The Visitor

It would, Beckett thinks a moment after the door opens, have been helpful if Castle had thought before opening the door. It would, in fact, have been helpful if he had never opened the door at all.

She was comfortably cuddled up with her kittens, in Onyx-form to ensure that the babies weren't crying for just long enough that everyone could have a rest (kittens were so much quieter than babies), snoozing peacefully with her tail wrapped neatly round them to keep them safely in place with minimal difficulty for them to find the nipple to nurse, when the door opened. Seeing as she was on one of the family room beanbags in full view of the door, shifting to Beckett-and-babies rather than Onyx-and-kittens was not an option.

Castle will no doubt claim sleep-deprivation as an excuse for not thinking. Beckett does not think that this is a good excuse at all. Now what are they going to do?

Oh my God. Oh God. It's O'Leary. Of all the – oh God. Why him? Why now? It's only three weeks post-partum. Why didn't he call?

"Hey, O'Leary. They're sleeping. Shhh," Castle yawns, happily. Happily, that is, for a given value of happiness, being the one which all their collective exhaustion can produce three weeks A.B. That's After Babies.

"Hey, Castle," the mountain rumbles as quietly as he can manage, and Onyx-Beckett watches with amusement as six-foot ten of muscle tries to tiptoe inside. He is carrying two packages and a large bunch of flowers. "I brought the babies a present, and Beckett some flowers and chocolate."

Not another pair of NYPD onesies, please. They've got six pairs of those already. Everyone from the precinct obviously thought it would be a beautifully original idea. Suffice to say – it wasn't. Either that or there was a sale on, which is just as likely.

"Thank you," Castle manages. "Lemme put the flowers in some water."

O'Leary looks around. "Beckett asleep? Babies asleep? Man, you're lucky. Everythin' I've ever heard 'bout twins, one's always awake."

He spots the cats. "Aw, ain't they cute? I knew you had a cat" –

"You did?"

"Espo told me 'bout its visit to the precinct. You let it sit on Beckett's chair. He thought you were suicidal."

"She thought it was funny, when she saw the photos." –

"but you didn't mention the cat was having kittens at the same time Beckett was havin' her babies. Funny that," O'Leary says thoughtfully, "both of them havin' twins at 'bout the same time."

Onyx-Beckett belatedly remembers that O'Leary is most dangerous when he's pretending he's just fallen off the hay wagon. He's ambulating towards her and the kittens, with the sappiest expression she's ever seen outside Castle's face. Mind you, he's the size of a maple tree so likely that's where all the sap came from. She cuddles protectively around her kittens. He might be a gentle giant but he could put all three of them in one huge palm.

Ah. Oh. Um. It's just occurred to her that the only person who's ever petted her as Onyx is Castle. It has also just occurred to her that Castle is currently both ultra-protective (even for him: she's amazed he didn't just buy out a cotton wool factory to swaddle the three of them in) and rather jealous. He is not at all going to appreciate O'Leary petting her, and he's not terribly likely to appreciate him petting the kits. Castle didn't much appreciate O'Leary hugging her even before they were married.

O'Leary plonks his enormous bulk down on a convenient beanbag next to the three cats. "Y'know," he drawls, "I'd never have put you guys down as havin' floor cushions. Beckett used to be so strait-laced an' by the book."

Castle grins in a very male way, though it's definitely slightly forced. "Well, they have some advantages…" he says, and lets O'Leary draw his own conclusions. O'Leary hums, and looks at the cats. Castle's tension level rises. When O'Leary reaches out a sausage-sized finger and ever-so-carefully runs it over one of the kittens, Castle stops breathing. So does Onyx, and her claws run out.

"Protective, ain't she?" O'Leary says. "Lot like Beckett."

"Yeah."

Castle sits on the bean bag on the other side of Onyx's throne.

"Where is Beckett?"

"I said. Sleeping. You know what they say, sleep when the babies do."

Damn right. Except they never sleep, which is why she is Onyx all the time at home except when she's a panther or they are expecting visitors. At least that way she's getting some rest. Likewise Castle.

"Can I have a peek at the twins, then? Promise I'll be as quiet as a mouse."

"Um…"

O'Leary pets Onyx again, and Castle tenses as he strokes her head and then plays with her ears. Castle knows O'Leary's gay, but that doesn't seem to be making a lot of difference right now. O'Leary strokes one of the kittens, as delicately as a butterfly landing, which tiny kitten (it's the girl) opens a sleepy little eye and turns round to find a giant. The kitten meeps, and bats at his finger. O'Leary puts the finger down, and the kitten pats at it some more, and then struggles on to his hand. The other one turns to find out what's going on, and joins his sister, made brave by her company. O'Leary scoops them both up into his massive paw, and brings them up to his elephantine chest to examine them.

"She's not worried at all, is she?" he says to Castle, who is beginning, to Beckett-Onyx's experienced eye, to think that something's going on. It's mostly concealed by his look of mingled terror and annoyance that O'Leary is petting her and picking up their tiny kitten-babies.

Worryingly, to her experienced eye, O'Leary is looking suspiciously intrigued already. Beckett, Onyx or not and grindingly bone-wrenchingly exhausted or not, goes on alert.

"No," Castle says.

"Strange, when she's never met me. You'd think that she'd be frightened by a stranger taking her kittens away."

What is going on here? And why is O'Leary visiting so early in the game? She doesn't want visitors (they've just about put up with the family visits, once each week, each – individually, and even that was a strain), she wants sleep. And Advil. She might have been in feline form but she's still sore.

"I'm here. She's my cat" – she'll wreak havoc on him later for that, if she can stay awake or the babies aren't crying or feeding or needing their diapers changed, so that'll be two years from now – "and if I'm not making a fuss she won't."

"Oh," O'Leary says, and snuggles the kittens, who extend their tiny fluff-ball selves to try to climb up on to his t-shirt. Onyx mews meaningfully, and they curl back down again till she settles. Then they try again, and the cycle repeats a few times.

Castle watches his brave little kittens practising mountaineering on O'Leary, and thoughtlessly reaches for Onyx, who settles herself in his lap where she can watch her twins beadily.

"How is Beckett? I was a bit worried 'bout her."

"She's fine. Twins are a bit of a shock to the system, but she's doing just fine." He fondles Onyx's ears, unthinkingly. "She's amazing," he murmurs. O'Leary looks sympathetic and slightly disgusted at the sappiness, which is unfair since O'Leary is still regarding the kittens as if they're the cutest things on earth.

They are the cutest things on earth, of course. They're her babies, and they are the cutest babies ever – when they are not howling, or don't have dirty diapers.

"No-one's heard from her since, only from you. Like she dropped off the face of the earth."

"Definitely not. If you'd heard her muttering blackly every time I bring her a twin to be fed, you'd be pretty sure she was here too." Onyx swats him. "Ow!"

O'Leary raises an eyebrow. "Looks like your cat's on Beckett's side." A fluff-ball makes another attempt to tear his t-shirt, and he picks it off and puts it back on the cushion. It protests, loudly. Onyx stalks from Castle's lap, picks her kitten up by the scruff of its neck, lies them both down on the central cushion and then tucks him in. He nuzzles around and finds milk, at which point protests cease. O'Leary keeps the other one, despite Onyx's flat eared glare.

"She glares just like Beckett, too. Fact is, they're surprisingly alike."

"Yeah," Castle says, commendably calmly. "Probably why I like Onyx so much."

"The way you're playing with her ears and tail, if I was Beckett I'd be jealous."

"Nothing for Beckett to be jealous of."

Damn straight, Castle. Onyx-Beckett's conviction that O'Leary is trying to get at something becomes stronger. Her investigative senses are beginning to holler. She just doesn't know what he's getting at, yet. He can't possibly think that Castle's spirited her away or murdered her and hidden the body. In fact, it sounds just a little as if he suspects her triple nature. He can't possibly. O'Leary is not Castle. He doesn't go in for insane theories.

O'Leary finally picks up on the nervously possessive, antagonistic stares of both Onyx and Castle. "Does she want this one back too?" he asks.

"She has a name. Not 'this one'" Castle points out.

Oh, Castle. You idiot. From O'Leary's twinkling eyes that's the break he's been looking for. She takes the option of least resistance and doesn't claw Castle – or even better, O'Leary – to distract everyone. Castle can get their asses out of this one by himself.

Or not.

"Does she?" O'Leary rescues his t-shirt again. "Mischievous little furball, ain't she?" He pets her tiny head, and acquires an expression of extreme besottedness. "What's her name?"

Castle is so disarmed by the besottedness – dumb man, is he so flattered he doesn't see the trap? Aaarrrrgh!

"Petra," Castle says without any thought at all. Beckett will kill him. She will tear him to pieces and rend his bones. Oh. She already did kill him, to turn him into a panther. And she needs him. It'll take both of them to deal with the endless feeding and diaper changing and lack of sleep. She growls, audibly.

"Petra?" O'Leary queries. "Thought that was the name of your little girl?" Castle gibbers. "Surely you din't call the kitten the same as the baby?" He smiles very widely and slowly. "Guess you must've really lucked out."

"Uh?" Castle says inanely. Beckett wishes she could put her head in her paws right now.

"They're still asleep. All of 'em." He grins, and small icebergs gleam. "Funny thing is, the door through to your office is open, an' I can see the bedroom door an' that's open, an' anyways you got those open bookshelves 'stead of walls – an' I've done stakeouts with Beckett an' she sleeps with one eye open like your cat here" – Castle can't help the wince. Onyx's ears are flat against her head and her tail is lashing. O'Leary pets Petra, who snuggles into the curve of his palm and then makes yet another determined assault on Mount Everest – "so I'm really surprised that none of this chattin' has woken her." The grin expands even further, to show Antarctica. "An' I'm even more surprised that one of the babies hasn't woken, since I've been here half an hour already."

"D'you want a coffee?" Castle says hurriedly. "I'm so tired I forgot to ask."

"Sure, that'd be good."

O'Leary recaptures Petra and brings her up to inspect her. "She's gorgeous," he says. "I like the spots in her fur."

"They won't last," Castle says. "She'll be – they'll both be – coal black when they're bigger."

"Three black cats runnin' round? Is that good luck or bad?" Onyx hisses. "Guess she thinks it's good."

"We're happy with it," Castle notes, bringing back some coffee.

"If you don't want a tribeful, you'd better get them all neutered."

Castle chokes on his coffee. Onyx yowls fit to wake the dead, which sets off Petra and her brother.

"Hell no," Castle splutters, over the screeching cats. Onyx's claws are full out and her eyes furious.

O'Leary strokes his tiny bundle of fluff until she stops wailing at fire-siren volume and begins to purr. Onyx curls protectively round the other tuft of fluffiness, and he quietens down. Castle's scarlet face slowly returns to its normal shade.

"Guess that din't find favour," O'Leary drawls, and slurps his coffee. Petra peers at the cup, sniffs, and sneezes disgustedly. Castle puts his cup down so Onyx can take a sip, which O'Leary watches with knowing amusement. The second furball uncurls from Onyx and essays an attack on Castle's pants. Castle picks him off carefully, and snuggles him up to his chest protectively.

"You didn't tell me that'un's name," O'Leary points out.

"Didn't I?"

"But before you have to make somethin' up, c'n I just point out that my detectin' skills have detected that in spite of the racket these little cuties" – Onyx hisses, and extends claws menacingly – "just made, there's no cryin' and no Beckett." He pauses, meaningfully. "Which might just be," he says slowly, dropping the hayseed drawl, "because that's Beckett sitting right there next to you and these are your twins."

Less than half a second later there are two full grown panthers at his neck, a cub on the floor wailing, and one cub still in his hand. O'Leary sits very still indeed, absolutely white. He puts the cub down very slowly and very carefully next to her brother. The air is thick with incipient violence and menace. O'Leary doesn't move a muscle. The smaller panther opens her mouth and displays very, very sharp white teeth, then puts a large paw on his thigh and extends her claws to pierce through his jeans and touch the skin over his femoral artery. Green eyes carrying the promise of swift fatality flick to cold bright blue, and nod, just once. The cubs have cuddled together, scared and silent.

Castle's massive feline form shivers and becomes human once more. The tension in the air doesn't lessen in the slightest as he picks up his cubs and pets them till they relax and purr. He stows them safely in his lap and pins O'Leary with a hard, cold stare.

"I didn't see that comin'," O'Leary manages.

"How did you know?" Castle grates. O'Leary looks straight back.

"I had my suspicions for a good long time. Long before you were ever around, writer." Beckett-panther growls ominously, paw flexing.

"Carry on," Castle invites, coldly.

"I couldn't work out how she could be hidin' so well on stakeouts. No-one ever saw hide nor hair of her. So I watched. Wanted to know how she did it. An' once or twice I thought I saw her disappear, an' once or twice I thought I saw a cat, but nuthin' to speak to. An' then one night, there was a bit of a scuffle, an' she went down, an' suddenly this cat shot out the fight an' then Beckett came back round the corner. But I'd taken a punch to the head and thought I'd imagined it. Then. Year or so later, just before she went off to the Twelfth, it happened again."

"I see."

The panther's claws retract, and she goes back to the cushion where her cubs are.

"I sure din't know she could do that," O'Leary says wonderingly. His ham-sized hand reaches towards her. Teeth are bared. "Beckett, you gonna change to human an' talk to me?"

"If she does, the babies will change too," Castle says. "And they cry."

There is a soft sigh, and Beckett appears. So do two cross babies, in NYPD onesies. Castle takes his son. Beckett picks up her daughter from his lap. O'Leary simply stares at the two little red scrunched-up faces, which are indeed crying.

"C'n I cuddle one?" he asks hopefully, despite the wails.

"Sure," Beckett says, and hands him Petra. "She seems to like you. Maybe you'll be able to stop her crying."

Beckett herself snuggles into Castle, and shares their other twin.

"So what is his name?" O'Leary asks.

"David. Petra Katherine and David Richard."

"Very nice," O'Leary says approvingly. He tickles Petra's tummy. "I brought them a present. Brought you chocolate, Beckett, since that's never wrong." The babies have temporarily stopped fussing, soothed by their parents' return to calmness and possibly the subliminal resonances of O'Leary's bass rumble. Petra's tiny fists are patting at his chest, much as her tiny kitten-claws had done. She appears to be confused as to why she can't get a grip of the t-shirt.

O'Leary reaches the parcel and hands it over. "Hope you like it," he says, embarrassed.

Beckett rips it open and discovers not NYPD onesies, which already puts O'Leary on the credit side – for gifts. There will be a discussion shortly about secrecy, backed up by threats which can be made good. Or bad, if you're O'Leary – but two beautiful wooden toys: a pull-along elephant and a pull-along giraffe.

"Thank you," they say in tandem.

"These are gorgeous," Beckett says, and yawns. David makes a noise that she recognises as preparatory to crying. She takes a sniff. Yep, diaper time. Ugh. "Castle – your turn," she says, and passes him across.

"Sure," he says and takes him away upstairs, from where howls of displeasure shortly emanate.

"It'll be her in a moment," Beckett says, indicating Petra, who is staring up at O'Leary and still wondering why she isn't able to get a grip of his t-shirt when she could a few moments ago. She pauses. "Nobody knows. Absolutely not a soul. No-one's allowed to know. Not even our families."

"I never mentioned it to anyone before now," O'Leary points out. "Why would I do it now?"

"Mm."

"An' I din't know you could be a panther. It was a panther, yeah?" Beckett nods. "You can be you or a cat or a panther?" She nods again. "An' the babies are whatever you are?" Another nod. "An' Castle there's the same?"

"He is now."

O'Leary raises an eyebrow. "Now there's a story worth the tellin'," he rumbles. Petra's tummy wobbles in sync with the bass. She makes a funny little baby noise, and then, just as Beckett thinks she's about to howl, doesn't. Wow. Maybe they should keep O'Leary around as a pacifier. The plastic ones surely didn't work. They just spat them back out, usually with a dribble of milk posset for good measure. Ugh.

"I don't think so," she says. How she changed Castle isn't O'Leary's business. The exact circumstances of the bite through his jugular are definitely private. It had been an extremely – er – athletic night. From his wicked grin, O'Leary's making some guesses. He can guess all he likes. She's not telling.

"An' nobody knows but you two?"

"And you, now. Why'd you have to go poking your nose in anyway?"

"Seemed like a good time to find out for real, when you were both too tired to hide it."

Beckett yawns, inadvertently. "Give me her back," she says, and receives Petra, who rootles at her chest. Noises of Castle coming down the stairs with a fussing David can be heard. "You better talk to Castle for a bit. I need to feed these two." O'Leary blushes. "As a cat. Less embarrassment all round." He blushes more brightly, and rivals the sun.

Castle arrives, there is a tiny sigh and shiver, and suddenly and surprisingly the panther is back, together with two cubs, both of whom indeed go rootling for their milk. A black tail wraps around the cubs, and Castle settles himself so that her ebony head is on his lap where he can stroke it. Of course, this also means that O'Leary has a perfect view of her emerald stare and ivory teeth. She knows that Castle knows that this is quite deliberate intimidation. Normally, she'd be Onyx. The logistics of feeding twins are so much simpler as Onyx. Many baby matters are so much simpler as a cat.

Generating terror, however, is best done as a panther. She smiles. O'Leary regards her with a certain degree of nervousness. The cubs continue to feed placidly.

"You're not gonna talk about this, are you?" Castle growls. There is a distinct resemblance to the panther in his voice.

"Nope," O'Leary agrees. "Beckett's my pal. I don't rat on my pals."

One cub decides it's had enough to drink for now and pads back to him, wobbling dreadfully on its baby paws but absolutely determined to cross the two foot space, however hard it might be. It looks pleadingly northward and pats at his leg until O'Leary picks her – it's Petra, naturally – up again and pets.

"'Sides which, they're so cute. Wouldn't do a thing to hurt them."

"You'd better not," Castle says dangerously. Beckett yawns, terrifying teeth on full display. Tension thickens the air again.

It's broken by David-cub finishing feeding and hiccupping loudly. Castle and O'Leary laugh. Beckett coughs, panther-like. Even as a cub, David looks confused. He spots his sister and wobbles over towards her. O'Leary scoops him up and puts them together. Petra bats at David. David tries to hide under his paws.

"Awww," O'Leary coos. "They're just exactly like you two." Castle growls. Beckett coughs, again.

O'Leary looks at his watch after a little more petting, cooing, and general sappiness. "Time I went," he says. "You need your sleep, Beckett." He gives her back the cubs. Everyone becomes human again. The babies look a little cross that they're not feline, but snuggle into Beckett's arms and close their eyes peacefully.

O'Leary achieves the door, and puts his hand on the handle. "You got it all worked out, Beckett. I gotta say, though" – he grins massively – "you guys are very cool, for cats."

Fin.

Thank you to readers and reviewers.

This is the next random story in the Cats universe. Since it's AU, I chose different names.

I have ideas for two more, and in the next three weeks some lovely (?) long flights on which to write them.