Blink. Flash. Bang!
It was quiet in the Hamptons with the moon in the sky and with stars twinkling. The ice clinked in his glass, while Castle paced and cursed the sky. Castle, alone and lonely, had decided that it was time to take a stand. Flashes of light meant involvement and commitment to the fireflies. He would show everyone, especially Beckett, that he could commit. He could produce spectacular lights and impress her. His mind mixed ideas like a flair bartender tosses bottles of liquor. Ideas swept in and out with lightning speed with each thought becoming more grand. As he swirled the last of his drink, he vowed that he would show Beckett that he had what it took.
Later, he would blame what happened on the fireflies. His mother and daughter would blame it on the Manhattans.
Sitting by the outdoor fireplace, Castle sipped his Manhattan garnished with brandied cherries. He deliberately made them with the brandied cherries to remind him of her. "She wants me to "man up", well, that I can do. Watch this, fireflies.", he said to no one in particular. He tossed another piece of firewood into the firepit and went inside. He didn't notice that his step was slightly unsteady.
Castle walked through the house into the basement. He rummaged around and talked to himself. "I miss being around her. Maybe she misses me too. Maybe Lanie knows what's going on. Geez, this feels like high school all over again." He found what he was looking for beneath a pile of papers and yipped with glee. In gaudy script the package read, "Butterfly fireworks and the Clustering Bees."
Castle mixed another Manhattan, added a few cherries and began setting up the fireworks. He whistled a jaunty tune, slightly off key, as he unpacked fireworks designed to spray a giant ball of sparkles into the air with a center white explosion. He glanced up and saw the fireflies blinking their lights in the treetops. "Wait until you see these lights, you bugs! You and Beckett will be impressed. Damn right!
He sipped, well guzzled, a considerable portion of his drink. He enjoyed the slightly sweet, distinctly alcoholic, burn of the liquid as it slid down his throat. Nibbling on the brandied cherries was a bonus, but cherries reminded him of Beckett. But then again, Beckett was never very far from his thoughts.
He sat down in his chair and gazed at what he had been able to accomplish in a brief period of time. The fireplace was blazing and the glow from the flames illuminated the numerous spikes of clustering bees and butterfly fireworks. He had managed to twist most the fireworks fuses together. He stood up admiring his work and drained his glass. "I need more!", he declared to no one but the fireflies.
Rummaging around in the basement he found several odd boxes of fireworks. He saw that the date for best use on the fireworks had expired by several years, but the only thing that mattered to him was "going big." He piled the boxes on top of each other and tried to balance them using one hand while carrying a drink in the other.
Castle smiled the smile of a satisfied man prepared for a major display of explosive manliness as he staggered into the back yard. His fresh drink sloshed and spilled onto the ground. The boxes shifted their position. One started to fall. The glass is his hand fell to the ground. He twisted around to try to catch the boxes, but that caused them to shuffle and flip through the air. It was as if the firework display had started in his hands. The boxes went everywhere! and one fell into the fireplace.
The survival part of Castle's brain kicked into high gear. Realizing the danger, he dove behind one of the adirondack chairs. They provided the closest cover from the pending disaster. Before he could look at the fireplace, he felt the explosion and could hear bits of flaming debris flying past him. Sadly, a large chuck of burning wood landed on his ass!
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" Castle danced around swatting at the glowing embers that used to be his pants. Thankfully, he always kept a garden hose at the ready and sprayed what remained of his shorts with soothing cold water. Thankfully the firework spikes had been placed far enough away from the fireplace to be unaffected by the explosion. He soberly looked around and put out what embers remained on the once golf course quality lawn.
The more he moved, the more the pain on his butt and hip intensified. How was he going to explain this to his mother and daughter! He knew he needed medical attention, but could not deal with the embarrassment and headache of going to the emergency room. He remembered hearing about a new doctor working in the Hamptons; one that could provide the privacy and discretion he needed. Sheepishly, he dialed the number on the business card.
He groaned, "Is this HankMed? This is Rick Castle. I need to have the doctor come to my home. There was a fireworks accident and ah...well, my butt is singed." Divya Katdare replied, "We'll be right their, Mr. Castle."
