I've been taking a hiatus from writing – mostly for the holidays and family. I have not given up on The Underground, but it's a hard story to write. I want to say things without making the story subservient to the politics – the story would not exist without the politics and my view of the politics remains the same, but I have to make it a story and not a manifesto.

In the meantime, here's some fluff – Richard Castle meets Dr. Strange?

Castle gripped the edges of his desk, knuckles white with the effort, and willed it not to happen again. He needn't have bothered. Again, lights flickered and streamed; again, his stomach seemed to drop into another dimension; again, he found himself somewhere, sometime else. This time he was in a bedroom. He knew it was his bedroom even though he didn't remember seeing it before. Kate wasn't there. Maybe, he thought, there is no Kate here. Or maybe I haven't met her. Why can't I see? There was a fleeting vision of a red-haired girl, not Kate, who elicited feelings of affection and protectiveness, then it vanished and the bedroom vanished with it. Now he was in a large space, like a warehouse, with a grated floor. He was gasping for breath that wouldn't come, holding an unfamiliar machine part. He knew he had to put the part somewhere or he would never breath again. Then again, he was in a place that smelled of rank blood and seeing a crazy girl with an angelic face. She was holding a curved blade that was dripping with gore and standing in the middle of carnage. Ethan Slaughter was there only his name was something else and he was looking at the girl with something akin to terror and adoration. Then time/space/mind whirled again and he found himself sprawled on a floor of cold tile in a gothic space. The walls seemed to be made of fractured light. He looked up into the ice blue eyes of a man who was looking at him without favor.

He tried to sit up, but the man made a stylized motion with his right hand ending with the palm facing Castle. Castle found himself unable to move. He tried to speak, but couldn't.

The man continued to look at him.

Castle looked back. The man was tall and had a spare-frame. His face was ascetic – cheekbones high and chiseled, mouth well-formed and framed by a sharply sculpted goatee. He was not so much handsome as he was compelling. Castle could see women, and not a few men, subsuming themselves into this man's will. He didn't think this man would allow it, however.

The two finished analyzing each other at about the same time.

"You're a writer, at least in this particular dimension. In others, you are other things. None of them matter right now. What matters is – how you did that."

Castle found he could speak. "How I did what?"

"You don't know? Yes, I see that you don't." He held a hand out. Castle took it and felt himself being lifted to his feet. "I also note that you have no control over it. Nonetheless, you did it."

Castle looked bewildered. It seemed the best response.

"You have managed to transport yourself, physically, into every space/time/dimension in which you exist, will exist, or have existed. Places/times/universes where you have been a soldier, a writer, a smuggler, a spaceship captain, a rebel, a television weatherman, a playboy, a never-do-well living on his mother's bounty, a husband, a father, wealthy, impoverished – many things, all you." He paused. "Don't worry, I stopped it for now. As long as you are in this space, it won't happen. Leave this protection before you learn to control it," he indicated the walls of light, "and it will continue to happen until you die or go insane."

"Are you sure I'm not already insane?"

"You may well be; however, this is not a manifestation of insanity."

Castle looked around the space, observing that there was no furniture, at least nothing that could be called comfortable – there were things that looked like they might be furniture or torture devices – but there was no comfort to be seen.

"You know who I am. Who are you? And how long are you going to keep me here? Who's…."

The man cut him off. "I'll tell you my name, though you'll be no closer to knowing who I am when I do. I won't keep you here long, only long enough to notify an associate who will come for you and who will, in answer to the unspoken question, be your teacher. My name is Strange. Dr. Steven Strange."

He moved a hand. The walls of light contracted until they encapsulated only Castle. "You can both see, though not clearly, and hear me and others. You will even be able to move with some ease. This is done not only for your protection, but for the protection of those near you. You not only move yourself through space/time, you are strong enough to move others. I was able to get to the few you did effect in time to undo the damage. I should not like to do that again."

He made some motions, describing a circle in the air, and a ring of sparks and fire appeared. There seemed to be another, different, room on the other side. A large Asian man stepped through.

"Wong."

The Asian man, apparently called Wong, nodded a greeting. He looked at Castle appraisingly. "This is the one?' There was a pause and further appraisal. Castle could feel the disdain rolling off the man in waves. "This? Really?"

"Wong, you didn't think much better of me when we first met. Be fair, give him a chance, though," He regarded Castle again, "you may be right. Besides, you don't have to turn him into a sorcerer, you just have to teach him to control his 'gift'".

"You were merely an arrogant, self-involved, stubborn, self-deluded, hyper-focused, self-important" he paused, looking for a word, "douche. This one is an arrogant, self-involved, stubborn, self-deluded, flighty, scattered, impertinent – douche."

"Nonetheless, he must be taught … or killed. Otherwise, he poses a danger, not just to us, but to the multiverse. And I have too much to do without having to chase him around cleaning up the messes." He gazed benignly at Wont, "Unless you want to do it?"

Wong shuddered. "Very well, I'll teach him whatever he is able to learn. Though I have my doubts."

Castle, tired of being discussed without being in the discussion, spoke, "Do I have anything to say about this?"

They turned to him, as one, "No."

"So, I have nothing to say about my own life."

"At this point, no. The needs of the many outweigh the wants of the one. When you have learned enough to make an intelligent decision, you may, then, make a decision."

Castle suddenly found himself in the space on the other side of the fire-circle, alone, with Wong. He was very tired, very scared, and still contained in the light-walls.

Wong signaled him to follow and led him to a sparsely-furnished, though comfortable, suite of rooms – what looked to be a bathroom, a tiny study, and a small, functional, bedroom. "This will be your quarters for the foreseeable future." He expanded the light to fit the suite. "Unless you have a suitable escort, you will stay in here – for your own protection and ours." With that, he left.