He was asleep on his back, Kate lay on his shoulder, his arms encircling her. His soft, even breathing soothed by her hand gently stroking his forearm.
She lay awake, and didn't that say it all? He slept soundly while she thought. So very many thoughts, all of them coming at once. Her mother's case, Roy, the way Rick had just made love to her. Joy and misery. Pain and tenderness. Bitter and sweet.
She coveted peace.
She didn't want to break his heart. She was certain she really was in love with him. Just maybe not enough? Things were going to change, war was brewing, it scared her. All these changes hoisted upon her, wave after wave of grief, old and new. Suddenly she was aware of how hard it was to catch her breath. She needed to move.
Slowly untangling herself from his embrace she moved off the bed, grabbed her still-damp clothes off the floor, slipped into the bathroom.
She felt like a thief. Hadn't sneaked out of a bed partner's home ever. She was a thief, she was stealing from him. Closed her eyes to the thought. She was stealing his happiness. It made her nauseous to think about his morning plans with her. Soon he would know, he would wake up and he would know.
She was creeping toward the bedroom door when she heard his incoherent voice. She stopped a moment, stole a glance at him over her shoulder. Eyes closed, good, he'd sleep through her escape.
She swallowed hard, steeled herself to finish the task.
"Don't do it Kate."
She hadn't realized she was holding her breath; now she couldn't seem to slow her breaths.
After a moment she found the courage to look.
"I am so tired of worrying about you," he whispered. He wiped a finger along his brow, rubbed his face, held two fingers to the center of his forehead, closed his eyes. "Was I a fool to think 'I love you' was enough?"
Immobile, like a wall was boxing her in on all sides. He caught her. Locked her up like this. This was her punishment, her sentence. This was what thieves deserved. She knew that. She was a cop, of course she knew the guilty deserved to be separated from the good.
"Are you going to say anything? Or is the way you're leaving saying it all?" He didn't sound angry. He sounded resigned, like he knew it was too good to last.
Of course not, Kate Beckett would rather stay silent than offer up excuses. That's who she was.
She looked up at the ceiling, facing away from him. Tears weren't going to help, hold them in check, think of something to say.
But nothing would come.
He sat up, leaned against the headboard.
"It was worth it Kate. Even if you leave me now." His voice grew stronger after those words.
"It will break me, I won't get over you. But even that pain? I know it's been worth it. I believed you Kate, you said you loved me. I believed you. You still have a wall, you can't choose me, I get it. You can't choose to be happy? I'm not going to guilt you into it. But don't you lie to yourself Kate, don't you tell yourself what we had, what we have isn't enough."
She bit her lip. Tears threatened.
"And don't tell yourself you'll deal with things between us after you deal with your mother's murder."
She took a deep breath at that one.
They were silent so long; Kate's labored breathing the focus of the room. One paralyzed. One waiting.
Finally, she heard him move, the rustling of the sheets.
Her heart sped up at the thought of him coming after her. She waited to feel him behind her.
Silence.
She dared to sneak a peek over her shoulder.
He was on his side, facing away from her, comforter pulled up to his neck.
She felt the hot tears hit her cheeks, couldn't hold them back. Guilt swept over her. She swallowed hard. She'd never be able to pay restitution for this. The price was too high.
She was surprised by her own loud sniffling. So ungracious.
She coveted peace and she really only knew one place she had gotten it since her mother's death.
Before she knew it, she had crawled across the bed where his back was to her, wrapped her arms under his neck and around his shoulders, put her head against his scapula and cried soft whimpers of contrition.
He said nothing, didn't comfort her, but he didn't shake her off either.
If she were going to reform, she'd have to repent on her own.
They were silent a long time before he whispered, "You know, Kate, in the bathroom is a time-machine."
He still wasn't facing her. She still had yet to utter a word.
"I know you don't believe in time travel, but I think you believe me."
He felt her move off the bed.
She stripped off her clothes, splashed her face with water. The woman in the mirror was a bit of a mess.
He had moved to the center of the bed, hadn't left much space to squeeze in, his arms lay stretched out on both sides.
She picked up one of his hands as she slipped in beside him, reached across him to grab his other wrist, wrapped them both around her body, made her own prison as she leaned back on his shoulder, settling in.
He moved one finger up to her lips.
He squeezed her tight. "Shh. Don't say anything."
She hadn't, this whole time she hadn't said anything, he'd stolen her words.
Turn-about was fair play.
Now they were both thieves.
A/N: Someone asked why I begged for reviews. My answer is this: because we are a community. Otherwise, I wouldn't need to post my writing, I'd just selfishly keep it on my computer. Readers need writers, writers need readers. No communication? No community.