Kate Beckett gets an interesting glimpse into her future. Set late Season 2, assuming there's no Demming.

"Did I tell you, Beckett? This guy has created the only machine in the world that can predict the future with accuracy. With accuracy! How cool is that?"

Kate rolled her eyes as she stepped up on the sidewalk in front of the nondescript Brooklyn warehouse owned by one Hans VonDanger (A name she checked twice to make sure it wasn't fake. It was legal, though she very much doubted it was his birth name.) "You have told me. Six times. And, as I recall telling you: no one can predict the future with accuracy."

"VonDanger can. He explained it all on his YouTube videos—which you would know, if you'd watched them."

She smiled at him with a mixed innocence and irritation. "That's why I had you watch them for me—so I didn't have to suffer."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her. "Oh, ye of little faith. But I'm telling you, Beckett—if you had seen the videos even you, Detective Skeptic, would be a believer."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Did he explain all the scientific details that proved why his magical creation worked?"

The writer flattened his lips. "Well, no. But obviously he couldn't without giving away his secrets—can't do that until the patent is put through."

"Riiiiight." The detective teased while reaching out to ring the bell on the warehouse door. In truth, she fought a smile at her partner's attitude. No one could ever tell him he wasn't enthusiastic.

The prior day, they had been handed the murder case of a man in his late twenties named Brian Jordan. According to Lanie, his COD was blunt force trauma to the back of the head, possibly resulting from a fall onto a hard surface. That surface was not, however, the sidewalk on which they found him; the body had been dumped there.

While researching the victim, they discovered his name change at the age of eighteen. Jordan had been born Johann VonDanger; neither Castle nor Beckett questioned his reasons for changing it. Upon discovering his birth name, they were able to trace his family and find his father, Hans. One quick google search brought up a bizarre website for Hans VonDanger, uber scientist. The site contained dozens of YouTube videos made by the elder man, and Kate wasted no time with tasking her already giddy partner with the duty of watching all of them.

In truth, her reasoning was two part. First, the obvious reason: she had absolutely no desire to watch hours of video from some crackpot explaining his tinfoil-hat theories about solar flares and chem trails. Yes, VonDanger may have had two PhD's in the sciences, but that didn't make him less crazy. Secondly, she assigned the videos because, well, he would enjoy watching them—far too much, as it seemed.

If six months earlier someone would have told her she would be doling out research assignments to Castle she wouldn't have believed it. The fact that she did so based on his enjoyment factor and not her own desperate necessity was more shocking still. But times changed. People changed, as amazing as that was, and she would happily admit to being one of them. Though she'd never admit it aloud, she was happy to call Castle her partner.

"Do you think he'll let us see it?" Castle asked, bouncing nervously on his toes as they waited for the door to open.

"I highly doubt it." She responded instead of saying what was in her head: What would it matter? The thing doesn't work anyway.

A minute later, a girl in her late teens with jet black hair pulled back in a French braid opened the door. Kate flashed her badge and inquired about the elder VonDanger. The girl stepped aside and let them in, leading them back a narrow hall to two large steel doors. She pushed one open and led them into a vast empty space filled with and innumerable amount of gadgets that had Castle gasping instantly.

Several feet away, standing at a table along the front wall, stood a man with unruly white hair, reminiscent of Doc Brown from the later Back to the Future movies, which Kate found to be an oddly appropriate comparison. Approaching, she cleared her throat. "Hans VonDanger?"

The man turned and pulled large magnifying spectacles from his face. He squinted his eyes at the duo before asking, "Who are you?"

"Kate Beckett, NYPD. This is my partner, Richard Castle. Are you Hans VonDanger?"

"I am."

Kate returned her badge to its position on her coat pocket and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Well, Mr. VonDanger, I'm sorry to tell you this, but yesterday afternoon the body of your son was discovered in Manhattan."

The scientist clutched his right hand to his chest. "Johann? Are you sure?"

Kate bobbed her head. "Fingerprints are a match; I'm sorry for your loss." This was far from the first time the detective delivered such news to a parent, yet VonDanger appeared to be handling it quite well. He took a seat on the stool a foot from him and rested his hands gently on the tabletop, but did not appear emotional in any way, which she found interesting. "When was the last time you had spoken to him?"

"Yesterday morning. He…we made plans for dinner. I…may I ask how he died?"

"We're still investigating, but potentially a blow to the head."

VonDanger sighed, stood from his stool and took a few steps into the middle of the room. Gazing out across the expansive space cluttered with mechanical objects, he swept one arm out from his body. "My inventions…I consider them my children, but Johann. He was my son." After a moment of silence, he turned to Kate. "Do you have children, Detective?"

"I do not."

"But I do; a daughter." Castle chimed in. "I'm very sorry about your son."

Kate ran through her usual list of questions for the victim's families: asking whether or not their loved ones were in trouble, or if they knew of anyone interested in hurting them. She also asked general questions about the victim's patterns and lifestyle. Finally, her questioning turned to VonDanger himself. Particularly, his line of work. At this, the man's face lit up.

"I am a scientist of course! I spent my days inventing, discovering, and changing the world."

Castle cleared his throat and stepped forward. Clearly, this was the point at which he needed to take over the discussion. "If I may: I found all your videos fascinating. You clearly have quite a hold on the physics of space and time."

VonDanger nodded graciously at the writer; the detective rolled her eyes. She also found it peculiar that at the mention of his career, all sadness over the loss of his son evaporated from his face. This, she presumed, could be explained by a scientific if not slightly eccentric demeanor, but it was worth noting for their case file.

"Particularly," Castle continued, "your future predicting machine."

"Ah!" VonDanger proclaimed, lifting his hands in triumph. "Would you like a demonstration?"

Kate grabbed on to her partner's forearm before he could levitate with excitement. "No, thank you. We need to-"

"Beckett!" Castle cut her off, turning to face her with an imploring expression. Clearly, she did not understand what she was turning down. "This machine predicts the future. I think we can take an extra few minutes to see that."

"Ah, a skeptic," VonDanger said, amused. "Please, Detective—allow me to show you your future."

After shooting Castle a classic I'm going to kill you look, Kate reluctantly trailed along behind her partner and the scientist. Really, she had no choice. If she made him leave, Castle would whine about it for the rest of the day and it would put a damper on their investigation. It would be worth the five extra minutes if for no other reason than when VonDanger did not show her the future, she could enjoy teasing the writer about it for the remainder of the day.

"Here we are." VonDanger stopped in front of a large copper cube with sides approximately eight foot square. On the side facing them, there was a small door, which he pulled open and ushered them inside. With the three adults, the space was crowded, but not unmanageable. Before them, a television screen hung on the wall with a complex looking control panel mounted below. VonDanger immediately set to work pressing buttons and flipping switches. Kate glanced back to see her partner watching with utmost fascination; of course.

"What if we look five years into the future? Detective, if you will?" VonDanger pulled a joystick like device from the panel and held it out to Kate.

She glanced skeptically down at the copper column and the wire attaching it to the control console. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Hold onto it."

"No way." Her refusal was so instant it was nearly a reflex. Absolutely no way was she holding on to something potentially dangerous handed to her by someone clearly out of his mind.

"Beckett c'mon."

She glared at the writer. "Then you hold it, Castle; I'm not letting that thing electrocute me."

"My machine is perfectly safe, I assure you," VonDanger said.

Castle nudge Kate's spine and she took an involuntary step forward. With great reservation, she took the copper tube in her left hand all the while silently promising that if any damage befell her, she was absolutely going to shoot the gleeful man behind her.

VonDanger pushed a large button (red, as it happened) centrally located on the console and the machine whirred to life. The television screen flickered and black and white static snow filled the screen. A moment later, a picture came in to view. Kate gasped at the image.

A beautiful woman walked through a doorway towards an expansive bed with maroon colored linens. In her arms, she cradled an infant swathed in a fluffy brown towel that evidently doubled as a robe, because a hood with rounded bear ears covered the baby's head. As she walked, the woman spoke sweetly to her child and he gurgled happily in return.

Five years had done the detective well, for she did not appear older, but simply more beautiful. Her hair was long and a light honey brown color. The top half of it was pinned back with a clip at the crown of her head, but what hung down beneath fell in soft curls. Without the obstruction of her hair, the sparkle in her eyes stood out: radiant flecks of green illuminated across a field of brown.

"Are you ready, Henry? We're gonna get you all ready to spend the day with Daddy, yes we are, now that you're all squeaky clean."

The child goo-ed at her and she brushed a kiss across his forehead before lying him flat on the bed. From the nightstand, she picked up a diaper, and slipped it on him with the skills of a pro. She then began using the edge of the towel-slash-robe to dry the little boy's fingers and toes, all the while singing and counting them one by one.

Kate Beckett stared in pure awe at the joy etched across her own face. How was this possible? It must have been a trick of some sort, but she couldn't fathom how. Her jaw dropped open as though she were about to speak, but no sound came out. The hand holding the copper tube began to go limp and the tube slipped, causing the image on the screen to fade. Before she realized, a strong hand closed around hers ensuring she gripped tightly to the tube.

She didn't need to question to whom the hand belonged and, for once, she was glad for his meddling. Her brain was barely functioning as it tried to process whatever trickery or madness was displaying in front of them. As much as it made her want to flee, she had an even stronger urge to stay and see how the scene played out, improbable as it was.

Castle stood steadily behind the shocked detective more than a little surprised himself. Oh yes, he had faith in the scientist's ability to predict the future, but this display possessed more detail than even he anticipated. Further shocking than the simple existence of the images before him was their setting. He was not certain the detective would recognize the bedroom, but he certainly did.

On the screen, the mother continued to play with her son's toes. She pretended to gnaw on them, which caused a roll of laughter to escape form the baby. As she dressed him in blue pants and a red shirt, she continued to chat about Daddy and all the fun the little boy would have with him that day.

Finally, when the elder Kate scooped up the baby and held him at her shoulder, revealing plainly his wisps of brown hair and ice blue eyes, Kate could take no more. She pushed herself away from Castle, dropping the copper baton in the process, and rocketed out the door leaving it to crash behind her as she disappeared out of the warehouse.

Castle found his partner on the sidewalk hunched over her squad car. One hand rested on the hood, the other covered her mouth. From the angle, he wasn't sure if she was crying or about to be sick. He slid his hands into his pockets and approached as though she were a bomb with fifteen seconds remaining on the clock.

He'd apologized to the scientist, who seemed unfazed. Evidently, people were often shocked by the revelation of their future selves. Though the selfish part of him wished for a turn with the joystick, he felt a greater duty to the lovely lady detective, which was why he sought her out. Now just a foot from her, he spoke her name gently. "Beckett?"

Kate sniffed and ran the back of her hand across her mouth and beneath her nose. Still facing the street, she stood, gave the bottom of her leather coat a tug, and turned to face him with a painted on expression of determination. "Ready to go?"

Castle shook his head quickly. "I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't know it would upset you that much. I just thought it'd be funny and I-"

"No, please." She held up her hand refuting his apology. "I know you didn't mean to upset me. I just…I wasn't expecting that." Truthfully, she almost found her reaction to the images more upsetting than the images themselves. She could not even fathom how VonDanger was able to concoct pictures of her with a baby so easily. She would not put it past the writer to play an elaborate trick on her, but in this instance she was almost certain he had done nothing. Still, there she'd been cradling a child—her child.

The video of her smiling and playful lit a fire deep inside she previously hadn't thought possible. Not once during her thirty-one years of life had she actively desired having a child, being a parent. Yet, watching herself nibble at the tiny baby toes and kiss tiny baby fingers stirred and ache deep inside her chest on an almost visceral level. She wanted to reach into the screen and hold the child: feel his small frame in her arms and his warm body against her chest. And that desire absolutely terrified her.

Castle shifted his weight. "You mean…you didn't expect to see yourself as a mother?"

"Yes."

He hummed to himself. As their partnership rarely ventured into topics of the personal nature and, even if it did, he was typically the one on the sharing end, Castle realized he knew absolutely nothing about the young detective's true desires for the future. "You don't want kids?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. As I am right now—consumed with work, not in a relationship—kids are an abstract concept but that…that was very real."

A smile broke out across his face. VonDanger had predicted the future and while the accuracy remained to be determined, the presentation sure was one hell of a show. "It was indeed. He was about…four months probably. Assuming VonDanger showed us five years from today that would make him a Christmas baby. How fun!"

Despite herself, she let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah."

Castle took a moment to steel himself for the comment he was about to make. Her smile indicated it was okay to continue, but he was certainly entering shark infested waters from the moment the next sentence left his lips. "And the baby's dad—your husband, I imagine. Pretty sure I saw a ring. He'd-"

"Castle."

"Yeah."

She sucked in a deep breath and looked at him. There had been so much to take in on the screen: her appearance, the infant's, the room's. Her eyes had trouble focusing on just one thing, so she hadn't noticed until almost the end—until the woman had scooped up the baby and turned her body so that a secondary wall could be scene. That, along with the child's azure eyes, had sent her running from the scene. In the moment, she convinced herself it wasn't true—it wasn't possible—but in the prior five minutes the final frame had been burned into her mind's eye and she knew it was.

"That was your apartment wasn't it? Your bedroom. The bookshelves…" They had been the giveaway. She had never before been in Castle's bedroom—why would she have been?—but she knew its general location in the loft and she had been inside his office, which shared a wall with the master suite.

Castle dipped his chin. Ah, so she had picked up on it. She is a detective, his internal monologue reminded him. And, he wasn't dead yet, so that was probably a good sign. "Yes, that was the master bedroom in the loft."

Kate began to pace the sidewalk in front of her vehicle. Herself as a mother was a difficult concept to wrap her mind around, yet a plausible one. Perhaps not quite on her Five Year Plan, but certainly in the future. But Castle as the father of said child? That was…unexpected.

Her relationship with the writer was complex at best. Did she have feelings for him? Of course. But feelings was too broad a topic to narrow down. One moment she wanted to slap him; the next he made her laugh. And, oh, there had been more than a few times when she wanted to hug him, kiss him. Most of them had been in recent months. A notable standout being after he'd saved her during their case with the legendary Jordan Shaw.

Kate had never been good at romantic relationships in the prior decade. It wasn't the relationship so much as the crucial piece that came with it: opening herself up to someone and allowing herself to be vulnerable. That she shied away from at all costs. Still, if she'd been open with anyone in recent years—particularly about the generally taboo subject of her mother's murder—it had been him. But that didn't mean she was prepared to—dear god—be the mother of his child. Still, the fact remained…

"Our son, Castle; that was our son. Henry." She said his name like a prayer, like he alone was proof that the dark cloud surrounding her would not be there forever.

He hummed and let a companionable silence hang between them for several moments before stepping up beside her and saying, "Would you like to hear my theory on the future?"

The urge to roll her eyes struck her and Kate didn't fight it. "Oh here we go."

He smiled. "No, you're going to like this. Predicting the future is possible, but the future is also ever changing. For instance, a few months ago I made the choice to continue writing Nikki Heat instead of picking up the tales of a certain British secret agent. I could just have easily decided to write spy novels and leave Nikki behind. If I had and you were working this case without me and by some miracle asked to see your future, it would have been different. Similarity, having seen that future, you could chose not to explore it and that particular future would never come to be. We can choose our own destiny, Kate."

His last comment made her stomach lurch up into her throat. Piercing blue eyes flashed in her mind as she said, "But…that little boy…he wouldn't exist."

"He doesn't exist now," Castle reminded gently.

"I…" She paused for twenty second before shaking her head and giving him a look of determination. "We need to get back to the case. Let's see if Ryan or Espo found anything on the camera footage. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

He bobbed his head, quite frankly shocked they'd talked about it that much. "Sure Beckett; whatever you want."

By mid-afternoon, after examining the surveillance camera footage from the street on which their victim's body was found, the case of Brian Jordan's murder unraveled very quickly. Normally, such a swift end to a case would be a good thing, but given the results, it seemed bitter sweet.

When the team went to arrest their suspect—one, Hans VanDanger—the story unraveled. As it turned out, Jordan was not as content with the scientific marvel of his father's future predicting invention; he saw dollar signs. VanDanger, a scientific purist, did not wish to sell the device to the unscrupulous tycoons of Las Vegas and the two fought. In the end, VanDanger dealt a fatal blow to his son's cranium and deposited the body in hopes the death would be brushed off as a random act of violence. Interestingly, even as he was being led away in handcuffs, VanDanger was not remorseful. It needed to be done, he said, to preserve the sanctity of his invention.

As Castle watched the elder man duck inside Ryan and Esposito's squad car, he shook his head in disgust. "To kill your own child. It's unfathomable."

"Yeah." She agreed while the image of a babbling baby boy appeared in her mind; her heart clenched.

Castle turned and walked back inside the warehouse where CSU was examining the area by the work bench where VanDanger indicated the fatal blow took place. "So what'll happen to all this stuff? Evidence storage?"

"No, we certainly don't need all of it. I'd imagine she'll get most of it," Kate said, nodding to the raven haired girl who greeted them during their first visit. She had turned out to be VanDanger's daughter; their victim's half-sister.

Castle hummed and strolled towards the copper cube with a lustful eye. Thumbing towards it he turned to his partner and asked, "Wanna check it out one more time?"

She laughed as though he'd suggested time travel. "You can't run that thing, Castle."

He arched his eyebrows, challenging. "I think I can."

"No way."

He grinned. "Bet you five coffees."

"You're on."

Kate had zero faith in Castle's ability to press every button, flip every switch in the exact right order to enable the future predicting machine to work once more. Less than zero faith, if it came down to it. Yet, five minutes later, his tongue between his teeth, Castle flipped a final switch, picked up the copper baton, and pressed the red button. Much to their mutual shock, the television screen flickered to life and the writer appeared on screen.

Wearing knee-length shorts and a long sleeved t-shirt, he approached the bed that had been a central figure in Kate's future from earlier that day. Kate sat against the headboard, propped up with a variety of pillows as she breastfed her child.

Initially, the detective wanted to turn away from the screen. It seemed too intimate to observe this couple and their infant at such a tender moment. The voyeuristic nature of her eyes on the screen made the skin at the back of her neck prickle with discomfort, yet she did not look away.

The writer and the detective watched in silence as the man on the screen knelt down gingerly on the bed. The woman glanced up, offered a small smile, removed the child from her breast and pulled her shirt back into place.

"Is he done?" the man asked.

"I think so."

She went to slide off the bed, but the man reached out. "I got him." With the ease of a long-time dad, he lifted the baby to his shoulder and patted his back gently to elicit an all-important burp. He walked out of the room, across the entrance hall and up the stairs to the second floor. There, he entered the first door to his left, a petite room with just enough space for a crib, dresser, changing table and rocking chair.

He stood at the base of the crib for several moments, bouncing and rocking and whispering gentle things about the baby being a good boy and having a full tummy. Then, with great ease, he lowered the boy from his shoulder, brushed a kiss on his head, and placed him into the crib. On the way out the door, he picked up the speaker end of a baby monitor and carried it with him back to his bedroom. There, his wife sat cross legged on the bed folding incredibly small items of clothing and placing them into an ivory plastic laundry bin. She glanced up when he set the monitor on his nightstand.

"Did he go to sleep?"

The man sat on the bed and began to fold along with her. "Out like a light."

Her teeth skimmed over her bottom lip. "I hope he sleeps better than last night. Honestly, I think he's getting too hungry; we might have to start using formula." She spoke the words as though they were a diagnosis for an unfortunate illness.

"Should we talk to the pediatrician about it?"

She shrugged. "Maybe…but really, there's only so much milk I can give him…evidently."

The bitterness in her tone was not lost on her husband. He stopped folding and draped and arm around her shoulders. "Don't be hard on yourself, Kate. I know you wanted to make it to six months, but four and a half is still pretty good. And it's not like your stopping; you're supplementing."

She sighed and dropped her head to her hands, clawing her fingertips through the now-loose locks. "I know, I know; I just want what's best for him."

"We both do." He leaned over and kissed her head. Then, she turned so that their lips could meet. As their kissing continued, the screen went black.

Castle cleared his throat, stepped forward and replaced the baton against the console. He turned to his partner and saw she was hugging herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, and wearing an expression that seemed to mirror his: a mixture of hope and confusion sprinkled with a little bit of nerves. Doing his best to offer a smile he said, "I think I could use some air? Want to go for a walk?"

Out on the city sidewalks, Castle felt better; more at ease. With his absence from the first glimpse into the future, it had been much easier to distance himself, think of it more objectively. Watching himself interact with a baby—his son—and with Kate as his wife…well, that was quite a bit different.

He believed what he said to Kate earlier to be indisputably true: you could choose your own destiny; it was not set in stone. Yet, he knew it would be thoroughly disappointed if the future they'd just witnessed did not come true. Or, at least, come close to being true.

"Well…this case turned out different than I expected," he said for no other reason than a desperate attempt to break the silence. She said nothing, but he took note that the corner of one lip did curl slightly. Castle stopped walking. "Kate?"

She slowed her pace until she stood two feet from him and then halted, turning to face him with a curious expression.

Castle combed his fingers through his hair. "Listen, I… I've been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I never was sure it was the right time. Or, even, if there was a right time. So I guess I figure: why not now?"

"Okay…" Kate responded slowly. She felt a clamminess in her palms and sweat begin to form on her brow. He was going to ask her out, wasn't he? It made sense, given everything they witnessed. If the images were believed to be the future, they surely had to date—and marry—at one point, but she wasn't sure she possessed enough clarity in her mind to make a sound decision at that moment.

The writer sucked in a deep breath. "I'd like you to come with me to my house in the Hamptons for Memorial Day. Is…is that something you'd be interested in?"

"Oh." Well, that wasn't exactly asking her out—was it? In a roundabout sort of way…but wasn't a weekend vacation together ultimately much more serious of an invitation than dinner at a restaurant in the city?

"You don't have to tell me now," the writer added quickly. "Still a few weeks left yet and I'm going regardless so, you know, think about it and if you want to go then-"

"Yes." She answered before she gave herself a chance to back out.

The writer's brow furrowed for a moment as though he was waiting for her to yell "Psyche!" but she never did, so the furrow melted into a grin. "O-okay then. It's a date."

A/N: My plan for this little twist on the Castle universe is to do a series of one parters about their future as it progresses. Is that something you guys would be interested in? Let me know!

Also, please note how I do not consider this fic crack - I figure if canon showed us a time traveler and an alternate parallel universe, a little bit of scientific based future prediction isn't out of the realm of realism :)