September 26, 2010
"Back up...there's a black-ops group in the CIA called the Time Transport Bureau?"
"We prefer the term TTB."
"Oh, sure. Makes total sense."
Castle's father—who asked to be called Hunt—appraises him with an infuriating calmness.
"I understand this is a lot to take in," the spy says.
Castle's fingers itch for the moleskin and pen hiding inside the pocket of his coat. "So there's a whole division of people dedicated to tracking down time-travelers...sorry, Riders? Who came up with that one?"
"They've had many names over the years, but it's a useful shorthand for how it works. You ride elevators that transport you through time slips, or what we call Gateways."
"Aren't there people who have done this before elevators existed?"
"Before modern technology, pulley systems were sufficient. Anything that can put a person in perpetual upwards motion."
"What about a hot air balloon?"
"In theory, yes."
"What does it mean if Beckett and I weren't in motion? The elevator started moving on its own both times."
"Interesting."
"How so?"
"It's rare. But there have been cases of Riders who don't require motion and trigger Gateways on their own. Your combined power could explain how you two were able to travel to another timeline. We don't get a lot of Jumpers."
"Jumpers?"
"Riders who can jump between timelines."
"I'd really like to talk to whoever is coming up with these names," Castle says with a slight laugh.
"This is serious, Richard," Hunt says.
"I'm sorry, it's just...all of this...it doesn't seem real. I know that time travel is possible because I've actually experienced it and trust me, I love a good conspiracy as much as the next person, but this—you—it seems all too good to be true. How do you even know all of this?"
"The TTB has people everywhere and everytime," Hunt reveals, "And they've been around for a while."
"How long?"
"In its current version? As far back as the 40s. But there have been secret groups worldwide that date back to civilizations like Babylon, one of the first societies to look at the stars. Before we were called Agents, we were known as Seekers."
"So...you want me to believe you're a part of a centuries-old secret society that supervises time-travel? How the hell do you get involved in that kind of thing anyway?"
"You, actually."
"Come again?"
"Your arrest in '77. An undercover agent at the 24th flagged Beckett's license when they read the dates and photographed your strange devices that we now know are cell phones. They monitored your movements over the next couple days. When you two disappeared, it confirmed their suspicions that you were Riders. They've had their eye on you two pretty much your whole lives."
"You're kidding."
"When I pulled strings for you to shadow Sophia, they reached out to me. Wanted to know why I would do that, and then...well, now I'm here."
"If what you're saying is true, then why are you telling me all this now? Why not three months ago?" Castle asks, voicing the question he knew Beckett would ask. The same question she'd asked him the night before.
"We don't interfere if we don't have to."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"People have been slipping in and out of time forever. And what we do as agents, part of our job is to observe. For all that we know, there's just as much that we don't know. It's possible there are timelines where you never travel, universes where none of us exist at all. We don't know what's supposed to happen or why. There's no one true timeline. Just the ones where we originate from, kind of like a home planet. For me, this is my primary."
"Have you ever traveled?"
"The ability you have, it's a matrilineal trait, something that can only be passed down from—"
"My mother."
Hunt nods.
"You said part of your job is to observe. What's the other part?" Castle asks.
"Helping Riders return. If they want to, that is."
"I don't follow."
"We get Riders who come from different decades, the wrong century, what have you. They're lost and confused. Most end up in psych wards before we find them. Driven insane by the change of reality or catatonic with shock. They can also experience suicidal ideation or loss of identity. Even the most well-adjusted Riders struggle with adapting to these new environments."
Castle's hands grip the back of a mahogany chair. "You know I've been searching for answers for months. That I have been struggling with my new environment. If I had all the facts, then maybe..." he looks down at the ground.
"Then maybe she would've chosen you?" Hunt asks.
"Did you bug my place?" Castle asks, eyes flashing.
"She wasn't ready," Hunt says. "And neither were you."
"Who gave you the right to judge?"
Hunt's mouth thins into a straight line.
"It's the job."
Castle shakes his head, vibrating with a tranquil fury.
"My whole life," he starts, his voice even, "I felt like I was missing out on something because I thought it was important to know where I came from. I told myself you were out there doing great things because that was better than thinking you didn't care about me," he says, "But knowing you were out there this whole time, knowing exactly who I am and not doing anything about it?" Castle clenches his fits. "That just makes you some guy who was never there."
The spy shifts on his feet, and hangs his head.
"I know I haven't been around in the way that I should, but I've been watching. I'll always be watching."
"That's not enough," the writer says.
"I'm sorry," Hunt says. "Let me do this. Let me help you now."
Castle hesitates, his anger retreating.
"It's not me you need to apologize to."
Hunt looks at him, understanding.
"I can't get him back without you," the spy says.
"Where are our other versions?" Castle asks.
"Your Parallels were likely tugged somewhere else. Maybe into your primary. Or they could be stuck in a Gateway."
"Stuck?"
"There's a way to bring them back," Hunt adds.
"Tell me how."
When he turns his phone back on, he notices several texts and a voicemail from Beckett. He dials her immediately and she picks up on the first ring.
"Hey, you okay? I've been trying to reach you," she says, worried.
"You're not going to believe what I have to tell you."
"Really? Can you talk about it?" she asks.
"This news definitely needs to be delivered in-person."
"Where are you? I have some news, too," she says.
Castle glances at his wristwatch. "Shit. I can't meet you right now. Have to get to dinner with my mother and Alexis. Come by the loft after? I'll text you."
"Okay. Until later?"
"Until later," he confirms.
Martha is the one to answer the door when she arrives that evening.
"Katherine! Oh, it's so good to see you. I'm so sad we missed you at dinner," the actress says, engulfing the detective in a warm hug.
"You're going to smother her," Castle says, joining them in the foyer and shooting the detective an apologetic look.
"I couldn't believe it when Alexis said the two of you separated," Martha says, pulling back.
"Mother!"
"Forgive me for meddling but Richard couldn't seem to explain what went wrong."
Beckett blushes deeply, glancing away. "It's complicated."
"Have you two tried counseling?"
"I think that's enough unsolicited advice for today," Castle says, ushering his mother upstairs. "Could you please give us some privacy?"
"I do hope you're up to no good," Martha says, winking as she sails away, her wrap trailing behind her.
"I'm sorry about that," Castle murmurs.
"No, that's okay. How was dinner?"
"You don't want to know," he groans.
Beckett looks up at the second floor. "Actually, could we go to your room to talk?"
"Absolutely," he replies, guiding her to the door into his bedroom and shutting it softly behind them.
She removes her coat, hanging it on the back of the door, and starts telling him about her visit to Rikers, taking a seat on the edge of his bed as she brings him up to speed.
"You really think he's the third cop," Castle says once she finishes. He's leaning against the dresser, arms crossed and face inscrutable.
"We went to the office after and I checked his personnel file. He got promoted to Commissioner a month after Diane's death."
"That's a hell of coincidence. You think he did something dirty?"
"Diane's note said something about evidence. Maybe he has it. Or was trying to help expose the people involved in the kidnapping scheme. Trying to make things right. I have to believe that."
"Are you going to confront him?"
"That's what Sadie wants to do but I don't want her doing it alone, so after brunch tomorrow...I was thinking, we ambush him at home, you know?"
"What I wouldn't give to see that."
"Well, I could really use my partner," she says.
It takes a moment for it to sink in. "You want me to come with you?" Castle asks.
"I'd like you there."
"Of course."
They grin at each other.
"What's your news?" she asks, breaking the tension.
"Oh, where to begin?" Castle sighs. He spends the next hour detailing everything his father told him, eventually sitting by her on the bed.
"And then he said that my Outlander theory was on the right track."
"Outlander theory?"
"I've been reading a lot of sci-fi books and I found this one time-travel fantasy series, Outlander. It's amazing. It's all about Scottish Highlander culture and—"
"Castle."
"Right, anyway, the main character travels into the past and the future through these stone circles between the changing seasons. She's able to travel because she has the gene for it."
"It's in our DNA?"
"A matrilineal gene."
"So my mother has it?"
"Very likely," he says. "And the changing seasons, that's part of it. Every three months when there's a solstice or equinox, when the earth and the sun are lining up with each other or the sun has reached its highest or lowest point, that's when these Gateways are open. Like the summer solstice each year is on June 20th or 21st, right? And Hunt said the Gateways can stay open for about a week after. That's why we were able to travel on the 25th the first time and on the 28th the second time."
"Because the Gateways happened to be open and we happened to step through them."
"Right place, right time," Castle says, nodding.
"More like wrong place, wrong time," she mutters.
"Katherine Beckett, was that a joke?"
"I've been known to hold my own."
He looks at her, realizing how close she is, his gaze flicking to her lips. She wants to lean in, to let him close the gap, but there's still more to discuss.
"We've ridden in a lot of elevators together. Why hasn't this happened before?" she asks and he blinks, clearing his throat.
"You need a trigger, or an anchor. Something that's tethering you to a specific time or place. Hunt says it's not a coincidence we arrived on the very day he gave me Casino Royale and your mother got engaged to another man. That the building we were in played a part. That the lingering questions we've had about our parents, the what ifs that are always hanging out in the back of our minds had a large influence on where we ended up. Plus, you know the relationship parallels."
"Relationship parallels?" she asks, fighting back a grin.
"Your parents not knowing how to say what they feel and you know, us…" he trails off, glancing down. Her heart speeds up.
"So the second time we traveled? When my parents made up and I was wishing for her to be alive, for everything to be different—"
"That's how we were able to jump to another timeline," he confirms.
"You really think your dad is telling the truth?"
"The whole thing sounds so elaborate, and I can't think of why he would make that kind of thing up."
"He's a spy for one thing and they're pretty much trained to lie, but...if what you're saying is real, then…" She looks at him and for the first time in months, she feels calm. "We can go home."
"It's an option, yes. We don't have to. I know you're still thinking about it, but—"
She interrupts him with the press of her lips against his. He catches her jaw, opening to her, the kiss a sweet and aching thing. She stays close after, her nose bumping with his.
"I'm done thinking about it," she whispers.
He stares at her, uncomprehending.
She strokes the sides of his face. "You gave me everything. And I didn't know how to give you what you wanted. I didn't understand that I wanted the same thing. I'm sorry, Castle. I'm so sorry. I wish—"
His hands circle her wrists, stopping her mid-sentence. "You really want to go back? What about your mother?"
She finds his eyes, locking her gaze with him.
"Rick...I'm not happy here, either. I thought I was. When we were trying to make it work. But our relationship wasn't on our terms and I was so lost in everything, so lost in seeing my mother again, I couldn't see you."
She takes a breath, his hands falling away.
"Being a detective is so much of who I am and everything we've fought over—it's all been because we don't fit here. It's not home," she says.
"Yeah?" he rasps, not quite believing what she's saying.
"I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner," she says. "And I'm sorry we didn't talk more. About missing our people. Our families. How it feels like we lost them."
"You're serious," he says, awestruck. Her heart twists, knowing he must've been in so much pain, not sure how to tell her. She rests her forehead against his, needing to touch him. Needing him to know.
"When my mother died, all I wanted was one more day. One more day to tell her how much I loved her. To just get the chance to say goodbye," she says, her voice catching. "And you gave me more than sixty." She traces her thumb under his eye. "More than enough time."
The writer closes his eyes at her touch, her words washing over him. "Thank you," he says, his voice thick. "Thank you," he repeats hoarsely, tears gliding down his cheeks, his body quivering with relief. He collapses into her and she tucks his head under her chin, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he releases all his hurt. He clutches at her, quietly sobbing into her chest, grief and heartache and exhaustion pouring out of him.
She holds him tight, receiving it all, lightly rocking him back and forth, murmuring quietly. "I'm so sorry, babe," she says, kissing the top of his head and stroking his hair. "It's almost over. We're going home." He eventually quiets, his head staying buried in her embrace. "Do you need some water? Are you hungry?" she hums.
"No, 'm good," he mumbles, lifting himself from her chest and wiping his face with his hands. "I think you need a new shirt though," he says, nodding. She looks down at the mess of her blouse and smiles.
"My second one today. Do you think it's a sign I should stop wearing them?"
"Oh, definitely," he says with an easy grin.
She rolls her eyes affectionately. "You okay?" she asks sincerely.
"Never better," he says, "I missed you."
"I missed you, too."
"How much?" he asks softly.
She unbuttons her shirt and lets the material slither off her shoulders.
"So much."
xxx
June 28, 2010 - Castle and Beckett arrive in another timeline where Johanna is alive. The next day they discover Espo was killed in action and resolve to be happy.
July 2010 - They settle into a new life.
August 25, 2010 - They break up.
August 28, 2010 - Castle visits Alexis in Connecticut and reconciles with her.
September 25, 2010 - Sadie brings Beckett information that sends her into a tailspin, Fitz gets an ear infection, Beckett meets Sophia Turner, Castle and Beckett go over Diane's case, leading to a kiss between the two, and Beckett talks with her mother, deciding she wants to go home with Castle.
September 26, 2010 (Present) - Castle and Beckett meet at the New York Public Library to switch parent-duty (it's Beckett's turn). Castle runs into his father, who seems to know about time travel. Sadie discovers a new lead in Diane's case, so her and Beckett visit Rikers to question Pulgatti, uncovering a cover-up and a kidnapping scheme involving mobsters and three cops (Raglan, McCallister, and Montgomery). Castle learns about the TTB, exchanges stories with Beckett, and the two of them have a talk about their relationship.