I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version
Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that?
The words in italics are in Russian because it's got to be something weird of course with Castle.
Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.
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Chapter 2 – The Unexpected Outcome of Poker
Lanie smiled as she opened the door and Espo walked in, carrying a bottle of her favorite wine. "Boy, you think you can just stop by any time you want for a booty call?"
"Yeah," said Espo as he put the bottle down on the table and took Lanie in his arms. "And it's man," he growled as he bent his head to kiss her.
"Hmmm," replied Lanie in agreement as they moved as one to close the door.
They were interrupted minutes later when her phone rang.
"You're not on duty – leave it," said Espo, tracing a line down her neck with his lips.
Lanie laughed and reached for the phone. She knew immediately who it was from the ring tone. "Girl, you better have a good excuse for calling me rather than making googlely eyes at your writer man."
She paused for a moment and then stiffened in Espo's arms. "Excuse me, would you say that again? I'm putting you on speaker," she said as she touched the speaker icon on her phone.
"Dr. Parish, this is Sargent Garret at La Guardia. Detective Beckett wanted me to call you – there's been an incident. Can you come to the airport or is there someone else I should call?" said Garret over the speaker.
"We'll be there in 20," said Espo. "Can you give us some details?"
"Uh, I'd rather not over the phone, sir," said Garret. "If you'll come to freight entrance, I'll have personnel waiting there to escort you back."
Lanie quickly hung up the phone, both of them straightening their clothes as they sprinted out the door.
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Espo had never broken so many traffic laws in his time as a policeman as he did this time, weaving in and out of traffic, the siren on his car blaring, horn honking at the slow-minded drivers in his way, determined to get to the airport in the stated 20 minutes. Lanie hung on for dear life with one hand while calling Ryan and Gates with the other to let them know something had happened but they had no details.
As Espo pulled up to the freight entrance gate, he saw several men standing in front of the guard shack, along with a couple of uniformed officers, a black van waiting behind the shack.
"Suits – black suits," he muttered as he screeched the car to a halt in front of them. "This isn't good."
One of the men stepped forward and then had to jump back as Espo slammed his door open and sprang out of the car. Another man opened the door for Lanie.
"What happened?!" the Latino demanded. "Where are Beckett and Castle?"
"Sir, we're here to escort you and Dr. Parish to security," the man replied calmly. "And if you'll give us your keys, we'll take care of your car."
Espo practically threw his keys at the man and then turned to follow the other man as Ryan and Gates pulled up in their individual cars.
"What's going on?" demanded Gates as she got out of her car. "Where are Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle?"
"Captain, if you'll give us your keys and follow us," the man said, motioning to the van, a neutral expression etched on his face. "We'll answer your questions as soon as possible."
The team quickly boarded the van, whispering among themselves as they were driven past various building. There had been nothing on the police scanners about an incident at the airport – no 911 calls, no alerts.
They were shown down a fairly long corridor to a section of the airport that few people knew about and even fewer granted access to.
The control room was bright, crowded with modern technology that monitored the heartbeat of the airport and people who were watching each screen intently, bringing up different views, making quick notes on paper in front of them.
Another man walked up to them as the first man showed them inside and then left.
"I'm Agent Harris, Homeland Security," he said. "Unfortunately, we have a situation that we have yet to explain, but I assure you that there is a logical explanation. Since it involves one of yours, we thought you should know."
"Excuse me?" said Gates.
"It seems that Mr. Castle boarded his flight in LA, but when the plane landed here, he didn't leave by any of the usual exits," Harris said simply.
Gates frowned at the man. "Let me get this straight," she said. "The airlines lost Richard Castle."
"No, ma'am," the agent said. "He was not lost. He simply did not leave the plane by any of the usual exits. We are looking into all possibilities."
"You sure he was on the plane?" asked Espo, frowning.
"Two of the flight attendants confirmed that he was on board the plane when it took off and the manifest lists 221 passengers and 10 crew members on departure. However, on arrival, only 220 passengers and 10 crew members disembarked."
"You're kidding," said Espo.
The man shot him a look and then walked over to a monitor. "We thought he might have been one of the first people off the plane and Detective Beckett just missed him, so we ran facial recognition on all people in that area at that time, but there were no matches. We've also had personnel look through the video in slow motion in case facial recognition missed him, but we didn't see him."
"Did he use the facilities during the flight?" asked Ryan, channeling Castle. "I mean, could he have fallen…?"
"That is impossible," said Harris.
"What about the cargo hold?" asked Lanie. "He can be really curious – could he have gotten locked in there somehow?"
"Ah," said Harris, "that was a possibility, given Mr. Castle's history on flights, but not this time. The onboard computer shows that the cargo door was locked and never opened during the flight."
"Any wheelchairs?" asked Espo. "Could someone have stuck him in a wheelchair and rolled him off?"
"No," said Harris, shaking his head. "There were no wheelchair passengers on board the flight."
"And carry-on luggage would be too small to put him in, unless…" said Ryan, the murder detective coming out in him.
Espo shook his head at him. "Dude, don't even…"
"We analyzed the contents of the sanitary system," Harris answered. "And there was no indication of any large amounts of blood in the water."
"See," said Ryan, shrugging back at Espo.
"We've also analyzed the luggage that people brought off of the plane and none were large enough to have put someone in," said Harris.
"So you basically don't know where Mr. Castle is," said Gates.
"No, at this time. But a forensic team is going over the plane and we're also interviewing the passengers, so I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we know what happened. In the meantime, Captain, if your team would like to go over the video, maybe they can see something that we missed."
"Kate," Lanie said suddenly. "Where's Kate?"
Harris motioned to a side room. "In there."
Gates glanced at the door. "Detective Ryan, you and I will stay here. You two go see about Detective Beckett. I want to bring Ellis in on this too."
"Yes, sir," said Espo and then walked into the small room with Lanie by his side.
Her face pale in the glow of the monitor, Beckett sat ramrod straight in a chair, her trembling hand touching a picture of Castle frozen on screen.
"Kate," said Lanie quietly, kneeling down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Beckett blinked and looked at her with tear-filled eyes. "He's gone, Lanie. He got on the plane in LA and disappeared," she said. "We're supposed to get married in 2 weeks."
"Honey, they'll find him," Lanie said firmly. "People just don't disappear from planes. They've left a trail somewhere. Someone knows something. And you'll have your wedding."
Agent Harris stood in the door way. "Detective Beckett, we're going to set up monitoring devices at Castle's home in case they call. Is there some place else we should monitor?"
"No," said Beckett, shaking her head and swallowing. "No, that's the only place." She shuddered slightly and looked back at Lanie, whispering. "They've taken him – Tyson or Bracken – they won't call. He must be so scared."
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Castle let out a small gasp as the attendant placed the bottle of Russo-Baltique Vodka on the table in front of him, leaning over and lingering a moment so that her cleavage in the low cut outfit was in full view. She then delicately and carefully opened the bottle and poured some of the clear liquor into the stem glass that sat in front of him.
"Is that?" he said to the man sitting across from him.
The man nonchalantly waved his hand toward the bottle. "They gave me 3 bottles when I bought my Pola her SUV. As a thank you gift. A mere triffle. Please, help yourself."
Castle picked up the glass almost reverently, holding his breath slightly and closing his eyes as he put his lips to it and took a small sip, waiting a moment to savor the flavor before swallowing.
"I myself enjoy the finer things in life," the man chuckled as he watched Castle. "But where are my manners?" the man continued. "Drinking on an empty stomach is no good and you must be hungry after that long flight from LA." He snapped his fingers. "Dinner – now."
Another attendant went into a front compartment of the elegantly appointed bizliner and quickly returned, placing a tray in front of the men. A small dish containing caviar was nestled in the crushed ice in a larger crystal dish, two small gold spoons lying next to the dish, accompanied by several blini.
"Ah – the 1st course," the man said as the attendant put a small amount of the caviar on the cracker and then gracefully fed it to him.
Castle paused when the second attendant offered him a cracker in the same manner.
The man chuckled again. "You Americans – so reserved. Relax – enjoy yourself. Maybe a little dessert later?" he said, putting his arm around the attendant next to him who leaned into his touch with a slight smile.
"Uh, I'm getting married in 2 weeks," Castle stammered.
"Think of this as an early bachelor party," the man replied. "Who's to know?"
"I would," said Castle, taken back by the comment. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said with a frown, taking the cracker out of the attendant's hand and then biting in to it. He had to quickly stifle a comment as he felt the juicy luscious pearls of the best tasting caviar he had ever had burst in his mouth.
"Well, then maybe a game of poker after dinner," the man said after he finished his second cracker.
"And if I win, you'll let me go – now?" Castle asked hopefully.
The man smiled at him like a shark smiles at its dinner. "No," he said simply. "But if you win, I'll personally escort you to the American Embassy in Moscow when you finish."
Castle stared at the man and then pressed his lips into a thin line. It wasn't like he had a choice at this point, miles high in the black sky over the Atlantic.
"And if I lose?" he asked.
"Then you walk to the embassy." The man burst out laughing at Castle's expression. "You Americans – so easy. Win or lose, I will drive you to the embassy after you finish. And now, for the rest of dinner – an exquisite lobster and shrimp bisque, followed by the finest Kobe beef you have ever eaten, and more Vodka. We are gentlemen after all and you will find that I treat my guests extremely well."
Smiling, as if the matter was settled, the man turned to the attendant and gave precise instructions on how the Kobe beef should be served.
Castle settled back in the leather seat, trying to keep his face neutral and his heart from racing, because at this point, his fight or flight reaction had kicked in and he was sure either one of those would get him killed.
The last thing he remembered before waking up on this jet was going to the bathroom in the economy section and starting to walk back to his seat in first class. Then everything had gone black.
Up to that point, the trip from LA had been uneventful and he had quickly read the manuscript that Gina had given him to review with the threat that if he didn't, the honeymoon wouldn't be a lot of fun because she would have ripped off certain appendages that Kate had come to love.
Then Castle had woken up, slumped in the seat, with a man studying him intently, the wind noise unmistakable. He blinked several times, looking around, trying to figure out where he was because he certainly wasn't where he should have been. When the man started to talk, Castle knew he was in trouble – either that or the plane had crashed and he was in a medically induced coma or in hell because this just couldn't be real.
"When we met, I told you that I loved Derek Storm," the man said. "But my wife loved him more and you made her cry when you killed him off. Mr. Castle, no one makes my wife cry."
"I'm sorry?" said Castle hesitantly, realization finally dawning on him who the man was.
The man took a sip out of the glass he held. "So here is the deal. You will write a story that brings him back and I let you go," the man said, waiting expectantly. He was a man whom most people learned that it was not good to say "no" to.
"I write and you'll let me go?" Castle reiterated a slightly confused look on his face.
"Yes, that is what I said." The man frowned at him. "You make my wife happy and I'll make sure you get to the American embassy in Moscow. Her name is Pola – you might use that for one of your better characters. Deal?"
"You're holding me captive and you expect me to write?" Castle asked in disbelief.
"Well," said the man, sitting back in the chair. "You can write or you can leave, but it's a long way down."
Castle was abruptly brought back to the present when the attendant snapped open a napkin and placed it carefully in his lap, a slight smile curling the sides of her lips.
Espo, he thought quickly to counteract his body's reaction – Espo and Ryan. They were right – he should never have played poker with the Russians.
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