Kairos – Chapter 26
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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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Tuesday Evening – April 29, 2013, 11:48 p.m., at the Kronologix Facility in Brooklyn, New York
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A stunned and visibly shaking Richard Castle is glancing back and forth, between the bleeding body of Dr. Sandra Windholm, to Kate Beckett on her knees on the floor, and the newspaper in her hands with the headline that has just tossed a hand grenade into their world as they knew it. In less than one minute, Jackson Hunt has managed to:
A – Murder someone in cold blood right in front of him.
B – Reduce the woman he loves to an almost gibbering mess, and given everything she has gone through in her life, that's saying a lot.
And Finally, C – Utterly destroy everything about his world, his life. If this headline really means what he thinks it means.
"On your feet, Ms. Beckett," Jackson Hunt orders, now tugging his son away towards the large platform that serves as the demonstration area. "Or would you prefer me to use your married name – Mrs. Bracken? By the way, you're going to have to explain to me someday, why you kept your maiden name after you married. I know it is a common thing for women to do, but . . . hey, just call me old-fashioned. I always –"
"You killed her!" Castle whispers . . . okay, it's more of a whimper, as he tries to extract himself from the older man – unsuccessfully. He is still in shell shock over the headline in Kate's hands, as well as the very dead body on the floor behind them.
"What do you mean the U.S. surrendered?" Kate is finally is able to ask, although her legs aren't working just yet.
"Read the story," Hunt tells her. "It's in plain English. The United States lost World War II. Germany won. The Nazis won. Japan won. I don't know another way to say the words. Perhaps if you –"
"How?" Castle asks, if voice finally working again. "How is this possible?"
"Which part?" Hunt asks, then turns to Kate. "Ms. Beckett, I'm losing my patience. Up and at 'em. Let's go. I don't have all night."
"The . . . all of this," Castle asks, ignoring the new side conversation occurring between his father and Kate.
"That," Castle says pointing to the newspaper, "and all of this," he concludes, waving his hands in a semi-circle which takes in the facility.
"What happened?" he asks again.
Jack Hunt stops, which allows Castle to stop. He turns, making sure that Kate is, in fact, coming to her senses and picking herself up from the floor. Satisfied, he turns his attention back to his son, but speaks loudly enough for Kate to hear as well.
"Everything you two have read in your history books about World War II is a result of a historical re-set, engineered by a very, very small contingent within the original CIA – the real CIA. The one you know nothing about."
He glances over toward Kate, who is listening, walking unsteadily while reading the headline story on the paper she holds.
"The Nazis won the war. It's a long story, but I will try to make this as brief as possible," Hunt tells them. He begins walking again, and the couple falls in line behind him.
"In the spring of 1940, Germany attacked France. It was a fool's gamble, according to their military leaders, yet it worked. And it only took them six weeks to conquer France," he tells them. "This took the world by surprise. Because in World War I, Germany and France had fought to a stalemate in a four year, inconclusive trench war. So when Hitler decided he wanted to invade France again, he found himself – for the most part – with zero support from the German High Command, who did not want a repeat of the trench war from just a few decades earlier. In fact, when Hitler even suggested invading France, they thought he was insane. Six weeks later, after a huge strategic gamble of pushing his tanks through the Ardennes forest – which was at the time considered impassible by tank – he is considered a military genius. People were beginning to think a Nazi victory was predestined. By now, he is supremely confident. His next move was to attack Russia."
"I already know all of this," Castle tells him, as he begins to reach back into his knowledge about World War II from his memory banks. War has always been something of more than passing interest to Richard Castle, so yeah, he is quite the history buff.
"You aren't telling me anything new," Castle continues. "Hitler attacked Russia and pushed over a thousand miles into Russia before finally being turned back at Moscow. Some historians consider that the turning point of the war. The war that we won, by the way."
"And those historians are correct," Hunt agrees, ignoring Castle's final statement as he takes the newspaper from the hands of Kate Beckett. "Except they are writing about revisionist history."
He watches the confusion paint small features across Castle's face, and snickers to himself.
"So, here is what really happened," Hunt continues. "Hitler pushed into Russia, as you said, and reached Moscow. In your history books, you probably have read how Stalin considered leaving Moscow, escaping before the Nazis arrived. In your history books, you probably have read about how Stalin was prepared to leave one long night in October of 1941. The train was waiting for him. You've probably read about the sheer terror that had overtaken the city of Moscow and the surrounding areas. And you've probably read about how Stalin bravely decided to stay - and for once - began to rely on the knowledge and strategy of his generals who actually knew something about waging war."
Castle nods his head, as does Kate. Kate Beckett, being a student of the Russian language and Russian history, knows all of this as well.
"None of that is what actually happened," Hunt tells them, and pauses as he sees the look of disbelief on Kate's face.
"In reality, Stalin did in fact, board the trains on the night of October 16, 1941. He made a run for it, escaping the advancing Nazis. Days later, Moscow fell in a matter of hours. The entire spirit of the fight was taken out of the Russians. Moscow fell. Then Stalingrad fell. The Nazis now were in control of all of Europe, save Britain. Within a couple of months, Britain fell easily then also."
Hunt pauses again, glancing between his two guests, allowing this new information to soak in.
"That's what really happened," he tells them. He begins walking up the stairs to the platform. Reaching the top, he stands aside, allowing Castle and Kate to step up as well. He moves towards the wall, which is actually part of the hollowed out earth at this level. He fumbles for a few seconds at the wall until he reaches the lever, which opens up a section of the wall – perhaps eight feet tall and four feet wide. For a minute, Castle thinks he is taking them into a new room until he realizes it is simply a closet of sorts. Actually, as he looks closer, he notices that this closet opens up into the real transport room beyond, where he and Kate have made two trips. There are shelves inside with numerous boxes on either side of the wall. Hunt pulls out the one to the far left, and carries it to the table on the platform.
"Sit," he tells the duo, who comply without thinking. Castle offers another look back at the dead form of Sandra Windholm before turning his attention to the information now being displayed on the table.
"Now, during all of this time," Hunt continues, "the United States was busy waging its own little war in the South Pacific against Japan, its forces stretched far too thin. Further, the U.S. was still recovering from losing so much of its fleet at Pearl Harbor, and so our industrial ramp-up was focused there. So we were totally unprepared for the blitzkrieg assault that came from Germany on our own shores in early 1942. We are still amassing our infrastructure, preparing for war when the Nazis began the American invasion. New York fell first, being reduced to rubble in less than a week."
He shows them a picture of the New York skyline, circa 1943. Much of it lies in ruins, with an occasional building here and there. He then shows them a picture of the skyline taken in 2002. Manhattan has been rebuilt, but is less than half the size it is today, with the tall skyscrapers scattered throughout."
"D.C fell next, with the President retreating inland to Chicago," he continues, now showing them pictures from 1943 of the nation's capital, completely leveled. The White House? Gone. Hunt then shows them – again – a more recent picture, this one taken in 2004."
"What's this?" Kate asks, her voice nervous and breaking. They are looking at a building that resembles the White House, but it clearly isn't. It is almost light gray in color, and the steeples on the side give it more of the look of a castle than a capital building.
"The Fuhrer's Capitol in the Americas," Hunt tells them. "Almost a replica of the original in Berlin," he continues. It's not until he tells them this that they notice the Nazi flag flying high above.
"Having to now protect the eastern front, the U.S. forces were even further divided, he continues, and there is a sadness in his voice. "Further, after the second attack at Pearl Harbor, we lost the Hawaiian Islands. The Japanese were able to use that as a base of operations to attack our western mainland coastal areas. Los Angeles fell to the Japanese, followed by San Francisco. With the Japanese invading from the west, and the Germans from the east . . . well, it was just a matter of time, then. That's when the U.S. surrendered, with Hitler on the doorstep of Chicago, having advanced as far as Indiana."
He takes out more pictures, now showing a post-war America in the early 1950's. He shows them pictures of a very different United States, one with Nazi flags displayed prominently.
"It was a different country, all because of that war," he tells them, his voice low. "I was born in 1951. I missed the war, but I was a small boy when all of the rest of it happened. I lived with my mother and my sisters. My father was killed during the war. Your grandfather, Richard."
He pauses, staring at one picture in particular, with a haunted look in his eyes.
"That was . . ."
"Yes," Hunt replies to his son. "This was your grandfather. Died at twenty-four years old during the war. I didn't know the man."
"I know the feeling," Castle replies, unable to catch the words before they leave his mouth. For some reason, Hunt allows this without any retort.
"I know you do," is all he says, then he picks up another picture. This one is from another newspaper. The images are chilling.
"The spring of 1958 was known as the year that the Cleanse officially began," Hunt tells them.
"The Cleanse?" Kate asks.
"I'm getting to that," Hunt tells her, undaunted. "That's the rest of the story. It began with the blacks in this country. State-sponsored executions. Some of it by local firing squads, but the vast majority were killed using the new gas chambers erected on Alcatraz Island in San Francisco. Blacks were rounded up, and shipped by railroad to the west coast, under heavy watch by the new Army. Seems like Hitler never forgot – or got over – the embarrassment laid upon him by Jesse Owens in the 36 Olympics in Berlin."
Castle and Kate both gasp, hand over their mouths as they stare at picture after picture of railroad stock cars filled with black families, crowded in like sheep. The fear in their eyes has been captured perfectly, and Castle can imagine the stench of human body laid upon human body, while still alive, and being transported in hot train cars across the country.
"He wanted to make a point," Hunt continues. "A highly visible point, that the white race was the superior race, and that the losses suffered in the stadium in Berlin were an aberration. See, at first, when the Nazi's came in and took over, they made it seem like little would change. They didn't go on mass killing sprees or anything like that. Much of the eastern seaboard was left in rubble, and the path to the Midwest and South, to Alabama was much the same. Ditto for the west coast cities. So there was a huge need to rebuild, and Hitler counted on everyone – white, black, regardless of race or religion – to help that cause."
He pauses for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, before continuing.
"Unfortunately, this caused everyone to fall into a truly false sense of security, because once the rebuilding was finished . . . or at least finished to Hitler's satisfaction, every black person was rounded up and shipped to San Francisco. The trains would pass through the countryside and everyone watching knew what they were, knew where they were going, knew what was happening. And did nothing to stop it."
"But-" Castle interrupts, but his father raises a hand, and Castle backs down.
"Once in San Francisco, the families that survived the trip – and many did not – were loaded onto ferry boats and shipped across the waters to the island. Once there, they had two choices. Willingly step into the gas chambers set up there, or risk the frigid San Francisco bay waters and swim back to the shore."
Castles hands are knotted into fists, and Kate is feeling light-headed. Both know where this story is going. Both have seen human atrocities, but not on this scale.
Hunt picks up a compact disc, and inserts it into the computer on the table to the side of him. He turns the monitor so his guests can watch. A blank screen comes up for a few seconds, and then is replaced by a propaganda video that would turn the stomach of the most hardened of criminals. They watch as hundreds and hundreds of black people – old, young, men, women and children – launch themselves into the cold waters of the bay, desperate for freedom.
The sound heard from the disc is in English, spoken with a heavy German accent. The announcer tells the viewer what his happening.
"These are the people who tried to fool the world in the great Olympic event only twenty-two years ago. We now give them the opportunity to repeat their feat, to prove it was no lie. If they make it to the shore, they are free to go, to live where they wish. If they do not, then they do not."
The video scans the waters, showing the dead, floating bodies of hundreds – thousands – of people in the waters, being carried by the currents. The waters are too cold, the undertow far too strong. The next image shows small tug boats with makeshift nets, fishing the bodies out of the water, and taken further north up the bay to Angel Island, where mass burnings are shown in the next series of video images.
"You show enough people being pulled from the water, dead, and then burned in mass funeral pyres and . . . well, suddenly a quick death in the gas chambers doesn't sound too bad," Hunt tells them with sadness in his eyes.
"After the first month of this, history records that the vast majority of blacks taken to Alcatraz opted for the chambers. They could see the large funeral fires burning on Angel Island across the waters. They entered the chambers, singing spiritual hymns as they walked to their deaths. The arriving ferry boats carrying new shipments of families to the island would hear the singing. Somehow, it strengthened the resolve of those incoming, and apparently touched the hearts of some of the guards, who began to spirit some of the families out in the dead of night – by boat. They would take them down the coast to Mexico where they would be turned loose to fend for themselves."
Castle is openly crying now, trying to get his head around such atrocities. But his father isn't finished. Not by a long shot.
"And this was damn merciful compared to what they did with the Jews," Hunt continues. "Now, when the rest of captive America saw what was going on – believe me – the Jews knew who was next up on the docket. While some in this country had doubts as to the exterminations occurring in Europe in the early 1940's, the Jews did not. And so they ran, as many as they could, south. Into Mexico, and further down into Central and South America. Some went by boat, landing in Cuba. Those who didn't run, died. In the fall of 1958, the Cleanse hit the Jews. There were no train rides west. No propaganda videos. There were simply house-by-house raids, followed by gunshots, stabbings, beatings. The dead were dragged out into the streets and thrown into large truck beds, and taken to central areas where they, too, were burned. Americans who were not Jewish who wished to put themselves into the good graces of our new masters were encouraged to turn in as many Jews as they could find. I wish I could tell you that we resisted. That would be a lie. The Cleanse was brutal, and effective primarily because it counted on frightened Americans turning other Americans in. The Cleanse killed tens of millions of blacks and Jews in the country, and scared the rest of the country into submission. What was left was a country of very little diversity. All white, no blacks, no Jews. Those of Asian backgrounds were spared, because of Japan's alliance with Hitler. But it was tenuous at best, as even they began to flee during the summer of 1959."
He takes the disc out from the computer, and replaces it in its packet. He takes out another series of pictures, showing the United States in the modern era.
"This was taken in early 2012," he tells them, "before we changed things."
The country looks modern, and there is no hint of Nazi flags flying prominently. There was is no need, as the country has been completely absorbed. Generations have died off, and the new generations do not know of any other way of life.
"Everything you know, Richard . . . Ms. Beckett . . . everything you know and have lived – it is a result of a reset we did last year. It is the result of one trip to the past, to change one event."
Hunt gathers up the papers, placing them back into the folders, and placing the folders back into the box he had retrieved. He now turns and faces the couple, who both bear ashen faces. Either could throw up any second now.
"The CIA – the original Central Intelligence Agency – was formed in 1993. It was founded by American Jews displaced into Peru. Their goal was two-fold. First, to gather as much intelligence about the ground war in Europe during World War II, focusing on strategy and execution. Second, to pull together the smartest minds that could be convinced of the cause. Ironically, it all began with a fax that was received by Josef Vincze, one of the pioneers of the organization in Peru. An old family friend, Walter Reise's family had stayed in touch with Josef's family when the Vincze family fled to South America in the late 1950's."
"The Vincze's . . . they were a Jewish family who left the country?" Castle asks, clarifying.
"Yes," Hunt replies. "They left during the Cleanse. Josef wasn't born at the time. Neither was Walter Reise. They became friends through their family communications. Walter's family hid in America, hiding their Jewish heritage. Walter was educated at MIT. Josef Vincze was educated at Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Peru. Both were considered scientific geniuses. The fact that they even knew of each other can only be considered the highest form of providence in the history of the world. Because they changed it all."
"I don't understand," Kate comments, as she stares between the two men. Castle, however, seems to be putting it together.
"You said that a fax started it all," Castle repeats. His father nods his head, but Kate is still searching.
"What did the fax say?" she wonders to the men.
"It didn't matter, babe," Castle tells her, and Hunt barely contains a smile of pride. Yeah, he knew his son was smarter than he lets on. One who writes so prolifically has to have some hidden knowledge.
"That's right," Hunt agrees. It wasn't the content. It was the fax itself. That's when they stumbled upon the idea that if we could take words, pictures, images, and reduce them to data that could be transmitted and then rebuilt – then could we do that with a human body as well? That was the question. So Josef began his search for sympathetic individuals with expertise with DNA research. On his end, Walter began his search in America for expertise with quantum physics.
"WIndholm," Castle whispers.
"Yes, that's how Sandra became involved," Jackson confirms. "Sandra Windholm is . . . was . . . the brightest of the lot, to be sure. Her theories, which were extensions of those of Albert Einstein, proved to be the foundation for the time travel technologies we created."
"So," Castle interrupts, as he attempts to put what he is hearing together. "The CIA wasn't created to be this superspy organization . . ."
"No," Hunt tells him, shaking his head. "Its original goal, its sole purpose was to rid the world – primarily America – of Nazi rule."
"And the plan, the plan the CIA put into action was based upon time travel," Castle continues, "by using research in South America to discover how to break down and recreate a human body at the DNA level, and using research in North America to discover how to open wormholes so that a broken down human body could be sent to another location in space or time."
"Excellent, son," Hunt nods, appreciatively.
"And the two research projects were kept apart – literally geographically – so that no one could ever put two and two together," Kate nods herself, now fully understanding the dual projects.
"Exactly," Hunt replies. "Until 2012, when we finished construction of the Kronologix facility, the only people who knew both sides of the equation were Josef, Walter, Sandra and myself. This was critical. If someone in Peru were captured, they would have no knowledge of what we were doing here in America. And vice versa. Only when the facility here was completed could we bring others into the real plan."
"That's why we are seven floors below," Castle whispers, nodding his head. "It had nothing to do with science, did it?"
"No," his father confirms. "Upstairs is a front. A research think-tank in the outskirts of New York City is nothing that draws attention. But an elevator that can secretly drop seven floors below street level into the real facility – where the actual real technology is housed – yeah, that had to be kept secret. Remember, we weren't in charge. This wasn't our country. And those who were born after 1959 – and this is important for you two to understand – those that were born after 1959, those born in the last fifty plus years – this was their home. This was all they know of. They never had freedom snatched away from them. They never tasted democracy as you know it. They never tasted freedom as you have seen it. This was all they know. So understand, getting people to want something better – believe it or not – was difficult. Because if you were white, and kept your religious beliefs to yourself – well, this was not a bad place to be. Not great, mind you. But not bad."
"How many were in the CIA?" Kate asks.
"One hundred and fifty seven," Hunt replies, and smiles at the blank looks of disbelief which cloud both faces in front of him.
"We couldn't take chances," he says simply. "The fewer who were involved, the better. That's why we had to search for the most brilliant, and we had to be right the first time."
"So what happened?" Kate asks after a few seconds of silence.
"There were four options to go back into time," he tells them, "and it fell upon me to be the one to go. Josef and Walter were too old, and Sandra was too valuable. Of the one hundred and fifty seven, we were broken into three camps: DNA expertise, Quantum Physics expertise, and Safety and Security. I was in the latter group – responsible for collecting intelligence and providing security for anyone in the organization."
"How many were –"
"There were fourteen of us in security," Hunt replies, knowing the question. As he could anticipate, Castle and Beckett burst into laughter.
"The fate of the world protected by fourteen men," Castle chuckles.
"Fourteen men and women," Hunt corrects him. Five of us were from America. The rest, believe it or not, were from Russia. As you can imagine, they weren't too keen on Nazi rule either."
Both Castle and his former muse nod in understanding.
"So, you went back, and did what, exactly," Kate asks, now reaching under the table for Castle's hand. Their fingers interlock, and somehow it gives both comfort during this dramatic explanation.
"I kept Stalin in Moscow," Hunt tells them. "That was my sole job."
There is no pride in his voice. It's a matter-of-fact tone that he uses, and both can tell he is thinking back to that time.
"I appealed to his pride, to his ego, to his desire of leaving a historical legacy to be proud of, which – thankfully – outweighed his ideas of self-preservation. He and I stood at the train station in Moscow – in the rain – on the night of October 16, 1941 for almost an hour while I pleaded with him. He finally agreed. He said he would give it one month. The rest – as they say – is history. In this case, it is the history that you know, that you learned in your history books, that you understand. It's not the history that I grew up with."
"So, he stayed, they fought – and pushed the Germans back," Kate comments, recalling her knowledge of Russian history.
"That one event changed the course of the war," Hunt continues. "Because Hitler lost in Russia, and it was his first defeat. But more importantly, it made everyone – on both sides of the war – rethink things. All of the sudden maybe Hitler wasn't invincible. Maybe defeat for the Allies wasn't a forgone conclusion. Maybe the Nazi victory wasn't a predestined event."
"My God," Castle mutters to himself.
"Some would say 'Thank God'," Hunt chuckles out loud before continuing.
"I went back just over a year ago," Hunt tells them. "In 2012. I went back to 1941 and reset the timeline. So instead of losing the war, we won the war. Instead of being under Nazi rule, we live in a democracy. Instead of a nation of virtually one hundred percent white people – primarily of German descent – we are a diverse country, made up of multiple races, multiple religions. I lived it, Richard. The Jackson Hunt of this timeline – the revised timeline I set – has done wonderful things, and I'm sure horrible things. He's in the CIA that you know. He is your father. In reality – I have no memories of any of that. I have no memories of your mother. Of you as a child. I went back and reset history. And I returned to a world I didn't know – I live in a world totally foreign to me. But it is a world much better than the one I left. My only memories of this timeline begin in 2012. Before that - My memories?"
There is sad, faraway look in Hunt's eyes now, as Castle is only now beginning to understand the monumental weight that this man lives with. And the fear that it could all be undone.
"What I remember," Hunt continues, "are the stories and videos shown to us in schools of the lynchings of black people by people in the South wanting to cozy up to the Nazis. People doing their 'civic duty' to cleanse the nation. I remember the videos and curriculum that taught us about the gassings of millions of blacks, in 1958, to purify the country. I remember being taught about the great exodus of the Jewish people, desperate to leave in 1957 and 1958 and 1959. They left on boats that were blown out of the water, and planes that were shot out of the skies."
There are tears in his eyes as he continues, and unbeknownst to him, Kate and Castle have tightened their grips on one another underneath the table.
"I remember when Hitler's son, Adolf the Second, came to power in 1971," he tells them. "And in 1991 he began to make overtures to invade Africa – and wipe the dark-skinned people off the face of the earth, finishing his father's work. That was the event that began to turn some away in America. That was the event that led to others – a couple of years later – to even think about the idea of overthrowing the tyranny that had taken over the world. Those are my memories, son. Horrible memories. I can never erase them. But now – I look at a world that no longer reminds me, on a nightly basis, of the hell that I lived in. And –"
"Wait a minute," Castle interrupts, quickly standing up as he releases his grip on Kate's hand. "No, no," he continues shaking his head.
"This doesn't flow," Castle continues, thinking like a writer putting a story together. He turns at looks at his father, pointing a finger at him.
"If you went back in time in 2012," Castle begins, "and reset things, then yeah, when you came back, you would have all of your memories of what happened before you left, but you would have no memories of what happened in the new reality. I know this because that is exactly what happened to Kate and I. Twice."
Kate nods her head in agreement, while Hunt only smiles.
"But then Kate and I went back, and we reset our timelines, and somehow its effect has bled over to others. People made different decisions. They turned out differently. So how do you even know about what you did? Why do you seem unaffected?"
"Part of that is because of a failsafe that I built into the technology, without Sandra's knowledge," Hunt replies, "and the other part of it can only be described as pure luck. Which is why I am so pissed at Sandra."
"You killed her," Kate hisses angrily, now remembering the dead woman in the other large room.
"She'll be back," Hunts waves dismissively.
"You said that before," Castle wonders aloud.
"When we get back, she will be alive again," he tells them. I killed her in this timeline. Which will be reset again in a few moments. After you explain to me exactly what you two did during your trip. I should say, trips, plural. I need to know what you did, and why you did it, so I can understand what Sandra was trying to do, although I have a suspicion."
"Hold on a minute," Kate argues. "What do you mean we are going to reset it again?" she asks, fear now clouding her eyes and, for a moment, her judgement.
"We are going to reset everything – as much as we can – back to the timeline I created last year," he tells them. "We have to undo whatever you and Richard did, and hope that time plays out as it should. As it did before you two went and fucked things up. You have created changes you don't understand. Changes we might not even see. Changes that could lead to someone finding out what we have done, what I have done. If that is reversed, then we are all screwed."
"I . . . I can't lose . . ." Kate's mind is slowly shutting down right now, and Castle isn't too far behind, as both begin to count the potential consequences – what they lose. For Castle, it is an easy equation. For Kate, however, it is far more complex.
"You said this was about your mother," Hunt tells her. "Well, trust me, your mother – no one person – not a million people – are worth losing what we have given this country. What we have given the world. And that's something I thought Sandra understood. I'm sorry to see how wrong I was."
"Wait a – "Castle interrupts, now pushing himself back down into his chair. "What do you mean this is something you thought Sandra understood."
A frown forms on Jackson Hunt's face, as does a faraway look. He stands, and pushes his chair under the table, and opens his jacket a bit wider. It's a movement to remind his two guests of the weapon hidden underneath. He starts moving to the edge of the room, toward the door that leads to the transport room.
"Let's go," he tells them both as he answers his son's question. "Somehow, in the new timeline I created, Sandra's mother was killed back in 1999. I knew she had thoughts of using the transport room to go back to 1999, to try and save her mother. What I don't understand is what that has to do with either of you, and why she would send you back."
Castle, for a moment, stops in his tracks, driven both by a shooting pain in his hip as well as the words – actually, the date – that his father has shared with them, as a truly sad and awful theory begins to assemble itself in his mind.
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A/N: A long and descriptive chapter, I admit. Not to worry, we are almost finished here. A couple more chapters and then the epilogue. Thanks so much for staying the course.