Four Winds: Resolutions
A Castle Fantasy AU
By Laura Picken

This story is in the continuing series of Castle fan fiction based on my fantasy alternate universe story "Four Winds". If you want to read the story, click on my author page, otherwise, here's a quick summary: Castle, Beckett, Lanie, Esposito and Ryan are struck by ball lighting in the loft on a dark and stormy poker night and wind up with superpowers: Ryan's a powerful telepath, Esposito can get your entire life story by shaking your hand, Beckett has five super-heightened senses and can speak to the dead, Lanie can heal the living by touch, and Castle's a wizard. There's other scattered abilities here and there, but that's the basic gist of it. Not freaked out by the concept yet? Then read on and enjoy :-).

For very loose timeline purposes, Castle fans can place this somewhere in the post-"Always" future: Castle and Beckett are a firmly established couple, Beckett's back on the force and Ryan has fought his way out of the doghouse. Season five might make it into the canon of this series if I'm still writing it in September, but right now I make no promises.

DISCLAIMER: Castle, Beckett, et al. are property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC. The legends described herein are inventions of my own twisted imagination and should not be taken to reflect the traditions of any particular group. All non-English language phrases are courtesy of Google Translate, so please forgive me if I get anything unintentionally wrong.

Okay, enough business, let the adventure begin!

Thomas Engebretsen was lost. And he knew it.

Not that he was about to admit it, mind you. This was the career opportunity he had been hoping and praying for for *years*. He was finally hitting the absolute pinnacle of his career: singing at the biggest, most important opera house in the United States. So what if he was expected to learn how to navigate the giant on-stage scenery 'machine' two days before dress rehearsal? Thomas knew the role inside and out. He had been singing it in Germany for *years*. He could do this, no problem. He was ready. And if the price for getting to what was going to be the pinnacle of his career was to spend a couple of days lost in the bowels of Lincoln Center, then so be it.

Not that he *wanted* to be stuck in Lincoln Center for days. Thomas held onto his cell phone like a compass, hoping desperately to find a spot, any spot, where he might get even a bar of reception in this maze of white-painted concrete.

The florescent lights over Thomas' head flickered on and off as he walked, causing the singer to let out a string of uniquely German curses. Great, he thought, not only am I lost, I'm about to be lost in the *dark*.

A soprano's lofty high notes echoed down the corridor. Thomas stopped his wanderings, trying to pinpoint the sound. He followed the lilting music like a beacon, focusing on nothing but getting to the source of that music...which should, hopefully, be connected to a person who could at the very least tell him how to get the hell out of there. And maybe if I'm lucky, thought Thomas, that person will be a very pretty blond who will walk out with me to get a drink...at her place...

The singing seemed to be coming from the main stage. Maybe it's one of those sweet little Rheinmaidens, thought Thomas. He walked into the backstage area to find...nothing. No stage hands, no singers...not even a security guard. Nothing.

Wait...The singing began again, coming from further inside the house. Thomas carefully walked through the backstage obstacle course until he finally got to the point where he could see the entire house and the deep orchestra pit. The sound of a metal door clanging shut caused him to jump and turn to see what was behind him, gasping for breath. He called out, listening to see if the response came from the same direction as the singing. "HEY!"

Silence again. Apparently whoever it was didn't like to be interrupted. "Hey!" Thomas called out, "You're the first voice I've heard around here in hours. You sing beautifully, by the way..." No response. "Do you know how to get out of here?" asked Thomas, "because I'd really like to..."

The singing started up again, but a accompanying sound nearly caused Thomas to jump out of his skin. His heart rate had no chance to return to normal...his feet were finding it impossible to settle on the now-shaky ground. The machine was starting up around him, lifting him higher and higher in the air.

Thomas tried to laugh it off, but the laughter felt forced and tinged with panic. "V-v-very funny, guys," he called out. "An initiation prank for the new guy, eh? Well, you got your laughs, you can let me down now..."

The blinding brightness of all the stage lights coming on at once stopped Thomas' babbling and further unsteadied him. He staggered back from the light, then was forced to head toward it as the planks tilted with his weight. "Guys! HEY!" he yelled out. "This isn't funny anymore!"

Planks started to buck like the horses of the Valkyries. Thomas stumbled, blinded, around the stage, getting tossed about like a glass bottle in a hurricane. His foot slipped and he screamed, knowing the gap to the floor down below was easily large enough to kill him...

Two planks closed around him like a vise, his legs caught in the fishing net that got tangled in the parts of the machine. Silence settled back into the air for just a moment as the unsteady planks stopped moving, then the grinding of gears started up again as the machine started to level itself around him. There was no tinge of panic now; Thomas was full-blown terrified. "HELP! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME!"

The blinding lights around Thomas subsided just enough to get his bearings: center stage, trapped ten feet above, with the planks arranged in a hill so he could easily get back to the floor...if someone would just let him out. Thomas continued to scream and flail about, hoping his movements would be strong enough to dislodge himself from his position.

The singing started up again in earnest. Thomas froze, assuming that the singer was manipulating the scene from the control desk. "P-p-p-please," he stammered out, now desperate enough to beg, "please just let me go..."

When no response came to him but singing, Thomas got angry. "Who are you? What the hell did I do to you, huh? Are you one of my ex-wives? You must be, those..." The bitter curse died on his lips as the sound of metal scraping wood caught his ear. The singing got louder, but the scraping noise got louder in response, making a visible scratch in the otherwise pristine floor. Thomas found himself unable to hold his tongue. "You know," he laughed nervously, "they're probably going to take that scratch out of your pay..."

The source of the scratching became visible as the scratching itself stopped. It was a spear. Not the lightweight foam things they use in the production, but a *real* spear. With a metal point. A very *sharp* metal point. The spear was floating just below him, being held by no human hand. Thomas was now sweating and shaking violently as fear took over his every thought, silencing them. His eyes were transfixed on the spear as it floated up the hill of planks, rising high above his head, then tilted, point side down, directly at him...before hurtling down toward his wailing throat.

High above the onstage drama, a sirin watched; its lilting, yet mournful song echoing across the cavernous theater. Satisfied that her mistresses' work was done, the bird flapped its wings as it perfectly balanced the crown on its head. She then dove down from the top balcony, flew over the body of Thomas Engebretsen, soared kamikaze-style into the back wall of the stage...

And vanished.

The clang of swords crossing each other echoed across the large, nearly-empty training facility. The cavernous warehouse space was almost always nearly empty, having been designed as working, training and relaxation space for just six people. Even with that group of six now expanded to just under a dozen, the warehouse was still likely to make any sound echo for an extended period of time.

Which was how Kate Beckett was starting to develop one monster of a migraine. It wasn't just the clanging of metal on metal; since she was doing a fair bit of clanging herself, the sound was easy to filter out. What was *really* bothering her were the two men in the room with her.

And their non-stop running swordplay commentary. *While* they were fighting.

"You are a master of the Agrippa, my friend!" yelled Ryan in a terrible derivation of some sort a European accent, maybe French.

"Thank you," replied Esposito loudly, faking a terrible British accent. "I've worked very hard to become so."

"I believe I know something you don' know..."

"Really?" 'asked' Esposito. "What is that?"

"*I* am not left handed!" replied Ryan, deftly switching his sword from his left hand to his right, continuing the fight without missing a beat.

Beckett dropped her sword with a loud clang and a weary sigh. "Will you two *knock it off*!" she yelled.

The two men stopped their sword play, turning to their irritated boss in confusion. Ryan asked, "What? Is our commentary bothering you? We could rhyme if you like..."

Esposito picked up on the joke quickly. "Or I'll go ride a bike," he added, earning a high five from his partner. When the line failed to register, Ryan and Esposito frowned at their boss in confusion. "What? Don't tell me you've never seen 'The Princess Bride'?" asked Esposito.

When the name of the movie failed to register as well, the two men's jaws hit the floor nearly simultaneously. "Oh my God," exclaimed Ryan, "you've *never* seen it? Javi, she's never seen it..."

"Whoa," Esposito agreed with equal surprise. "I thought seeing that movie was some sort of girly right of passage, like mom driving you on your first date or something..."

"How have *you two* seen it?" asked Alexis with a wide smile. "Clearly you've both seen it more than once."

Ryan and Esposito had the exact same answer to that question, and they both replied at the same time.

"Sisters."

Satisfied with their answer, Alexis turned back her sword play partner with great concern. "Kate? You don't seem like yourself today..."

"Yeah, no kiddin'," grumbled Esposito.

"Everything ok?" asked Alexis.

Beckett let out another long sigh as she settled herself on the training mat. "I don't know what it is I just...I just haven't been feeling that great the past couple of days."

Esposito grabbed water bottles for everyone and handed one to each of the women. "Have you had Lanie check you out?"

"No," Beckett said, shaking her head, "physically, I'm fine, I'm just...off. Like something's missing and I can't put my finger on it."

"I think I might have an idea of what it is," Alexis suggested. "Dad's out of town, right?"

Beckett nodded. "He had to go do some promotional appearances for 'Frozen Heat' in London. Why?"

"That's the furthest you two have been apart since all of this happened, isn't it?"

Beckett nodded again, not liking where this was headed. "You really think this might be from missing your father?"

"Yeah," replied Alexis, "but not on the level you're thinking." She turned quickly to Esposito and asked him, "Javier, where do you think Lanie is, right now? Don't think about it, just answer the question."

"Heading to a crime scene call," Esposito replied quickly. "They found a body on one of the stages at Lincoln..." His voice trailed off as the implications of what he had just said were hitting *him*. "Whoa..." he exclaimed.

Alexis nodded, easily picking up on Esposito's train of thought. "You know how parents who've lost a child say they 'just knew' the minute their child died, or one spouse would say that about another when they've been married a long time?" When three heads nodded, Alexis continued, "I think you guys are connected on a much deeper level than you realize. *Especially* between you and Lanie, Javier, or between you and my dad, Kate. So when one of you is missing..."

Beckett tried to put words to how she had been feeling. "It becomes like when you sprain your ankle. You *think* everything's fine until you do something that would otherwise be okay and it just feels all *wrong*." Alexis nodded in agreement.

Four cell phones went off simultaneously: Alexis received a text while the three detectives got calls from dispatch. An amazed look passed between the four members of the group as they realized where they were going...and who had been the one to inform them about it *first*. As the three detectives closed their phones, Beckett asked, "So am I going to feel like this *every* time your dad goes out of town?"

"I have a feeling it's just hitting you harder because it's the first time," Alexis replied. "Now that you have a better idea of what you're dealing with, it'll get easier."

For the first time that day, Beckett allowed herself to smile as she embraced her boyfriend's daughter. "C'mon," she told Alexis, "I'll give you a ride to the scene. That was Lanie, right?"

Alexis nodded. "She said that since dad was out of town, the responsibility of the weird crime scene should fall from big Castle to little Castle, whatever that means."

Beckett's smile grew even bigger. "It means your dad will *really* miss not being here for whatever we're about to see. Let's go."

A/N I'm baaaack! I actually got kinda twitchy (like Kate) when I didn't have an active story going. So make sure you leave lots of comments, 'cause if I abandon this story I'll *really* start getting twitchy...