Rating: K+
Word Count: 1769
Disclaimer: [Insert funny text here that tells you I don't own Castle]
For my cheerleader, 41319fan
He's just had Nikki tackle a suspect to the ground when he hears the front door open, followed by the tell-tale click-clicks of her heels on the hardwood floor. He stops typing, saves and listens: clattering as she tosses her keys into the bowl; rustle of fabric and the opening of the closet as she puts her coat away, soft, metallic clicking as she lowers the zip of her boots and takes them off, and then – yes. Quiet, cat-like footsteps as she starts walking towards his office.
He smiles to himself.
The office door opens a moment later and she enters, looking a tad tired after a long, but most likely uneventful, day at the precinct, but with a gentle smile on her face and in her eyes.
"Hi there," she greets him, trotting to his desk and, leaning down, kissing him on the mouth. It's an innocent kiss, a brush against his lips, more like a 'hello, darling, I am glad to be home, I missed you today' than anything else, lasting only a couple of seconds.
"Hi," he says as she settles back, sitting down on the corner of his desk next to his laptop, and promptly placing one foot on his thigh. She doesn't ask, but his hands move on their own accord, cupping her heel and the arch of her foot, gently massaging the tired limb. "How was your day?"
"Nothing much to tell," she shrugs. "Mostly paperwork, it would have bored you to death." Okay, he kind of guessed that – if anything remotely interesting happened, she would have called. "Though I got a rather interesting phone call from the 47th," she adds with a mischievous glint in her eyes, catching his attention.
"Really? Please, do tell, detective," he asks, leaning closer to her and resting an elbow in her lap, his eyes wide with mocked innocence, eliciting a chuckle from her.
"Apparently, they took our favorite time traveler into custody earlier today."
He perks up immediately.
"Simon Doyle?"
"The one and only."
"But I thought he went back to the future!" he exclaims, his voice a little higher than usually. He sits up straight, waiting for her to elaborate, to which she furrows her brows. Okay, maybe he sounded a bit more upset about it he should have.
"No, actually, he only went to the Bronx," she explains, the teasing undertone not gone from her voice. "And it gets only better," she continues, leaning back a little, her hands resting on the desk behind her back, getting ready for the story, apparently enjoying herself. "So our guy was harassing a woman on the streets, telling her, you would never guess, that he was a time traveler and that he had to warn her about something. He wouldn't leave her alone, so the woman called the cops and the guys in Bronx picked him up. And then, after a couple hours of research, they even managed to ID him."
"No way," he breaths, his eyes wide, apparently torn between finding it cool or mortifying.
She nods, humming in agreement, then continues.
"It turns out he has a long history – way longer than what Ryan found – of psychiatric treatments and petty felonies. According to the guy I talked with, he's been nearly every psychiatric institution in the state over the last fifteen years or so," she says, sounding rather pleased with herself.
Castle takes a moment to consider this, turning the new information around in his head a few times.
"So everything he said about our future…?"
She almost laughs out loud – this is so typical of him.
"Sorry to burst your bubble," she smirks, reaching for his hand. He moves at the same time, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his lap. She goes without resistance. He sighs and wraps his arms around her middle, nuzzling his face against her neck. "Not that, I presume, you actually believed what he said."
"I didn't… okay, maybe I half-believed," he corrects himself under her gaze, his words coming a little faster, just like every time when he thinks he has to defend his crazy theories. "But it – the three kids, you being a senator – sounded so –"
"Coney Island fortuneteller?" she interjects.
"I was going to say awesome," he grimaces.
"Come on, Castle, it's like the oldest play in the book! Success in love, family, work…" she chuckles and pecks him on the mouth. "And I thought that your family had a long history of being phony psychics and such – if anything, I thought you'd see through his act."
"But he knew that we are getting married!" he protests vehemently, making her laugh.
"If he knew anything about our past relationship – and it seemed like he did his research –, then I think this huge rock on my finger," she wriggles the fingers of her left hand in front of his face, the diamond on her ring finger catching the light, "was a pretty big giveaway. And then you confirmed his theory by asking him how he knew."
He lets out a long breath and pulls her closer, pressing her flat against his chest.
"Okay, so he is a psycho, and we shouldn't buy anything he said, I get it," he murmurs while absent mindedly playing with her hair. "I am a little sad, though. I was sorta getting ready for the life he predicted."
She wriggles a little in his lap, trying to get more comfortable, one hand skimming over the short hair on the back of his head.
"I am not – sad about it, I mean," she says softly, then, seeing his questioning gaze, she continues. "It's a huge pressure to try live up to a future you think you are supposed to have. It's working for a distant goal, not because you want to have that goal, or because you want to live it, but because that is what you are supposed to do – that's what others said you have to do. And if you know everything, know what's ahead of you, then where is the surprise in life? Where is the fun? If you know what to expect in your future it just makes everything – bland. Uninteresting. Waiting for the things that will astound you and make your head turn is so much better," she finishes, then leans a little further away from him so she could look into his eyes. "And answer me this, seriously for once: can you actually see me as a senator?"
"I…" he starts, ready to give her confirmation, but then stops before saying another word. She actually has a point – to play politics, and to be successful in it, especially on the national stage, you have to play by the rules of the other players. You have to play dirty. You have to let go of black and white, and let things slide that otherwise you wouldn't let. And this is exactly what would, in the end, destroy his extraordinary fiancée. He smiles an understanding smile and presses a kiss against her forehead. "You are right. Be a police commissioner instead. Or a superhero. I know you have it in you."
She smiles that radiant smile he loves so much, and leans against him once again.
"I knew I am marrying you for a reason – you never fail to make me smile. Keep it up for the next couple of decades, okay?"
"I will do my best," he promises, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. He keeps silent for a few moments, almost hesitating, then speaks again. There is one more issue they should maybe address. "And what about the other thing he said? You think that we should scrap that idea, too?"
"You mean you writing serious literature? I don't know, Castle, I kind of enjoy your mystery novels…" She is teasing him, and it feels nice, but for once he'd like to keep the conversation serious – after all, they really do have to talk about it sooner or later.
"No, I meant the other-other thing – the thing about the three kids."
Kate lets out a strange noise between a groan and a chuckle.
"First off all, I'd like get through with the wedding first – we have plenty of time worrying about those hypothetical children after that." She pulls her brows together. "Plus, we are to be rushed about having kids right after we step away from the altar, at least according to Ryan." He doesn't know what she talking about exactly, but boy, does he want to hear the whole story. "Then I'd like to have one baby, see how I can manage that, before even thinking about having one, let alone two more. I mean if you are on board with that."
"I am," he says nodding. "So it's not off the table."
"No, it's not off the table," she confirms, her grip around his neck tightening. "It's just 'first things first'."
"I can work with that."
"Good." She kisses him, then turns backwards a little to press a key on his laptop to bring the screen back to life. She checks the time, and sneaks a peek at what he's been working on. "Have you finished what you wanted to do today?"
"Almost," he says, stretching a little.
Entangling herself from his embrace she stands up, one hand on his shoulder.
"Then why don't I prepare some dinner until you finish your chapter, and then we can eat together?" she offers, to which he answers with a boyish smile.
"And here's the reason why I am marrying you."
"And here I thought you had other reasons…" she teases as she walks towards the door.
Castle grins at her retreating form, then rolls his chair closer to the desk and reaches for the keyboard, but stops right before he'd start typing.
"Ah, Kate?" he calls after her. She stops at the door and turns back to him. "Do you know anything new about Ward, by any chance?"
Her heart rate instantly picks up a little. No, she doesn't – actually, she hasn't heard about the man since he's been transferred to central booking, but it doesn't mean that she can forget him. His determined gaze, his silent stare, his merciless determination to kill Deschilde… The letter…
She shakes her head. No. It's crazy. It's just a stupid coincidence. Trick of fate. Nothing worth wondering about.
"No, nothing. The DA has it now. But one thing's for sure – he is going away for a long time."
And with that she turns around and leaves the office.
There's no such thing as time travel.
A/N: Okay, so I thought this through like a hundred times since seeing the episode, and came to the following conclusion: while I am not dismissing the possibility that Ward was an actual time traveler, I absolutely oppose the supposition that Doyle was one. I mean, despite claiming to be a veteran of time traveling and a member of the "select few", he keeps making rookie mistakes the whole time: advertising that he's a time traveler, talking to people about their futures, leaving futuristic technology behind – and that's only the tip of the iceberg. Ward, on the other hand, did it well (whether he was from the future or taking revenge for a past incident): kept silent, kept a low profile, remained focused on the mission.
I do believe that Doyle was convinced that he was from the future and he was sent back to stop Ward, but in the end, it's only one of his delusions, rooting from the time he spent next to Ward's room at the psychiatric ward.
Tumblr: Orlissa
