A/N: Anonymous tumblr prompt to begin a fic with this sentence "He gently places her in the passenger seat and buckles her in, that when he notices it, her necklace is missing." A Veritas missing moment, though not one I particularly subscribe to. Ring is in her pocket in my personal canon.

He gently places her in the passenger seat and buckles her in, that when he notices it, her necklace is missing.

It takes him a moment of retracing the day, trying to remember if he had seen the chain peeking through her shirt or leather jacket at the precinct or the crime scene. Rick knows that she doesn't always wear it, too concerned that it will be lost or stolen.

"Kate, where is your ring?" he asks, gaining a mouthful of her hair and the sharp metallic taste of blood when she stirs slightly at his voice, indecipherable noises caught at the back of her throat.

He decides its important enough to risk some time, giving one glance up and down the alley where the car is parked, double and triple checking that they are alone while he digs through the pocket of the hoodie, her jeans. He even peels off her shoes to ensure she hadn't tucked it there.

But Rick comes up empty, a frustrated sigh on his lips while he considers the risk. It's just a ring, he can easily buy her another one, but he knows Kate. She holds on to symbols and he can imagine the flash of pain in her eyes when he has to break the news that her ring has been lost.

His knee twinges in protest when he bounds up onto his feet in one go, the damaged nerves singing in protest while he locks the car and slips back into the stairwell that provides more shadow than light. He's apprehensive the entire four floor walk, memories of the blood that coated the wall and Kate's head, the dark red stains drying steadily on his hands when he eases the door open to their floor, peeks around the edge to find the hallway still deserted.

Rick finds himself wishing he'd made the extra effort to locate a gun while making a run for their getaway car, aware that whomever came after Kate and hurt her could be lying in wait to finish the job.

That is the reason for his hesitation when he pauses at the door, ears alert for any sound that would indicate people waiting on the other side. He only enters after a minute of silence, nudging the partially open slab of wood with his foot while expecting the worst.

For once, his writer's brain can't live up to the reality. There's blood seeping into the carpet, drops of it splattered on the walls and the heavy stench of Jack Daniels mixing with the already acrid smells of musty furniture, dust and death. Clear slivers of the glass from the broken bottle litter the carpet, crunching softly under his feet while Rick navigates the least destructive path over the two henchman, a shiver racing up his spine when he realizes that Kate's injury came from the bottle.

He had left her alone, they had found her and tried to kill her.

It's almost enough to bring him to his knees, the clear and startling realization that Kate could have easily been the one left dead on a ratty hotel room floor knocking the breath out of him. The tears aren't all that surprising, not really, but Rick does have to take a moment to gather himself and find some control.

Thirty seconds. He counts to thirty with his eyes closed, taking one long draw of breath to steel himself before he's back on the move, scooping the chain that holds two glittering rings from where they circle the sink drain.

He doesn't stop after that, never allowing himself to look at the faces of the men he knows Kate has killed in self defense. He doesn't stop to retrieve the gun which he is sure has been stolen from her apartment safe and has now emptied bullets into three victims. Instead, he moves as quickly as he can back down the stairs, placing himself behind the wheel of the car.

By morning, Kate will be wanted for far more than the murder of Vulcan Simmons and its best they have plenty of distance between themselves and the city when that happens.