A/N - Special thanks to CFPromoter for hosting this contest. Like Castle, I love this time of year. I look forward to reading many spine-tingling, bone-chilling thrillers this month.

Enjoy!

~GeekMom

The Possibility of Magic

Chapter 1

Belief

Belief: an acceptance that a statement is true or confidence in the truth; or existence of something not immediately susceptible to rigorous proof; or trust, faith, or confidence in someone or something.

Rick Castle believed in magic. Why wouldn't he? He believed in unlimited possibilities, but understood the probability of limits. Because no one had ever seen a unicorn, for example, in his opinion did not negate its existence. Lack of evidence was not anti-evidence. He believed in myths, fantastic creatures, the possibility of extra-terrestrial life, Sasquatch, spirits, Nessie and Atlantis. When all of the evidence suggested a resounding no: he asked why or why not.

Convincing other people, regardless of the probabilities of fantastic possibilities everywhere around them had always been fun. First had been his mother: who was more open to the whimsy or bizarre than anyone he'd ever met. She had been raised by sleight of hand mind-readers after all. Alexis had been a challenge from the moment she was born; she was a serious person and had always been that way, although through his propensity for fun, it had wheedled its way mostly by his cajoling and had grown over the years. Her brain craved logic and understanding. Castle often pondered where she might have inherited those traits. He was working on a theory about heredity concerning his skills. Perhaps they were just the product of the ultra-tricky, ultra-mischievous universe. The universe tended that way. Beckett provided challenges he had never encountered before. It didn't stop him from trying, but she believed in nothing but the hard, cold evidence she could lock up in her boxes: physical, mental and emotional.

Castle also believed in the universal truth of karma. If you were kind, treated others well and, particularly and especially, kind towards the universe, good deeds and kindness were returned to you. Sometimes this applied to the universe, sometimes not. The universe operated within its own set of rules and laws: laws, but not as in physics. Physics were just humanity's way of explaining what they observed, heard and felt within their limited and narrow vision or experience. If humanity had any inkling of the bigger picture and just how tiny and insignificant they were, they'd all still be hiding and recoiling against the onslaught of ideas and enlightenment in the primordial sludge and would never have taken the baby steps or slithers to where they were now: barely crawling. The truth of karma worked within the limited confines of humanity, but the universe spun karma and tilted it, adding elements such as humor and irony and sometimes tragedy. Rick Castle respected the universe.

The universe brought him face to face with the love of his life and then danced and played leapfrog and hopscotch with their emotions. He respected the universe, but sometimes the universe was a jerk.

Like today: he called upon all of his training and beliefs, all his research and skill when he looked into her eyes and pulled the wires out of the bomb, but after the bone crushing, soul-reaching hug she gave him, all the congratulatory pats on the backs and the gallows' humor had been exchanged, she fell into Josh's arms and Castle went home, alone. That was where he was, considering the universe while his tumbler of scotch spun lazily at exactly the right height and distance from his grasp for him to retrieve it easily, but not need a coaster. Like everything he did, that trick was purposeful. Mundane tasks helped him to section parts of his consciousness so he wouldn't drown all of his psyche in self-pity. He was also doing laundry and re-painting his mother's bathroom.

The redheads were still in the Hamptons. He called to let them know that all was well, he was safe and the crisis averted. He suggested that since they were there, they might as well stay for the weekend and enjoy themselves. With them elsewhere, he was free to engage in a little self-indulgence: a little freedom. His mother had long since accepted his gifts, but his pragmatic and sensible Alexis absolutely freaked out if she saw something she couldn't understand, explain or research. Her books, she believed, would never fail her, but this wasn't in any books except fairy tales and tomes about myths…and monsters. Therefore, he kept a lid on it when she was near.

He loved his daughter too deeply to cause her undue stress. It had never been her fault that she wasn't given the ability. He had tried many experiments when she was younger to see if she possessed any of his discovered talents, but no. He postulated that it was due to her red hair. His mother, while not gifted either, had always been open minded and aware of the possibilities, ready to embrace and accept the unknown. His grandmother had been a practitioner as well and Martha had experienced the art first hand. The red hair theory also meant that he could blame it on Meredith. It's why he stuck with the theory, even in the face of logic and reason. Logic and reason were not skills he used often outside of the precinct. He found it was more exhilarating, more fulfilling to solve mysteries the new-fashioned way. The old-fashioned way would be using his abilities, which were by all accounts, ancient.

The more likely, reasonable theory postulated that it simply skipped a generation. Although his grandmother had not been surprised about his abilities, she was astonished about the fact that he could multi-task. She could pour her concentration in one direction and have a desired and satisfying result, but her little Ricky could accomplish great things, many things at once. She theorized that his father might have been gifted, as well. The caveat was that although he could manipulate our definition of physics, he couldn't manipulate life-altering events, at least not those directly life altering to him. He couldn't prevent his death. He couldn't accentuate his success. He couldn't make someone love him.

Abuse of the rules, which admittedly were inconsistent at best and unyielding at worst, was what had brought about the downfall of many of his like. The universe tended not to look kindly on profiteers and opportunists. For instance, the universe was perfectly fine helping to put a cow on the roof of his high school, but when it came to saving his own ass from a domineering and prejudicial principal, he was on his own.

He was still on his own, sitting on his own roof gazing at the cosmos, which was visually drowned out by civilization, but he knew it was there. He had a tenable connection and could feel its suffocating and oppressive weight upon his chest or more specifically, his heart.

"It won't do you any good."

The glass dropped and shattered. "Jesus, Roy, how about some warning?"

"I knocked. I called. I did not send up any fireworks, but maybe I should have, given that the sky is where you're searching."

"Funny. You should have become a comedian."

"I thought about it, but you know the rules. No personal gain."

"Only if you use it," he said as he spread his arms to the sky. "You're a funny guy all on your own."

Roy narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

"Writer: we're good at subtext, obscurity and mis-direction all on our own."

Montgomery shook his head. "You gonna share that bottle?" He looked longingly at the half-full bottle of Jameson's on the table.

"We'll have to take it inside, you broke my glass."

"I didn't break anything, except maybe your concentration."

Castle sighed and grabbed the bottle. "Come on," he groused as he headed for the steps.

Once inside his office, he motioned for the captain to have a seat while he went to his bar and produced two new glasses, poured and presented one to his old friend.

"What, no levitating whiskey for me?"

"No, I'm sorting my laundry. Takes a bit more attention."

"Smart ass," the captain mumbled as he took a healthy swig of the smooth liquid.

"Yeah," Rick agreed and tipped his own tumbler back, downing it in one swallow.

"Are we racing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rick, I've known you for far too many years to not know that you prefer to sip good whiskey, let it roll slowly over your tongue. The only reason you ever knock them back is that you're hoping they will accomplish something for you." Montgomery stared at Castle, who didn't take the bait. The man could go for hours without blinking. No flinching. "So tell me, my friend, what is so wrong that you're looking to deaden it and why are you blaming…" he let his eyes wander toward the ceiling.

"I'm not blaming the universe for anything."

"Uh huh," Roy scoffed and sipped his drink.

"It's just…"

"It's just frustrating. Here you are at the top of your profession, luckiest son of a bitch…" Rick scowled: Roy knew as well as he did that luck did not exist. There was a pre-ordained order to the universe that admittedly could be changed, but not by luck. It was the manipulation of the natural and supernatural worlds and elements known to all and some others only known to a few. Montgomery continued, "Yes, you have been lucky in every way this backward planet defines, except love."

Rick's eyes widened. He'd have to work on his tells if he was going to continue to play poker with this man. "This isn't…"

"Isn't it?"

"She's with Josh, Roy," Castle said, falling into his desk chair. "You know those rules you were spouting off about a few moments ago."

"Since when do you worry about the rules?"

"There's no bending that rule, besides, I want it to be real. It's just…I saved the freaking city today." Roy raised an eyebrow. "Okay, the Aggregate and I, but she didn't know that. She didn't see the other outcome, the one where I watched the flesh melt off her body like wax melts in flame. I saw it and so did you." Rick could still see the desolation and destruction that would have happened if he wasn't granted the help he'd needed to avert the disaster. He still felt the relief when they discovered the bomb had been neutralized; he still felt her arms around him.

"Yeah, but that wasn't self-interest. You just said it yourself: you saved the city, not just yourself and not just her. Thanks again, by the way."

"You're welcome."

"My point is that you'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way."

"You mean rely on my good looks, unfailing charm and good deeds? Because so far, that hasn't worked out so well. What is it with Kate Beckett? Why can't I take a freaking hint?"

"You're an idiot, you know?"

"Thanks, I think I've already covered that pretty well myself…" He scowled. "Weren't you just thanking me for saving your ass?"

"Doesn't make you any less of an idiot. Look, she's distracted. You need to find a way to get her to focus solely on you. She'll see you for the great guy you purport to be and you can finally dip into that storehouse of karma you've got saved up."

"She still has a boyfriend. Is karma going to take care of that roadblock? Will the Aggregate?" He shook his head. "That's not been my experience."

"Don't worry about the boyfriend. My spies tell me that he's been kind of an ass lately. I think that relationship will be ending soon and take care of its own roadblock."

"A huh," Rick grunted disbelievingly.

"Have a little faith, huh? Aren't you the optimistic guy who believes in everything?"

"Not everything…not anymore."

Roy Montgomery downed the last of his drink and set the glass carefully on the table. "I'm going to do you a favor," he declared.

"What kind…"

"I really prefer you optimistic rather than suspicious. I have been asked to send some people to join a task force. I think I've just decided who those people will be."

"Roy," he warned, but also couldn't deny being intrigued. "What task force? Where?"