Chapter 5.

Moving Beckett seemed like a very bad idea. She was clearly still in considerable discomfort, and anything he could have done would undoubtedly flick some very painful switch. Reluctantly, Castle stroked down her hair, and then patted her cheek – an area which was not bruised – tapping until her eyes opened and he received a sleepy glare.

"You fell asleep on me. You'll be stiff and uncomfortable if you stay like that."

Her eyes were hazy and soft. She tongued her lips, then uncertainly nipped her lower lip. Castle failed entirely to resist his own urges, and gently gathered her into a soft, unpressured embrace, dropped a delicate buss on the tip of her nose, and then placed another delicate, gentle touch on her mouth. He lifted off, shocked by the sensation that raced through him when he kissed her, almost overwhelmed by the need to repeat it, to go deeper: to explore and taste and finally conquer; but her injuries were an effective barrier.

Beckett sat stock still, silent and, Castle thought, as shocked as he was. He expected – he didn't know what to expect: shooting, or slapping, or imprecations. Instead, she leaned forward cautiously and kissed his cheek, as light as the brush of Onyx's tail.

"I think…" she started.

"I think maybe I'd better go home," Castle stammered. He watched a flash of regret flicker through Beckett's eyes, turning them more green than hazel, oddly enlarged irises, gone upon the thought. Simply an illusion from the way in which the light fell.

"Yeah… um… if you wanted you could come by tomorrow? Keep me company while I'm not allowed at work?"

"Sure. Absolutely. Can I bring anything? Food, drink, games, movies? Can I bring Onyx too?"

"I've got plenty of food, drink and movies. You can bring your cat, if you can find her."

It didn't occur to Castle that Beckett's comment of if you can find her was very peculiar until long after he was home, indulging himself in a glass of excellent Rioja after dinner and with Onyx on his lap, still not her normal elegantly sinuous shimmer of darkness, but clearly improving. She'd perked up mightily when he gave her the small amount of coffee he thought would please her, and she was listening to his account of the day with, Castle flattered himself, considerable attention.

"I was a bit surprised she let me in," he related. "Beckett's not known for her love of company when she's sick – I told you that. But she let me make her coffee – she practically swims in the stuff – and then she didn't object when I put an arm round her." He gently rubbed under the cat's chin, and she purred happily at him. "She even cuddled in and leaned on my shoulder. It was a lot like you, really." The cat emitted a questioning miaow. "Soft hair, snuggly, happy to be petted very carefully. She's still badly hurt, but it's getting better." Onyx settled back down again, as Castle played with her swaying tail.

"But the absolute best bit was that I kissed her." The cat stared curiously at him. "I didn't mean to. She's injured. But she bit her lip and she's just so sexy when she does that and she was all soft and not really quite badass Beckett at all and she's irresistible. I could have stayed there kissing her all day, but I couldn't. She's injured," he told the cat again. "But it was amazing. I've never felt that before. It was electric. Everything I dreamed it would be. Even more amazing, she liked it. She even kissed me on the cheek. I'd have preferred on the lips, but I suppose that wouldn't have been such a good idea. I don't think serious kissing's good for injuries."

He hummed softly, and stroked Onyx some more. "I really think we're getting somewhere. I really do." Onyx mewed at him. "Good, you agree. She said I could go round tomorrow, too. I can take you." He stopped. "That was weird," he said. "Why'd Beckett say if you can find her? That's an odd thing to say. How'd she know that you do this amazing disappearing act?" Naturally, answer came there none. "I must have told her that you sneak off and can't be found." Onyx stood up, turned round, and clambered on to his shoulder. It distracted Castle immediately. "You must be a lot better," he told her happily. "Good." He ruffled her fur, and she butted her head into his neck. "I'm really glad you turned up in that alley. I never knew what I was missing."

The following day, Onyx was back to her usual trick of hiding. Castle, more than a little disappointed that he couldn't take her to Beckett's apartment, loaded himself up with ice-cream and Beckett's favourite Thai food, and arrived there shortly before lunchtime to unusual acclaim.

"But Onyx wasn't there when I looked for her," he said as they finished lunch. "I thought bringing her would amuse you. She glares at me just like you do."

Beckett snickers. "All cats glare. I think they hand it down the generations. You know, along with how to be adorable as a kitten, and then how to train your human as they grow up. You seem to be pretty well trained already."

"I'm perfectly house-trained," Castle pointed out smoothly. "I can cook, tidy up, and do my own washing, all while looking after my mother and daughter."

"A modern-day saint," Beckett jibed gently.

"Not quite," Castle murmured, and slid across the couch to catch her. "See, when I'm with you, I don't feel saintly at all," and he bent his head to kiss her, just as gently as the day before.

It started out gently. If only Beckett hadn't parted those satin-soft lips, it might even have stayed gentle. But she did, and Castle was anything but proof against the open invitation. He did remember not to squeeze her, but with his hand slipping into her hair, his tongue exploring carefully, and her whole demeanour relaxed and easy against his arm, the kiss became deeper, harder, and far more passionate than might have been wise.

He only managed to lift off and let go because his hand slipped down her arm and she flinched as it touched the ghastly bruising.

"I'm sorry," he forced out. "I shouldn't have… I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That's okay," she said tightly, pain creasing her face.

"No, it's not okay. You're still injured. You're not supposed to…" he couldn't think of a good way to finish that sentence. "Look, I better go." He scrambled into his coat, under her gaze. "I'm sorry," he said again, uselessly.

As the door closed, he thought he heard "Don't be," but by the time that registered he had shut the door, and he wasn't brave enough to go back.

Castle took the long route home. The really long route, that circled past a small park, a coffee bar where he stopped and downed a double espresso, a grocery store where he restocked with luxury cat food and treats. None of it alleviated his misery at all, but it wasted almost two hours. The only thought his mind would hold was what a jerk you are, mauling Beckett while she was injured. Couldn't you have waited?

He went straight to his bedroom to drop on to his bed, but to his astonishment Onyx was already there, curled up in the centre of her pillow. She opened one emerald eye as he lay down, propped up on his own pillows, and then walked primly on to his chest, nudging at his chin. He responded by cuddling her in, and simply stopped. She mewed at him, and nudged some more, and then batted a paw at him. He caught it, gently.

"I'm not really in the mood to play. I think I really screwed up. I shouldn't have kissed her again. She's injured, dammit! But she's just so beautiful and I can't keep away from her and I've been in love with her for months and months and… oh, hell, I've so totally messed this up." Onyx patted her paw at his cheek, and nuzzled him. He petted her, and she purred at him, arching into his careful hands. "I don't know what to do. I thought she was enjoying it too but then she flinched and …oh, fuck, what a mess."

The cat purred. "You're simple. I stroke you and you purr. Nothing complicated. People are a lot more difficult. I just wish I knew what Beckett was thinking. I mean, whether she likes me or not. She let me kiss her but then she's injured and I hate the thought that maybe she just let me because she couldn't push me away." He winced, ashamed and unhappy. He had never, ever, gone where he wasn't wanted and invited.

Onyx batted his face with her paw, left it on his cheek, and delicately extruded her claws until they were just pricking his skin.

"Don't you start," Castle said miserably. "I don't need you getting upset with me too." Her claws retracted, and the paw returned to his chest. "What'm I gonna do, Onyx?" She simply purred, deep in her chest, more of a vibration than a sound, and settled down over his bleeding heart.

Eventually he had to get up, and soothed his scarified self by starting on preparations for dinner. Part way through, he noticed Onyx sitting at the outer door. "You want to go out?" he asked her. "After you got so badly hurt?" She fixed him with her flat, feline stare. "Okay. But be careful, and be back by bedtime," he told her ridiculously, and opened the door. She prowled out, without looking back.

Castle didn't feel talkative over dinner, but since his mother was voluble on the inadequacies of the director of her latest attempt at hitting the big time again, and Alexis was bemoaning the loss of two marks on her biology test (which had made not one iota of difference to her straight-A average since it had been the only two marks she had lost), all he had to do was maintain a suitably sympathetic expression and occasionally emit some suitably sympathetic words.

"Where's your cat?" his mother suddenly asked.

"She went out," Castle replied, not inviting more conversation. "She'll be back later."

Later, however, she still hadn't reappeared. It was long past the hour at which she'd usually arrived, and Castle had had a fortifying Scotch to try to relieve the nagging feeling that he'd not just messed up with Beckett, but that his beautiful cat had also abandoned him. He picked up his phone, and discovered that Beckett had texted him. He opened it with trepidation.

I liked it. Save your sorries for an actual screw-up.

He was still staring at it when Onyx strutted proudly through the study door and leapt into his lap, climbing on to his shoulder. She was damp, and when he looked out the window the rain was lashing down. He found a towel to dry her off, and then replaced her on his chest.

"Look," he said to her, and showed her the text as if she could read it. "I didn't mess up. She's okay with me." He enveloped the cat in his arms. "It's as if she read my mind."

He took himself off to bed completely eased and relieved, snuggled down, and drifted towards sleep with Onyx's soft purr in his ear. On the edge of true slumber, half-dreaming, he wondered where Onyx had been, and how she was sneaking in and out without him noticing. Closer to Morpheus, he mistook his cat's soft fur for the feel of Beckett's equally soft hair, and reached out, only to realise his mistake. Tomorrow, he mumbled, tomorrow he'll introduce them.

But the next day Onyx had worked her feline sorcery and disappeared again, which meant that when Beckett arrived at his door, bearing not flowers but a DVD of Forbidden Planet and creaking rather worryingly, he had to admit that she'd slunk off.

"You know, if you hadn't showed me the photos I wouldn't believe this cat exists. I've never seen her."

"Of course she exists," Castle squawked indignantly. "Why would I make up a cat, or the vet bills?"

"You keep telling me about your excellent imagination," Beckett said provocatively. "Come on, you have to admit it's a weird tale. Pure black pedigree cat appears from nowhere in an alley just when you're taking a break? No owner, no chip. Weirdest of all, it's instantly attracted to you and you said you fell in love with it immediately. But somehow it's never here when you want to show me it."

"She. Onyx is a girl."

"Okay, her."

"The boys have met her. They'll tell you she's real."

"Forgot that. Okay, she's real. It's still deeply suspicious that she's never around when I want to meet her. I think you don't want me to meet her."

"What? Who are you and where is the real Kate Beckett? It's my job to come up with conspiracy theories and alien invasions. Why wouldn't I want you to meet my cat?"

Beckett shrugged. "Just a thought."

"Anyway, I think you'd get on with her brilliantly. Same cool stare, same elegant looks" – Beckett spluttered into her coffee – "she even likes coffee."

"She what now?"

"She drinks coffee. Well, a few drips. I'm sure caffeine isn't good for cats."

"You give her coffee?" Beckett repeated, stunned. "You're… you're insane. I suppose next thing you'll tell me that she reads your books."

"Don't be silly. But she does like watching the screen when I type."

Beckett shook her head sadly at his folly. "You have got it bad, Castle. You really have."

He pouted at her. "She's gorgeous. She sits in my lap or perches on my chest and she's infinitely strokable. She even sleeps on my pillow. I just wish she were here to meet you. She never seems to be around when you are."

"Put the movie on," Beckett said briskly. "It'll stop you moping about your cat's social life."

Castle complied. "Are you feeling better," he inquired, just before pressing Play.

"Yeah. Still covered in bruises, but getting there. As long as I'm careful, I'm fine."

"Same as Onyx," he replied, and then stopped dead.

"Aren't you going to start the movie?" Beckett prodded.

"Yeah, sure." He pressed Play, and the intro began to roll. Castle didn't pay it a single bit of attention. He must have had a brain-boggle. He'd gone insane. It was quite impossible, even for him to believe. It was so way out it was practically coming in the front door again. No matter the breadth of his mind – which would span the Pacific, most days of the week – he simply could not encompass the concept that had just fallen into his head. There was absolutely no way that Onyx the cat could be a shape-shifted Kate Beckett.

And yet his boggled mind wouldn't leave it alone. They're never in the same place at the same time. Their similar expressions, and Onyx's attention to his reading, his writing, and her love of coffee. Cats were not notable coffee drinkers. And the unexplainable coincidence that they had both been beaten up on the same day. Even Onyx's disappearances. But against that, Castle really didn't think that Kate Beckett, shape-shifted or not, would snuggle affectionately against him and let him pet and stroke her.

Except that she just had, only yesterday: she'd let him kiss her and even sent him a reassuring text – after he'd poured out his heart to his cat. She'd accepted an invitation to dinner and then the theatre – after he'd told Onyx how he felt about her. She'd had a sore back – straight after he'd had Onyx chipped and got her given her shots.

This was insane. Even for Castle, professional believer-in and imaginer of almost anything, no matter how strange, he could not get his head round the concept that there were really, truly, actually and in fact such things as shape-shifters. In Manhattan, no less. It was all an enormous set of coincidences, and he would prove it by getting Onyx and Beckett in the same room at the same time. Whatever he might theorise to annoy Beckett, when it came to cold, hard reality, he baulked.

He returned his attention to the film, and found that, amazingly, only a few minutes had passed. It wasn't much of a loss, since he could recite most of the dialogue without effort. From Beckett's rapt attention, and the movements of her mouth, she could do so too.

Castle nudged himself across the couch to Beckett's curled-up self. (Even her posture reminded him of the cat. He was going insane. Definitely.) If she had liked kisses – and she'd said so, in writing – then she would like it if he put an arm round her while they watched the film. He insinuated an arm around her slim shoulders, and not only did she nestle in, she leant her head back on his shoulder and dropped a hand over his knee. The charge ran right through him, and without any conscious thought on his part at all his arm round her shoulder dropped down to leave his hand on her hip and she as close as she could be without sitting in his lap in the first place.

"Beckett?" he murmured questioningly.

"You're comfy," she mumbled back. "Nice and warm and cosy." She wriggled, presumably to become perfectly comfortable, and for a second Castle thought that her movement was just like Onyx's boneless wiggle. He shook the thought from his brain. Shape shifters are not real. (But it would be so cool, another part of his undisciplined mind whispered. Just so amazingly cool.)

His undisciplined mind landed on a much better idea than idiotic theories about shape-shifters (and anyway Beckett should shift into a black panther, or a Bengal tiger, not a mere domestic cat no matter how gorgeous, to go with her badass personality). He slipped a finger under Beckett's chin, and lifted her face to his so that he could plant a light, teasing kiss on her lips. Even before their mouths met, she made a small, contented noise, almost a purr – no! That was ridiculous. Beckett didn't purr. Growl, sure. Every time he messed up or annoyed her or she was irritated, but she did not purr.

She did kiss, though. Oh boy oh boy oh boy, did she kiss. Light and teasing? Only for a microsecond, and then her lips opened and she licked along the seam of his and invaded. She didn't ask, she demanded (just like Onyx) his attention, and she certainly had it. All of it. The white heat of their merged mouths was inescapable; the sparks running over his skin undeniable; and the way in which she was kissing him: passionate and open and scorchingly hot; made it clear that she was as into it as he could ever have hoped or dreamed.

He couldn't do more than kiss her: couldn't press her into him or hoist her into his lap or (but he wanted to, oh, how he wanted to) take her to his bed; but he could show her just how much he felt for her, just how much he wanted her, simply through his lips and tongue and mouth on hers. She was equally restrained: possibly still cautious of her bruised body, her hand on his shoulder but not exploring further, his remaining at her hip. The pressure of her hand burned into him, but he couldn't reciprocate. Not yet.

He tore himself away from the addiction of her mouth. "You're amazing," he husked. "I never thought…"

"Didn't you?" Beckett said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "I got the impression you thought about it a lot."

"Well, yeah, but, well, I never thought it would be like that and I never thought you would and I'd pretty much given up on it," Castle rushed out in one brain-dumped, open-mouth-and-insert-both-feet spill of words.

Beckett smiled, calm and remarkably collected. "Guess you were wrong, then. Close your mouth, Castle, you'll catch flies," she added.

"If you weren't still bruised to bits, I'd get you back for that," Castle rasped.

"If I weren't still bruised to bits, I might let you," Beckett flipped back, leaving Castle speechless once more. "But since I am, and the movie's done, I think I'd better go home and have another hot bath." Castle gleeped, not quite far enough under his breath, at the instant vision. (See, his more sensible side pointed out, she has baths. Cats don't like water.) "Mind out the gutter, Castle."

"It's not in the gutter," he oozed. "It's in a bath."

She growled, and applied sharp nails to his ear.

"Ow! I think I'll stick with Onyx. She doesn't claw me."

"That's because you don't make dirty suggestions to her."

"Of course not! She's a cat. Ugh. I need to scrub my brain now."

Beckett sniggered nastily. "You're so easy, Castle."

"And you're so mean. If you were a cat you'd be playing with your prey."

"Just as well I'm not, then." For an instant, Castle thought that her eyes had gone that odd, large-irised green once more. It must have been a trick of the light, because they were perfectly normal when he looked again. She stood up, only wincing a little, and looked around for her coat.

"Here it is." He held it for her, waited as she slid her arms in, and then settled it on her frame. "Till tomorrow, Beckett."

"I'll be in. Your choice of movie."

Castle escorted her to the door, and before opening it took full advantage of his height and size to clasp Beckett back in again, very gently, and kiss her, not gently at all.

"Night, Castle," she said, and there was an undercurrent to her voice that made him think she'd rather have stayed.


Thank you to all readers and reviewers.

Tomorrow is the final chapter. All shall be revealed.