This idea has been on my mind for some time now and - please correct me if I'm wrong - I don't think this has been done before. I've always wondered what the Castle character would say, if they got to watch the show on TV but couldn't come up with a good beginning.
I don't know, if this story meets your expectations - if there are any regarding this topic lol - but I've tried my best to keep everyone in character. I love the series, but I don't remember every detail of every episode and you're welcome to point out any mistakes you find.
And just to let you know where we are in the Castle universe: I took the liberty of stealing everyone after Limelight (Season 6, Episode 13), because there are thing I wanted the characters to be aware of when I started writing.
I don't own Castle or any of the characters. My sole possession is my OC, Emily Stevens! ;)
Also, I'm using a script I found online (similar to my other fanfiction) and not the aired episodes. Since I don't now every single detail, I also don't know how much it'll deviate from the TV episodes.
That said, have fun! :)
Being an author isn't the easiest of professions. You've got a lot of research to do to get the facts right, you need a good plot line and extensive vocabulary to breathe life into a story, among other things. And that's exactly why I'm not a professional.
Don't get me wrong, I've got tons of ideas swirling around in my head – I'm just not very good at writing them down. Finding an adequate and not completely boring start to a story is one of my biggest problems; and somehow my brain seems to think that intensive staring at an empty word page is going to fix it.
I've been trying to come up with a plausible explanation about how characters of a certain TV series could end up watching it together, but so far, I can't find one. It's like the universe doesn't agree with the opinion that this would be the perfect idea for a fanfiction. Sucks. Majorly. But what can I do? The words just won't come to me! It's like they're purposely trying to sabotage my plans here by refusing to cooperate.
The digital clock on my desk reads 01:56 am and my body's started telling me to go to bed an hour ago by dropping subtle hints in form of lengthy yawns, but I still haven't moved from my desk. I've been wanting to write down this story for ages now and it's so damn frustrating that I'm just not capable of finding a good beginning for it! I mean, how difficult could it possibly be?
Oh, I know! I could be particularly evil and trap them in my apartment, refusing to let them leave before they've watched all Castle episodes… or I could –
There is a loud crash on the other side of my closed bedroom door. Emphasis on closed, because I'm paranoid and believe in ghosts, so I always keep all my doors shut just in case someone tries to jump at me while I walk by – totally idiotic, I know.
Said paranoia, however, is also the reason why I spin around on my chair and then freeze on the spot, debating whether I should stay within the safety of my bedroom or venture into the unknown to investigate what's going on out there.
There are a few seconds of absolute silence and I keep staring at my bedroom door, holding my breath. The only sound I can hear is the pounding of my heart – if you've been in a similar situation before, you know how that feels, otherwise you've got no idea of the emotional range I'm going through right now. To keep it simple, it covers pretty much everything from total fear to unexplainable excitement. Very contradicting, but that's how my mind works – something creepy happens that has no logical explanation? Count on my initial reaction of shock and fear to turn into one of curiosity and excitement.
I'm still not sure what to do. I mean, I know for a fact that I'm the only person in this apartment, so either someone broke into it and is searching my place for valuables… or ghosts really do exist and I can finally prove my mom wrong – in which case I should probably grab my phone and try to catch whatever entity is roaming my halls on video.
BUT – what if there's a serial killer outside? Like 3XK or Jack the Ripper… Not that any of these two could be here, because one is a fictional character and the other died about 150 years ago, but still… what if?
CRASH!
This time, I grab my dad's old baseball bat; the one he once gave me in case I ever had to defend myself against an 'unwanted intruder'. I'd told him that day that Germany has one of the lowest crime rates in the world and that I'd be back in half a year after finishing my semester abroad – now, I'm glad he insisted on taking it with me.
There are footsteps on the other side of my door, several of them which drastically lowers my odds of survival, if they're here to kill me. Should I call the police? Is it 911 like in the States or do they have a different emergency number in Germany? I bet they do, and I'm sure that I was told what it is on my first day of class, but I just can't recall it!
Shit, shit, shit! What the hell do I do? Think, EJ, think!
I –
"Hello? Anyone home?" The voice belongs to a woman and somehow that small, seemingly unimportant detail is oddly calming. "Hello?"
Okay, so no ghosts. That's… less comforting than I'd have thought, but still better than having to face the wrath of an evil spirit.
Should I open the door and make myself known? Maybe they just got lost in the city and want to ask for directions…
Yeah, right. And they just happen to break into your apartment why exactly? Cause they didn't find the doorbell?
Touché.
"Yo, Beckett. In here."
Oh, shit. Not good. Not good at all.
I don't even realize I've taken a few steps back until I hit the wall, my dad's baseball bat at the ready.
There's a knock on the door.
"Hello?" The woman says again, but I can't bring myself to reply, cause I'm still not sure whether to scream for help and run or start a polite conversation. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett from the NYPD. We've just got a few questions for you."
Wait – what!?
"Did you just say Beckett!?" It's out before I can stop myself but there's just no way on earth that any officer from the NYPD would knock on my door in the middle of the night in Germany. We're thousands of miles away from the American continent and the odds of said detective to be called Kate Beckett are astronomical.
"Yes, Ma'am, I did," the woman, Beckett, replies. "Can we come in so you can answer a few questions?"
"Only if you promise not to shoot me!"
It's probably not a very wise idea to invite a stranger into your bedroom in the middle of the night, but the way I see it, it's either that or having my door kicked down. Plus, the fangirl in me is curious to find out if Kate Beckett really is Kate Beckett – not that I have any hopes, but, you know, I've read certain fanfictions where authors meet their favorite characters and maybe…
You do realize it's called fiction for a reason, right? It's because those characters are not real. Someone comes up with an idea for a TV series and a bunch of people who inhabit this world. They just don't magically pop up in your apartment at 2 am.
Apparently, they do. Because a few moments later a woman enters my bedroom who looks so much like Stana Katic as Kate Beckett that my mouth hits the floor and patiently waits there for me to pick it up.
Never mind.
"What the hell is going on here?" It comes out as barely a whisper while my eyes are glued to the people standing right in front of me.
"Yeah, that's what we'd like to know from you." And that's Esposito, who, by the way, looks like he's about to murder someone. I just hope it's not me…
"Is this real?" They all stare at me like I've lost my marbles. Hell, I don't even trust myself at the moment. "I just have to ask, cause you're not supposed to be here. At all. I mean, you… you shouldn't even exist."
I probably fell asleep at my desk and this is all a dream, and when I wake up in the morning, I'm still not going to have the faintest idea how to start my story.
I mean, this can't be real. There's no way that I could possibly be in the same room as… (brief pause for counting people) eight characters from a certain popular TV series. Neither in Heaven, Earth or Hell.
Castle looks like a six-year-old who just found out that Santa is real. It's adorable the way he looks at Beckett, as if to say: 'I told you, my theory is right.'
"Miss…"
"Emily Stevens," I help her out. "Or EJ, that's what my friends call me…"
"Look, Miss Stevens." She puts an odd emphasis on my name. Does that mean she doesn't want to be my friend? Ouch. "We were wondering, if you could tell us…" she hesitates for a moment. "…where exactly we are…"
Oh, hohooo! Is this where they tell me that they don't know how they ended up at my place and need my help to get back to New York? My inner fangirl is step-dancing on an imaginary table right now. How cool is that, huh?
"You – you don't know where you are?" Yeah, so much for the writer in me who always finds a sassy reply to everything.
"Just answer the damn question, kid!" Whoa, someone's in a bad mood here!
"Calm down, Espo," Kate says with a slight warning in her tone. "We don't even know, if she has anything to do with all this."
I don't. At least, I'm pretty sure I don't. Do I?
"You're in Munich, Germany," I reply slowly. "Not sure what you're doing in my apartment at 2 in the morning, though…"
"Ha! I knew it!" Castle exclaims excitedly. "Let me guess – we were abducted by aliens, or better, by the time lord who's sending us on a secret but important mission to save humanity."
The looks of exasperation he receives from the rest of my nightly visitors are hilarious. To me, his otherworldly theories have always been very entertaining, because, let's face it; Castle wouldn't be Castle, if he didn't come up with some ridiculous explanations from time to time.
"I'm only saying that we've travelled to the other side of the globe in a time span of mere seconds," he immediately defends himself.
"Yeah," Beckett retorts. "And I'm sure there's a totally reasonable explanation for that, Castle."
"Like what?" I can tell that Richard Castle is enjoying this whole thing immensely.
I'm kind of glad at least one of them doesn't hold me responsible for bringing them here. I mean, not that I could've pulled that off no matter how long and hard I think about it – time travel, really? Come on! That's not possible!
"I…" Beckett starts, searching for the right words. "…don't know yet, okay? But I'll find out. There's a reasonable explanation for everything."
"Well, apparently not everything…"
"I hate to break it to you, guys," I interrupt their little chit chat. "But I'm on Rick's side here. I mean, I didn't order a bunch of characters from a TV show to my apartment in the middle of the night."
"Oh, hohoho!" Castle says, eyes shining like a Christmas tree. "This is getting better by the minute!"
"Excuse me?" Kate says, giving me a doubtful glance.
Of course, they wouldn't believe me. Hell, I'd probably have the same reaction, if someone told me that I came straight out of their favorite TV show!
Well, you won't have to worry about that, girl. No-one'd want to watch a show about your life…
Jeez, thanks. But it's probably true.
Speaking of watching a show about my life – I suddenly have that crazy theory that I know why they're all here. Maybe, just maybe, someone up there heard about my writer's block and decided to help poor Emily out this once.
You're talking about yourself in third person now? How far gone are you, Emily?
I determinedly decide to ignore my inner voice.
"Let me show you something…"
They haven't asked me how I know their names – Castle and Beckett's that is – but I'm pretty sure that interrogation time will start sooner or later and I'm kind of glad that they're still perplexed enough to let me lead them to my living room.
Martha gives me a polite smile as I pass her and I'm sure that they're all in for another big shock, so I keep my mouth shut – until I find a small package lying on the glass table in front of the sofa.
"Okay… that's weird…"
"What is?" Castle is next to me in a blink. Damn that man moves fast…
"The package," I explain, pointing toward it. "I'm a hundred percent positive that it wasn't there when I went to my room."
Before Castle can come up with another crazy theory, Beckett steps in and examines my living room carefully. My inner fangirl keeps screaming that this is the single most amazing experience in my life, especially getting to watch the legendary Kate Beckett at work. Cause that's what she's doing – searching my place for evidence of how they all got here. Amazing.
But, seeing as the situation at hand feels a tad bit too realistic to be the origin of my imagination, I refrain from giddily jumping around like a five-year-old on crack.
"So, you're saying that it 'magically' grew feet and placed itself there?" Kate asks sarcastically.
"Listen," I say, not liking at all where she's going here. "I know you all want to know what's going on here, I get it. Really, I do, cause I'm as clueless as the rest of you people and I, too, would like some answers. And until right now, I've never seen that package before in my life – go ahead and open it, if you think you can't trust me, but I didn't place it there."
To be honest, I'm just scared that something will attack me as soon as I open the package, so I'm looking for an excuse to get her to do that job for me – which she does – but am equally curious to know what's inside.
The answer comes in form of a DVD and an ominous note.
"The clue comes at the end, signed X," Beckett reads aloud. "What does that mean?"
Ryan takes it out of her hand and turns the paper over, but the back is blank.
It's like out of a science-fiction movie, in a good and exciting way. I'm in my apartment with eight people who, by any logic, shouldn't exist and some mysterious person, named X, just sent us a box with a DVD inside. How crazy is that?
"Isn't it obvious?" Castle interrupts, rubbing his hands. "Someone brought us all here for a reason and the answer is at the end of whatever is on that DVD, which means we'll have no other choice but to watch it all."
Beckett, Ryan, Esposito and Captain Gates – who surprisingly hasn't said a word since they got here – all stare at him with disbelief.
"I don't understand…" That's Alexis, who looks to be around my age. "How is this related to anything? I mean – why are we here?" She points at herself, Martha and Jim. "We don't investigate crimes, you guys do. And what about her? How is does she fit in with all this?"
"An excellent question, Alexis," Castle replies, turning to face me. "What is your role in all of this?"
I open my mouth and shut it again. They all look at me like I hold the answers to all their questions, but I don't and I'm not sure how to tell them that they're part of a TV series where I come from. Well, I already kinda did but they have yet to believe me, so… yeah…
"I haven't the faintest idea," I confess, holding up my hands in defense.
"Only one way to find out!" Castle snatches the DVD out of Beckett's hand and walks over to my TV. "Do you have a DVD player where we can watch this?"
"Um… yeah, sure…"
Maybe a little old-fashioned, because we have Netflix and Amazon Prime these days, but I've got some fond memories watching movies with my dad, so I kept the thing for personal reasons. Not that I have much use for it as it mainly just sits in the shelf and patiently waits for its big moment – which would be now…
Everyone's attention is directed toward the TV and there's an eerie silence in the room, like we're all holding our breath in anticipation of what's to come. Castle is obviously hoping for time travel or an alien abduction – or anything that Beckett for once can't explain with logic – while I'm just curious to find out why I'm sharing my apartment with a bunch of TV characters.
The scene on the screen shows a single wooden chair in front of a blank wall. There's a small window in the upper right-hand corner, which suggests that whoever recorded the video must have done so in a basement. Then, a man enters the picture dressed in a black hoodie and blue, washed-out jeans.
"Is that?" Ryan asks, pointing at the screen.
"Simon Doyle." Beckett finishes with a frown.
Oh, this is good. This is really, really good.
"Who is Simon Doyle?" Alexis asks.
"Season six, episode five." I can't help it. This is the craziest thing that's ever happened to me, there's no way I'm gonna stay quiet and let everyone else figure out the answer. "Time will tell. Simon Doyle was a murder suspect in one of your dad's cases, claiming to have come from the future to prevent an energy war that's supposed to be taking place in 2031."
They all stare at me like they've seen a ghost, which kind of gives my ego a little boost. I mean, how many people can claim to have made eight Castle characters speechless at the same time?
Fortunately for me, they don't get the chance to ask me how I can know about the case, because Doyle decides to finally deliver his speech.
"Okay, ahm… I guess, this will come as a surprise to you," he begins nervously. "You may remember me, Detective, from an earlier case you were working with Mr. Castle. Thanks to you and your colleagues, we were able to prevent a war that could've cost millions of people their lives, but…" He sighs and runs a hand through his hair that looks like it hasn't been washed in days. "God, this is so much bigger than we thought, and I probably shouldn't mess with history to this extent…" There's a loud crash somewhere in the background and Doyle jumps, turning to look in the direction the noise has come from and then back at the camera. This time, there's an urgency in his voice that tells us that something's very, very wrong. "Okay, listen, I don't have much time left – they're almost here. I can't tell you all that happened, but know that there'll be numerous attempts on your life, Detective Beckett, one of which you won't survive, leading to a number of catastrophic chain reactions!" Another crash, this time much closer to Doyle's location, followed by distant shouting. "I'm breaking about every law of dimensional travel there is by sending you away, but you have to know how to stop this! Watch the DVD. Once you're done, you can go home. Don't try to fast-forward, it won't work. Don't tell anyone else about this, do you understand? The people in your time have yet to uncover time travel, so you must stop them before they do."
There's a third bang, like an explosion nearby and the last thing on tape is Doyle sprinting toward the camera – probably to turn it off and get the recording out before his attackers get their hands on it.
There are a few minutes of absolute silence, while we're all trying to wrap our minds around what just happened.
"Did everyone see what I just saw?" Castle asks slowly, this time more bewildered than excited.
Beckett opens her mouth several times before shaking her head. "This doesn't make any sense."
I agree and kind of disagree with that statement. First of all, time travel, although rumored to be possible, has yet to be scientifically confirmed. Secondly, why go back in time himself and let them watch a DVD to prevent a disaster? Why would Doyle send eight selected people – at least, I think he picked the present parties out for a reason – to my world, or whatever dimensional travel means, to make his case? Why me? I'm not a scientific genius, nor am I specifically brave or good with a firearm. I'm Emily Stevens, daughter of Phil and Jane Stevens from New York. My mom was killed in a car crash when I was nine, there was no foul play involved, nothing that indicated that I'm in any way special. So, why the hell did he choose me to host these people for a DVD evening?
That is, of course, if all of this is real and not some giant hoax.
"This isn't hidden camera or something, is it?" I ask in a not-so-subtle way. "Cause if it is, you guys got me, I totally fell for it."
"It's not," Beckett assures me, although she doesn't really sound convinced herself.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," Castle says and points at the TV. "If Doyle is right, this DVD contains information about whatever is or will be going on in the future."
"Castle, there is no such thing as time travel," Beckett exclaims with a sigh, massaging her temples. "There's got to be another explanation here somewhere."
"Then how do you explain us getting here?" He asks almost as exasperated as Beckett looks.
"I… can't."
"Detective Beckett is right, Mr. Castle," Gates steps in. She's not a really tall woman, but her presence screams authority and I suddenly have the feeling that it's best not to mess with her. "There has to be a reasonable explanation to all this and it might be our only lead, but I suggest we take a closer look at the DVD this Mr. Doyle has kindly left for us." Then, she addresses me: "Meanwhile, Miss Stevens could tell us what she knows about this case."
"What!?" It's not that I'm mentally retarded, I'm just surprised that, after all that's happened over the last thirty minutes or so, they still don't seem to believe me. "I already told you that I don't know anything! You're the ones who broke into my apartment! I was minding my own business until you guys came along!"
"Yet, you seem to know who this Mr. Doyle is," Captain Gates replied nonchalantly.
"Yes, I do!" God, this is beginning to turn into a nightmare. "Because I he happens to be a character in a TV series I've watched, not because I know him on a personal basis."
"A TV series, really?" Esposito says with a raised eyebrow.
He doesn't believe me. Great. Who ever said meeting fictional characters is easy should get their facts straight.
"Listen," I try again, almost pleadingly. "If you don't believe me, just google it! I'm not making this up, I swear!"
Esposito is about to reply when Castle suddenly turns up the volume of my TV, drawing the attention at the scene showing the opening of the very first episode.
A landscape. Sand colored, stretching to a horizon of black. Very serene. And then we see a bead of red, rolling like a teardrop, and we realize this is no landscape. It's a body. Rose petals tumble slowly through space, landing on naked skin. Gloved hands place sunflowers on the victim's eyes, a young woman in her early twenties.
And we hear a woman's voice:
GINA (Voiceover):
Murder...Mystery...The macabre.
[00:35, EXT. ROOFTOP, PUBLISHING PARTY – NIGHT]
This is not your Daddy's publishing party. Waiter dressed as murder victims serve drinks, while hardcore hotties mingle with middle-aged men. Around the room, giant placards advertise Richard Castle's latest potboiler, "Storm Fall." The woman, standing at the podium in front of the crowd, is Gina Cowell, President of Black Pawn Publishing.
GINA:
What is it about a hard-boiled detective, a femme fatale, and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamps burning into the wee hours of the morning? However, the spell is cast, tonight we honor a master of the form and celebrate the launch of "Storm Fall,"
[Castle holds a sharpie at the ready as one giggling young beauty pulls her dress top aside. Castle grins and signs his name just above the bra line.]
CASTLE:
Call me when you're ready to wash that off.
[Gina glances over in time to witness this. A fleeting glimpse of disapproval crosses her face.]
GINA (Continued):
The stunning conclusion to his best-selling Derrick Storm mystery series. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Master of the Macabre… Rick Castle.
[The audience applauds. Rick poses for pictures with fans and autographs copies of his novel as well as various body parts.]
"What the hell is this?" Esposito asks, looking first at Castle, then at me.
"I told you," I say with a hint of satisfaction. "TV series. It's how I know so much about you guys, but you wouldn't believe me."
"Now wait a minute," Gates interrupts, gesturing at the scene. "You're saying that someone wrote an entire show about Mr. Castle's life?"
She looks at me like I'm delusional.
"Yeah."
"Oh, please! This is ridiculous."
Why is it so hard to believe me? Do I really come across as some lunatic who'd make stuff like this up just to prank people?
"It's not!" I really feel the need to defend myself here and I'm not ready to just let them play it off as some joke. "For God's sake, just watch the DVD! If it's not accurate, you're welcome to set the facts straight. A guy named Andrew Marlowe came up with the idea, he wrote it, okay? I'm not involved in any of this, I'm just part of the audience."
"Captain, maybe we should give it a try," Ryan says slowly, still staring at the paused scene. "Doyle didn't lie, we can't fast-forward. If there's a clue at the end of this, we don't have much of a choice but to go through with it."
Gates seems to mull it over in her head for a few seconds and then nods with a sigh. "It's all we've got to go on, right now."
"Well, it seems that Miss Stevens is right about one aspect," Martha suddenly steps in with a lopsided smile, as if this whole scenario is super exciting to her. "According to my web search, Castle really does seem to be a TV series – a rather popular one at that." She adds that with a wink at her son, who's taking this whole thing pretty well in my humble opinion.
I refrain from telling Gates 'I told you so'. Somehow my brain thinks that doing so wouldn't be the brightest of ideas.
"So, it's settled then?" I ask, just to make sure we're all on the same page and promptly get eight different reactions ranging from excitement to disbelief.
Not that I'd care much – I'm about to watch a Castle marathon with the characters of said TV show. How cool is that?