[Castle] "Off the Printed Page... " (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for comment_fic's Castle, Castle/+Beckett, Nikki Heat comes out of one of the novels to meet her metaphysical parents.
The call had reported a body jammed behind a bookcase hiding a false wall in a penthouse apartment. "Criminals are going Agatha Christie," Castle said, as he and Beckett mounted the steps to the upscale apartment building.
"The cleaning woman sounded like she might have had a British accent," Beckett noted, buzzing the intercom for the penthouse. "NYPD, this is Detective Beckett. Could you let us in?"
The link rustled, and an older woman's voice with a slight Cockney accent replied. "Oh, hello, Detective. I'm sorry, but there's already a young lady from your constabulary up here. Says 'er name is a Miss Nikki Heat."
Castle stared at Beckett, amazed and amused. Beckett stared at Castle, concerned, then turned back to the intercom. "We're her back-up."
"Oh, she seems very capable, but if she needs assistance, who am I to interfere," the maid's voice replied.
The door buzzed, unlocking, and Beckett opened it, striding through.
"Beckett, you know what this means?" Castle said, trailing her.
"It means we've got someone impersonating a cop, and that's the last thing we need right now," Beckett said, taking the stairs two steps at a time, Castle scurrying to catch up to her.
"That's the obvious meaning, but let's think outside the police box for a minute," Castle said, finally matching Beckett's strides. "Someone once said that if there's an infinite number of universes, than there might be a universe out there, where there is no Kate Beckett, but there is a Nikki Heat."
Beckett darted a "Bzuh?" look at him. "Are you serious? So how did she get here? Stepped through a Stargate?"
"Well, that's one way," Castle said, completely in earnest. "But I was thinking of something more scientific."
"You're talking about a fictional character," Beckett pointed out, not even looking back at him. "I'm talking about a real intruder on my crime scene."
"How do we know there isn't a real Nikki Heat somewhere in the multi-verse?" Castle said, undaunted. "I just hope I portrayed her to the real one's liking."
"Or if this is a delusional person, that they don't act out when you show up," Beckett said.
They reached the door of the penthouse, where a maid in her sixties, clad in an old-fashioned maid's black dress and starched apron, let them in.
"Miss Heat, your back up is here," she said, leading Castle and Beckett into the library. A tall, leggy brunette, clad in a smart cream colored blouse over brown dress slacks, with a long grey silk jacket rose from kneeling over the body crumpled on the floor.
She smiled at them, a slightly nervous smile, but pleased to see them. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad," she said.
Beckett just stared. Castle looked as delighted as a middle school-aged girl about to meet Justin Bieber. "Oh, this is even better than a visitor from another universe," he cried. "Out of the book and into the world! I've had readers say my characters are like real people, but this is even better! Come 'ere, kid." And he held out his open arms like any proud father reunited with a long lost child.
"This... is weird," Beckett said. "This has to be some kind of fan gone too far."
"Oh, no, she isn't: check out that jacket; it's an Oleg Cassini. I've never put Nikki in that yet,"
"Operating word being 'yet'," the strange interloper said, darting a glare at Castle.
"Please tell me you haven't written up an inventory of everything in your characters' closets, Castle," Beckett asked, tiredly. This was all too much to take in.
"Helps a lot when you're creating a character: did you know that I rarely put a third of the back story for my characters into the finished book?" Castle gushed.
"Yeah, and that closet inventory thing gets creepy," "Nikki" said, still giving Castle an affectionate glare.
The call had reported a body jammed behind a bookcase hiding a false wall in a penthouse apartment. "Criminals are going Agatha Christie," Castle said, as he and Beckett mounted the steps to the upscale apartment building.
"The cleaning woman sounded like she might have had a British accent," Beckett noted, buzzing the intercom for the penthouse. "NYPD, this is Detective Beckett. Could you let us in?"
The link rustled, and an older woman's voice with a slight Cockney accent replied. "Oh, hello, Detective. I'm sorry, but there's already a young lady from your constabulary up here. Says 'er name is a Miss Nikki Heat."
Castle stared at Beckett, amazed and amused. Beckett stared at Castle, concerned, then turned back to the intercom. "We're her back-up."
"Oh, she seems very capable, but if she needs assistance, who am I to interfere," the maid's voice replied.
The door buzzed, unlocking, and Beckett opened it, striding through.
"Beckett, you know what this means?" Castle said, trailing her.
"It means we've got someone impersonating a cop, and that's the last thing we need right now," Beckett said, taking the stairs two steps at a time, Castle scurrying to catch up to her.
"That's the obvious meaning, but let's think outside the police box for a minute," Castle said, finally matching Beckett's strides. "Someone once said that if there's an infinite number of universes, than there might be a universe out there, where there is no Kate Beckett, but there is a Nikki Heat."
Beckett darted a "Bzuh?" look at him. "Are you serious? So how did she get here? Stepped through a Stargate?"
"Well, that's one way," Castle said, completely in earnest. "But I was thinking of something more scientific."
"You're talking about a fictional character," Beckett pointed out, not even looking back at him. "I'm talking about a real intruder on my crime scene."
"How do we know there isn't a real Nikki Heat somewhere in the multi-verse?" Castle said, undaunted. "I just hope I portrayed her to the real one's liking."
"Or if this is a delusional person, that they don't act out when you show up," Beckett said.
They reached the door of the penthouse, where a maid in her sixties, clad in an old-fashioned maid's black dress and starched apron, let them in.
"Miss Heat, your back up is here," she said, leading Castle and Beckett into the library. A tall, leggy brunette, clad in a smart cream colored blouse over brown dress slacks, with a long grey silk jacket rose from kneeling over the body crumpled on the floor.
She smiled at them, a slightly nervous smile, but pleased to see them. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad," she said.
Beckett just stared. Castle looked as delighted as a middle school-aged girl about to meet Justin Bieber. "Oh, this is even better than a visitor from another universe," he cried. "Out of the book and into the world! I've had readers say my characters are like real people, but this is even better! Come 'ere, kid." And he held out his open arms like any proud father reunited with a long lost child.
"This... is weird," Beckett said. "This has to be some kind of fan gone too far."
"Oh, no, she isn't: check out that jacket; it's an Oleg Cassini. I've never put Nikki in that yet,"
"Operating word being 'yet'," the strange interloper said, darting a glare at Castle.
"Please tell me you haven't written up an inventory of everything in your characters' closets, Castle," Beckett asked, tiredly. This was all too much to take in.
"Helps a lot when you're creating a character: did you know that I rarely put a third of the back story for my characters into the finished book?" Castle gushed.
"Yeah, and that closet inventory thing gets creepy," "Nikki" said, still giving Castle an affectionate glare.