The Domino Effect
Summary: SPOILER ALERTS for season 8 – an AU for episode 9 (using an idea borrowed from episode 5). One domino falling can set off a chain reaction. What if that one domino is Richard Castle?
AN: Yeah, yeah, I said I was going to take a break from writing Castle fanfic, but this plot bunny (or should I call it a plot worm?) worked its way into my brain. I'll probably be posting 1 chapter a week. And I'm borrowing from some of my other season 8 stories because those ideas work so well with this story. And yes, to those of you whom it matters to, there will be Caskett at the end.
Don't own Castle, because if I did, they wouldn't have split up this season. Just waiting to see what happens.
Chapter 1 – The First Domino
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Scientific research has shown that smell and memories are closely linked, that smelling a certain odor (or fragrance in polite terms) can bring back a flood of memories or feelings long forgotten or repressed.
The smell of chlorine can bring back memories of swimming in a pool as a child on lazy, hot summer afternoons. The smell of a roasting turkey, memories of a happy Thanksgiving long ago, stuffing oneself and then spending hours playing football with cousins.
Likewise, the memories and feelings linked to smells may not be as pleasant. The smell of lilies can bring sadness if they are associated with the funeral of a loved one. A smell of garbage can bring back memories of an unpleasant experience of fruitlessly digging through the garbage to find a lost item. The smell of pine, a Christmas of special significance whether good or bad.
Richard Castle had spent a frustrating morning in his PI office, looking for a case that could get him back into the 12th, back to find out why his wife of 1 year needed space.
He didn't lack for cases; he just lacked a case that coincided with those of the 12th at the moment. He picked up a folder, rejected it, and flung it across his desk, hitting the large vase of flowers that his mother had so graciously deemed to decorate his office with.
Martha's play had been a success and her loving fans had showered her with so many flowers that Castle had suggested that she start a floral shop on the side. As a result, his office was now adorned with several of the arrangements.
He groaned as the vase, filled with flowers and fetid water crashed to the floor. He really should have gotten rid of those earlier in the week when they started dying, but they fit his mood of late.
Just his luck, he thought as he stood and walked to the utility closet to get the mop, broom, and dust pan.
He was still at a loss about Kate's behavior and she was still cagey about her reasons the few times he had seen her recently. Maybe he should hire a PI to follow her to find out what was going on, he thought rhetorically, as he knelt down to start picking up the pieces of the shattered vase. He certainly wasn't getting any answers and that fueled his anxiety.
It was then that the smell hit him – the fetid smell of water, mixed with the sweet smell of the flowers – and the fear – and he was immediately transported back…to where…?
Losing his balance, Castle stumbled backwards, finally hitting the shelves, knocking off several of the items.
Oblivious to the sounds, he sat there, shaking, as snippets of memories overwhelmed him, incapacitating him to all reason.
They were in a swamp – Bilal, Powers, and him – trying not to move so that their position wouldn't be given away, praying fervently that a crocodile was not gliding towards them, ready to pull one of them under and roll them.
Where was he? Thailand – the land of tropical beaches, opulent royal palaces, ancient ruins, and ornate templates, not to mention several species of the most deadly snakes on the planet and thousands of mosquitoes who had a great time feasting on him.
As a boat came near, Powers motioned him to duck under the green slime and he did, staying until his lungs were aching from lack of oxygen. As carefully as he could, he stuck his head back out of the water, praying that the boat had left the area.
They had come to rescue Bilal and bring him back to the States. But something had gone wrong – there was a problem with the plane, but what?
They had gotten to the plane, waiting to take off, Bilal bleeding from a gunshot wound. Castle had opened a crate to find a bandage, but instead, found several bricks of powder wrapped in plastic, which led to a hasty exit from the plane and more shots being fired.
He opened his eyes, suddenly back to the present. "Drugs," he said, "there were drugs on the plane."
A CIA plane with drugs on it – and Kate had been tracking a plane. There were no coincidences. Could that be what Beckett was doing? Trying to find these people – these CIA drug runners? Bracken dealt in drugs, made his empire using drug money. What if it wasn't over?
And suddenly it all made sense to him, but left him with unanswered questions.
Were they the ones who erased his memory of the event? But why not simply kill him, unless he had been correct and it would draw attention – the unwanted kind of attention that came from having a black ops agent for a father. And if they were CIA, they might have known that.
What he did know without a doubt was that 'they' – a faceless enemy – were watching him, had probably been watching him since he returned home.
After a while, he doubted the convenience of the explanation of his disappearance but didn't have anything concrete to base it on. But now…?
And if they realized he was starting to remember, they would have no problem making him disappear. Not just him, but anyone he loved – Beckett, Alexis, Martha, the boys…Just like Beckett's AG team.
And he couldn't let that happen – he wouldn't let that happen.
Castle stood unsteadily and walked to the desk, taking several deep breaths as he leaned against it. He had to leave, disappear – he was a danger to everyone he knew – but he had to be discreet about it.
He quickly cleaned up the broken vase, mopping up the water and flowers and tossing them in a plastic bag before storing it in the kitchen of the bat cave.
He then picked up the items that had fallen from the shelves, putting back those that hadn't broken and putting the broken items in the trash.
Satisfied that the office looked normal, he opened the secret drawer in his desk and removed the passport he stored there, along with the petty cash, and stuffed the items in his coat pockets.
Now what to tell Alexis? She had finals, so he could say that he couldn't find a case that would work and was going to the Hamptons to get some writing done. He'd be back later and if he didn't answer his phone, he was probably in the zone.
Castle sent the text and then looked at his cell phone. Was that how they were tracking him? If so, then he'd accommodate them and leave the phone here so they would think they knew where he was.
He thought for a moment and then opened the box on top of his desk that contained his gun and took it out, slipping it into a holster he kept in the desk and then tucking the holster into his belt.
Without a backwards glance, he walked out of his office and locked the door. He was determined to end this once and for all – to get his life back for real this time and to get his wife back.
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Early that afternoon, Alexis opened the door to Castle's PI office and walked in. She had gotten his text, but needed to stop by anyway because the repair man was coming to fix the water cooler.
She tisked to herself slightly as she walked into the office, seeing the files scattered about the desk. Sometimes her dad's filing skills were lacking, a trait he obviously got from her grandmother.
Alexis tidied up the desk and then sat down to pay some bills while she waited. When she opened the secret drawer that the company checkbook and petty cash were stored in, she frowned. The petty cash was gone – but who would take it?
Had they been burglarized? She was certain the door had been locked before she unlocked it.
Frowning, she quickly pulled up the video feed from the security cameras in the office on the laptop. Her eyes widened as she watched the playback and she pulled out her phone.
She hesitated for a moment. Her father hadn't seen Beckett in several weeks so would she even be willing to help? But who else could she call? He wasn't a missing person – he left of his own accord – to do something dangerous, she was sure – so she couldn't file a missing person's report.
Her mind made up, Alexis thumbed the number.
Beckett answered on the second ring.
"Kate," Alexis said in an almost panic, "something's happened to Dad and I need your help. I think he's gone. I'm at his PI office. I don't know what to do."
Alexis didn't have to wait long for Beckett to get there.
"Alexis?" Beckett called as she rushed through the front door.
"In here," Alexis said.
"Alexis, what's going on? Why do you think Castle is gone?" Beckett asked as she walked in.
"Because of this," Alexis said as she replayed the loop from the morning.
Beckett's frown deepened as she watched the tape and heard Castle's comment. By some miraculous, or maybe not, happenstance, he had connected all the dots and figured out what was going on.
"Kate, I looked and he took the passport he had here too, along with the cash," Alexis said. She took a deep breath and ducked her head, whispering, "It wasn't his real passport. He had a fake one made a couple of years ago in case he had to leave the country quickly."
Beckett frowned again. "How much money did he take?"
"$10,000," said Alexis. She looked at Beckett questioningly. "Kate, what's he doing? Where did he go?"
Beckett frowned slightly as she took Alexis' hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I'm not sure, but we'll find him."
She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "Listen, Alexis, I need to make some phone calls, but call me anytime, especially if your dad calls."
Alexis nodded. "I will. And Kate, please be careful."
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Beckett waited until she sat inside her car and pulled out a business card, looking at it before dialing the number. She wasn't sure if Rita would answer it anyway.
The phone rang twice and then she heard a beep.
"I need your help. He's figured it out," she said succinctly and then hung up her phone.
Hopefully the cavalry was on its way.
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Castle stared at the lights in the distance from the slightly open door of the empty freight car he sat in and pulled the cheap jacket he had bought at Goodwill closer to him as he shivered.
When he was a child (and sometimes as an adult), he had fantasized about being a hobo, the freedom of hopping trains and riding around the country unencumbered. He had quickly come to realize it wasn't as glamorous as his imagination made it out to be.
The car was cold and lurched at odd times, throwing off his balance. It had no bathroom, definitely no beverage and snack service, but it served the purpose of allowing him to slip into Montreal unseen by prying eyes.
He would start his search there – at the warehouse he had been led to by the messages he had left.
And with any luck, he'd find what he was searching for.
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