Just Another Day: Chapter 14
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
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Ten Minutes ago, at 2:46 p.m. on May 14, 2012, At the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
It is a very distraught Richard Castle who sits next to his old friend, Dr. Samantha Peraza, in the woman's office in the administration building. He is bent over, inhaling and exhaling into a paper bag that Dr. Peraza has provided for the benefactor of these facilities. The beads of perspiration that have painted his forehead for the past minutes are now dripping on the floor.
For her part, Dr. Samantha fully understands the outright fear her friend is feeling at the moment.
Minutes ago, a frantic Richard Castle had burst into her office, wild-eyed and trying unsuccessfully to catch his breath. That the man had the foresight to seek her out is something that both friends will consider providence in the coming days. For now, however, getting Richard Castle under control is of paramount importance.
He has told the good doctor of a phone conversation he has just had with Sam Carlos. Carlos had called him after the San Francisco man had spoken with Kate Beckett on the rooftop of the Chinese Hospital back in the city. And while Kate Beckett had received the news with determination and anger . . . well, this is one of the times where her training and experience, and his lack of training and lack of experience are on full display for the doctor.
"How many more, Samantha?" he asks his friend, for at least the third time in the past few minutes since his abrupt entry into her office.
"How many more enemies have I made?" he continues. "Sam was very clear, very adamant that this Hopkins fellow is likely the tip of the iceberg of people – very powerful people – that I have pissed off because of the incident out on Angel Island."
"First of all, Rick," Dr. Peraza begins, "I would hardly classify setting forty-nine women free and catching dozens of men and women from the city who absolutely knew better as a mere 'incident'."
"Don't play with words," he breathes into the bag, then turns his attention back to his old friend.
"Because of what we did . . . because of what I did, there are now some very influential people who have a major bone to pick with me, Samantha," he continues. "A major bone that includes drugging me, potential arson, and God-only-knows what else could be coming our way."
He bends forward, placing his head back into the bag, breathing quickly, as Dr. Peraza puts her hands on his arm, getting his attention.
"Slowly, Richard," he tells him, taking a more formal tone in her attempt to ease his hyperventilation. "Slow your breathing down."
"I'm trying, I'm trying," he begins.
"Try a little harder, Richard," she tells him softly. "In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . . take your time with each breath. Focus on each breath as a single entity. Clear your mind."
In truth, the good doctor is just as scared as her good friend. She is just as frightened. Because whether there is one person, two people or two dozen people who have the proverbial axe to grind with Richard Castle . . . she, and everyone on this campus are caught in the crosshairs as well.
Detective Jennifer Blackard being in the hospital is proof-positive of this truth.
"Have I bitten off too much, Samantha?" he suddenly asks the doctor. "I mean, this place is doing great work, but it has been nothing but one nightmare scenario after another since we opened. Kidnappings. Beatings. Macabre murders. Military-style assaults."
His hand begins shaking as he finishes the thought.
"My own daughter," he concludes, thinking about the terror recently experienced back in New York, when a supposedly-joyous wedding reunion turned into a harrowing life-and-death ordeal for Alexis Castle.
"I figured . . . I knew . . . I knew there would be issues that would come with these women who were trying to extract themselves from a dangerous situation," he continues. "I knew we would have to deal with disgruntled boyfriends and pissed-off husbands . . . men whose fragile egos would be bruised by their spouse's leaving. But politicians, Samantha? Silicon Valley CEOs? Banking executives? Mobsters? And hell, the best of this lot is the mobster?"
He drops the bag onto the ground, running his large hands through his hair.
"It's too much."
Dr. Samantha Peraza is quiet for a few seconds. Her experience has taught her that off-the-cuff responses to patients are a definite non-starter. And yes, she and Richard Castle are friends. Good friends. Old friends. But suddenly, in this moment, he is not merely her friend.
He has become – for the moment – her patient.
"Richard, do you remember the conversation you and I had on Halloween night last year?" Dr. Peraza asks him. "The conversation we had when you and Alexis and Mike were all sitting down, having dinner at the marina? Just a couple of months before you opened this beautiful campus?"
Richard Castle smiles in spite of himself, remembering that night last year in Sausalito, at one of the outdoor restaurants on the marina.
It was – indeed – Halloween night, and many of the young children were with their parents running along the wharf, in bright costumes, collecting candy from the businesses and patrons there.
"Do you remember?" she asks again.
"Yes," he finally responds.
"Repeat it back to me then, Richard," she tells him. "What did we talk about? What did I tell you?"
She reaches for his hands.
"What did I warn you about?" she asks.
"You told me that what I was doing would make enemies of people," he nods.
"What kind of people, Richard?" she prods.
"Bankers. Executives. Mobsters," he replies.
"Why did I tell you this, Richard?" she continues, leading the horse to the water.
"Because that is who these boyfriends and husbands would turn out to be," Castle recalls her words. "They would turn out to be executives, important people, sometimes dangerous people."
"I told you some of these men would be area fishermen. Some would be nighttime janitors. Some would be garbage men or postal workers. That is the stereotype. But the others? Those are the ones we would have to worry about. Those others would be top-floor executives," she continues.
"Some would be police officers and attorneys," he finishes the thought, remembering the conversation clearly now.
"That is all that is happening here, Rick," she tries to remind her friend. "These are people who have no problem abusing women. They have no problem physically assaulting women. Women who trust them. These are people who have no problem taking advantage of women who cannot protect themselves."
He nods his head, clearing his eyes, trying desperately to focus.
"What is happening today . . . what has been happening for months is exactly what I told you would happen . . . exactly what you already knew would happen. This here? This is simply the difference between knowing these things and living these things. These are simply the doors that you have opened," she reminds her friend.
"So . . . no," she continues, "you have not bitten off too much. This is not unexpected. Even if it was expected, it is harsh, and tragic, and difficult. But you have built a powerful opponent for the wolves here. Yes, they will bite back. Let them. The team you have compiled here . . . the friendships you have made back in the city . . . they will be enough to beat these wolves back."
He nods his head again, offering a weak smile to his old friend.
"So, buckle up, buttercup," she chuckles, widening his smile. "We are ready for whatever comes. And I tell you these words, Richard, even though I am every bit as frightened as you are about what could be coming. I just trust the people around us – I trust us."
She stands, offering her hand to him.
"Trust us, Richard," she tells him. "Trust yourself. Look at what you have already built. We are far from finished."
He takes her hand, allowing her to help him into a standing position. He brushes himself off, more of a determined glint in his eyes now.
"I need to get Alexis here," he decides quickly. "We don't know who is out there and who is not. Right now, she is alone."
"Well, the roads are closed," Samantha reminds him.
"We have the ATVs" he reminds her, in kind.
"ATVs that you do not know how to drive on the hills and the rocky terrain here," Samantha reminds him.
"We have a helicopter," he counters.
"We don't have the helicopter at the moment," Samantha replies. "And what are you going to do, land it in the street in front of your house?"
"That's what they do," he answers, as he reaches into his jacket pocket, retrieving his mobile phone. He punches in the contact information for Ron Daniels.
"He should be on his way back here by now," Castle tells her as he listens to the ringing.
Sure, he might be taking advantage of his position. Sure, he might be being just a tad overprotective at this particular moment. So be it. His daughter, Alexis, is barely a month away from being ruthlessly kidnapped back on the east coast. And now he has new enemies, who could be out for him . . . his friends . . . his loved ones.
No, he is not being overprotective at all.
"Daniels here," the pilot answers. "What's up boss man?"
"I need another favor, Ron," Castle responds. "Where are you?"
"I am maybe six, seven minutes out from the campus," Daniels answers. "Dropped Kate and her detective friend off at the hospital in Chinatown. Boy, did she have a story to tell."
That's all the Richard Castle needs to hear. No, he's not being overprotective at all. Not overreacting in the least.
"I need you to swing by my house, Ron," Castle tells him. "Pick up Alexis. Bring her here. Please."
"No problem, boss man," Daniels tells him. "Altering course right now."
"Thank you, Ron," Castle tells the pilot as he disconnects the call, immediately pulling up Alexis Castle's contact information on his phone.
"Forgive me, Pumpkin," he tells the ringing phone, "but I am not letting you out of my sight."
Seconds later, the young redhead answers the phone.
"Hey dad," she begins, but is immediately interrupted.
"Get packed, and quickly, Pumpkin," he tells her. "Ron is on his way. He's bringing you here."
"Ooooh, another helicopter ride!" she squeals, bringing a chuckle to her father.
"Yeah, I am not letting you out my sight for a long, long time," he thinks to himself, disconnecting the call.
It is only now that he notices the text notification from Kate Beckett.
"Hmmm, came in a few minutes ago," he states aloud. "How'd miss that?"
"What's that Richard?" Dr. Peraza asks.
"Just an incoming text message from Kate that I missed, while having my little pity party tantrum," he tells his friend.
"Your words, not mine," Samantha laughs. "Remember that."
He reads the message from Kate, a troubled look on his face that stifles the chuckling from the good doctor.
"Problem?" she asks.
"Perhaps," he replies. "She says – and I quote – 'Got Jennifer, Barely in time, Wolves are afoot, Stay alert.'"
He glances at his friend, continuing, "Add that to Ron's cryptic message about having a story to tell, and I am now more glad than ever that I have asked him to go and grab Alexis and bring her here."
"Probably a good idea, true," Dr. Peraza agrees.
Richard Castle merely nods his head in agreement as he pulls up Kate Beckett's contact information.
"Ron said you have a story to tell me," Castle thinks to himself. "No time better than the present to hear it."
"Hey babe," Kate answers on the first ring.
"Talk to me, Kate," he tells her. "You said there are wolves afoot. Ron said something happened with the pickup, I am guessing?"
"Yeah, you could say that," his fiancée chuckles, as she begins to recount the extraction of Jennifer Blackard from the San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center.