She's going to get the job. That's not even a question in his mind. The Attorney General – hell, anyone – would be crazy not to want her. The only problem is that he does too. Or he thought he had. He isn't so certain anymore. He loves her, that's inarguable, but she had kept it a secret, hidden the interview from him. A lie of omission, but still a lie. The ironic thing is that he would have told her to take the interview, would never have dreamed of standing in the way of her career until the option was taken from him.
He's not surprised so much as disappointed. It hurts to realize that she thinks so little of him, that she believes that he wouldn't stand behind her, support her in whatever decision she makes, Long before they were lovers, he was the person she turned to in situations like this, her best friend. Apparently, she's forgotten that, and that might be the worst part.
His mother accused him of wanting Beckett to put him first, but that's not quite true. He just wants her to consider him, to let him be part of the equation, not hide things and go behind his back. He just wants her to have told him about it, asked his opinion.
If they have a hamartia, it has always been lack of communication.
They speak in subtext and body language, dance around what they really want to say in the same way they once danced around a relationship. Only he doesn't know the steps to this dance. He is cautious with her, a trait borne from years of waiting and choosing his words carefully to try to avoid the fear in her eyes when he got too close to a truth she wasn't ready to hear. He had thought they were past that, had believed that they had somehow finally stumbled onto solid ground. He should have known that it wouldn't last.
He doesn't know what to do about that, doesn't know what it means for their future, if there even is a future for them. For the first time in a long time, he wishes for the Beckett he had known before they started this relationship, the Beckett who would roll her eyes and tell him what he was doing wrong, or what he wasn't doing that he should be. He hadn't known how much he had depended on her guidance until now, when he doesn't have it.
If she takes the job, he won't have that guidance ever again. He won't be her partner anymore. He won't be her boyfriend or her lover. He'll have to put her on a plane and kiss her for the last time.
He stares around the office where he had finally started writing again, where he had put her story, her passion and drive to paper. If she stays, it will absolutely be for him, and it will mean giving up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He wants her to stay, but he can't ask that of her.
He thinks about when he kissed her for the first time. The moment is seared into his memory: the way she had melted into his touch, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him get lost for the span of a few pounding heartbeats. He had spent over a year remembering that moment, dreaming about the day that she would let him kiss her again.
He wants her to be his last first kiss, and he wants to be hers. He'll send her off to DC, but he wants her to leave with his ring on her finger with the taste of his murmured I love you on her lips.
What he doesn't want is to give her up. He had fought every step of the way to get to this point, and he learns that he's not ready to stop fighting for Kate Beckett. He never will be.
His mind clear, he stands, pockets his keys, and grabs his jacket. He has to go ring shopping.