CHAPTER THREE

CASTLE opened the door and proceeded to stare rather dumbly at the three uniformed figures standing in an at ease position outside of his loft entry. It took less than three seconds for the author to move his focus from the perfectly pressed uniforms to the envelope that the middle soldier was holding out to him in his gloved hands. Castle crossed his arms in refusal of the envelope. "I was told, no, I was promised, that I would not be called up again." He was calmly addressing both the Master Sergeant, the universe, and God at the same time with the single statement. There were no replies.

The Master Sergeant was flanked by two of the most massive M.P.s that Castle had ever seen and which he suspected had been assigned to New York City specifically to serve these orders on him. Actually, he was correct. The pair, who had never previously set foot on the East Coast, had been hand picked solely for this assignment, and they were selected on the basis they were physically stronger and taller than Castle himself. Apparently, the U.S. Army had learned from experience that calling up Castle could involve a naked romp through Central Park on a stolen police horse, and they weren't taking any more chances. Standing at 6'6" each, the pair far exceeded Castle's almost 6'2", with equally massive shoulders, overly defined chests, and generous biceps that necessitated custom-made shirts. Castle also noted that their side arms were at the ready should he offer any resistence. This time, the Pentagon had come prepared.

"Captain Castle, there was a change of plan." Castle the civilian knew that the Master Sergeant had been carefully briefed to give minimal comments. Castle the Captain had not yet been allowed to make an appearance by Castle the civilian, nor would Castle willingly give permission.

"No shit", Castle replied as he glared at the uniformed trio, happy that both his mother and daughter were out of town for an additional 24 hours on a school outing to tour colonial Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts with Alexis' class. They were not expected back home until Saturday afternoon. As such, the two females were spared the show of force that had appeared at Richard Castle's door.

The Master Sergeant sighed slightly and then seemed to remember that he was, at all times, supposed to be in charge of the situation. In actuality, when the orders for Castle's reactivation had come through, everyone assigned to the activation unit had cut a deck of cards: The Master Sergeant, obviously, had drawn the lowest card and lost.

Castle slowly shook his head, once to the left, and then once to the right. "This is not a good time for me." He was still unsure of what steps to take in so far as his nonexistent relationship with Detective Beckett was concerned. At least once an hour over the past three weeks Castle had screamed at himself for telling Detective Thomas Demming that Castle had no feelings nor claims on Kate Beckett, and that the field was clear if Demming was interested. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Castle had known no rest. Detective Demming had almost immediately begun integrating himself with Beckett on a more personal level, drawing her into friendly yet spirited conversations, and inviting her to use him as a sparing partner in their ever increasingly more physical encounters in the precinct gymnasium.

For his part, Castle just couldn't seem to break his habit of smart ass comments to the beautiful woman, and he had noted that, quite rightly, Beckett was choosing to spend less time with him and electing to spend more with Demming. And, as he realized that he was being silently pushed away by Beckett in favor of the detective previously assigned to the Robbery Division, his comments to Kate Beckett had become even sharper in tone.

What was worse, the entire squad was taking notice. Twice yesterday, Detective Esposito had given Castle warning glances that he needed to ease back on his criticism of Demming while Beckett was standing within hearing distance.

Unfortunately, Castle's mouth had a brain of its own, and once it started flapping, its owner was unable to bring it under control.

Yeah, clearly the score was now standing at: Demming – 2; Castle -0.

As the Master Sergeant cleared his throat, Castle returned to the reality of what was standing in his hallway. The central figure of the trio again extended the envelope. "Sir, you need to accept this," he stated, and slightly waved the envelope in an attempt to get Castle to take the paperwork that contained his orders.

Castle kept his arms folded across his chest. No other movement appeared to be forthcoming.

After an additional 30 seconds of this stand off, the Master Sergeant reached forward toward Castle with the envelope and tucked it between Castle's chest and his crossed arms. "Sorry, Captain. . ." He seemed to suddenly catch himself. "Sorry, Major. You've been promoted, Major Castle. Congratulations."

He looked at Castle's face. No change at all in Castle's stoic expression was evident. The blue eyes, usually so alive and sparkling, were icy and cold.

The Master Sergeant continued. "48 hours, Major. Let us know where you will be, and we will take to your transportation to Washington where you will be briefed and receive your complete orders. We do not have the clearance to present them to you at this time, so you will need to remain in continual contact with us. We depart in exactly 48 hours from this time, Sir," he repeated, and looked at his watch to verify the exact time of their departure. "Ah, my fault, exactly 47 and one-half hours. There is a deadline for you to arrive at the Pentagon by, and we have orders to observe that time table." He paused and looked into Castle's eyes.

"Sir, we have no desire to make this transition any more difficult for you or for your family. We most certainly do not want a repeat of the last time. . ." His voice trailed off.

That comment registered with the author. Castle's voice was low and unhappy. "My family is presently out of town; they are not returning until tomorrow afternoon."

The Master Sergeant shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sir, but I have my orders."

"No leigh way in my reporting time? Any at all?"

"Sir, sorry, but no. You were originally ordered to accompany us; the Colonel fought to grant you those additional 48 hour. Please use them wisely. Make any arrangements, banking, financial matters. After what happened on your last deployment . . .the Colonel felt that that was the least he could do. As it now stands, you will be the last of your unit to report."

Castle did his best NOT to remember what had happened to him during his previous deployment in the First Gulf War, Desert Storm. There were seven members of the U.S. Army that owed their lives to Castle's intervention, and that included Colonel Craig Foster. While that was fine with Castle, he thought he had paid too high of a price, with the months of nightmares that had accompanied him back to New York City. He refused to discuss it with his family, who were told that he had never left the support base in Germany. They had no knowledge of his months in Mossel and the weeks of nightly forays into Pakistan, nor the firefights or the suicide bombers.

Luckily, the military had agreed to Castle's wishes to keep his mother and daughter in the dark about what his duty had actually consisted of. However, he had to make a trade-off for the Army to keep his secret, that being an additional recall should they have need of his services. And, apparently, they had not forgotten.

Money did actually have a purpose: Castle found a good psychologist in Connecticut and started twice a week visits. After several months, the nightmares had become less intense, and within another six months, he was trying to write again. Nothing was of worth, but it had allowed Richard Castle the opportunity to return to sanity.

The Master Sergeant again cleared his throat, and Castle brought himself back to reality yet again. "Forty-eight hours, Major. Until then . . ." He sharply saluted Castle, who did not return the courtesy.

"I'm still a civilian," he noted.

"Yes, Sir. Your new insignias are in the envelope. Please be sure that you remove your Captain's bars before you report. The time table for transportation is going to be very tight to get you to where you need to be on Sunday at nineteen hundred hours." The man in the uniform saluted again. To his surprise, Castle smartly returned the salute.

Good, thought the Master Sergeant, the mental transformation from civilian to soldier has already begun. With that, Castle closed the door and didn't open it for the remainder of the evening.