Heat of the Sun
Basically, I was bored. That's my only excuse.
Special thanks to Caspian for proof reading, and catching several mistakes.
Disclaimer: owning nothing
"Has he said anything yet?" Beckett asked as Ryan and Esposito emerged from the interrogation. They shook their heads.
"Guy's a brick wall," Ryan said. "Hasn't said a word."
"I bet he escaped from the crazy house," said Esposito. "Who else do you find wandering the streets dressed like that, with a real sword?"
"Well, it is Manhattan in October," Beckett pointed out. Ryan and Esposito nodded, conceding her point.
"It's obvious, isn't it!" said Castle excitedly.
"Oh, here we go," sighed Becket, rolling her eyes.
"No, come on. Dressed as a Roman, not replying…" Castle waited for the others to pick up, but they just stared blankly at him. "He doesn't speak English! He's actually from Ancient Rome!"
Even Esposito groaned. "Seriously man? Time travel?"
"Come on, it's a possibility," whined Castle.
"Well, even if it is, Castle, he's still under arrest for attempted murder."
"Yeah, with a sword!"
"If you're just gonna waste our time, why don't you just-"
"Hello there!" said a bright voice from behind them. All four whirled to see a dapperly dressed young man wearing a tweed jacket, suspenders, and a bowtie. "I'd like to speak to that man in there, please." He pointed to the door to the interrogation room.
"I don't think so, buddy."
"Ah, yes, well my name is John Smith and I work for the FBI, and I need to see him."
"We're gonna need some ID to back that up."
"Of course." John Smith held out a black leather wallet which contained valid FBI identification.
"Fine," said Beckett grudgingly.
"Thank you!" the man smiled brightly and walked into the interrogation room, and Castle, Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito into the viewing room.
"Rory the Roman," said John Smith. His back was to the detectives, but they saw the Roman's face, showing expression for the first time. He raised his eyes to Smith. He looked nervous, maybe scared.
Smith sat down. "Rory, what are you doing here?" Smith's voice was sad. It also now had a British accent.
Rory the Roman held up his cuffed hands.
"I mean New York," said Smith. "The Pandorica's still in San Diego."
Rory the Roman straightened, alarmed. "What! No, we were in Cardiff, at the National Museum!"
After a short silence, Smith asked, "What year was it?"
"1890," said the Roman. Castle and Beckett exchanged bewildered looks.
"Okay, Rory, you need to tell me exactly what happened."
The Roman took a deep breath. "We were in the museum, and it was burning. I'd just gotten the Pandorica outside and then suddenly I was here. And Amy was-" his voice cracked. "Amy was gone. Where is she, Doctor?"
"She's safe," said Smith. "I promise you. But this is 2007."
Rory looked around the interrogation room.
"What the hell are they talking about?" Castle whispered.
"I thought it looked different. But how did I get here?"
"You were in Cardiff, you say?"
"Well, it's obvious then. There's a rift in time and space just there, you probably fell through."
"Then Amy's alright? She's still there?"
"Yeah. Come on, let's get you back."
Smith stood up, and the Roman stood as well. Castle and Beckett hurried out of the viewing room to apprehend them.
"Hold on just a second," said Beckett, raising her hand.
"Detective," said Smith, or the Doctor or whoever he was, grasping the Roman's arm, his American accent back in place. "I find this man heinously guilty of crimes far too numerous to mention, and I will be escorting him to my police box and arresting him. Come along, you menace."
He turned and nearly bumped into Esposito and Ryan, who were blocking his path.
"Nice try, bro," said Esposito, folding his arms. "We heard everything you said in there. You're not FBI."
"Ah, yes," said Smith nervously. "Well, you see this man here is very delusional, escaped mental patient, you know. I had to play along. But now I shall be returning him to his time period-er-hospital."
"I don't think so." Beckett removed a pair of handcuffs from her belt.
"Ah, so now you're arresting me as well."
Faster than Beckett's eyes could follow, Smith reached into his pocket and whipped out a strange silver device. There was a humming noise, and a second later, the station was plunged into total darkness as all the lights sparked and died.
Over the shouts of alarm, Castle heard Smith's distinct voice order, "This way!" He opened his eyes as wide as they would go, trying desperately to see, and saw two silhouettes enter the stairwell. He gave chase, tripping over the feet of other cops.
Smith and Rory the Roman sprinted out into the alley behind the station. Damn they were fast. Castle followed them, watching as they both jumped behind a dumpster.
No one was there. Castle spun a wild 360. There was nowhere they could have gone. But they had just vanished.
The air in front of Castle rippled, and suddenly Smith appeared again, squinting at Castle with an appraising expression on his face. He pointed at Castle's chest. "You…you're Richard Castle." He was speaking once more with a British accent.
Castle nodded slowly.
"Haha!" Smith gave and delighted laugh and clapped his hands together. "I'm talking to Richard Castle!" He stepped forward and pumped Castle's hand vigorously. "It is very, very good to meet you."
"Um, okay," said Castle, taken completely aback.
"Rory," Smith called over his shoulder at the solid brick wall, "on the jump seat there's a copy of Heat of the Sun, could you grab it?"
"Doctor!" came the Roman's irritated voice, "Weren't we running from the police?"
"Rory, Richard Castle is standing right here in front of me, just get the book!"
There was a sigh, and an arm appeared out of thin air holding a hardcover book. Smith offered it to Castle. "I don't suppose I could trouble you for a signature." He shoved his arm into his pocket all the way up to the elbow, rummaged around for a second, during which Castle was quite sure he heard the meow of a cat and an incongruously loud thump, and pulled out a sharpie.
"Um…" Castle took the pen, completely flustered. On the cover of the book was a blue telephone box on a backdrop of stars and black space, and sitting suggestively on the top of the box was the familiar Nikki Heat outline. Across the top read the words RICHARD CASTLE.
"But…I didn't write this."
"Right, not yet." Smith turned and looked at the brick wall. He gasped. "No, of course! Excellent." He turned back to Castle. "I'm flattered! Will you please sign?"
Not knowing what else to do, Castle scribbled his signature inside the front cover and handed the book back to Smith.
"Thank you!" Smith spun back around and mimed opening a door and stepping through it. And vanished. Castle gaped at the spot where he had disappeared, and his jaw dropped even lower as the exact telephone box from the cover of the book appeared before his eyes. A low grinding wail started up, growing louder and louder, at the same time the box grew dimmer and dimmer, revealing the brick wall behind it, until it was completely gone.
As Castle walked back to the station, already a storyline was forming inside his head. Heat meets a strange man with a box. A box that can travel through time and space…hmmm. It just might work. Heat of the Stars. No, that was too close to John Carter of Mars. How about…Heat of the Sun.
All review appersheated, thanks for reading!