699. Chapter 699

After The Lives of Others

Episode 5.19

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Anyone who says I own Castle is a fake. Rating: K Time: See above.

Neighborhood Heat

By

Richard Castle

"I'm off to the precinct, Rook. I hope you'll be okay here at home without me."

Rook smiled at his wife. "Of course I'll be okay. It's only a broken leg. When I was embedded with the First Cavalry Division in Iraq, I broke both of my legs and still managed to run twenty miles for help after an ambush and then ran back."

"And it was uphill both ways." Nikki added with a smile.

"Really steep, too."

She leaned over to kiss him. "I'll give you a call later to chat, okay? Love you."

"Okay. I love you."

Rook watched the love of his life leave, then got busy. He polished his article on the rise of the Islamic State and added a few simple, but brilliant, thoughts on how end the Syrian civil war. Then he went over his notes for his upcoming appearance before the Congressional Committee on the freedom of the press. He was sure he would win both parties to his way of thinking. By then it was lunch time, so Rook prepared a simple meal of a Philly cheese steak sandwich, potato salad, and chocolate chip cookies, all made from scratch.

However, Rook was bored. He was a man of action! Of course, a broken leg was a small price to pay for saving the lives of a family of eight, whom he'd carried to safety from the twentieth floor of their building. Perhaps if he hadn't also saved their cat and her five tiny kittens, their family dog, the pet turtle and all the fish in their six foot long aquarium, he might not have gotten the broken leg. But how could a man like Rook face a little girl and know that he could have saved her pet fish, but hadn't. Jameson Rook was not that kind of man.

"No, Jameson Rook is obviously Superman." Kate said, looking over her husband's shoulder.

"No, just a ruggedly handsome Everyman, doing good where ever he goes."

"Expanding his ego, you mean. Do you mind if I put a little reality into this?"

"Be my guest." Rick said handing her his laptop,

Neighborhood Heat

By

Kate Beckett

"Nikki, will you come home at lunchtime and make sure I'm okay?"

Nikki Heat smiled at her husband. "Sure, but it's only an ingrown toe nail, Rook. You'll be fine."

"But it hurts. And the doctor was mean to me."

"Rook, the lollipops are meant for the little kids, not adults. Besides, I bought you a whole box of lollipops. They're there on the kitchen counter." She kissed him goodbye." I'll be back soon."

Rook was bored. He tried watching Sesame Street, but the sophisticated humor was too deep for him. He finally settled on some old cartoons. He could never figure out how the coyote's ideas never seemed to work. He really identified with Wile E. Coyote and hated to see him lose. Rook looked all over New York for that roadrunner bird, but had never found him. When he did, he'd give that bird a piece of his mind.

At lunchtime Rook did see Nikki again. He had tried to make a mashed potato sandwich on white bread but somehow had set fire to the bread. The firemen were very nice to Rook and told him that the next time they came would be the one hundredth time and that they'd have a surprise for him.

Nikki made him a nice sandwich and Rook happily colored one of his new books. Then Nikki spoiled it all by mentioning that people didn't have purple faces. Rook held his breath until his face turned purple to prove her wrong.

"Really? You make Rook look like an idiot."

"I'm just trying to show you that making Rook superhuman is as silly as my making him a doofus. You can better than that."

Neighborhood Heat

By

Richard Castle

Jameson Rook took up a pair of binoculars and began looking at his neighbors across the way. He helped a pair of writers who had writers' block by telling them a few yoga tricks he'd picked up meditating with the Dalai Lama, Angela Merkel and Miley Cyrus. Upon learning that the maid across the way was indeed stealing for her sick child, Rook had the child sent to a specialist. And when the doctor hadn't been able to come up with a diagnosis, Rook had made a few suggestions and the child was on the road to recovery. Embarrassingly enough, his attempt at counseling a couple across the way who were having a fight about her infidelity had ended up with them having a three way in front of an open window and being arrested for public indecency.

Then Rook noticed something odd across the way. Three men were fashioning suicide vests and attaching them to a group of uniformed Girl Scouts. Rook could tell from the blank expressions on their faces that the girls were under some form of mind control. Rook jumped out, hopped across the way on one leg and knocked on their door.

Luckily, in his many travels. Rook had become fluent in all of the languages of the Middle East. He announced that he was selling cookies for the Islamic State. When the men opened the door, Rook pounced on them, using the martial arts he had learned at the Shao Lin temple, deep in Tibet.

"Castle, that's just silly. Selling cookies for the Islamic State? And one legged kung fu?"

"Nikki never gives Rook a chance to show how good he is."

"You write Nikki Heat. Whose fault is that, then?"

"Don't try to confuse me with your fiendish female logic."

"Then let me write some fiendish female logic."

Neighborhood Heat

By

Kate Beckett

Rook was bored. He was, after all, a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter who had traveled the world and had followed his wife, Captain Nikki Heat, into some of the most difficult and dangerous cases in the history of the NYPD.

He casually looked out his window. Everything seemed normal. The writers across the way were writing a new script. A maid was cleaning an apartment and doing a very good job of it. The blinds of the apartment of the young couple were drawn, but Rook could hear the unmistakable sound of sex.

Then Rook frowned and inhaled. He could smell bleach, potassium chloride, Vaseline, wax and white gasoline. He knew exactly what was being done. He reached for his phone to call Nikki.

"How did you figure it out, Rook?" Detective Ochoa asked as Nikki supervised the arrest and the work of the bomb squad.

"Bleach, potassium chloride, Vaseline, wax and white gas are all used to make home-made plastic explosives. As soon as I figure that out, I called Nikki."

"You did a good job, Rook." Detective Raley congratulated him. "Your neighbor is some kind of nut case who's been setting off bombs all over New York. He'll be in prison for the rest of his life."

Nikki came and joined her husband. "You did good, Rook. I'm proud of you."

"Hey, I did learn from the best, after all."

"That's not too bad, you know."

"Really?" She said with a smile. "Well, I learned from the best, after all."

"So did I."