After Kate Beckett took his hand and led him from the door, Richard Castle didn't remember much except his body and her body, the two of them, together; that was all that mattered.
But the second she gasps, and it isn't because of anything good, he snaps abruptly back into reality.
Rick looks down at the woman in his arms, and her ivory skin is suddenly littered with blues and purples and reds, bruises and scrapes he hadn't seen before.
Maybe because he had been lost in her eyes, letting his hands memorize the feel, not the look, of her; all of her.
Kate obviously hasn't noticed him noticing, not yet, because she continues to place intimate kisses on his shoulder. She had felt the uncomfortable pressure on her hip, but it had since passed, her mind elsewhere.
Pulling back and finding his eyes, she brings a hand to his face to get his attention. "What's wrong?" she asks, eyes filling with worry.
"What's wrong?" he repeats harshly, "Oh my God, Kate, look at you. What happened today?" His eyes leave hers and focus on a particularly nasty-looking bruise on her neck. How had he not seen them before?
"The man who shot me, I found him. I went after him. I fought him and lost." She swallows, hard, and Rick can see the lump forming in her throat. "He threw me off a building. I held on just long enough for Ryan to pull me back up."
Rick is no longer on top of her, but on his side next to her. He holds her loosely, as she traces the darkest bruises on her arm, marks he now knows were caused by their friend's saving hand.
"Look, Castle, I'm fine. Really." And she is. That was the first time she had felt any of the injuries since the fight. She hadn't felt anything but him since the first kiss at the door. "I don't even think they were showing until a few minutes ago." She leans back into him, lips on his.
Into her mouth, he asks, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm better than okay, but I won't be if you don't shut up."
And that's exactly what he did.