Since he'd seemed so hungry, Beckett had decided that she'd make a hearty breakfast. If he was able to eat it without making himself sick, she figured they'd have a better chance of getting him to remember what had happened and where he'd been. He would have one less distraction, anyway, and she hoped he'd at least feel a little better than he had. She was used to Castle being cheerful, confident and yes, maybe a little annoying. She liked him that way. Seeing him so confused, uncertain and in so much pain was unsettling.

By the time she'd made a meal of eggs, sausage, pancakes and fruit, she was beginning to worry since she hadn't heard much of anything from the bathroom. She'd told herself that she was going to give him all the time he needed to take care of himself, but she was beginning to get worried that he might have passed out, or was more injured that they'd thought he was. Just as she was coming out of the kitchen to check on him, the bathroom door opened and he walked out – slowly, but upright and under his own power. She watched as he moved slowly and carefully over to the table she had set with the food and debated whether he'd want her to support him again or not. He made it to the table on his own, though, and sat down heavily.

"You didn't shave…" she noted, almost automatically.

She was immediately chagrined. The last thing he needed was her critiquing how he looked, but it was the first thing that popped into her head when she knew he was okay. Luckily, he didn't look offended, just miserable.

"I tried. I couldn't keep my arm up long enough to even get started."

He did manage to change into the pants Esposito had brought, but not the shirt. Probably for the same reason.

"After we eat, I'll help you if you want," she offered.

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

He forced a smile, and rested his head in his hands, propping his elbows on the table.

"Those weren't my pants," he said, abruptly.

"What? Esposito got them at your place."

"No. These are," he corrected. "But the ones I was wearing aren't."

Beckett started putting a plate of food together for him, acting casual but actually fairly tense.

"We found a dead man in the water yesterday," she said, wondering if he would know anything about it. "He was wearing expensive clothes and had your wallet…"

Castle looked over at her.

"Really?"

She nodded and put the plate in front of him. The writer didn't hesitate to pick up a pancake and wrap it around a sausage, but even while he wolfed it down she could tell he was preoccupied. She just wasn't sure if it was his hunger, his head or any other number of distractions. She didn't expect much from him just then as far as information went.

"It might not be related to whatever happened to you."

"But it might."

"Yeah."

Before he could respond to that there was a knock on the door. Castle froze, uncharacteristically high strung, and Beckett frowned, but waved for him to stay put.

"Eat," she told him. "I'll get it."

He would have taken forever to get to the door anyway, so she stood up and went and opened the door, Standing there, bag in hand, was Doctor Cutter, and he casually tossed her that perfect smile once more.

"Good morning, Detective," he said. "I thought I'd come see how my patient is doing."

"He's up and eating," Beckett replied, smiling. "Come on in."

"Thanks."

Cutter headed unerringly for Castle, who looked surprised to see him.

"Gerald?"

"Hey, Rick."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you."

The writer frowned, and looked at Beckett.

"How did he know?"

"I was here last night, Rick," Cutter said, putting his bag on the floor and pulling a chair over and sitting down. "You don't remember?"

"No." Castle looked over at Beckett. "He was?"

"You told me to call him."

"I did?"

"You did."

Now Castle looked completely baffled.

"I don't remember any of it…"

"You were pretty beat up," Cutter said, not sounding at all concerned at the lack of memory – although Beckett definitely was. "How are you feeling now?"

"My head hurts."

"And?"

"And I can't remember anything from the last few days, apparently…"

Cutter frowned.

"Nothing at all?"

"Flashes of things that don't make any sense…"

The doctor started running some tests on him, checking his reflexes, eyes, heart and various other places that left Beckett baffled, but were probably important.

"There are two major injuries that I can see, Rick," he finally said, talking both to Castle and also to Beckett. "There was obviously a blow to the side of your head – your cheek, the area around your eye and jaw are all fairly swollen and bruised. That one's an older injury, though. The bruising and swelling is an indicator the injury wasn't looked at when it happened – and it's probably why you're having trouble remembering what happened. It's not uncommon for there to be some kind of amnesia – usually temporary. The other injury is obviously the cut on your head. That one's under control, I think. If I'm reading the injuries right, I'd say wherever you were, you were tied up or cuffed with your arms above your head. Both shoulders are strained, from the swelling I see. Probably hurts like hell. You look tired, and fairly battered and beat up, but some sleep, food, and something for the pain should set you right in a few days or so."

"So you agree he was tied up?" Beckett asked.

"Or cuffed." He took Castle's hand and showed her the marks on his wrist. "You were right about them being from something like that. Good catch, Detective."

"It's not the first time I've seen it."

"He'll be fine," Cutter assured her. "His health is good, he'll heal."

"What about not being able to remember?" Castle asked.

"You're already taking care of that," Cutter told him. "The flashes you're getting are a sign that you're trying to remember. There might be some things that you never get back, but it shouldn't be much."

"That's a relief," Beckett said.

The doctor smiled at her.

"Keep an eye on him and he should be okay in a day or two. If you need anything, though, you have my number."

"Thanks, Gerald," Castle told him.

"Yes, thank you," Beckett agreed. "Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

"I do, but I can't. Thank you."

Kate walked him out, and when she came back to the table Castle was still in the same position that he was, staring down at his plate. She put her hand on his shoulder as she walked by him and he looked up.

"Eat," she ordered. "Then I'll help you shave, get your shirt on and see about making you feel better."

"You don't have to work?"

"I am working," she replied. "My job is to be here when you remember what happened – and to see if I can help you remember."

"I don't remember being tied up."

"It's pretty obvious you were, though. Eat."

"But what if –"

"Rick. Eat before it gets cold. We'll figure it out. I promise."

There wasn't much he could say to that, and his stomach reminded him with a loud growl that one pancake and a piece of sausage was not a meal. He nodded, and turned his attention to his breakfast. Beckett watched long enough to make sure that he wasn't any worse for the wear after being so thoroughly checked out by his friend, and then started eating as well.