"As if you were on fire from within, the moon lives in the lining of your skin." Pablo Neruda
In the afterglow of making love to the woman lying next to him, Steve tries to reign in his emotions, but is unable. They are all over the place, he feels out of control, but in a good way. Every sensation, when he's with her, is magnified to levels that he never experienced, when he'd dated Lynn. He hasn't felt this happy, genuinely happy, in a long time, even though he has no idea where what happened the night before and just now will take them. It's like a piece of his physical, but also mental and emotional puzzle, that has been incomplete for such a long time, has finally clicked into place, seamlessly and without effort, allowing him to function at full capacity, something he hasn't done in a long time. He's merely been going through the motions like a robot, trying to hold his ends together, so he doesn't break apart. And the feeling has been ever present, as though falling into a precipice was a danger always on the back of his mind and he needed to make a herculean effort to keep that from happening. But now, the feeling of doom is gone. He feels like he can move unshackled again. There is hope for the future, hope that he may finally be able to achieve that all important happiness with the woman he loves.
Suddenly, his mind is transported back to the day she had left. He wonders how he could've let her go without a fight. Didn't he know, then, that she was the one and only his heart ached for, the best thing that had ever happened to him? Was every other distraction loud enough to not have allowed him time to think about what she meant to him? And then… he'd added insult to injury and deluded himself into thinking that another love was just the thing he needed, after she'd shattered his heart into a million pieces. He'd been angry, humiliated, confused, in pain, and he did not deal well with rejection. She'd left without a decent explanation. Without any regard for his feelings, or for the fact that he loved her so much that he was getting ready to propose. He only had eyes for her. There'd been plenty of women who had told him, in no uncertain terms, that they wanted to date him, ever since they'd met. Even despite knowing that he was in a committed relationship with Catherine. So, he either played the oblivious card or didn't engage in any explanations. His relationship status was proudly there, for all to see.
Maybe his almost attempt at making her his wife was made 1000 times worse by the fact that he hadn't even managed to propose. He'd bought the ring, he'd planned the 'op'. She'd left before he'd gotten the chance to ask, it almost felt as though she'd ran away from him. He doesn't buy her "I would've said yes", he knows that when she got to Hawai'i, for Kono's wedding, her position with the CIA had already been arranged. And even his personal satisfaction, at the time, at having been able to hold onto his pride because she never even knew that he was getting ready to propose had been an illusion. Who cares if he'd managed to retain his dignity? He'd lost her in the end! She was the prize, not his pride. He'd preferred one over the other, and he'd been suffering the full brunt of the consequences of his choice for years. Purposefully numbing his heart to emotions and feelings, going through the motions, trying to never let his mind wander in her direction, naïvely dating someone else in hopes of forgetting her… for what? To keep himself from coming after her? Because that would make him seem weak, in her eyes? Or his own? Because he's been so happy, all this time, he huffs ironically. Instead of just chasing after her once and for all, trying to find out her reasons and just letting her know that she was the one. He hadn't fooled her, or escaped humiliation – he'd fooled himself, shot himself in the foot.
Disturbed by his thoughts, Steve sits at the edge of the bed, sinking his head in his hands. He can feel his emotions begin to wrap up around him, again, self-preservation coming to the fore, like a familiar, restricting straightjacket. They feel as heavy as ever, only this time, after the love and laughter he and Catherine have just shared, the weight feels intolerable, crushing his chest. He's not a naïve man. Their personal circumstances have not changed substantially and she's told him, enough times, that she is happy with the life she leads and the job that she does. Their brief time together may have been nothing more than a window, a break in the time continuum, postponing the inevitable. It was written in the cosmos, it had to happen, but now, will it become nothing more than a memory between them? He's been cowardly running away from this truth for years, loaded with regret that she may confirm his deepest fears.
Steve gets up, fidgety, and decides it's time to break away from the shackles and talk. Lay his heart out, once and for all. He needs her laughter, her lightness, her tenderness. Having made up his mind, relieved, he goes in search of the kitchen, to make them some breakfast while she sleeps.