Title: Between the Precinct and the Police Box Author: brodiew Character: Richard Castle, Tenth Doctor Genre: dramedy A/N: I wrote this many years ago, long after Tennant had been the Doctor and I was in the midst of my Castle era of ff writing. It's short and it's incomplete. Perfect for Evil Author Day! Between Precinct and Police Box Richard Caste had spent most, If not all, of his adult life in New York City. Therefore, he thought nothing of the British style, navy blue Police Box which appeared overnight down the block from The Old Haunt. His thoughts were occupied with the murder he and Beckett had just solved. It was a particularly emotional case which ended, as they sometimes did, with an awkward moment between them where three years of unspoken feelings charged the air, but, ultimately, dissipated under the weight of fearful indecision. The self pity was almost enough to rob him of the high of putting a killer behind bars. It was 6 am when he placed the key in the lock to enter the bar. Pressing his hand against the frame, he expected resistance, but the door gave way. He stepped back in surprise, his mind immediately leaping to a break in. He thought to call Beckett before going in, but decided to push the door open and see if the criminal mice scurried from view. There were no deer in head light looks of shock; no thugs trying to break open the antique cash register ; and most disappointing of all, there was no group of old celebrities reliving past glories in their favorite watering hole. However, there was a man sitting at the bar. He was undisturbed by the sudden opening of the front door and casually took another sip from his glass. “Hello,” Castle ventured, hoping to keep things light with the intruder. “Hallo,” the man replied, raising his drink in Castle’s direction. He appeared in his thirties with mussed, but striking brown hair. He was a wearing a trench coat over a blue pinstripe suit and strangely enough, Converse high tops. The old adage ‘the shoes make the man’ shot across the writer’s mind and he decided that the incongruity of the foot wear made the ensemble no less cool. “Nice shoes,” Castle added as he took a few tentative steps inside and closing the door. “They are comfortable,” the man said, amiably. “You wouldn’t think it from looking at them, but they’re a handy running shoe.” “Do a lot of that, do you?” Castle replied. “Running, I mean?” “In fact, I do,” the intruder said through a wide eyed grin. “It comes with the TARDIS.” “Territory. Did you mean ‘it comes with the territory’? Castle was close enough now to see that man had not only discovered a bottle of his 135 year old Scotch, but had broken the seal and was indulging himself quite readily. He also didn’t see a weapon on the bar, but that didn’t mean his guest didn’t have one. “No,” the man replied. “I meant TARDIS.” “Okay,” Castle placated, wondering if the man was drunk, crazy, or just talking above him. “So, what brings you The Old Haunt? And, if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?” “The best Scotch in the universe and The Doctor, respectively,” he replied, extending his hand. “You’re a doctor?” Castle asked with surprise. “Of what?” “Of Life, I suppose,” he lamented. “And death.” “Are you okay, Doctor...?” Castle asked. “Is something wrong?” The younger man smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “Nothing this Scotch can't smooth over? Fancy a splash?” “Sure,” Castle agreed. The seal was broken and there was no putting the Genie back in the bottle. “I'd like that.” “I gave this bottle to TR back in 1896,” the Doctor said, pulling a glass from behind bar and pouring liberally into it. “I think it stayed in the White House until Kennedy gave it Frank Sinatra and Sinatra gave it to Peter Lawford. Did you know he played Nick Charles in a Thin Man TV series? Didn't last long and the reasons were obvious. Lawford was no William Powell. Powell, swell chap that one. I almost made a film with him. He wanted to give me a supporting role in After the Thin Man. Sadly, it just wasn't in the cards. They gave the role to Jimmy Stewart. How about that? Castle didn't know what to say so he took a pull on his glass of scotch. “Stewart was a swell chap as well. A war hero to boot.” “So, I've heard,” Castle assented. “Did you just say you almost made a movie with William Powell?” “Indeed, I did. A solid regret that it never happened. Swell chap.” “Yes, you said so,” Castle reminded. The Doctor looked at him curiously before his eyes popped and a happy grin split his face. “So I did! Not many things slip this old noggin, but a few hits of the good stuff gum up me Galifreyan mind.” “I have have to admit, Doctor, you're not making much sense. What is Galifrey?” The Doctor waved his hand dismissively in Castle's face. “A more important question is what I'm doing here drinking your alcohol.” “I agree,” Castle said. “Why did you break into my bar and open my most valuable bottle?” “Broken hearts, my boy!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Whose broken hearts?” Castle asked.