There's a lot of talk about "woman's intuition" and Castle likes to think that he writes it pretty well. But when it comes to his personal experiences with intuition (feminine or otherwise), he generally needs a boost from an outside party. Which is why, when his cell phone chirped through to his daughter's voicemail for the umpteenth time in fifteen minutes, Castle is flipping through the phone book app, trying to find a bloodhound breeder in the greater New York City area.
He finds collies and cocker spaniels, and he even speaks to a woman who's willing to give him a good price on an alpaca ("they have a wonderful sense of smell," she tells him, a key selling point) but no super sniffers. When in doubt? He bumps his elbow against the door to the police precinct -- only to find himself in the middle of Milliways instead.
"Oh, come on," he whines, stamping his foot, "now?"
Alexis is intimately familiar with that whine. Alexis is intimately familiar enough with that whine that she can be relatively (read: completely and with frightening accuracy) certain of the facial expression that is accompanying it.
It's more than enough to distract her from her - completely amazing and magically generated (Magically generated!) - coke float.
"Dad!"
There is running - there might be bouncing and repetition of his name - as she slides into place in front of him, still in uniform and, okay, still a bit shell-shocked, but grinning.
"Why didn't you tell me that Douglas Adams left a magical bar in our apartment?"
Castle's seen some pretty weird stuff in this bar. Alien bounty hunters, the evil dead, space rangers, republicans. The one person he hadn't expected to see was his own daughter. But here she was, screeching to a halt in front of him, her tennis shoes kicking up a cloud of imaginary dust.
"Alexis>" He looks around, to see if that alien bounty hunter (or that republican wing of Congress), was putting him on. "What are you doing here?"
To hell with the father lectures. Castle is glad to see her and he shows her by scooping her up into a tight hug, practically lifting her off of the floor. "I thought I'd lost you." He puts her down and smoothes his hand over her hair. "Either that, or I thought your mother had come to get you. 'Not sure which scenario would have been worse. One for my credit line, definitely."
There's something of a muffled 'omfh' somewhere against his shoulder, but she's more than happy to be Dad-hugged and wraps her arms around him right back.
"Being with Mom is kind of like being kidnapped - so it might qualify as being lost."
She tilts her head up, chin propped on his chest.
"Detective Beckett says that she doesn't think our coverage works across interdimensional lines," a thoughtful noise. "Which it kind of should, considering how much you probably paid for that thing."
"Detective Beckett? You've seen her here? How long have you been here, anyway? And what's the usual parental punishment for running into your own kid in a bar?"
He puts his hand on the small of her back and scoops her toward a small table in the corner. It has the dad luxury of being as far removed from the actual bar as one could possibly get in this room. He pulls out her chair for her.
"A few hours. She was working on something - a here case? Sort of? I don't exactly know how to classify cross-dimensional kidnapping."
Other than as cross-dimensional kidnapping, obviously.
"I think it would kind of depend," she continues, seriously considering the matter. We're going to be fair here - even if she wasn't intending on ending up in a bar. "I mean, is this considered a bar bar or a restaurant with a bar? Did you know it's sentient? The coke floats are great. And there's the whole not drinking anything alcoholic thing. I think I gain a few non-punishment points there."
Castle's attention shifts rapidly, like a rabbit on a run. He quickly forgets his obligation to the four pillars of fatherhood (Protect, Provide, Pester and -- there's a fourth, he just can't remember it) when he hears that she's got a Beckett-shaped secret.
"Kidnapping huh?" He wonders why Beckett hadn't mentioned it to him before. Maybe because he and Beckett were still on shaky ground with one another. Like, Paris and Nicole. Except grounded in reality. "Hey, let me get you something to eat. 'You eat today? They've got these burgers here, big as your backpack."
And it's not even holding out. Being in a magical bar at the end of the universe is a completely legitimate excuse for some slight delay in information relay, if not for lack of cell phone signal.
She accepts the offer of sustenance with an eager nod and her best 'Thank you, Daddy'-smile, before she props her elbows onto the tabletop and gets back to business. She's well-trained, after all.
"A little girl," she says, shifting a bit closer. "She was taken from here. Apparently the ransom is for access to the girl's world? Which, still getting used to the whole concept a little, but you sort of take for granted that the person you're looking for is on the same planet at home, yeah?"
Castle processes all this information, simultaneously trying to remember what his daughter likes on her burger. She had gone veggie a couple of years ago, then softened and gone on to Tofurkey. Eventually, the cause had worn her out and he'd been glad when he could order Thai take-out without worrying that he was stepping into an ethical dilemma. Two burgers appear, as heralded, and while they might not be as big as he claimed, they were certainly hearty. Castle feels accomplished at being able to provide for his offspring -- though, Bar helped a little.
He shakes the ketchup bottle and upends it over his fries. "So Beckett's got a suspect. You've got to wonder: what's the little girl got to do with this? She a kind of key or something? Like ah," he snaps his fingers, "like on Buffy. Remember? Maybe the suspect's got a particular interest in the little girl because she's hot particular abilities. Like staking or something."
His offspring is well pleased with his offering - and will certainly live to see another day, hale and hearty and filled with burger comprised completely of genuine dead animals. (And lettuce and stuff, but that's just details.)
"Yeah, there was a note," she confirms. "But, see, I'm wondering what the kidnapper wants in the girl's world. I mean, ours is pretty standard - I mean, I think it is? It's standard to us, anyway. If you're kidnapping someone for ransom, you generally want cash or something. Not to go home with them."
She takes a healthy bite of her burger, pausing while she chews.
"But here? Um, do you know what sort of places end up here?" her head tilts. "Because I'm pretty sure that I saw someone who was green before - and not in the seasick way. Though that lends some serious credibility to your Buffy theory."
'Rogue travelers" he says, holding a ketchup-coated finger aloft to further punctuate his point, "that's the kind of characters that end up here. People who sort of fall between the cracks. Usually they're able to climb back out again. If not --" he snags a french fry off of her plate "-- well, I don't want to think what a case of interdimensional cabin fever will do to a body. Probably not very good things."
He winces, looking put upon that she was shutting him out of a chance to steal vittles -- you could call this Frygate 2009, if you were feeling so dramatic -- but he behaved and chomped on his own cache.
"Like that kid and Professor Peabody," he says. "Ww just have to stick together. And find some way to get you back in time for first period."
"I have the hair for it," she concedes with a grin, and sneaks some fries over onto his plate, gaze ceilingward and completely innocent of her fingers' actions.
They're obviously feeling more generous than the rest of her.
"Though give it a week and I won't need to get back for first period."
He finds collies and cocker spaniels, and he even speaks to a woman who's willing to give him a good price on an alpaca ("they have a wonderful sense of smell," she tells him, a key selling point) but no super sniffers. When in doubt? He bumps his elbow against the door to the police precinct -- only to find himself in the middle of Milliways instead.
"Oh, come on," he whines, stamping his foot, "now?"
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It's more than enough to distract her from her - completely amazing and magically generated (Magically generated!) - coke float.
"Dad!"
There is running - there might be bouncing and repetition of his name - as she slides into place in front of him, still in uniform and, okay, still a bit shell-shocked, but grinning.
"Why didn't you tell me that Douglas Adams left a magical bar in our apartment?"
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"Alexis>" He looks around, to see if that alien bounty hunter (or that republican wing of Congress), was putting him on. "What are you doing here?"
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A beat.
"Or, you know, not coming home," her head tilts - back and forth - and her nose wrinkles up briefly. "Obviously."
Her hands wave in some semblance of reassurance.
"But the intention was totally coming home."
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"Being with Mom is kind of like being kidnapped - so it might qualify as being lost."
She tilts her head up, chin propped on his chest.
"Detective Beckett says that she doesn't think our coverage works across interdimensional lines," a thoughtful noise. "Which it kind of should, considering how much you probably paid for that thing."
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He puts his hand on the small of her back and scoops her toward a small table in the corner. It has the dad luxury of being as far removed from the actual bar as one could possibly get in this room. He pulls out her chair for her.
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Other than as cross-dimensional kidnapping, obviously.
"I think it would kind of depend," she continues, seriously considering the matter. We're going to be fair here - even if she wasn't intending on ending up in a bar. "I mean, is this considered a bar bar or a restaurant with a bar? Did you know it's sentient? The coke floats are great. And there's the whole not drinking anything alcoholic thing. I think I gain a few non-punishment points there."
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"Kidnapping huh?" He wonders why Beckett hadn't mentioned it to him before. Maybe because he and Beckett were still on shaky ground with one another. Like, Paris and Nicole. Except grounded in reality. "Hey, let me get you something to eat. 'You eat today? They've got these burgers here, big as your backpack."
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And it's not even holding out. Being in a magical bar at the end of the universe is a completely legitimate excuse for some slight delay in information relay, if not for lack of cell phone signal.
She accepts the offer of sustenance with an eager nod and her best 'Thank you, Daddy'-smile, before she props her elbows onto the tabletop and gets back to business. She's well-trained, after all.
"A little girl," she says, shifting a bit closer. "She was taken from here. Apparently the ransom is for access to the girl's world? Which, still getting used to the whole concept a little, but you sort of take for granted that the person you're looking for is on the same planet at home, yeah?"
The idea is a little overwhelming.
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He shakes the ketchup bottle and upends it over his fries. "So Beckett's got a suspect. You've got to wonder: what's the little girl got to do with this? She a kind of key or something? Like ah," he snaps his fingers, "like on Buffy. Remember? Maybe the suspect's got a particular interest in the little girl because she's hot particular abilities. Like staking or something."
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"Yeah, there was a note," she confirms. "But, see, I'm wondering what the kidnapper wants in the girl's world. I mean, ours is pretty standard - I mean, I think it is? It's standard to us, anyway. If you're kidnapping someone for ransom, you generally want cash or something. Not to go home with them."
She takes a healthy bite of her burger, pausing while she chews.
"But here? Um, do you know what sort of places end up here?" her head tilts. "Because I'm pretty sure that I saw someone who was green before - and not in the seasick way. Though that lends some serious credibility to your Buffy theory."
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The horror!
However would anyone be able to cope?
"So we're rogue travelers now?" she asks, passing him a napkin and deftly intercepting his next attempt at fry-snatching.
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"Like that kid and Professor Peabody," he says. "Ww just have to stick together. And find some way to get you back in time for first period."
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They're obviously feeling more generous than the rest of her.
"Though give it a week and I won't need to get back for first period."
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