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

"Me? I? Me? What? What?" He gasps between each word, and every time the pitch of his voice rises, so that the second "what?" emerges like the squeak of a bat caught in a ceiling fan. He can't have heard right, can he? How could he be causing Beckett stress when he hasn't seen or spoken to her since May? Maybe he misunderstood. Maybe it's a sugar crash. He's had no doughnuts today. In fact, he's eaten nothing at all since 9:00 last night. He shakes his head as if he were trying get water out of his ear, and gapes at Lanie.

She takes a sip of coffee. "Yes, you. Not on purpose."

"Of course not on purpose! Jesus, Lanie, she's the last person I'd ever–. I'd–. Me? I did this to her?"

"No. Yes." She puts a steadying hand on his arm. "Look, let me go back a little in the story, okay? But first, stop beating yourself up."

"Beckett's in the hospital, Lanie," he says, glaring. "And apparently I put her there, so I think that beating myself up is appropriate. Understandable. Even if I don't understand it."

"I think you need to eat something." She smiles and waves to the waitress. "Hi. Could you bring my friend here some soup, please?"

"Soup?" asks the waitress, who's wearing one pink sneaker and one green, and doesn't look old enough to be working.

"Yes, soup. Do you have lentil?"

"Not in August. Lentil is for winter."

The poor girl is eyeing Castle as if he's a lunatic, and Lanie as if she were borderline. "Of course. Okay, how about a turkey sandwich? On rye, with lettuce and tomato."

She carefully writes down the order, briefly looks sideways at Castle, then back at Lanie. "He want fries with that?"

"No, thank you. He should have a glass of milk, though." She taps the back of Castle's hand. "Okay? You drink milk, don't you?"

"Sure. Yes."

"He'll have a glass of low-fat milk," she tells the waitress. "And I'd like the Greek salad, please."

"Yes, ma'am. Uh, miss. Ma'am?"

"Thank you." Once the girl has gone Lanie tries to get her lunch companion to smile as she leans across the Formica and whispers, "She called me ma'am. Twice. If she weren't about fourteen years old I'd have to take her out and smack her upside the head."

It gets no reaction from him; he's staring blankly.

"Castle? Castle!" She's not whispering any more.

"Sorry, what?"

"Focus. Please. I really need you to pay attention. You'll feel better, I promise."

"I will?"

"Yes. You look like the backend of a bender right now, but I have hopes. For both of you, you and Kate. So, listen up."

"Fine."

"I've got plenty to beat myself up about her, you know. She's my best friend, and I'm a doctor, and yet somehow I didn't notice her wasting away this summer."

He sits up violently, as if the turquoise pleather bench had just delivered 5,000 volts to his spine. "Wasting away? She's wasting away? I thought you said she was going to be fine."

"She is, assuming she starts eating. Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Hang on, I'm getting there. You gotta let me tell the story. You should know that, what with your seventeen best-sellers, or whatever."

He just nods, which is a good indication of how bad things are in his head. She knows the number is higher than that, but he hadn't bothered to correct her.

"She hasn't been herself all summer, but you know how she is. Not exactly forthcoming. I call her Turtle sometimes, because she withdraws into her shell and you can't even see her head."

"Tell me about it."

"I've been seeing a new guy lately"–she checks his reaction: zero–"nothing serious, but fun, you know? I've been spending my free time with him and not paying enough attention to her. It's not right. About a week ago we had a case and she didn't show up for it. I asked Javi and Kevin, and they said she was on vacation. They were as surprised as I was. When they'd come to work the day before and she wasn't there, they asked Montgomery where she was. 'On vacation. Three weeks.' Made it seem like that that was all he knew."

"More like all he was saying."

She nods. "You got that right. Oh, here comes lunch."

The just-barely-adolescent waitress sets their food on the table and takes a step back. "You all good here?"

"Yes, we're fine. Thank you."

"Thanks," Castle belatedly calls to the retreating mismatched sneakers and their owner.

"Eat your sandwich. Drink your milk. You need protein."

"Geez, Lanie, you're so bossy."

"That's what Kate says."

The sandwich, which had been halfway to his mouth, returns to his plate, and his expression returns to glum. "Kate," he says, and wipes his palm down his face.

Lanie chews a forkful of lettuce, olive, and feta before plowing ahead. "As soon as I found out she was on this alleged vacation, I began calling her. And texting and emailing. Nothing. Nada. I finally left her a voicemail asking her what the hell was going on, and she still didn't answer. I'm ashamed of myself. I should have known what kind of shape she was in, had an inkling, anyway. But I didn't press. I can take it if she yells at me, you know? So why didn't I? Because I was worrying about what to wear on a date? That's what teenaged girls do to their friends, not women in their thirties."

"Sounds like you're shouldering a lot of guilt."

"I was there, Castle. I should"–

"I should have been there," he snaps.

"No, you shouldn't. You'd bowed out, remember? But I saw her practically every day. She was burying herself alive, and I didn't see it. Because I wasn't paying enough attention."

He sighs. "Stop. Please stop for a second. I get why you're blaming yourself. Her other friends should, too. People in the precinct. But I'm lost. Okay? I'm lost. You tell me you think she did this, whatever, nearly killing herself, because of something I did?"

Now or never. That might be too dramatic, but she has to tell him the truth. This can't go on any longer. She takes her phone out of her purse. "I'm going to show you a photo, Castle. I took it at some godawful hour this morning when I went to her apartment to get her a couple of things she could have in the hospital. When I opened the door to her place there were coffee mugs all over the kitchen. Nothing else. No food, not even some takeout container. The living room was immaculate, like no one lived there. But her bedroom was a horror. Clothes all over the floor. Bed a wreck. You know Kate—all right, you haven't been in her bedroom, much as I know that's probably on the top of your bucket list"–

"Hey!"

"Don't deny it. The point is, she's the neatest person I've ever known. And this was not her. I doubt she'd been out of there in a week, at least."

"So you took a picture of her messy bedroom?"

"No. I'm getting to that. The only tidy part of the room was her desk. It was as orderly as an operating table. But she'd left the lamp on, and I went to turn it off. That's when I saw what I photographed."

He extends his hand to take her phone.

"Not so fast. You have to promise me something before I show it to you."

"Seriously?"

"Dead seriously. I'm trusting you with something, and if Kate knew she'd kill me. Hell, she'd die if she knew that I saw it. But since she obviously can't act in her best interest, I am."

"Hope your life insurance is paid up," he says drily, draining his milk glass.

"Willing to risk it, Castle. And you know why?"

"I'll bite."

"Because she needs to risk it. And so do you. Let me ask you something. And be truthful."

He looks wary. "Go ahead."

"Why'd you break up with Gina?"

"Got to hand it to you, Lanie. You don't approach things gently."

"I'm asking for a reason."

"Fine. We were at each other's throats. I must have been crazy to ask her out there. Long-term memory loss of our short-term marriage, I guess."

"C'mon, Castle, that's not all."

"Oh, were you there?"

"No, but I've been right there for the last two years watching the chemistry experiment that you and Kate have been working on. I been waiting for the lab to blow up since the day you met. You gonna sit here and tell me that your feelings for her aren't behind your breakup with Gina?"

He grabs another paper napkin from the dented dispenser on the table and waves it like a white flag. "Fine. I surrender. Yes. Yes. My feelings for her were behind the breakup."

"And your feelings are?"

"I'm supposed to tell you when I haven't told her?"

"That's my point, Castle! You should tell her."

"Just like that? Not your best idea."

"I think it's time for the photo. And if you tell her you've seen it? Or that it even exists? I will dissect you. I know my way around a scalpel very, very well."

"Show me the damn photo, Lanie."

"Swear you won't tell her."

"I swear."

She clicks on the photo, and pushes the phone gently to him, not at all sure how it will affect him, or at least what he'll say.

He looks at the tiny screen with the huge message for a very long time. And then he takes the napkins he'd used as a white flag and presses them to his eyes. He's weeping.

"You okay, Castle?"

"Gimme a minute." He dries his face. "I have to go see her. Right now."

She circles his wrist with her fingers, and her grip is strong. "Not on your life."

"Why not? You're the one telling me to take a risk, wanting us to take a risk."

"Yeah, well, not that particular risk, not just yet. Look, she's ashamed."

"Ashamed? Of what?"

"Of making herself sick. Of letting me see how vulnerable she is. And right now, despite that little love letter she wrote, the last person she wants to see is you. She thought you were done with her, Castle."

"Because I thought she was done with me, for God's sake." He slides out to the end of the table and Lanie jumps up in front of him.

"Don't you dare," she growls. "So help me."

He deflates, leans unhappily against the padded back of the bench, and looks up at her. "Don't you get it? I'm not a religious man, but this is the answer to every prayer I've had for the last two years. The biggest prayer of my life."

"Which is why you can't go barging into her hospital room when she's as low as I've ever known her. Let her get back to being more herself a little first. That's how she is, Castle. You know that. She has to be able to stand up straight and look you in the eye. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, yeah. I do. But how long do I have to wait?"

"Not too long. Especially since I have an idea how to speed this along."

"You do? What?"

"I'll tell her you dumped Gina."

TBC

A/C Thank you again, everyone. You're keeping me going. And to any readers in Texas: hang on tight. I hope you're all right.