Doomsday
He stopped the car just outside of the city, pulling into a gas station and shutting off the engine.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Filling up on gas."
"Because when we hit the end of the world in your panic room, we're going to need a full tank." She glared at him.
"I'm - uh - I'm kinda tired of the attitude?" he said, feeling his chest clench with absolute, insane dread. It was a stupid thing to say, but he needed to say it. And he felt like she could be nicer about this.
She stared at him, the furiously pissed look melting from her eyes. He dropped his gaze, fiddled with his keys. He just wanted - he couldn't leave it to chance. Too much already had happened to them, to her, and he had the power to prevent this one thing, just this one, or to at least die with her when the end of the world came about, and that was preferable really.
"I just want to - can we have a nice Christmas and I won't talk about the aliens and you won't - won't look at me like I'm the stupidest-"
"Castle," she murmured.
He raised his eyes to hers, heart in his throat, and she reached across the center console to slide her hand in his, squeezing.
"I'm sorry."
He laced his fingers through hers, slowly, and brought the back of her hand to his chest, closing his eyes.
He heard her shifting closer, then felt her other palm against his ribs, over his heart. He knew she could feel it pounding.
"Castle, you're seriously worried."
He nodded.
"Okay, okay," she murmured, her body touching his, enveloping him, her hand sliding up his chest to squeeze the back of his neck. "We'll just go have a nice Christmas in your Doomsday Bunker."
He opened his eyes, expecting a tease, but he saw her so very close, and her face gentle as she looked at him. He took the risk, leaned in to press a thankful kiss to her cheek, kept his mouth there a moment longer than he should.
She didn't say anything, didn't pull away, didn't really react.
It was the best he could hope for.
After pumping gas, he left the keys in the ignition so she could keep the heater on.
He bought her coffee from the convenience store, the calorie-rich vanilla thing that passed for espresso. He also bought animal crackers, gummies, beef jerky (still a little panicky, though it was starting to recede now that he knew she was with him), and a few packs of gum. He grabbed a couple water bottles and, at the last minute, picked up a 2-liter of root beer. Alexis liked it.
He felt better now; it did seem a little bit silly. And yes, ridiculous. But he wasn't about to take the chance that this had substance and merit, whatever this was, and still do nothing.
He'd invested in his doomsday bunker years ago - when Aleixs was born and he was panicking over being a first-time father and not knowing how to do any of it right. He'd only thought of it sometime this summer, and while Kate had been not talking to him (as always over the summer), he'd thrown all his energy into making it a true fallout shelter.
When he got back into the car, her face was white.
"What?" he asked, dumping everything into the backseat and reaching for her hand.
She squeezed it tightly. "I - you said - the radio."
"Yeah," he said softly.
"Have you heard? Lately. Have you listened to it lately, Castle."
He shook his head, watching the round and dark surprise of her eyes. She looked shell-shocked. "What? Kate-"
"It's - you said - you were right," she whispered.
"What?"
"It's on the radio. They just cut in to this classical station and I heard it-"
Kate leaned over and switched the radio back on, turning it up, and he heard the strains of some kind of orchestra.
"They said, they said the Meteorological Bureau requested that all the large observatories direct their attention to something happening just past Mars."
"Are you kidding me?" he gasped.
She squeezed his hand tighter and then the radio interrupted the orchestral arrangement with the emergency broadcast noise. When that faded, the radio deejay cleared his throat.
"We are ready now to take you to the Princeton Observatory where Carl Phillips, our commentator, will interview Professor Richard Pierson, world-renowned astronomer. We take you now to Princeton-"
"Castle-"
"Wait, wait," he said, pulling her hand to his chest, his heart pounding hard.
"Quite distinct now because Mars happens to be at a point nearest the earth . . . in opposition, as we call it."
"Is that the astronomer?" she murmured.
"Yeah, hold on. Listen."
"How do you account for these gas eruptions occurring on the surface of the planet at regular intervals?"
"What?" Castle barked, felt Beckett crush his hand in hers to silence him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this confirms earlier reports received from American observatories. Now, nearer home, comes a special bulletin from Trenton, New Jersey. It is reported that at 8:50 p.m. a huge, flaming object, believed to be a meteorite, fell on a farm in the neighborhood of Grover's Mill, New Jersey, twenty-two miles from Trenton. Our reporter on scene-"
"In New Jersey? There was a meteorite in New Jersey?" Kate untangled their hands. "Drive, Castle. Get going. Now."
"Yeah, your Dad." He reached out and turned the radio up again, something struggling for awareness in the back of his brain but he couldn't get at it.
"Go! Castle-"
"I'm going," he muttered and put the car in gear, pulled out of the gas station.
He drove in silence for an hour, the tension rippling, as they listened to the radio. His heart pounded so hard that his hands throbbed on the steering wheel.
"Okay, no," she said suddenly. "No. This is crazy, Castle."
"Crazy?"
"They're just - this is a meteorite in New Jersey. They're just describing a meteorite-"
"As a huge cylinder?" He glanced over at her, incredulity in his voice. "Made of yellow-white metal, thirty yards in diameter? This isn't-"
"No." She held up both hands as he made the turn onto her father's street. "No. I refuse - it's just a report about a meteorite. And something about Mars, and seriously, seriously, no."
"Which is your dad's?"
"Two down - no - there. Yeah."
He pulled into her dad's driveway and killed the engine. Now that the radio was off, his thoughts were beginning to coalesce, come together to form a picture he didn't like.
His phone rang and Beckett was already opening the door; she glanced at him as he fished it out of his coat pocket.
"It's Alexis."
"Answer your phone; I'll get my dad." She slid out of his car and slammed the door, stalked towards the house.
He swallowed and answered. "Alexis?"
"Dad? Did you - uh - did you invite the Ryans?"
"Course."
"Uh, all right. I just - I don't know where to put them all."
"How many is all?"
"Hard to tell, actually."
"Hard to tell? Isn't it - I mean - Kevin and Jenny?"
"And Detective Ryan's - um - I'm counting three sisters, but he did say he couldn't convince them all to come. Plus they've got husbands and kids. And a cousin? Oh, hi, sweetie. Sure, come on in."
"Alexis?"
"That's Maggie. And her sister, Maisey. They're twins. You what? Yeah. I can. Dad, Maisey wants to know if she can play with her Barbies in your study."
He breathed in and blinked, saw Beckett coming out of the house with her father, carrying a bag of Christmas presents as Jim pulled his suitcase behind him.
"Dad?"
"Yeah. Sure. Barbies in the study. Go for it. And Alexis? Just - put them wherever you can. Might have to put all the kids in the living room area, make it a camp out."
"A couple of the girls can sleep in my room with me."
"That's sweet, pumpkin. Okay, look, we'll figure it out when I get there. I've got Kate and her dad."
"Drive safely, Dad. Love you."
"Love you, too." He ended the call and hopped out of the car, helped Jim put the suitcase in the back. Jim put his hands on his hips and gave him a long look.
"So."
"Yeah. I - I can't - Kate-"
"I know you care, Rick." Jim laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, a little smirk on his lips, much like his daughter's, slightly patronizing.
"Okay, break it up," Kate huffed. "Get in the car, guys."
"You listen to the radio?" Castle asked the man.
"No. Why?"
"It's all over the radio."
"There's no it." Beckett slammed the door shut and glared at him as he got back in the driver's seat. "There's a meteorite and people are freaking out over nothing."
But when Castle started the engine, the radio was filled with the noise of something and it wasn't nothing.
Jim leaned in from the backseat, an arm on Kate's headrest for balance. "Turn that up. What station is this?"
"Castle?"
"NPR on satellite," he said, backing out of the drive as Kate turned it up.
The reporter was describing the scene - cars lined up to see the massive crater and the meteorite, the farmer whose property it was, the police and fire department vehicles, the CDC had just arrived.
"CDC?" Kate groaned. "This is - this is crazy. If it weren't December 20th, I doubt any of this-"
"Hush, Katie. There's more," her father said, reaching over the seat to squeeze her shoulder. Castle threw the man a glance and gave the car a little more gas. He wanted to be at the bunker yesterday.
"Now some of the more daring souls are venturing near the edge. Their silhouettes stand out against the metal sheen."
"Why - wait, the meteorite is made of metal?" Jim asked.
"This yellow-white metal, they said," Castle filled him in. "And I heard - we heard - that it created this crater 30 yards wide. Or the meteorite is 30 yards. Something."
"What station is this? NPR? Is it on any of the news stations? Because they aren't reporting this on television or-"
"See?" Kate said triumphantly. "I told you. It's not a big deal."
Castle leaned over and tried switching around to other satellite radio news programs. CNN contained only more talk about the state of alert and comparisons to Y2K, interviews with cult leaders who claimed tomorrow was the day of rapture.
"Why isn't CNN broadcasting this meteorite stuff?" Jim asked.
"Maybe it's more local news on this NPR program."
"Go back to NPR," Jim said, his chin resting on his fist at the back of Kate's seat. "I want to hear more about this before I make any decisions for myself."
Castle flipped it back.
"Do you hear it? It's a curious humming sound that seems to come from inside the object. I'll move the microphone nearer. Now we're only 25 feet away; the police have cordoned off the area and are keeping civilians back. But listen-"
In the car, the tires keeping a steady pitch against the interstate, they all sat still, listening to the sound coming from the radio.
It hummed.
"It's alive," Castle whispered. And he wasn't entirely joking.