Kairos – Chapter 9
DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
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Saturday Evening – April 27, 2013, 9:07 p.m., Outside Richard Castle's Loft
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"Pumpkin," Richard Castle says softly, as tears drips from his nose to the ground below. The prospect of never seeing Alexis Castle again has only now completely assaulted him. He stands on wobbly knees, at the corner, two blocks away from his loft building. He's been walking aimlessly for a few minutes now, before coming to a stop here outside the small deli, his hands bracing himself against the window. Sure, the sight of the disheveled man in tears is more than a bit intrusive for the guests sitting inside at the window, but they are of no concern to him at the moment.
Alexis isn't here.
She doesn't exist anymore. She's dead.
Somehow, and for the life of him, he cannot figure it out, but somehow the change that has brought Johanna back has taken Alexis away. And Meredith.
But how?
He glances into the deli at the busy and preoccupied faces there, and notices the couple right below him, staring up at him. He glances away, and continues onward, moving further down Broome Street, putting as much distance between himself and his . . . his home as possible. Without Alexis, that place is anything but 'home' anymore.
This reality is anything but home.
His first thought is to call Dr. Sandra Windholm, and ask her just what in the hell has happened. But how would she know?
Now, however, a few things are clicking into place . . . pieces of a puzzle that he didn't recognize before. How the doctor seemed . . . almost surprised to see Kate Beckett when they returned. How she didn't refer to Kate as 'detective'. That makes sense now. Kate isn't a detective here. She was a detective when they left. Less than half a minute later, she is . . . something else. Unlike Kate, he chose not to use his time in the cab searching online for answers. Still, his mind starts piecing things together. Why would a widower ex-novelist and . . . whoever Kate Beckett is in this timeline want to go back in time?
And what were they doing together in the first place?
Yeah, this may have made sense to the Dr. Windholm they left behind a couple of hours ago in a very different timeline. But not to the Dr. Windholm they returned to less than twenty seconds later in this timeline.
"My God, what have we done?" he says aloud, only now realizing what the 'ripple effect' actually could mean.
"Alexis," he repeats, choking back a sob.
The words of his mother come back to him.
"You've gone from being a best-selling author to being the librarian at the city library."
He's the librarian now, for crying out loud. Not that there is anything wrong with being a librarian. For a moment, his writer's mind brings up images of a mini-series from a few years earlier. Yeah, being the 'librarian' in that series was something to write home about. But he knows fantasy from reality.
At least he thinks he does. That was before today. Now? He's not quite so sure anymore.
Through teary eyes, he gazes down at his phone, pulling up his name and the word 'library' in the search parameters and is rewarded quickly. Sure enough, he is the librarian at the New York Public Library.
He continues to walk until an empty cab drives by, and he hails the vehicle with a loud whistle. The car pulls over some twenty feet in front of him, and he jogs up, opening the back door and sliding inside.
"The library," he requests.
"Fifth and 42nd?" the cabbie asks.
"That's the one," Castle offers meekly, his voice breaking. He knows he needs to pull this together, but doesn't know how. But he realizes that the one place he knows that should be a safe haven for him for a brief period of time – a place he shouldn't be bothered – is the library.
He glances at his watch. It will be closed now. And he has no key. No matter. He needs to find out what in the world has happened, and as long as there is still an internet in this time period, thankfully, the library will be a good place to settle down for some discovery time.
The cab ride is quick, and Castle jumps out, paying the cab driver and moving quickly to the front door. It's locked, as expected, but thankfully a security guard is there. He comes to the door.
"We're closed," he says. "Come back when . . . Oh, Rick, it's you. I'm sorry, I didn't realize . . ."
The man unlocks the door, and Castle quickly scans the badge. Walter Jameson.
Jameson.
Okay, now the universe is just screwing with him. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Thanks, Walter," Castle tells the young man, trying to work up a smile. The man looks to be in his late twenties. He's noted that Walter addressed him using his first name. That's good.
"Forget your card again?" Walter asks.
"Don't sound so surprised," Castle offers, testing to see what kind of relationship he has with this young man.
"Then don't keep forgetting it," Walter smiles amiably. "And since when did we become so formal? Walter? I guess I need to start calling you Richard. Or Mr. Castle. Or maybe Dick."
"Okay, Dick is going a bit too far now," Castle chuckles, managing a bit of the humor he is known for. Or is he? That doesn't jive with what Martha has told him. Still, meeting Walter is good.
"Okay, so I have a good, bantering relationship with this guy, Walt," he thinks to himself. "Good. Some sense of normalcy at least."
The two men walk inside, as a very distracted Richard Castle struggles to keep up with whatever it is that Walter Jameson is saying about the New York Yankees. Suddenly another pang of panic grips Castle, as he realizes that he doesn't even know where he is supposed to be going. He has no idea where his office – or cubicle – is. Then an idea strikes him.
"I got a call while I was at home – I'm hoping it was just a prank. But just in case, do you mind walking me to my . . ."
He leaves the sentence hanging out there, hoping Walter bites. He does, thankfully.
"Not at all, Rick," Walter replies excitedly. Either Walter just enjoys getting some attention from the ex-novelist-slash-librarian here, or these two men have a very cordial and casual relationship. Castle is opting for the latter.
"So, you ran out of your house after getting a prank call, and didn't even bother to grab your keys," Walter laughs, shaking his head.
"Laugh it up," Castle says softly, trying to determine what kind of role to play with the young man so as not to tip him off. So far, so good.
The security guard takes him to an office on the second floor – they walk up the stairs and hang a quick left, where Castle learns for certain that he is – in fact – the librarian of the institution. He manages a short, haunting laugh, nervously nodding his head. It figures that if he isn't writing books, then he is a facilitator for others to read books.
Stanley opens his office, and allows Castle to walk in. He doesn't follow.
"If you need anything else, just let me know, eh?" Walter tells him.
"Okay, Walt," Castle replies. "And thanks, again."
Walter is a few steps removed from the office before Castle quickly calls out to him.
"Hey, Walt?" he calls.
"Yeah, man," the security man replies as he steps back into the office.
"I'm going to be here for a while, I think, so don't worry about me."
"Roger that," Walter tells him, smiling with a short wave. He walks out, leaving Castle on his own. Castle immediately starts walking throughout the office, taking in as much information as he can. He glances around the office, noticing the Master's Degree from New York University for Library Sciences, and nods his head. Evidently, he went back to school. He sees his own books on one of the shelves as well and frowns. There aren't a lot of them there.
He moves to the large desk which backs up to a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that gives him visual access to the first floor below. After taking in the sight, he sits at the desk, and turns to face the large Apple iMac computer there. He enters his credentials, hoping this version of Richard Castle thinks like he does. The user ID works. The password doesn't.
Of course it doesn't. There is no 'pumpkin' here. And this version of Richard Castle doesn't know 'Beckett' from a hole in the wall. He begins to panic, as none of the passwords that come to mind work. "Martha" doesn't work. "Rodgers" doesn't work. He wonders how many tries he has before he gets locked out. Then it hits him. This version of Richard Castle had a different love. Had a different soulmate.
He enters the word 'Meredith', and is granted access. He smiles wistfully, fully aware of the universe's ironies now. With shaking fingers, he pulls up the Safari browser, and types 'google'.
He then enters their names.
'Meredith Castle Richard Castle'
Minutes later, the tears are streaming down his face, dripping onto the desk below. He's completely unaware.
He finds that Meredith Castle had been killed in late 1999, in a freak car accident of sorts. Meredith had been pregnant at the time. She was just arriving to a local bookstore, with Alexis. His wife was getting ready to open the door to the establishment to walk in and find her husband who was signing books at the time. A cab driver had lost control of his vehicle, when he brakes failed. He was dropping off a passenger[KB1] , who wanted her book signed, to the same book store. When the brakes failed, he swerved to avoid parked cars there and unwittingly plowed into the pregnant Mrs. Castle and her young daughter.
The passenger of the taxi was interviewed to see if her story collaborated with that of the cab driver. The fact that it did is of no solace to Richard Castle. No, it is the name of the passenger interviewed that caused a sob to escape his throat, as he hung his head in emotional agony.
"You've got to be kidding me!" he mutters aloud at no one in particular.
Johanna Beckett.
His mind struggles to process the sheer irony, the utter cruelty that fate has displayed.
Their goal – he and Kate – had been to go back in time, and save Johanna Beckett. They had succeeded. But because they had succeeded, because her mother lived . . . Meredith died. Alexis died. And evidently, married life was good for Mr. and Mrs. Castle, because they were expecting another child together.
Because Johanna was never killed, Meredith and Alexis died. If Johanna had never been around to go to the bookstore that day, that particular cab would not have been there to do its damage.
He sits, his entire body shaking as he processes all of this new information, cursing anything and everything now that comes to mind. Cursing the sheer cruelty of the universe. Cursing himself for thinking of bringing Johanna Beckett back in the first place. And – God help him – cursing himself for chasing after one Kate Beckett all this time. He always figured that she and her unholy quest for her mother would be the death of him.
But the death of his daughter? Alexis?
It's too much for him, as the librarian for the New York Library can only drop his head into his hands, weeping loudly in his office as he breaks down. He vaguely hears his phone ringing in his pocket. It doesn't matter who it is. Nothing matters anymore.
Alexis is gone.