

"And that makes you think it's a suicide?"

"Insulin overdose – it's a clean death. It's the kind of thing that's done by someone who knows what they're doing. Like all poisoning suicides, it's more common in women. But, more than that, it leaves a 'clean' body. Some people believe that that is less distressing to whoever finds the body than say a hanging, or gun shot or jumping in front of a train, which could potentially traumatize the train driver. So Marie killed herself in a way that required medical knowledge, that left a clean body for someone to find, left a suicide note explaining that this was no one's fault, that she just missed her son too much and she even made sure the 'weapon' – the insulin syringe – was in a modified sharps container so no one else could be injured accidentally and had her fingerprints all over it. That evidence of thinking of others, even in planning her death, is consistent with the suicide of a very caring individual who just had too much she couldn't overcome."

Castle was quiet, contemplative. "Poor woman," he said quietly. "Losing her son…I can't imagine how painful that would be."

Lanie nodded. "She had been raising him alone since the father left when the kid was little. Struggling to make ends meet, pulling double shifts, according to the manager at the hospital. Apparently the son was the son was a good Baller, looking at maybe getting a college scholarship, and then he was mucking about with some friends walking down the street and someone bumped him, and he fell onto the road and was hit by a car. Senseless. You don't get over that kind of thing, I guess."

They sat together at the tiny break room table. Lanie took another sip of her coffee.

"Speaking of having a tough time, how have you been coping?" Lanie asked.

"Me? Kate's the one who lost her cousin. I can hardly complain, under the circumstances."

"Yeah she lost her cousin, but you picked up two kids. That's a pretty big life change too. It's ok to need some time to adjust to that."

"The boys are amazing." He smiled. "Exhausting. My God! I forgotten how much energy kids take, and the twins are a thousand times worse than Alexis. But, I didn't think I'd ever have a son, and now I've got two, so it's like a dream come true."

"Any other dreams coming true?" the ME asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Lanie," Castle muttered.

"What?! You and Kate are living together, and you take care of kids together and you work together. I think it's reasonable to ask if you're doing anything else together."

"Baths," he replied.

"What?" cried Lanie, her face incredulous.

"Yep. Every night. It's a bit of a squash to get two people in there, but we manage. We fill up that big tub with warm, soapy water, pour in the bubbles and -"

The writer paused, and Lanie found herself leaning forward in anticipation.

"And the twins hop in and have a bath together."

Lanie groaned.

Castle let out a wicked laugh at the look of disappointment on the ME's face.

"I suppose I deserved that," Lanie acknowledged. "Still, you need to man up. Tell her how you feel."

"It's not about 'manning up', Lanie. I'm not going to push her into something she doesn't want."

"Come on writer boy, we both know she wants this."

"She said that to you?" Castle asked. Lanie was silent. "I thought not," he added, seeing the look on Lanie's face.

"Just because she hasn't come right out and said it, doesn't mean it isn't true." The ME defended.

"I know that," Castle sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I really, really hope she does want it. God Lanie, that woman!" an involuntary smile crossed the writer's face, his eyes glazing over for a moment as his thoughts took him far away. He shook his head after a moment, coming back to the present. "I hope you're right. But she just had her apartment blown up, lost all her possessions, then lost her cousin and gained custody of two kids. I don't want her home life to be unbearable because she's got this jerk pushing her into something she's not ready for, or doesn't want at all. It's not like she could just up and leave if things got uncomfortable. Our temporary guardianship of the twins is based on our current living arrangement, and with the bombing, it's not like she has another apartment to go to. And – well I probably shouldn't say this, and I wouldn't to anyone else, but I'm sure you know – she's broke."

"That's doesn't mean-" Lanie started to say.

"It does. I don't want her to be with me out of gratitude, or worse, because she doesn't have a choice. Beside, at least this way I can pay for the boys' school fees, and the groceries, and she doesn't have to pay rent. I'm not going to rock the boat and have her move out and starve to death."

The ME watched him for a moment, considering. "There's more to it than that," she told the writer.

"That's not enough?"

"Oh no, that's more than enough, for anyone. But there's more to it for you, isn't there?"

Castle faltered, his eyes closing, head dropping into his hands.

"You can talk to me," Lanie offered.

"You're Kate's friend," Castle hedged.

"I'm both of your friends," Lanie replied. "I can keep things in confidence. We'll call it doctor-patient privilege."

The writer looked up from his hands and smiled grimly. "All you're patients are dead, Doc. Excuse me if I don't want to join them."

Lanie laughed. She moved closer to the writer and placed her hand gently on his arm. "Castle," she said softly. "I'm serious. I get why you can't talk to Kate about this, or your mother or daughter. I'm guessing you don't want to talk to your poker buddies or Javi and Ryan. So if you want someone to talk to, who isn't going to judge you or tell anyone, I'm here anytime, ok?"

The writer was silent for a long moment. Just when Lanie thought he was about to get up and leave, he spoke. "I don't want to be too greedy," he whispered.

Lanie furrowed her brows in confusion, and waited for him to go on.

"I just – I-" the writer paused, uncharacteristically struggling for words. "I don't have a great track record with women I actually care about – Kira, Gina, Meredith – even my mom was always off with bigger, brighter stars when I was a boy. I don't even know who my father is. Alexis is the one person in my life who is always there and I'm terrified every day that I'll let her down."

He paused for a moment, considering his words. "I don't want to reach for more than I deserve. I am so close – so close – to the dream. I live in a beautiful four-bedroom apartment with the most incredible, brave, sexy woman I've ever met, raising our three beautiful children that I couldn't love more if I tried. I spend all day doing the things I love most in the world – following around my incredible partner and make up fantastical stories that people actually pay me lots of money to read. I could not have designed a better life for myself if I picked up a genie in a lamp and got three wishes. Yeah, the one thing that could make it perfect would be to truly be with Kate. But I don't want to gamble everything by pushing her, only to have her walk away too, and watch my dream life disappear like that genie in a cloud of smoke."

Lanie sat for a moment, stunned by the brutal honesty of his confession. "Oh, Castle," she signed, leaning into him, her arms going around him. Castle stiffened momentarily, embarrassed, then relaxed and returned the hug.

They hugged for a moment, and then Lanie lent back, making eye contact with the writer. "You deserve this," she told him, firmly. "Kate deserves this. I'm not going to tell you it's going to be all sunshine and lollipops, because this is reality, and in reality you have to work at relationships. Kate is going to prickle up and try and push you away when she feels vulnerable. Deep down I think she's still a little in awe of Richard Castle the writer, and the fame thing, and feeling like she's not good enough for you. You both repress your emotions because you're afraid of hurting each other. You're both terrified of everyone you love leaving you. And sometimes, Castle, you frustrate the hell out of everyone by never taking anything seriously or doing what people say."

Lanie locked eyes with him, hoping he would appreciate the sincerity of what she was saying. "But none of that matters. Because you are completely worthy of a full and loving adult relationship, Castle. I know that now might not be the time, but don't wait for too long and let it pass you buy. Someday you just gonna have to shit or get off the pot, okay?"

Castle smiled, looking sheepish and hopeful all at the same time. "Yes, doctor," he said.

Their conversation stayed with Lanie, and she found herself thinking about it again that night. She'd been a little sexist, and maybe a little simplistic when she'd looked at Castle and Kate.

She'd seen the potential there (the whole world could see that she thought) and all she'd been able to think about was how they'd make such a hot couple, and why the hell weren't they going for it already.

At first, Lanie had just thought Kate should sleep with the writer, because damn, there was that hot as hell tension and Castle looked like he could bring the goods. And Kate had a bit of that hero worship thing going on, and even if Lanie had believed it would never last, how cool would it be to know that you'd made your favourite author so hot and bothered he wrote a book about you?

Then Castle had become a bit of fixture, and one book turned into a series, and suddenly one day Lanie had realised that Kate had gone beyond just physical attraction was getting all 'feeling-y' toward the writer.

Though a few years ago, Lanie would never have thought that a playboy writer could be the love of her best friend's life, as he stuck around and their friendship deepened, Lanie began to root for something long term to crop up between the pair. She started to see the heart behind the 'wham bam thank you ma'am' persona that Castle projected to the world. She began to see the way that his humour and lightness and fun could balance the darkness that hung over Kate ever since her mother's murder and her father's descent into the bottle. And she saw the way that Kate's passion and dedication gave gravity and depth to Castle.

So she'd been frustrated when Castle wouldn't make a move. For all that she'd teased Kate about making a move on writer-boy, she'd never really expected the detective would be the one to push things forward. She'd always thought Castle would have to initiate things.

Was she being sexist? Lanie wondered. Had she just assumed he would make the move because he was the guy?

Lanie had no problem with a girl who took the bull by the horns, so to speak. She'd busted a move on many a guy in her life. If she saw something she wanted, she went after it. She didn't wait around for it to find her. So why had the idea of Kate being the one to start something with Castle seem so strange?

Maybe it was because of Kate's past. Her loss of anything resembling a family when she was just starting out in the world. When Lanie decided that whatever was between Kate and the writer could be something permanent, she'd also subconsciously thought that it was something Kate would have to be…eased into. The detective didn't trust easily, and so she'd known that Castle would have to prove himself first.

And he had. He'd stood by her, and moved heaven and earth to help her when she needed it. And not just with the boys – he'd given her a place to live, he'd helped with her mother's case (because even if that had pissed of the detective, Lanie knew his heart was in the right place).

Castle had stood by, and proven every day that he wasn't going anywhere. That he was in it for the long haul.

And now, Lanie realised; the ball was in Kate's court.

She just had to make the detective realise it.

Ah, Friday. That most blessed of days. Lanie had pulled so many double shifts this week she was thinking about subletting her apartment and moving into the morgue. She could set up a little cot in the back office, use the kitchen in the break room and the decontamination showers occasionally to stay clean. Maybe Castle could write a spin-off series for Dr Lauren Perry from the Heat books, "Sleeping with the Dead" or something.

Oh, wow, that was a horrible idea. She really, really, needed to get some sleep.

It had been a long case, but the detectives had finally had the breakthrough they needed. Beckett and the boys were off arresting the latest perp, so she was free to head home.

On the way out of the lab she sent a flirty text to Javier, smirking slightly when he replied not 30 seconds later. Oh yeah, I still got it, she thought. A few more texts and they had a hot date for the next night.

She stopped for Thai takeout on the way home, and promised herself again that she was going to start eating healthy and getting more exercise first thing tomorrow. Then she sat up on her couch with her takeout, poured herself a generous glass of wine and settled in to watch a trashy reality series on TV.

When she finally dragged herself off to bed an hour later, she fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

People often didn't realise that Lanie was a girl.

Well, anyone with eyes could tell she was female, but something about her – probably her job, Lanie often thought – meant people didn't realise she was a girl. That she loved blowing a whole paycheck on a gorgeous dress, or that she got up half an hour earlier to straighten her hair and do her make-up, even on the days when she knew the only people she'd see were either dead or Perlmutter.

So on Saturday morning, she treated herself to some pampering. She lay back on her couch, an avocado mud mask on her face, with twin cucumber slices balanced delicately on her eyes, some old school soul playing lightly on her stereo. It was bliss. Right until her cell phone blared from the coffee table and she jumped in fright. The cucumber slices fell from their position on her eyes and scattered across the floor.

The caller ID read 'Kate Beckett'. She hit speaker, since she wasn't quite sure if avocado mud masks were iPhone compatible.

"Hey," she said, bending to look under the couch. Where had that second cucumber slice gone?

"I need a girls' day." Kate pleaded. "These boys are driving me nuts."

Lanie smiled. "Which ones? The ones at home, or the ones at the precinct?"

"All of them," the detective groaned. "There are far too many 'boys' in my life."

Lanie laughed.

"So I need you to save me," Kate continued. "The twins are taking Castle to the park to run off some excess energy, and you, me and Alexis are going to have a girls' day."

"I'll book us in for mani-pedis?"

"Not that girly," protested Beckett and Lanie could picture the way Kate would be looking disgusted, her nose crinkled up as though there was a bad smell.

"Shall we do each others hair and talk about boys?" Lanie teased.

"Oh God," said Kate. "Have you even met me?"

Now that she had worn her down a bit with horrible suggestions, Lanie went in for the kill. "Well, the outdoor cinema near me is screening a classic this afternoon that I was going to see. Do you want to come?"

"A classic? Which film is it?"

Ah, Lanie would have to tread lightly here. Kate could smell a rat.

"Oh it's a great movie. Singin' in the Rain. Have you seen it?"

"No," said Kate warily. "Sounds a bit…" she trailed off, and Lanie wondered if she'd been about it say that it sounded a bit girly, and then remembered that she'd be the one who requested a girls' day.

"You'll love it. There's a car chase and undercover cops and a shootout at the end."

"Hmm," Beckett didn't sound convinced. Lanie heard Alexis ask her what they were talking about. "Singin' in the Rain," Kate replied.

"Oh I love that movie!" Alexis said.

Lanie knew they had her now.

"Come on, Kate," she cajoled. "I'll take you to that amazing coffee place for Spanish mochas afterwards."

"Alright," Kate reluctantly agreed.

"You are a dirty liar, Dr Parish," said Kate as they left the outdoor cinema. "There was not a shootout or undercover cops in that movie!"

Lanie laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face when they started singing!"

"I kept waiting for it to be revealed that Kathy was an undercover rookie sent in to bust up the drug ring that was clearly going on. Why were they always singing and dancing? That guy was running up walls and flipping over! He was totally on meth. And what was with that weird dancing montage if it wasn't a drug trip?"

Lanie was laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing.

"I'm sorry you didn't like it," Alexis was saying. She looked a little upset. "I hope you weren't too bored?"

"Oh no, Alexis, it's fine," Kate reassured her. "You know I just like more action-y films in general."

The younger girl looked reassured, but Kate still poked her tongue out at Lanie when Alexis wasn't looking.

Since she did feel a little bad about misleading Kate, Lanie decided she could pay for the drinks at the little Spanish café they headed to after the movie The small café was crowded, but they managed to find a table for three down the back.

Despite the crowd, service was quick, and a waitress was there to take their orders only a minute after they sat down.

Once they'd ordered, Lanie turned to the detective. "So, where exactly are your boys today?" she asked.

"Having a man-date in the city, the exact location of which we are not allowed to know." Kate huffed in exasperation. "Rick's going to bring the twins home all hyped up on sugar, and he'll be the one dealing with the consequences."

"You realise you just included Richard Castle as one of 'your boys' now, don't you Kate?" Lanie asked, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Something you want to share with the group?"

Kate let her patented Beckett eye roll speak for her.

"No comment?" Lanie mused. "That's fine. I'm sure Alexis has plenty of ammunition..er, I mean information, to tell me." She turned her attention to the teenager.

"There's nothing to tell, is there Alexis?" said the detective, shooting the young redhead a look.

"Hmm," said Alexis, pretending to think.

Lanie leaned forward in anticipation.

"No, there's nothing to tell," Alexis agreed. Kate sat back in her chair, looking relieved and a little bit smug. Lanie slumped back in disappointment.

"I mean," Alexis continued. "Lanie already knows how you finish each other sentences and make moon-eyes at each other."

"Alexis!" shouted Kate.

The teenager smirked.

"Well," said Kate turning the tables on the redhead. "How about we talk some more about how things are going with Ashley? Is that a hickey I see on your neck?"

Alexis blushed. "Okay, okay! I surrender!"

"No stories?" the detective asked.

"No stories," Alexis confirmed. "Actually, I'm just going to head to the bathroom while we wait for the drinks. Mind my bag?" She gestured to her handbag, sitting beside her chair.

"Of course," said Kate.

The moment the teenager was out of sight, Lanie pounced on the detective.

"He's not going to wait around forever, you know."

"Who? Ashley?"

"Very funny," she said dryly. "Richard Castle."

"I don't know what –" Kate started to say, but Lanie interrupted her.

"Don't you try to lie to me, girl." Maybe other people would have approached the topic with more tact, but Lanie had always been the type to go with the direct approach. If the waiter came over, or Alexis came back then Kate would change the subject, and Lanie would lose her chance. So she started the detective down, waiting for a response.

Truthfully, Lanie had expected prevarication or even down right evasion from the other woman. They were both aware that Alexis would be back from the bathroom any moment, and Lanie wouldn't press the subject with the teenager present. All Kate had to do was hedge for a few moments, and she'd be off the hook.

So Lanie was surprised when the detective said, quietly, "Do you think I don't know that?"

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"I'm a mess, Lanie! I'm still not over my mom and Maggie dying. I'm terrified everyone I love is going to leave me. I'm a horrible mother, I have no idea what I'm doing with the boys, and I'm so mad at Maggie for dying and leaving me with them. And that's so stupid, because she died. She didn't want to leave them and I'm sure she's up there somewhere looking down at my complete incompetence and she'd give anything to come back and take the boys away from me."

Taken aback, Lanie scooted her chair around and pulled Kate into a hug. "You're not a bad mother," she whispered, stroking the detective's back. "The fact that you even feel that way proves you're not. Horrible mothers don't spend all their time worrying that they're horrible mothers, they don't give a shit about their kids or how good or bad they're treating them. You're pretty new to this gig. I think you need to cut yourself some slack. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes, especially at the start."

Kate sniffled, breaking out of Lanie's hug and discreetly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Thanks, Lanie," she said. Then she smiled at someone over Lanie's shoulder.

Lanie turned and found Alexis standing awkwardly behind her, obviously on her way back from the bathroom.

Alexis sat back down, looking conflicted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overhear. But…I mean, I know you're not my mom or anything, but…I – sometimes I wish you were. I think you're an amazing mother to Eli and Zeke. And I think your cousin would be proud too."

"Thanks, Lex," said Kate, with suspiciously moist eyes. She looked like she might say more, but they were interrupted by a waitress arriving with their drinks.

That sat in silence for a moment, not wanting to go back to the emotional charged scene, but unsure of how to proceed. Lanie took a sip of her no-fat Spanish mocha and just about burnt her lip off.

"I'm not sure I want to know this, but how are things with Espo?" Kate asked. Lanie appreciated the detective's question, even if it was probably just an excuse to change the topic of conversation.

"Amazing," she replied, and couldn't help the smirk that escaped when she recalled the way he'd kissed her, leaning up against her apartment door after their last date. That man's tongue…well, she was certainly looking forward to their date tonight.

"Lanie," Kate hissed, her eyes sliding to Alexis. Apparently the smirk on her face was slightly more suggestive than Lanie had realised.

"Now, Kate Beckett, why would you assume I was talking about sex?" the ME's tone was pure innocence. "I'm sure Javi is very skilful – or he will be when I'm finished with him – but we aren't ready for that just yet."

"You're not?" Kate blurted, surprised. Then the detective's eye slid back to Alexis. "I mean…er… taking things slow is good. Sensible. Wait a while. Wait until you're married, in fact. Very sensible."

Lanie decided to ignore the latter part of that statement and answer the question. "We're not ready just yet." She paused for a moment, then sighed. For a moment, the normally confident ME felt herself slump slightly. "This could – this could really be something, Kate. Someone who makes me laugh, who doesn't smother me or treat me like I'm made of glass, who understands the job. I just really don't want to rush into things and stuff it up."

The detective's face softened. "Yeah. I get that," she said.

Silence fell over the table. Lanie thought about Javi. She thought about the string of guys she dated over the last few years. Most guys ran screaming when they heard about her job. Sometimes the ones who didn't were even worse. Somehow her job attracted the guys with the weird fetishes.

When Lanie looked up, Kate was smiling softly to herself across the table, and Lanie was willing to bet her 401K the detective was thinking about a certain mystery writer. Honestly, maybe she should just forget about trying to make Kate make a move. Maybe she should just lock the two of them in the tiny autoclaving room at the morgue and let nature take its course.

Her attention was momentarily captured by Alexis, who was alternately looking at Kate, looking at Lanie, opening her mouth, blushingly, closing her mouth, looking at the table and then looking back at Kate. Finally, on her third pass, Kate made eye contact with the teenager and raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's just…I mean…" Alexis' face flamed redder than her hair. Her gazed dropped back to the table. "How do you know?" she mumbled.

Lanie was lost, but apparently Beckett spoke disjointed-Castle-rambling better than she did, because Kate smiled. "How do you know when you're ready to have sex?" the detective asked.

Alexis nodded, her face still on fire, her eyes glued to the froth of her hot chocolate.

Lanie met Kate's pleading eyes over the top of the younger girl's head. Lanie imagined that Kate felt that she was in a difficult position because Castle would probably want Kate to say that Alexis would be ready when she was married and over thirty-five. But Lanie knew the truth. Kate felt like she was in a difficult position because as time went on she was treating the little Castle more and more as a daughter. This was one of the times when Kate's dual roles in the younger girl's life conflicted. The friend/cool-older-sister-Kate, would have some different advice than the step-mother Kate.

Still, Lanie decided to take pity on her friend, and answer Alexis' question.

"When I was in med school, we had to deliver babies." The ME shuddered. "It was all kinds of gross. And then there was this squalling, messy package of responsibility at the end that everyone went nuts over." It hadn't really been that bad, but Lanie wanted to lighten the mood. Sure enough, Little Castle and Kate were both looking up at her in interest.

"You chop up dead people every day, and you thought labor was 'gross'?" Kate asked.

Lanie shuddered again at the memory. "Do you know what amniotic fluid smells like? That is rank. Even though you wear gloves for the delivery, you can't get the smell off your hands for days, no matter how many times you wash. It seeps into your skin or something." The other two women at the table shared a look at her expense. "Listen, do you want my advice or not?"

"Are you saying you're not ready until you can deal with the consequences?" Alexis asked, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Hell no!" the ME replied. "I'm still not ready for those kind of consequences. Babies? Diapers? Spit-up on all your clothes? Nah uh."

Alexis smiled at that, but looked confused.

"That's what birth control is for," the ME continued. "They cover that at school, right?" At Alexis' nod, she continued. "Well, if you got any questions, you make sure you ask me or Beckett. And don't let no dumb ass boy tell you that you can't get pregnant the first time, or that he'll pull out. Because you can, and he won't."

Alexis nodded again, her face so bright red Lanie might have worried she was suffering from heat exhaustion, if they weren't sitting in an air-conditioned café.

"Anyway, let me tell my story. So labor is horrible right? There's screaming and pain and vomiting and pooping yourself and lots of 'you did this to me you bastard, you're never coming near me again'. One night I'm at the desk and this woman comes in. She's pregnant for the first time, and it's my job to do an assessment, so I ask her if she thinks she's in labor. She says she's been having these little pains, but she's not sure. And so I know she's not.

"Real labor is not a maybe thing. When you're in labor, you know it." Lanie nodded. The table was silent for a minute.

"That's it?" asked Kate. "That's your advice on how to know if you're ready to have sex? What does that even have to do with sex? Besides the obvious?"

Lanie had always known Alexis was a smart kid. A fact that was only confirmed by her next statement. "No, I think I get it," said the teenager. "When you're ready, you know it. If you're not sure, than you're not ready?"

"Exactly," Lanie replied, with a smirk at Kate.

"Oh," said Kate. She appeared to contemplate it for a moment. "You know, that's actually really good advice."

"No need to sound so surprised, Detective," Lanie said, a churlish edge to her voice.

"No, I mean for all the time, not just the first time. It doesn't matter if everyone else does it on the fourth date. If you're not ready, then don't. And it doesn't matter if good girls don't do it on the first date. If you're sure you're ready…" she trailed off, suddenly seeming realise that she was speaking aloud, and that Alexis was looking at her with interest. Kate let out a groan. "Forget I said that," she told the redhead. "Your father is going to kill me."

"I think you might be able to distract him, if you mention that thing about you being ready on the first date," said the teenager with a sly smile.

Lanie laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.