Flashforward Part 2

Flashback

Chapter 1

Castle's body pitched forward, slamming hard into the wooden surface. Groaning he managed to push himself back far enough to be able to see the chipped yellow paint of the edge of the plaque on the back wall of the… elevator? How the heck had he managed to get into an elevator? Did he blackout? Sure he had had a headache and his head had been a little swimmy, but how could he have lost that much time, and when did his building renovate… or should he say downgrade... the lift?

"Gina?" Turning his head slowly, he rubbed a hand against his throbbing head as he looked around for his wife.

"Hey, man." Castle started as a uniformed police officer stepped into the small space next to him. "Next time it helps to actually push the button."

"Heh," Castle forced out a small laugh as he turned around fully, his mind suddenly spinning as he caught a glimpse of the homicide bullpen as the doors slid shut. "Wait…"

"You're heading out, right?" The uniform... what was his name... asked?

Castle only nodded in response.

"Just assuming, you know, after that blow up you had with Detective Beckett. Honestly I'm amazed you lasted this long. She's not always the most welcoming person, especially when someone is invading her territory."

Castle let out a noncommittal grunt, the world still spinning as the doors slid open again revealing the lobby of the 12th Precinct.

"See you around, Castle," the uniform nodded to him as he walked out into the lobby, slapping palms with one of the other officers.

"Yeah…" Castle replied more to himself than to the other man, stepping out behind him. "See ya…"

He needed to figure out what was going on.

The streets of New York were bustling as usual when Castle stepped out through the swinging doors and onto the sidewalk. He paused for a moment, taking in the city around him, looking for a sign, some small clue as to what had just happened. His arms folded across his chest automatically. And why was it so cold?

He was startled back into reality by a jolt to the shoulder from an angry businessman gesturing to him rudely as he passed by, prompting Castle to finally move from his spot frozen to the pavement. Wandering down the street, he gawked at the city like a starstruck tourist, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes glued to the sliver of sky, towering office buildings, and bustling crowds looking for something, anything that would answer the question of what just happened.

Yes, he had been thinking about Beckett and what had happened all those years ago. Yes, he even supposed he could have blacked out and wandered to the 12th. But where was Gina? How had he managed to get dressed, leave the apartment and cross the island without knowing? And what the heck had that uniform been talking about? How could he have gotten into an argument with Beckett when Beckett was dead?

Castle shook his head slowly as he stopped at the crosswalk down the road from the precinct, in another futile attempt to stop the pounding in his temples and clear the fuzz from his mind, but he froze mid swivel as he caught a glimpse of himself in the plate glass storefront of the jewelry store on the corner.

"What the…"

Stepping closer to the makeshift mirror he pressed one hand to his cheek as he motioned mindless apologies to the disgruntled pedestrians who were forced to dodge his new path with the other. The scruff on his cheeks, his perfected messy hair style, the lack of wrinkles around his eyes, the tight line of his jaw. He was… younger. Looking down he patted his stomach, which was a good ten pounds lighter, a lot younger.

"No way…" Date. He needed the date.

Eyes darting around in a panic, Castle spotted his mark across the street, dodging speeding taxis and cursing cyclists as he sprinted across the lanes toward the newsstand. Picking up the first paper he found, he shuddered, The Post, his eyes searched the cover page for the date.

February 17, 2009.

February…

2009?

"No…" The word whispered off of his lips as he stared, unblinking, at the black print letters and numerals, mind still trying to decipher their meaning. He picked up the paper, and then another, and another. They all said the same. Unassailable…

"Hey! This isn't a library. You pay for those before you read them."

Castle looked up, startled to find the proprietor of the stand, a disgruntled looking middled-aged man, suffering from a receding hairline and a couple of the more evident warning signs of type 2 diabetes glaring back at him.

"S-sorry." Castle mumbled in reply, putting two of the papers back and placing enough change in the man's hand to cover the third. He glanced at the page again as he walked away. This had to be a joke, or else…

He could barely think, his head still a ball of cotton. Coffee. He needed coffee.

His leg jiggled as he stood in line at the next kiosk, his eyes glancing down to the page every other second. There were three options: either he was insane (possible), someone was playing an elaborate trick on him (also possible, slightly less probable and he would definitely need to commend them and ask pointers) or time travel. Heh, time travel. It was definitely the least probable and most impossible of the scenarios but…

Time travel…

"What can I get ya?"

Castle looked up into the smiling face of the young man behind the cart, medium brown hair flopping over his forehead, bright hazel-green eyes dancing back at him. "I, um, mocha. Double shot of espresso."

"Coming right up. That'll be $5.50."

Castle nodded as he reached into his pocket, scrounging for change. Thank God whoever did this to him hadn't stolen his wallet too.

"Here you go," the young man stated as he shoved two cups across the station toward him. "Double shot mocha, a nonfat latte with two pumps sugar-free vanilla and a bearclaw."

"Wait, I didn't order all of this…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. But it's already made. I'm sure you'll find someone to give it to." The kid flashed him a bright, knowing smile before turning back to the gurgling espresso machine.

He could only nod as he took the to-go cups from the counter, considering the contents for a moment, sugar-free vanilla latte and a bear claw… that was Beckett's order. Castle turned back, questions ready on his lips but the barista was already helping the line of impatient customers.

Time travel. What if…

Turning back toward the precinct, he forced his way back upstream through the hustling crowd. Either this was a cruel joke or something extremely bizarre had just happened to him. There was only one way to find out.

He couldn't move once he stepped off the elevator into the homicide bullpen of the 12th Precinct, so he stood like a fool, staring. There she was, sitting like she had all those years ago… Her head bent over a pile of paperwork, short dark brown hair spilling over, covering her face.

His heart quickened, the staccato beat playing double time as he watched her do such a simple task- scribbling notes onto a legal pad. This was it, he didn't know how, he didn't know why, but he was being given a second chance. February 18, 2009, mere days before her body had been found, floating lifeless in the river.

Before he knew how, he was standing in front of her desk, mouth dry, one coffee clutched in each hand, the bear claw teetering precariously on the top of hers. Her pen stilled, eyes remaining downcast. She breathed out an exasperated sigh before lifting her head slightly, eyes rolling up to glare at him.

"I thought I told you to go home."

Castle's finger tapped the side of the cup, his mind threatening to explode from the overwhelming reality that it was the truth. This was the day he had left, downtrodden, to lick his wounds. For whatever reason fate was giving him a second chance, and he sure as hell wasn't going to waste it.

Clearing his throat, Castle slipped down into the battered brown chair next to Beckett's desk, sliding the latte and pastry across the desk toward her. "Yes, you did. I didn't, but I got you coffee."

His brow furrowed at the flash of panic in her eyes, the way her hand came up to rub her eye and down the side of her face in frustration. "What part of 'I don't want you here' do you not understand, Castle?"

Castle leaned back in his chair, scooching and wiggling until he was content, he took a sip of his coffee. "Oh, I understand all of it, I'm just saying, I'm here and I'm staying. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the mayor."

Kate blanched, swallowing hard as her hand slammed her pen down on the desk with a dull thud. "Fine, if that's how you feel, then stay. I'll go."

The writer straightened in his chair as he watched Beckett gather her jacket, shove the notepad into her bag and turn toward the elevator.

"Wait! Beckett…" Castle called after her but she was already too far gone, head held high, not wavering as she strutted into the waiting elevator. Slouching back in the chair, mocha forgotten in his hand, he stared blankly at her drink and pastry, left untouched on the desk.

The scenes played over and over in his head like a broken film reel: the silent image of Ryan and Esposito's futile attempt to calm Lanie as she sobbed uncontrollably on the docks, Kate's body lying covered before them as he stood helpless off to the side, an eternal outsider. Beckett's father stoically accepting the folded flag at the funeral. The unrelenting news coverage, the cameras flashing in his face, her picture smiling back at him from below the fold. The resolve built within him with every memory until it finally spilled, bubbling over the edge. Slamming his coffee down on the desk, he vaulted out of the chair. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. Not again.

A/N: And back down the rabbit hole we go. Welcome to part 2. ;)

Thank you, as always to Kate Christie for the beta and for putting up with this knotted mass of timeline confusion. I promise my next story will be easier.