Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot
(WTF?)
He felt as though a flash bang grenade had discharged within the confines of his skull leaving him stunned, disoriented and fighting an almost overwhelming white noise that threatened to drop him to his knees. There was no logic, no reasonable path of thought that could allow him to fathom how his wife could be standing in front of him saying these words to him. A packed bag near her feet snared his periphery as she spoke causing him to abandon the "smorelettes" already beginning to sear on the stove.
"Rick, do you trust me?" her voice broke in a way that tripped a series of silent alarms that radiated from the center of his being.
"Of course," the response came with an automaticity that tightened the strings of his gut and destabilized his resolve.
He knew what was coming. She didn't even have to say it – not really, but she would say it. He would give her no choice because there was no way in hell he was going to make it easy for her to just walk away from him. If she were leaving their marriage, leaving him, she would have to say the words and see his face when she said them.
"I need you to trust me now. I have to do this on my own," she hesitated giving him an opening, but he left it untouched.
The shaking of his head made it hard for her to follow the narrowing of his eyes, but the way his shoulders stiffened and his jaw retracted let her know that this was going to be harder than she had imagined, "When has that ever worked out for us?"
She pushed his question and the undeniable truth in it away, "I know you might not understand, but it has to be this way. I have to do this my way." The walls of the loft had begun to close in, and she felt that old familiar urge to escape.
"No, Kate, you don't. You're making a choice to chase whatever has gotten a hold of you over us…over me," Castle's voice dropped to a coarse whisper.
"What happened to the promise we made about no more secrets? You couldn't even keep it for 24 hours?" He challenged her directly because he knew he was right. She had a new secret – one that had awakened whatever it was inside of her that drove her relentlessly once unleashed. A secret she was consciously choosing to keep to herself.
She ignored the question and pressed on with her agenda; "I need to do this alone."
"I can't believe it - not after everything we've…" It wasn't that he couldn't find the words to finish; he just knew they would be of no use. He could see it in her eyes.
"And when it's done, I hope that – I hope that you'll have it in your heart to take me back," the words came out sounding contrived like they were from a poorly conceived arc in a television drama.
There was no doubt in his mind. She was on her path, the one that propelled her forward sans reason or common sense. A track that had brought them both face to face with death so many times, that he had long since given up keeping score.
"That son of a bitch Bracken was right," he turned away from her to attend to the charring smorelettes.
Beckett stood stock still like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi on a midnight darkened country road. She knew it was in her best interest to move, but somehow couldn't.
Castle grabbed the pan's handle and slung it into the sink, "He said I would never be enough to hold you. That being my wife would be a momentary detour."
She couldn't find any words to use in her defense that would do anything other than make the situation worse, so she didn't say anything.
"Whatever this is, Beckett, we can figure it out together; like always," he couldn't stop himself from giving one last ditch effort to reach her.
"No, not this time," she knew it was time to go. It was time to end this. "I love you so much, Rick, but I have to figure some things out so we can have our happily ever after."
"Then say it," it was a demand cloaked in practiced civility.
"I don't want to hurt you. I love you," she tried to avoid the corner he was maneuvering her into with his request.
He took several steps toward her, "If you are leaving me, I need to hear you say it."
His voice had lost its even timbre and seemed to cause the very air around him to vibrate.
"Please don't make me do this," Rita's words crashed into her brain - dive down into the rabbit hole if you must, but think twice about who you bring with you…anybody who dies now – that blood is on you.
"Say it," the urgency in his voice intensified.
She heaved in a deep breath trying to keep her blood that was suddenly running cold moving inside her body, "It's over Castle. We're done for now. I'm done."
The hurt traveled across his face in undulating waves, each more intense than the last. In trying to distance herself from the pain she was causing, she looked away from him. If she had only waited a moment longer, it might have changed the course of everything. A few seconds more, she might have seen the anguished anger roiling beneath the disbelief that camouflaged the surface of his face. Seeing such volatile emotion masked behind his grief might have compelled her to tell him the truth bringing him back to her where she could truly protect him and not leave him alone to flail recklessly and dangerously for answers of his own.
Beckett had accepted that the devil that drove her would not be easily cast out, but failed to remember that her husband was much the same. Having willingly set aside his own path to be with her, he had abandoned it littered with unanswered questions, elusive memories, and what he could only assume was unfinished business.
She had been his reason to forget, to let the story remain untold. Now she was gone, choosing her secrets and personal demons over him once again. All that was left for him was his story and now there was no reason not to try and recover it. A shift had taken place in him when she said the words that ended their marriage and she had missed seeing it by seconds. She had made her choice and unbeknownst to her, so had he.