angst, thank you for inspiring this to come out all in one sitting. What a happy surprise that was.
Lyrics come from The Oh Hellos' Cold is the Night. I'd love some constructive criticism, with the friendly reminder that I did not manufacture the S8 storyline like I did this tiny little nugget.
Completed-ish, with the addendum that I'll try to tack on more as they come. 'cause bless S8.
cold is the night.
It's been months since she left. 8x02 post-ep.
long is the road that leads me home
"Kate," he sighs, his elbows on his knees as he peers at her from the couch in her office. From the couch in her office, because she didn't get him a chair. Because she doesn't want him here. Because she wants him safe.
They've been doing this dance for months already, and Kate tries so, so hard not to see how weary he's grown, how he's aged in their time apart. She tries so hard not to see because she knows that he'll reach a breaking point and even though they can't be together she loves having him in her precinct and she doesn't want him to go.
"Kate," he repeats, and her gaze jerks up to meet his. She's working under the pretence of paperwork, and he's working under the pretence of a case he's weaselled his way into, and the bullpen is empty. Months ago, this would have been an evening of him attempting to coax her into the coat closet or the storage room, and she's not too proud to admit that it would always have a 50/50 chance of working. "Do you want me to get my lawyer to draw up divorce papers?"
Oh.
God.
That hits her like a sock to the gut, and no, no, there are tears in his eyes and her heart is somewhere around her oesophagus and somehow every, every muscle in her body aches. "W-what?" she finally manages to stumble out.
He looks gutted, seems to change tact. "You didn't give me any details, Kate. Is this it? Are you tired of our– our marriage, and you're trying to spare my feelings?"
"No, I didn't, how could you think–"
"Kate," he says, and even though it's the fourth time he's spoken her name in two minutes it's different every time, his voice so, so soft, forgiveness already laced around it. "You left me."
"I didn't leave you!" Oh god. She did. She left him. She packed a bag and she said I'm sorry and she left him standing in the foyer of their home. "I didn't mean to. I didn't– I love you. I just need some time."
His whole face shutters closed at that, forgiveness sliding off that easily, and he nods once, abruptly, jerkily stands to leave. It takes her a second to make the connection, to here the unspoken I'll call, okay? that's apparently ringing through her husband's head.
Her husband. Oh, she doesn't want him to die, but she wants him so badly.
And this is not their early partnership, full of misunderstandings and unspoken hurts. She scrambles up to correct herself, to catch him before he leaves, one hand reaching out grabs his wrist and then pulling back like she's been burned. "Wait, wait, I didn't mean... Castle, I'm just sorting something out. This isn't forever."
When he turns around, his face is still that near-crying that makes this whole conversation so much worse. He's so jovial in the precinct, but she can see through his cracks, see that he's playing it up because he thinks that this is how to win her back, the same way he did the first time. It's not, it's not it's not, she's already won over, she's so in love with him and she needs to keep him safe, but staying away is so unbearably difficult when he looks at her like that.
"How long?"
Oh. How long will it take to finish this case?
"I don't know," she murmurs, ashamed with it.
"Is this what it's always going to be? You become overwhelmed with something, and run off to sort it out, and I wait until you come back?" He doesn't sound bitter, or angry, even, which might make this whole thing easier. His entire being is desolate, his body caving in on itself, his hands reaching out to touch her but stopping even before they reach the halfway point. "Is that what our marriage is going to be? The moments we find together between pauses?"
"No," she cries, and this is so much worse than even leaving the loft, leaving him.
It strikes her, suddenly, that this could be another thirteen years. She just needs to get a handle on it, just needs to make sure that he's safe from whatever her investigation will rain down on her, but. It could be another thirteen years.
Kate is trying to save their happily-ever-after, but she's also watching it crumble between her fingers.
"I love you," she says, because it's all she has.
and longer still when i walk alone.
