A/N: Hello and welcome back! I know it's been a while, so I recommend re-reading the previous chapter, and if you wanna get an extra kick out of this one, I'd also re-read Chapter 7: Skeptic & Believer.
Wonderland
"This is our famous costume trunk," Velma presents with a flourish of her hand.
Kate and Amy admire the vintage steamer crate with its beautifully varnished wood and polished metal clasps.
"Our great-grandkids love playing dress-up and staging performances for us. Some of my old poodle skirts should be in there. And you said you're a size seven, Kate? I have some shoes you can borrow too," Velma chatters, disappearing into her closet.
Amy digs through glittery fairy wings, tricorn pirate hats, and layers of tutus, while Kate is drawn toward the gorgeous mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the farside of Jack and Velma's green-painted room (also known as the Emerald Room and crown jewel of the house).
Kate passes by the antique four poster bed and examines the cozy reading nook in a turret-like corner, where two great big comfy leather chairs surround a small brick fireplace. She fantasizes about stealing a book and snuggling in front of roaring flames, getting lost and transported to new worlds.
The turret windows are made up of rainbow-colored stained glass. The dusk light shines through and casts the space in a spectrum of kaleidoscopic colors. Plants of ivy hang from above, while orchids and jade flora are tucked in between books and picture frames. Kate feels as though she's walked into a magical greenhouse-library of sorts.
"How do I look?" Amy says, throwing a feather boa around her neck and tilting her chin up with the air of an aristocrat.
Kate shoots her a smile. "Absolutely divine."
"We should totally have a tea party," the blonde suggests, excitement lighting her eyes. "Crumpets and scones and those really yummy biscuits that Velma makes."
"Did someone say tea party?" Velma asks, emerging from her closet in a large floppy hat, a pair of white tennis shoes dangling from her grasp.
The young women laugh, a chorus of musical tinkling and girlish joy.
"It's like a dream in here," Kate sighs after a moment, running her fingers over the spines of familiar classics (and some first editions by the looks of it).
A curious Amy eases open a slightly ajar cabinet door on top of a dresser and gasps. "You guys have a TV?" She puts her hands on her hips, as if to admonish. "And here I thought, you were all about the unplugged lifestyle."
"We're not total Luddites," Velma chuckles jovially. "And I need some way to watch new episodes of Hot Suspect."
"Oh, I love that show - with Danny Valentine, right?" Amy gushes.
"Don't tell Jackie, but I have a little crush on him. He's just so fun to look at."
"I don't blame you," Amy says. "He can interrogate me anytime. In fact, he's one of my Freebie Five."
Velma frowns, confused. "What's a Freebie Five?"
Their talk fades into the background as something catches Kate's eye—a black-and-white photo of a young Jack and Velma on their nightstand.
Velma looks like a 1940s movie star with her pin-curl hair and red carpet-worthy dress. And she's draped over and smiling adoringly at a young Jack who's in a dapper suit and… Kate blinks. Huh. She rubs her eyes to make sure she isn't seeing things, but no - uh, young Jack is in fact the spitting image of Castle, crooked smile and everything.
How the hell can that be?
She picks up the frame for closer inspection.
"What's that?" Amy asks, peering over her shoulder. Before she can muster a reply, the blonde unceremoniously snatches the photo from her. "Oh my god, is this you, Vel? You're smokin' hot! Still are, of course, but wow—" she shimmies her shoulders, "Hubba hubba!"
Velma laughs heartily, a soft blush blooming high on her cheeks. "You're too kind."
"And woah…is this Jack? He and Rick could be twins—that is so uncanny," Amy says, "Sure you're not related?"
Velma relieves the picture frame from the blonde. "Strange, isn't it?" she replies. "We've been joking he's our long-lost grandson."
Amy laughs it off, but Kate spies a flicker of nervous apprehension in the older woman's gaze and wonders if maybe it's not a joke. The writer doesn't know who his father is; if he has more family…and anything's possible, right?
As Velma plucks their costume items from the trunk and ushers them from the room, the question nags at her…
Could Jack and Velma be Castle's paternal grandparents?
Castle and Greg stand back-to-back on the stairs with their hands clasped into finger guns like Charlie's Angels, while she and Amy strike a similar pose in front of the pair. Velma snaps a shot of their group with Amy's polaroid.
The boys are both outfitted like Danny Zuko in Grease, white tanks and dark wash jeans and Oxford brogues, the writer in his new brown leather jacket and Greg in a hand-me-down black leather jacket from Jack, while she and the blonde are Sandy replicas, ready to join the Pink Ladies, all poodle skirt and silk scarves. Their hair, styled into high ponytails with curly tresses.
"Okay, now let me get each couple separately," Velma suggests.
As Amy and Greg model for the camera, her boyfriend winds his arms around her waist from behind, and props his chin on her shoulder, his mouth skirting her ear.
"You look adorable, by the way."
She jumps a little. "Shut up or I won't put on my leather outfit later," she grumbles.
(Why the hell did she agree to this again?)
He quiets for a beat, only to start humming something that sounds suspiciously like we go together like ramma-lamma-lamma-ka-dignity-da-dinga-dong, and she has half a mind to stomp on his foot. But then Velma is directing them to stand just like that and yeah, your hand there and smile!
A flash goes off again and she sees spots in her vision.
Jesus.
She blinks a couple times, re-orienting herself.
"Hey, you okay?" Castle murmurs.
"Yeah, 'm fine," she mumbles. "Strong flash."
He cups her cheek, his face pinched in concern.
"Sure something else isn't bothering you? You seem tense."
She doesn't know how to tell him she suspects the innkeepers of possibly being his grandparents. It's too big, too much, and it's just a hunch, afterall…and a silly and ridiculous hunch at that.
"Aside from the fact I'm dressed like a frilly prep?" she huffs instead.
He grins in amusement and presses a soft kiss to her furrowed brow.
"I'm going to make this up to you in so many ways."
She relaxes, smiling, and kisses him, murmuring, "You better," into his lips as she shakes off the lingering questions in the back of her mind. They've got a sock-hop to get to and compete in.
She needs her head in the game—not stuck on far-fetched theories.
"Ohhhh, those summer niiighiiiiits," Castle and Greg harmonize in a high-pitched tune, drawing out the last words of the popular song from Grease. She and Amy giggle and clap, showering the boys in bravos as they take their bows on the side of the road. They're walking toward the Round Barn, just a mile from the inn. Velma and Jack lead a few yards ahead hand-in-hand, letting "the kids" have their fun.
"Your mother would be proud," Kate smiles.
The writer puffs a chuckle. "She'd say it's not my best work."
"I was captivated," Amy supplies, looping her arm around her husband's and leaning into his side.
"Me too," Kate seconds, smoothing back some unruly strands of her boyfriend's hair into his gelled Greaser coif. Castle bumps a kiss to her cheek in gratitude and tangles his fingers with hers.
"I'll be sure to comp you some house seats when I make my Broadway debut," Greg jokes.
They all dissolve into raucous laughter, and Kate revels in the easy joy. She hasn't felt like a part of something in forever, and it feels incredible to cut loose with new friends and just be herself; a carefree girl in love.
Once they settle into a quiet and comfortable calm, Amy pointedly clears her throat and nudges Greg, whispering, "Just ask," in an urgent tone.
Greg clears his throat. "Right, uh…"
"Something you want to share with the class?" Castle prompts.
Greg chuckles nervously and scrapes a hand over his jaw. "Yeah, so - here's the thing… Ames and I may or may not be in possession of some illicit substances and we may or may not want to take said substance, but before we do, we were wondering if you guys could sort of maybe keep an eye on us while under the influence of said substance, so we don't do anything stupid to hurt ourselves and—"
Amy rolls her eyes.
"What he means to say is we have drugs and we want to take them, but we need drug trip buddies, just to be safe. And we're hoping you could be on sober-watch. In exchange—we'll be on sober-watch if you want to trip later on. Quid pro quo, you know?"
"Yeah - that," Greg says, smiling awkwardly.
"And you can totally say no. We just thought you guys might be interested," his wife tacks on.
Castle shares a quick querying glance with Kate and she shrugs. She's no stranger to a good time. Neither is he.
"What kind of illicit substance are we talkin'?" Kate asks.
The honeymooners' faces wash with relief and they readily launch into a story of how they procured their acid tablets from a trusted source.
"And we were thinking of taking it after we get back from the dance," Amy says. "The trip should last all night, but we'll only really need you for when we want to roam outside under the stars."
"Alright - but if Kate and I are leaving in the morning, how are we supposed to do a trade-off?" Castle questions.
"Oh, we figured since we're traveling in the same direction on the Route, we could decide on a place to meet-up in a couple days and you guys could take your turn then," the blonde provides.
"Yeah, we actually heard there's a Pearl Jam concert in St. Louis later this week. Maybe we could all go together?" Greg proposes.
"Shut the front door!" Kate exclaims.
Castle smiles at her with affection. "Pearl Jam just so happens to be one of her favorite bands."
"So you're in?" Amy asks with an eager gleam in her eye.
Kate and Castle exchange a conspiratorial look and immediately chime in sync,
"We're in."
The Round Barn was built by a local farmer, William Harrison Odor, in 1898. At the time, round barns were thought to be more wind resistant and "cyclone-proof." However, with the boom of the Industrial Revolution and introduction of modern rectangular piping systems in the new century, their unique circle shape soon fell out of fashion.
In the early 1900s, a railroad was built south of Odor's farmland, so he and a couple other locals organized a town site company and named it Arcadia. And by 1926, the main dirt road that ran through Arcadia was paved over and designated a part of the new national highway system—Route 66.
But with the decline of the Route in the 70s, came the decline and decay of the Round Barn and one day in the 80s, it collapsed in on itself like a soufflé. That's when Luke Robinson, a retired builder and carpenter, decided to form The Arcadia Historical and Preservation Society with his wife and inspired other retirees to help restore the landmark, a group that jokingly called themselves the Over-the-Hill Gang. They eventually received a national award for their efforts in 1993 for outstanding craftsmanship and preservation.
"And today, it stands as a popular tourist attraction and event hall for live music and dancing," Castle reads from the placard.
"What a riveting summary," Kate deadpans.
Her boyfriend whispers loudly to their friends, "I think all the pink is making her cranky."
As Greg and Amy chuckle, she cracks a small smile. The Round Barn is a beautiful wide open space—the floor, walls, and ceiling all made of different grains of rich wood, the arched ceiling reminding her of an observatory dome. And it's been decorated for the dance with red and pink crepe flowers and streamers everywhere, a banner declaring the theme as "Summer of Love."
(All that's missing is a flying cupid.)
"Does the plaque say anything about the storied past of sock hops?" Amy gives Kate a playful nudge. "Maybe that'll put her in the dancing spirit."
"It doesn't mention anything here, but I do happen to know a thing or two about sock hops," the writer declares. Off their skeptical looks, he adds, "My mother made sure I learned the history of each dance era before I learned the actual dance style. Respecting the craft, you know?"
Despite their soft snickers, he goes on to explain how sock hops were informal dance parties that originated in the 1940s as fundraisers for war relief efforts and became popular with American teenagers in the 1950s and 60s. They were often held at high schools in cafeterias or gyms and featured music from vinyl records or live bands. The term "sock hop" comes from the fact that dancers were expected to remove their shoes to protect the varnished floors from scuff marks.
"But everyone has their shoes on here," Greg notes.
They all stare at Castle, expectant.
He shrugs, unperturbed.
"It's more a ceremonial title these days."
"Okay, I got the skinny," Amy announces. They huddle close. "The team to beat is Mr. and Mrs. Miller. A young couple in their 30s. Reigning champs for the past decade."
"A ten year winning streak?" Castle squeaks.
"And who better to topple it than our very own John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, huh?" Amy counters.
"Okay, woah—" Kate puts up a hand. "Isn't this just for fun?" (She's a competitive person, but she hasn't danced at this level in a long time… and these people look serious; like they've been practicing for months. All year even.)
"Please," Amy scoffs, "You've got this. You two are like freaking superhumans."
"Her superhero name is Kickass," the writer reveals. (She's going to kill him—actually wring his neck.)
"Sounds like a winner to me," Greg grins.
She rolls her eyes, but her mouth twists with a stupid smile.
God-fucking-damnit…why does everyone have to be so infuriatingly supportive?
She yanks at her boyfriend's collar, "C'mon, Wiseass," and drags him to the dance floor; into the melee. "Let's get this shindig over with."
"Oh, those Millers are going down," Kate says, pounding a fist into her palm.
"They may look sweet-faced and innocent. But evil lurks behind those eyes. A dark and nefarious evil," Castle narrates dramatically. Then in a lowered whisper to the McClintocks, "They totally tripped us during the Jitterbug."
"You're kidding," Amy and Greg say together.
Velma suddenly pops into their little circle on the sidelines. "Here's some water," she declares, offering up two paper cups.
"Oo," Castle cries, snatching one. He quickly glugs it down and crushes the cup with his fingers. "Thank you," he sighs with a dopey grin, sweat dripping down his brow. The group laughs lightly. Kate relinquishes the other water cup with a grateful nod and takes a long, refreshing sip. She feels like she's just left the wrestler's ring and now their coaches are hyping them up for the final round.
"Course dears," Velma smiles. "You two are really mopping the floor - it's quite a show."
Jack appears behind his wife. "The Millers are shaking in their boots. They haven't had proper challengers in years," he says, filled with glee.
"My Garden Club girls are rooting for you," Velma says.
Jack guffaws. "I think the whole town is rooting for you."
"So everyone hates the Millers?" Castle puts together.
"They let their hellion cows run loose. Trampled through our yard more than once," Velma explains.
"And they can't be bothered to fix their damn fence or corral them," Jack says bitterly.
She and her boyfriend share a look. Hellion cows, huh? Sounds like the culprits of their cow-tus interruptus the other night at the nearby campground.
Castle hikes an eyebrow up with a determined glint in his eye as he holds his hand out to her. "All or nothing?"
She grins, her heart beating fast as she wraps her fingers around his. "All or nothing."
There's a deafening roar when the final judge's score goes up and the crowd immediately surges around her and Rick in triumphant jubilation, pulling them toward a dais in the center of the barn, where the two of them are given flower crowns and a big, shiny golden trophy.
Her ankle's on fire and her legs are jello but she feels amazing, practically hysterical with joy, with all the adrenaline pumping through her. God, they'd been so in sync, moving as one, as if they'd been doing it forever and the whole world had fallen away. It was unlike anything she's ever experienced. When her boyfriend bends her down for a kiss, everyone erupts with loud cheers and wild applause as camera flashes go off.
It's like a fever dream.
And she's stupidly happy.
She kisses him back with gusto, grinning like a fool when there's another round of cheers and applause.
Their friends converge on them after, extracting them from their new flock of admirers.
"What did I tell you?" Amy cries, clapping her on the back.
She rolls her eyes, smiling, "Yeah, yeah."
"Freaking superhumans!" Amy bellows.
And then someone approaches them, asking, "Hey, are you Richard Castle? The writer?" and her boyfriend gets tied up in another flock of admirers.
She shakes her head with a laugh when he starts scribbling autographs and she motions that she's heading outside with Amy for a smoke.
She protects the tip of Amy's cigarette from the warm breeze as she lights it for her. Greg had gone to grab them some refreshments.
"Someone said they're staying over at Jack and Velma's," a voice says loudly.
Amy's brow quirks. Kate puts a finger to her lips. Must be someone around the bend.
"The Newports?" a quieter voice says. They strain to hear.
"Yeah, they run The Lotus right down the road. Such a shame what happened to their boy."
Kate and Amy share a frown.
"What do you mean?" the quiet speaker asks.
"Rex - their firstborn. He joined the Navy. Wanted to follow in his dad's footsteps - work in intelligence. Poor thing got lost at sea his first week."
She and Amy stare at each other in shock, eyes wide.
"The ship sunk?"
"Fell overboard or somethin'. Real tragic accident."
"When was this?"
"Gosh, 'bout twenty, twenty-five years ago, I believe?"
"Oh, hey. There you are," a new voice says.
Kate and Amy startle badly at Greg's interruption.
"Woah - you alright?" he placates.
"Someone there?" the loud voice around the bend says.
Amy and Kate instinctively flank Greg, each of them grabbing him by an elbow, and tow him along as they quickly make their getaway.
"What's going on? You got punch all over me!" Greg complains, once they reach the other curved side of the barn.
"Sorry, baby," Amy appeases. "We were eavesdropping."
"Not intentionally," Kate throws in.
"Well, a little bit," Amy counters. She puts a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Some people were talking about Jack and Vel. Saying something about them losing a son at sea a long time ago."
"God, that's terrible," her husband says.
"They're like the sweetest people ever." Amy pouts. "I mean, isn't that just the saddest thing you've ever heard?"
"What is?"
The three of them jolt harshly.
"What?" her boyfriend says when they all stare at him in blank surprise.
She's the first to snap out of it. "Nothing." She's not sure why she's lying. Maybe she doesn't want to put a damper on the evening, but— "It's nothing." She joins his side, curling her arm around his, and re-directs. "How were all your Southern Belles?"
He blushes. "You know they ain't got nothin' on you, Sugarpie," he says in an exaggerated Southern drawl.
She rolls her eyes but kisses him on the cheek.
"Ready to head back?" her boyfriend asks with a smile. "Jack and Velma said they're gonna stay a little longer, but suggested we make ourselves scarce unless we want the mob to descend."
"Yeah, sure. Sounds good." She gives Amy and Greg a look, as if to say keep it cool. "Sound good, guys?"
A stammering of Yup and Sounds great filter their way.
Her boyfriend's brow crinkles at her. "What happened to your crown?"
She reaches up and realizes the circle of daises must've fallen off when she and Amy bolted earlier. "Lost it."
"Well, we can't have that. Take mine." He places his crown atop her head before she can protest, threading her ponytail through and adjusting it just so. A wink and crooked grin of approval. "Perfect."
Yeah, she's anything but. A perfect girlfriend wouldn't hide things from him. It's just…she has this sinking feeling that this missing son of Jack and Velma might be his long-lost father, and well…it's not exactly the kind of news she just wants to spring on him. She needs a little time to form her thoughts - puzzle out what she wants to say and how she wants to say it. She could be totally off the mark anyway. What's the point in getting his hopes up when all she has is circumstantial evidence and pure conjecture?
Castle's gaze slides over to Greg. "Dude, what happened to your shirt?" (The spill of red punch on his white tee looks like blood splatter.) "Looks like you committed a crime," her boyfriend chuckles.
Greg opens his mouth to answer, but Amy interjects, casting Kate a side-eye as if to say, I've got your back. "Speaking of crime - I think it's time."
"For?" Castle prods.
Amy takes something from her jacket pocket and peels a square of absorbent paper from an empty pack of gum.
"Wonderland."
Castle drops a needle on a vinyl of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club. Soon the psychedelic sounds of Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds play out loud.
"Subtle," she deadpans.
He wiggles his eyebrows with a grin. "How long did they say it would take to hit?"
"Half an hour to an hour." She and Rick had taken up residence on the back porch after they'd all showered and changed into something more comfortable, while Amy and Greg are lying on their backs in the tall grass under the weeping willow, waiting for the LSD to take effect.
Her boyfriend pulls an item from the pocket of his sweatpants and hands her a compact disc of gold. "You should time it."
She frowns. "What is this?"
"Jack has a little counter of antiques he likes to sell. But he just gave me this pocket watch. Insisted I have it. Said it would really suit me. And it doubles as a compass."
She opens the disc and sure enough, there's a watch face in one half and a compass in the other.
"But I thought you should have it. Being our timekeeper and all."
"Why do you say that?" she laughs.
"Well, if I'm Alice, then you're the White Rabbit and you should have a pocket watch. And a compass. 'Cause you're like my true north - my navigator. So it works both ways." He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly shy and awkward.
"Rick," she chokes softly. He's so fucking sweet and God-fucking-damnit, she really loves him and now she feels even more horrible about keeping secrets. He approaches her and catches her by the waist.
"Look, this morning…when you said you didn't want to drag me down the rabbit hole…" He nudges some hair from the side of her face and plays with the chain of her necklace. "Well, I just want you to know I'm okay with chasing after things in the dark. I mean, why else do you think I named a character based on myself Chase Knight?"
She chuckles tearily. "You're an idiot."
He flashes her a lopsided grin. "'Sides, you know what's on the other side of the rabbit hole?"
She palms the wetness from her eyes with a shake of her head.
"Wonderland," he says in a dramatic whisper.
She huff-chokes a laugh and examines the pocket watch-compass further, tracing her fingers over the gilded surface and feeling an engraving on the back. She flips it over.
"R.U.N.?" she wonders aloud.
"Isn't that lucky? Really works out with the White Rabbit theme. Always running."
A chill runs down her spine. She's not sure what the U stands for, but her gut's saying the R and N are for Rex Newport. And Jack just gave it to him? There's no way that's a coincidence. But why wouldn't he or Velma say something…? If they themselves suspect Castle of being their grandson, why the hell wouldn't they tell him? Why just casually hand off a family heirloom without context?
The two elder folk had arrived back a couple minutes ago, all sugary sweet smiles, acting like nothing was amiss, saying they were turning in for the night but if she and Rick and the other kids needed anything to just ring the bell to the Emerald Room.
She sucks in a breath and looks up at her boyfriend. "Babe, there's something I need to tell you."
But a loud shriek cuts in and they turn to find Amy and Greg stripping down to their underwear, shouting about how nice and shiny the duck pond looks.
Oh, no.
She and Castle share a glance and a wry smile.
"Duty calls."
"See, there they are!" he cries out. "Our very own Yin and Yang."
She steals the binoculars from him and peers through the lenses and up at the sky where the Little Dipper and Big Dipper twinkle brightly.
After wrangling Greg and Amy from the pond and hosing off the algae and lotus flowers stuck to their skin, they'd sequestered the two in their room to enjoy the rest of their trip in relative safety (and fully-clothed). She and Rick are standing sentry on their balcony to make sure they don't do anything else stupid, while Greg pets the red flower-print wallpaper with strange affection and Amy repeatedly and inexplicably cocoons and un-cocoons herself with a knitted quilt, like a large bat folding and unfolding its wings.
"Just like us," her boyfriend says a little dreamily, circling her with his arms and swaying them back and forth. "Harmony and balance."
She lowers the binoculars with a chuckle. "You always have to editorialize, don't you?"
"The Little Dipper has the North Star, so that's you, obviously. And then well—"
"Don't even say it."
"What? I was gonna say I'm the Big Dipper because of my big…head."
She snorts. "Sure you were."
He hums, trailing kisses down the column of her neck as he murmurs, "The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself."
"Are you quoting Carl Sagan?"
"It's so sexy that you know that."
"I think most people know it, babe," she laughs with a self-deprecating huff.
"Well, it's one of my favorite quotes. Pretty much the reason I wanna name my kid Cosmo."
She turns in his embrace, her arms lacing around his neck as she teases, "Right after you name your firstborn son Merlin."
He groans and drops his head on her shoulder. "Oh my god, don't remind me."
"You could do other star-themed names like Aurora or Serena," she suggests. "'Cause if they're all a little eccentric, then it's kind of chic actually."
He lifts his head, his eyes alight. "Oo, like Apollo."
"Or Luna."
"Nice," he grins, tucking some hair behind her ear, his gaze smoldering.
"What?"
"Nothing," he shrugs. "It's just fun brainstorming ideas with you. Being an only child, I've always dreamed of having a big family one day, so it's good to be prepared with different options."
She stiffens slightly.
His brow furrows. "Kate, I didn't mean—"
"No, no. That's not. I'm not—"
She just remembered she hasn't told him her theory about Jack and Velma or Rex yet. Maybe his big family dreams can come true sooner than he thinks. Or is it more like a nightmare? Some sort of fucked up version of lost and found. (Found and lost?) God-fucking-damnit, how is she supposed to do this? It all feels so surreal, like she's the one on an acid trip. Her heart hammers uncontrollably as she licks her lips and searches for the right words.
"Look, there's something you should know."
Castle yanks the bell rope to the Emerald Room with a brash impatience.
She'd had to lash the balcony doors shut with a silk scarf and shove a chair under the door handle outside the main bedroom door to ensure Amy and Greg were properly locked in—a makeshift holding cell—before dashing after him.
"It could be a total coincidence," she says, trying to calm him. "And it's late. We should wait until morning."
He gives her a baleful look.
"Yeah," she sighs. The not-knowing would drive him crazy the whole night. "Okay."
The door finally eases open, accompanied by a mutter of something about old bones and then a soft gasp and she hears Velma say, "Well, I'll be—just the people we wanted to see."
She and Rick exchange looks of confusion just as Jack pops up behind his wife, backlit by the glow of the TV.
"Did you know you two are on national news?"
xxx
A/N: Thank you all for your extreme patience. (You have no choice but to wait, but thank you anyway.) I appreciate everyone who still expresses interest in this tale. (I treasure every review.) This is a monster of a story and since I haven't done something of this length and scope before, it overwhelms me quite a bit. I needed a break to get my bearings again and should be back to monthly-ish updates now!
Also, in one of those art-is-life moments, I viciously twisted my ankle while I was traveling last month in New York, and now I'm intimately acquainted with Beckett's pain. (I'm just very committed to character research and NOT a total klutz, obviously.) I was laid up for several days but still managed a visit to the loft because of course I did. Wouldn't miss it for the world, lol.
Arcadia loose ends will be tied up and our voyagers will be back on the road in the next chapter—The Prince & Princess of Route 66
(And for anyone taking notes, we'll be entering Week 2 of our adventures, which means things are about to get twice as crazy.)