She took a step backward, flailing her arms, but Beckett knew she had no chance at all of catching herself before she fell. Just as she lost her balance, though, strong arms wrapped around her, steadying her and then helping her over to sit on the stool.

"I'm so sorry, Kate. I shouldn't have left it open. Are you all right?"

She wasn't. Not really. The sudden surge of adrenaline brought on by the fear of falling, and the frustration at having been injured in her own house in the stupidest way possible and everything else she'd dealt with in the last two days crashed down on her all at once and she lashed out at the only person she had available.

"No, Castle. I'm not. How could I be? Would you be? I'm basically worthless, and stuck at home and I can't even go to the bathroom without worrying about falling on my ass. Should I be all right?"

"No." There was a moment of silence and she could hear him pull up another stool. He didn't sit down, though. "You shouldn't be all right. You should be scared, and angry and all sorts of other things that even I can't think of words for."

His calm voice and ready understanding made her ashamed of the anger, and it cooled as quickly as it came. The fear, however, didn't. She hesitated, uncertainly, and finally cleared her voice and then spoke up again. This time her voice was as soft as his.

"What if Doctor Blaine is wrong, Castle?" she asked. "What if when the bandages come off, I still can't see?"

"Then we'll deal with it," he replied. "Together."

"I won't be able to be a cop anymore…"

"Sure you can."

"A blind cop?"

His hands found hers and he held them tightly.

"If anyone could pull off being a blind cop, it's you, Kate. But Doctor Blaine seemed pretty sure it's temporary…"

Beckett sighed.

"I know. And she might be right. But what if she isn't…?"

"Then we can get you a seeing eye dog and teach him to track down bad guys."

She smiled at that, like he'd probably meant for her to.

"And teach him to shoot?"

"Well… I haven't thought it through completely."

"Obviously."

She felt better, though, and he must have been able to tell. He let go of her hand and she heard him open a drawer and then run some water.

"Let's get your head taken care of before someone accuses me of not doing my job right," he told her as he returned to her side. A moment later she felt him press a cold, wet towel against her forehead.

"Am I bleeding?"

"Just a little," he assured her. "Does it hurt?"

"Not much."

"The cold water will stop it from swelling and stop the bleeding. Hold that there for a minute and I'll get the first aid kit so we can clean it - just to make sure."

She did what he told her, and a moment later he returned, and took over. After waiting another minute for the towel to do its job he pulled it away and checked to make sure there wasn't any more bleeding.

"Well?" Beckett asked.

"It might bruise. Sorry about that."

"Is it bad?"

"Nah." He dropped the towel on the island and she could hear him fiddling with the first aid kit. "This might sting," he warned her. She felt him put his hand on her chin to tilt her head up toward him and then press a little pad against her forehead. One with alcohol on it, she figured out immediately from the instant sting.

She hissed with the pain and then felt him blowing gently on the cut.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, blowing again. "It should stop hurting soon."

The sincere caring in his voice was compelling, and Beckett reached up with her hand and touched his cheek. It was stubbled, something she knew was a result of taking care of her and not really taking care of himself. Impulsively, she reached up with the other hand as well and pulled his head down before pressing a kiss unerringly against his lips and only slightly bumping her nose against his.

Beckett was surprised by the heat that rushed through her at the contact, and reacted accordingly, everything else forgotten for the moment as she deepened the kiss. She could tell from the way he froze that he was startled, but he didn't pull away from her. Instead, he moaned softly, deepening the kiss and bringing his arms around her to hold her tightly against him. She sighed in anticipation at his acceptance, and her hand went from his face to slide down his body, slowly, stopping at his belt and exploring-

Castle froze, and reluctantly pulled his head back, breaking the kiss abruptly.

"We can't."

"Yes, we-"

"Kate…" he kissed her again, softly but no less hungrily, but then sighed. "I can't."

"But-"

"You're vulnerable right now," he told her, taking her hands in his - mainly to keep her from continuing what she was doing, because that was driving him crazy - and he hugged her tightly. "I can't take advantage of that. I love you too much to do something so slimy."

"It's not taking advantage," she replied. "I want to-"

"You're killing me," he told her, and now she could hear a little amusement - and a lot of regret in his voice. "When the bandages come off and things are resolved - one way or the other - and if you want to make the offer again, I'll jump at it. I promise you. Until then, I'll hold you, support you and do anything else you need me to…"

"I might not make it then," she pointed out.

"I know. That's the whole point."

He kissed her forehead, and pulled away completely, just as the buzzer on the oven went off, telling them that the first batch of cookies were done. Relieved at the distraction, he pulled them out of the oven and put the other batch that he was making in to bake, and then looked over at her.

"Please don't be mad at me, Kate…"

Beckett smiled, and held out a hand to him. An invitation that he accepted.

"I'm not mad. A little disappointed - and a bit embarrassed, I suppose…"

He sat down on the stool beside hers, still holding her hand.

"It's probably perfectly normal," he said. "I bet a psychologist could explain it no problem. Besides… I'm quite the catch, you know?"

Beckett snorted.