Chapter 4.
He set Onyx, on her pillow, on his desk. He thought she looked at him gratefully as he patted her paw.
"Coffee time," he told her. "I need a drink, too. You don't get Scotch. Cats don't drink whisky." Her head descended to rest on her paws. "Just stay there and rest."
He came back with his coffee, the usual few drips for Onyx, and poured himself a small Scotch. Onyx stared coldly at the glass, and in obedience to the hard stare Castle let her sniff it. She sneezed, and then whimpered. Sneezing clearly hurt.
"See, Scotch isn't good for you. Drink your coffee, and then I'll get you some water. Whenever I take painkillers I need lots of water." She lapped slowly, under Castle's concerned eyes, and when she was finished he brought her a full bowl of water so that she might drink as she pleased. He downed his Scotch in one, appreciating the burn and warmth, and then turned to his coffee and laptop. Onyx mewed, displeasedly, the pain evident in her noise.
"What's wrong?" Castle examined her. "You want to see what I'm doing? Okay then." He rearranged himself and the laptop so that Onyx need not move, and she stopped complaining. "Silly cat. Cats don't read. Maybe you think it's electronic mice running round the screen?" He stopped talking when he realised just how insane that sounded.
"You're far too easy to talk to," he explained to the cat, who didn't look impressed by his compliment. "Not that you ever talk back. Though if you talked like Beckett you'd have spent the last three hours swearing at me, so it's just as well you don't. I never knew she knew so many bad words. Some of them even I'd never heard before, though I think they might have been in Russian. I hate it when she's hurt. She disappears off and won't see anyone. Never wants help, or coddling. God knows what she'd do if she got really badly hurt." He frowned. "I'd've looked after her, but she didn't even give me the chance." Onyx mewled softly. "Yeah, I know. I've got to look after you. I'm sure I could have managed both of you at once, though." He leaned forward, petting her skull lightly. "I don't think I want to write tonight. Too close to home. I think I'll watch a movie. It'll take my mind off it. I was really terrified that they'd done major damage to her. I hope she's taking care of herself. I wish she'd let me…"
His cat didn't say anything. Castle put on a silly, slapstick movie rather than one of his action thrillers, and settled down to watch and be comforted by the idiocy of the plot, occasionally stroking Onyx with light, barely touching strokes. She quirked her tail at him, which he decided was approval, though she wasn't purring.
When he next looked at her, her eyes were closed and her body completely limp. If he hadn't seen her ribs expanding, he'd have thought she was dead. The thought wrenched his gut, and he laid his palm very gently over her middle, only for long enough to ensure that she was warm and breathing. He finished watching the film, which had cheered him only somewhat, and picked up cat and pillow to take her into the bedroom. "Don't go running off tonight," he admonished her despite her being asleep. "You're in no state to go wandering." He missed her warm furriness at his neck as he fell into slumber.
In the morning, Onyx was still curled on her pillow, a circle of midnight in the clear light of day. Castle stumbled out of bed and through a shower and shave, during which time she didn't move so much as the tip of an ebony ear. He checked that she was breathing, shocked by how worried about her he was, and then took her, still curled on the pillow, out to the main room. Stupidly, he didn't want her to open her eyes without him being near. Over his first coffee, he tapped out a text to Beckett: hope you're okay, please take the painkillers. He didn't expect an answer, and didn't get one.
The day passed slowly. Onyx barely moved from her spot, although in deference to both her feline dignity and the cleanliness of his pillow Castle carried her to the bathroom a couple of times, receiving merely a mew for his trouble. He wrote desultorily, supplied the cat with water and cat food at intervals, and petted her very carefully at much shorter intervals. She took it as her due, but mostly she slept. Eventually, late that night, so did Castle.
For the second morning in a row, she was there when he woke. He looked over and saw bright green eyes staring back at him. "Well, good morning," he said to her. She emitted a miaow in return. "Feeling better?" He sat up and scrubbed at his eyes. "I need coffee. And breakfast. Lots of breakfast. I missed dinner two days in a row, I was so worried about you." Onyx stretched very slightly, and stopped. "Still sore? C'mon, then, I'll carry you." He picked up the pillow again, and saw with some amusement that she was lying on it as regally as any queen. "You know a female cat is called a queen? Guess now I know why."
He automatically checked his phone, but there was still nothing there from Beckett. He wasn't surprised, but that didn't ameliorate his disappointment. He guessed that she was too hurt to answer, or too hurt to admit in how much pain she was. He decided to send her another cheery text later.
"I wish she'd answered," he grumped to Onyx over bacon and eggs, feeding her fragments of the meat. She simply stared at him, her cat's eyes unblinking. "You don't care, do you?" Her tail twitched, and then lashed back and forth. "Are you bored too?"
He finished breakfast, and bounced up. "I know. Let's show you the precinct. Okay, Beckett's not there, but I'm not going to disturb her when she's recovering. She'll shoot me. She won't even shoot me dead, she'll shoot me somewhere painful and watch me suffer." The cat regarded him stonily. "Yeah, okay. I'd deserve it – what am I saying? I would so not deserve it. Stop looking at me like that. You remind me of Beckett at her formidably intimidating best when you look like that. It's not nice. One truly intimidating woman in my life is enough. If you start doing that I'll think you're first cousin to Bagheera." The cat continued to glare, thoroughly unimpressed by his waffle. "Let's go, then. Come and meet my pals." She remained coolly indifferent.
Castle walked into the precinct with Onyx in his arms, delicately balanced to keep her from aching. He was none too sure that she wouldn't scratch or claw – or even bite – if he jarred her.
"Hey, guys," he announced. "Meet Onyx."
"You brought a cat to the bullpen?" Esposito scoffed. "Man, you're insane. Whatcha do that for?"
Ryan trotted up to see what was going on. "Hey, Castle. Whatcha got there?"
Castle opened his arms a fraction to show off Onyx. "We were bored," he said.
"You came over because your cat is bored?" Espo exclaimed. "You've lost it. 'S not even 's if Beckett's here for you to moon over."
"Hey!" Castle squawked, indignantly. "I do not." Onyx added a growl.
"Gotta say, though, it looks just as unimpressed with you as she does."
Ryan sidled up close. "It's really cute," he said. She snapped at him, and he barely pulled his fingers back in time. "Wow. Bad-tempered." She growled again, claws extending.
"She's a girl," Castle said.
"She's still bad-tempered," Ryan groused.
"You're just sore 'cause she don't like you," Esposito jibed. He came closer, and allowed the cat to sniff at his calloused fingers. She didn't take umbrage, but Castle couldn't have said she exhibited any pleasure. He put her down on his chair. She turned round, assessing it, and then stepped, a little cautiously, on to the desk, examined the elephants and the computer, padded delicately across it and settled herself on Beckett's chair.
The three men regarded each other with a set of matched shrugs. "I told Beckett my chair was really uncomfortable," Castle said with an air of vindication.
"Don't think you can prove anythin' by a cat."
"Let's take a photo. Send it to Beckett," Ryan suggested. "Cheer her up. We could tell her it's her new partner." They all snickered. The cat yawned, and ignored them magnificently. Suddenly her ears twitched and pricked up, and then she sat up straight.
"What's this?" Captain Montgomery's soft, inquiring tones left Ryan and Esposito caught out, and Castle a little embarrassed.
"She's my new cat," he admitted. "She got knocked about a couple of days ago and we were bored" – Montgomery raised an utterly sceptical eyebrow – "so I thought I'd bring her in to see the precinct."
"I see," said Montgomery in a tone which indicated that he didn't see at all. "And why is this cat sitting on Beckett's chair? I don't think that's going to go down well." Onyx glared at him. Montgomery didn't so much as blink.
"Beckett's not here, sir. She's got another couple of days' medical leave after the beating she took."
"We thought a photo of her new partner would cheer her up," Ryan put in, smirking.
"Hm. Don't think I agree with that," Montgomery drawled, "but it's your asses that I won't be saving when she whups them. Now, detectives, how about doing some work? You know, what the city pays you for?" They jumped to it. "Castle, pretty as your pet is, she doesn't belong here. Cats don't solve crimes, so take her home. I don't want to see her in here if Beckett's working. She'll be a distraction."
"Distraction?"
"Beckett's dead keen on cats. Dunno why. LT got a kitten and Beckett was all over the photos. Weird. Didn't think she had a sappy cell in her whole body." Montgomery slid back towards his office and Castle took the hint-cum-order to leave.
"C'mon, Onyx. Home time." He gathered her up gently, tickled her under her chin and placed her softly on his shoulder, where she scrabbled a little for balance and grip till he supported her properly. She rewarded him with a better attempt at a purr than he'd heard since she'd been hurt.
"See you, guys."
"Seeya."
Castle meandered home with Onyx, installed her in his lap, and, satisfied that she was recovering, wrote consistently until dinnertime, accompanied by occasional mews or purrs.
"I think I'll go over and check on Beckett tomorrow," he announced over dinner.
"Really, darling? Will she want to see you?"
"Probably not, but someone has to make sure she's eating and taking the painkillers." Castle rapidly changed the subject. "Did I say we were going to see The Pirates of Penzance next week?"
His mother and Alexis were flabbergasted. "You what? Katherine is going to the theatre with you? Oh, darling, that's wonderful."
"That's great, Dad." Alexis looked truly pleased for him. "Maybe she'll see the better side of you."
"Something other than the party playboy, that's for sure, kiddo. Enjoy."
Castle finished his dinner and went back to his writing. In the interval, Onyx had picked at her dinner, but drunk most of her water. He refilled the bowl, and took the half-eaten dinner away.
"You have to eat, even if you're hurting," he told her. "You won't heal as fast if you don't." She mewed sceptically. "You have to be better by next week. I can't take you to the theatre with us. I won't take you to Beckett's tomorrow if you're not better, either."
Onyx appeared completely indifferent to the prospect of meeting Beckett. Castle dropped the subject in favour of sending the photo of Onyx on her chair to Beckett, and then writing for the rest of the evening.
That night, he dreamed of Beckett again, affectionately cuddled into his chest with her hair tickling the ends of his nose and his neck. It was certainly different from his X-rated dreams. Onyx was there when he woke, patting at him with a soft-padded paw as if to say wake up, Castle, but sometime between breakfast, when she deigned to eat a reasonable amount and then delicately washed herself all over, and Castle exiting his morning shower, she'd hidden herself again. He called for her a couple of times, and then gave up. His beautiful, elegant cat would reappear when she was ready, and though he loved her curled comfortably on his lap or snuggled over his shoulder, he knew that cats were independent, walk-alone creatures, and his streak of midnight felinity had independence and pride to rival Lucifer.
"Okay," he said to the empty study. "She'll be back when she arrives." He turned to his laptop and typed industriously until he decided that it was a civilised hour to go visiting the afflicted: to wit, Beckett.
He arrived at her door with a bunch of elegantly arranged flowers, not too elaborate, and a box of chocolates. Beckett liked treats, in the form of candy, and her desk drawers were never short of an emergency supply of M&Ms or Hersheys. Just long enough after he knocked for him to start to worry, the door opened.
"Hey, Castle," she emitted tiredly.
"Hey." He stepped inside at her gesture of invitation. "I brought you these." He extended the flowers, and put the chocolates down on a convenient table. She didn't stretch to take them, but stepped forward. "Do you wanna tell me where to find a vase?" he asked, alive to the small signs of pain.
"Cupboard over the washer. Thanks."
He fetched the vase, filled it with water, and deftly arranged the flowers to best advantage. "I brought some chocolate, as well. I thought you'd like something sweet. As well as me, of course."
"Way to spoil the moment, Castle." But though she had snarked, she was smiling. "Thanks. I'll enjoy them."
"How're you feeling?"
Castle ran his eyes over her. The soft tee and sweatpants that she wore didn't conceal the livid green-and-yellow bruising on her arms, and he was quite certain that a bra had not figured in her dressing. She was very soft and unstructured.
"I'm fine." He raised eyebrows. "Okay, as fine as you can expect." She paused. "Why'd you come over?"
"Well, I couldn't let my partner suffer all on her own, so I thought I'd cheer you up. Service your every need, that sort of thing."
Beckett's eyes gleamed green. "Ri-ight," she drawled slowly. "My every need? What if I needed" – she stopped significantly – "a hit man?"
"You?" Castle said unflatteringly quickly. "Need a hit man? You'd shoot them yourself. You're as independent as my cat." His mind wandered. "I sent you a photo from the bullpen. I took her in there."
"Castle," Beckett said disbelievingly, "why on earth did you take a cat to the precinct?"
"She was bored – oh. I didn't tell you. Some bastard hurt her. She came home crying and I had to take her to the vet. It was the same day you got hurt. It really was not a good day, both my favourite women getting beaten up – er…." He stopped talking about seven words too late. Astonishingly, Beckett didn't make any moves to kill him. In fact, her jaw had dropped and her eyes were wide. He returned to the original subject while he was still more or less ahead.
"So I took her to the precinct and look," he noted, taking out his phone and flicking through the photos, "she liked your chair."
Beckett stiffly reached for the phone to examine the photo. "Huh," she breathed. "Don't think she'll be replacing me, though. How'd the boys take it?"
"She tried to bite Ryan. I don't think Onyx likes being called cute."
"I can see her point," Beckett agreed very dryly. "She's elegant. Not cute. Kittens are cute, but not full-grown cats."
"Montgomery didn't approve, though. So we went home." Castle remembered the conversation. "He said you were really keen on cats. All over LT's kitten pictures."
"That kitten really was cute. All golden fluff and big blue eyes. Adorable."
Castle widened his own big blue eyes in the hope of being thought adorable, and sneaked a little closer. "Now I'm here, can I do anything for you? Make you coffee, or lunch, or get your shopping?"
"Coffee would be nice, but I" –
"I'll do it. Just tell me where to find everything."
Under Beckett's brisk instructions, Castle prepared coffee and set it down in an easy-to-reach location.
"There," he pointed out. "Easy."
"Thanks."
She shivered. Castle, not a man to ignore small movements, noted not only the shiver but the following wince. "Hurts?"
"Mm."
"You need a hot water bottle, or a heat pad. Or," he said smoothly, and shifted right up close, "me." He placed his arm around her shoulders, not pressing, and rearranged his body so that without moving she was enclosed in his warmth.
"Uh?" she managed.
"I'm nice and warm. Just let me warm you up." He had nearly said heat you up, but if he wasn't dead yet he wasn't going to push his luck. He handed her the coffee mug, and kept the conversation light – and a long way away from you feel so good against me or why are you not killing me already or even why don't I take you back to mine where I can look after you properly?, none of which would improve the moment. Beckett stayed quite still and calm in his light clasp, her feet tucked under her as she had been at his, and then quite unexpectedly leant her head on his shoulder. The flick of her hair on his neck reminded him irresistibly of Onyx.
"Onyx does that," he blurted out.
"Uh?"
"Tucks her head into my shoulder, just like you did then." Beckett sat up, and huffed out a pain-soaked breath. "Come back," Castle suggested, and encouraged her to do so by very carefully pressing her upper arm. Amazingly, Beckett returned to her semi-snuggle.
"I am not your cat," she snipped. "Didn't we have that conversation already?"
"I know you're not a cat, Beckett," Castle said patiently. "If you were my cat you'd be curled up in my lap and purring at me, or sprawled over my chest and shoulder. I mean, you could do both of those things and I wouldn't mind a bit, but" –
"Shut up," –
"but you're not a cat. I'd have brought her, but she wandered off again."
His hand slid up and down Beckett's bruised arm, trying to warm her. Castle abruptly noticed that he was petting Beckett exactly like he petted Onyx, but since it was working – or Beckett wasn't objecting – he decided to stick with it till he was told to stop. It was beautifully peaceful with her head on his shoulder, and while comparing Beckett to his cat hadn't been the best idea he could have had, the longer her head stays there the more the resemblance catches at his mind. He thought, happily, that the best of all possible situations would be Beckett's beautiful head tucked into his chest, over his heart; and his beautiful cat close by. Fortunately, he managed not to articulate that thought before he realised that it would all be rather crowded, and instead drained his coffee. His watch told him that he'd been here for most of an hour, in which they had done almost nothing, barely talked, and somehow had found quiet, comfortable peace, Beckett curled into him, which, he eventually worked out, was because she had fallen asleep.
Thank you to all readers and reviewers on this and on Modern Metrosexual (which I should have said is set to the tune of Tom Lehrer's Elements Song, but since I totally failed to make that connection till one of you pointed it out, I couldn't. Even though I know both.).
You will be pleased to know that there is no accompanying insanity for this chapter.
