Recluse: Chapter 4
DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
On Month Later, Friday Evening – July 4, 2014, 8:44 p.m. at Castle's Island Home in Connecticut
"C'mon, Rick, it's already dark. Let's get these babies in the air."
Detective Kate Beckett has surprised herself with the adolescent joy she is experiencing with something as simple as a firework display. Their own personal firework display at that. He smiles, standing next to her, as he reaches into the box, taking the last remnants of pyrotechnics they will be launching into the sky in just a few minutes.
It's the first thing he has really looked forward to in over a month. Dr. Peraza has been a tremendous help to her old college friend. She admittedly still has a long way to go.
Castle and Kate have been here, willingly isolated on their own personal island, for just over three weeks now. Early in June, he had worked through his long-time attorney, Arthur Forrester, to buy the small, developed island in Long Island Sound, just offshore from Guilford, Connecticut. The island is less than six acres, with a newly renovated, four-bedroom cottage with a small marina. And as he had promised Kate, purchasing the small hideaway turned out to be far less expensive than she ever realized.
They had made this a cash transaction, for just over half a million dollars, conducted entirely by his attorney with the previous owners. The island had been purchased by the firm, in the name of Forrester, to keep Castle's identity out of it. Subsequently, Forrester had transferred all documents into Castle's name with an affiliated title company.
Accessible only by watercraft, the tiny, heavily wooded hideaway has given Richard Castle exactly what he was looking for – isolation. The house – roughly four thousand square feet – sits pretty much in the middle of said island. During low tide, he can actually walk to shore – but it gives him the privacy he seeks. He had often joked with Beckett over the years that he always dreamed of having his own fortress of solitude.
"Yeah, Castle, but don't you think we are a good thousand or so miles south of where that is supposed to be," she had joked with him when the first showed her the island online. However, after watching him continually withdraw into his private hell, Kate Beckett was more than happy, more than anxious to get him – them – away from prying eyes and harsh tongues.
Their departure occurred just in time – as the 'restless natives' as Gina Cowell had described them, had begun to resort to physical tactics. Two days after Gina's departure, Castle had awakened to rotten eggs hurled throughout his front porch area. Less than a week later, Castle and his almost-bride found themselves walking through the doors of their first home purchase together. That their first home purchase also necessitated the purchase of a boat – a thirty-five foot Sea-Ray craft – was a bonus for the writer and his muse.
The Sea-Ray also proved to be useful as a sleeping quarters during that first week. While the quiet beauty of the small, personal getaway had stunned Kate into silence during their initial days there, the lack of furniture – except for kitchen appliances could have proven to be problematic, had they not had the small craft on the water to sleep on. And as they have learned to do with everything else, the couple turned that scenario into yet another great memory.
From the home, sitting on empty floors, their voices echoing throughout the house, they had gone online to order furniture – which arrived just over a week later. The fact that the two of them picked out a home – okay, an island – moved into that home, picked out furniture – but have still yet to even discuss their delayed nuptials still sticks in the back of her mind, an ever-growing itch left unscratched.
"In due time," she continues to tell herself, knowing that he is getting better. Sam has helped with this also – at least regarding Kate's perspective.
Dr. Samantha Peraza is an old college friend of Castle's. Kate had previously ruled out Dr. Burke as an option – not wanting anyone from New York – who could potentially be followed – to come out here. Peraza came up when Kate had subsequently gotten the name of the psychiatrist from Alexis, of all people. Alexis had mentioned to her that there was a Sam Peraza that had visited her father on a few occasions years ago, before she moved to Northern California, taking her practice there. Alexis had fond memories of the doctor, remembering the woman because she would engage in a quick fencing bout with her father whenever she came – and at her last visit, had actually engaged in a duel with Alexis, who was at that time beginning to learn the art as well.
They have taken the chance that Castle's college years will be safe from searching eyes – and Dr. Peraza has been very decisive up to this point.
The first thing Dr. Peraza had done, upon her arrival just a couple of days after Castle and Kate arrived themselves, was have the beautiful forest of trees surrounding the home cleared out, opening a view of the water surrounding them.
Having been briefed on Castle's 'coastal adventure' of the past few weeks, Dr. Peraza had shown an immediate reaction to their new dwellings.
"He is acting out his capture here, Kate," Dr. Peraza had warned. "Often, traumatized victims expose themselves – almost compulsively – to situations that are reminiscent of the original event that caused their trauma in the first place. When this happens, it is rare that the victim – in this case – Richard – even understand how this could be similar to – or related to – his previous island incarceration. But he has replicated the scene amazingly – he's on an island, he's surrounded by wooded trees, there is no furniture in here, Kate – not one piece!"
"My God, I didn't even realize," Kate had replied, while an equally stunned Castle had concurred with a nod of his head.
"The only thing missing is the fence and the lions," Samantha Peraza had continued. "We just have to make sure that this new home for the two of you becomes his reality – not a recreation of what he has just come through. It's called repetition compulsion, and seventy years after its discovery, we still know so little about it – even though it is a regular topic discussion in current clinical literature.
"Do we know why it happens? Why I would do this – want to go back to such . . . to such a miserable experience?" an exasperated Castle had asked.
"No, we don't," Dr. Peraza had replied. "Freud originally postulated that the victims' goal for repetition was to master the situation that had overtaken them. Clinical experience, however, has shown that this rarely, rarely happens. Instead, the repetition usually causes further suffering for the victims . . . or worse, for people in their surroundings."
That had been enough for Castle. Two days later, the bulldozers showed up, clearing out most of the trees. They still left a good number standing, but only in spots here and there, so that there was an open view from all angles, from all positions, to the waters and the distant shoreline. And in the past weeks now, Kate has seen progress – wonderful progress – in her lover. But he is still so far out of the woods.
The good doctor visits once a week each Saturday and Saturday. Kate – through Castle's bank account – has arranged payments in advance for charter airline tickets. It's not cheap, as a commercial flight would get the doctor to the east coast by maybe four o'clock. From there, she's still have to either charter a flight, catch a train and a cab – something or another to get her to Guilford. Turns out that paying for the charter is the most direct and expedient approach – especially since they have the money.
As Castle is want to do, he turns each late Saturday afternoon pickup back on shore into a pirate adventure, as Castle and his first mate, the lovely Beckett, swoop into the small harbor town to rescue a damsel in distress.
His daydreams – which have been waking nightmares themselves – have gotten better. She still catches him drifting away, but it is less frequent now, and he is more easily pulled back. The nighttime nightmares, however, persist, assaulting his slumber each and every night. He wakes up in a sweat, eyes wide, often staring at his hands. It breaks her heart seeing him like this, and it also frightens her. She remembers this – she knows this first-hand. She is just a couple of years removed from the night terrors herself, from her shooting those years ago.
Dr. Peraza has warned them, continuously, that his progress toward true good health will be measured in months – and possibly years – but certainly not in weeks.
"This isn't a quick fix," she has told them. "I'm sorry, I wish it were. But there is no easy solution."
She has told them, however, that getting him into a routine that is familiar to his life before the traumatic events of Tangier Island is the short-term goal. Part of that is impossible, of course, because she is still on forced leave. So there are no cases to crack. She is also considering leaving the force on a more permanent basis, considering new options for law enforcement – but she has yet to share these with Castle just yet – at the good doctor's request.
"He's not ready for that much change just yet, Kate," Samantha has warned her. "But there are other things Richard does, you know."
Yeah, other things. No cases, no Esposito, no Ryan. Alexis comes to visit when she can, and his mother, Martha is . . . well, Martha is Martha.
So that leaves his writing – and despite her hopes, he has no words.
Nothing comes when he sits at the laptop. His mind remains a blank, the only interruptions are the terror they are trying to put behind him. Putting him upstairs doesn't matter. Putting him outside doesn't matter. They've tried him sitting on the boat. Today, they even tried taking the boat out to the open waters. It had sounded like a good idea, change the scenery, let the ocean winds blow against his face. Perhaps inspiration would come. And truth be told, Kate did enjoy being Captain Beckett for a day, at the helm of the small, mobile craft. That is, until she had noticed that he had stripped down to his underwear, and put the laptop away. For half an hour, he simply laid on the deck. To a casual observer, he appeared to be innocently sunning himself. It is in the nineties, a hot day, and they were out on the ocean after all.
But then it hit her – and Dr. Peraza's words had sledgehammered her.
'Repetition compulsion' the doctor had called it. An unconscious urge to recreate the traumatic event. Suddenly, Kate didn't see Castle sunning himself on a luxury speed craft on a lazy summer day. No, he was back escaping the island – stripped naked (almost) – in a small dinghy, a gunshot wound in his shoulder, the hot sun beating down on him, blistering his skin.
She had rushed to cover him, and bring him to the bridge with her as she had turned the boat back towards the shore, back to their island. Both had been fairly quiet, as he also recognized – after the fact – what he had done.
So – that has been their day today. She's anxious to get Samantha's feedback on their nautical excursion today, and Castle's perceived setback. But that's for tomorrow. Tonight? A calm night of launching and watching fireworks – something new and decidedly 'them', seems to be a good idea.
He reaches down, the long portable lighter inflamed, and sets off the first set – simple roman candles to get the party started. For the next fifteen or twenty minutes, they are young kids again – laughing, clapping gleefully, launching and quickly stepping back for distance as they watch the colorful aerial display above their heads.
Kate smiles, realizing that the loud explosions are having no ill effect on the man she loves.
"Baby steps," she thinks to herself, enjoying the show – enjoying him. When it is over, they stand, holding hands, still gazing upward.
"I can think of a better view of the sky," she tells him, and can only shake her head at his confused look. There was a time – oh not so long ago – when those simple words uttered along with a batting eyelash would have sent him over the edge. Tonight?
Well, tonight, she may have to keep him a little push, a little nudge, that's all.
She walks over to the blanket they had thrown down an hour earlier, and slowly unbuttons her blouse, letting the item fall to the grass below. Seconds later her bra follows. By then, his brain has finally rebooted and recognized the opportunity – a minute later they lay on the ground, naked, locked in motion.
The night stars have never looked so beautiful to her.
