if you love me, don't let go
hold, hold on, hold onto me
'cause I'm a little unsteady
a little unsteady
- x ambassadors

Kate's nestled on the couch in her husband's office reading a book, cradling a glass of wine in her free hand, when she hears the front door open and close. She stands and pads her way out into the living room, lit only by the oven light in the kitchen, and she finds Rick slipping off his shoes by the front door.

"Hey," she says.

He jumps, eyes flashing to hers.

"Jesus," he mutters. "I thought you would still be at work."

"And I thought you would be home, oh, I don't know." Kate glances down at her father's watch. "Three hours ago."

"There was a thunderstorm. Flight got delayed." Barely paying her a glance, he walks straight past her into the kitchen.

She fights a sigh, finds herself - not for the first time - missing the normalcy they used to share. They've been so off-kilter recently, unlike it has ever been before. He's never been as closed-off and distant from her as he has been these past two months. She feels like she's staring at him behind a glass wall, can't even reach him anymore, and she wanted to spend tonight trying to fill this foreign gap that's been pushing them further apart from one another.

"Thanks for informing me," she bites. "I made dinner for you, thought maybe we could spend some time together, but never mind that idea. Leftovers are in the fridge."

She begins to turn around and make her way back into the office, doesn't want to deal with him right now, but the crack of a glass landing hard on the counter makes her jump. Kate spins, finds her husband glaring at her, and if he didn't look so damn angry with her she would make a joke about how she's surprised there isn't smoke blowing out of his ears.

"If I'm not mistaken, I'm not the only one who's late coming home."

"You could have called," she defends, before she can think better of it because she knows she's fighting fire with fire.

Rick laughs dryly, voice taking a venomous turn. "Right. I'm the only one who has to call when I'm going to be late, but Captain Beckett gets to come in and out whenever she chooses."

"Rick, you know how I get when I'm working-"

"Is that what you're doing? Working?"

"What the hell does that mean?" she snaps, voice low.

"I don't know, Kate. I just recall Gates never working as many hours as you do when she was Captain. You're the former detective. You tell me."

"What in the-" she stops, eyes going wide, staring at him. "You think I'm seeing someone else."

It isn't a question.

A lump forms in her throat and she has to blink back the tears, doesn't know if she can fight with him anymore, especially not when he doesn't even trust her commitment to him. He just stares blankly at her in response, vexation making his breathing ragged, and she knows that is exactly what he thinks.

"Are you out of your mind?" she seethes. "You know me, Rick. I would never-"

"Wouldn't you? I've been gone a lot. When I am home, you're still working long hours. I've barely touched you in months. Remember when we couldn't even keep our hands off of each other? Is it really that deranged of a theory?"

She clenches her fists tight, lets her nails dig crescents into her skin, has to refrain from grabbing his shoulders and shaking some sense into him. She never knew that's what he thought and it washes over her like ice water.

"You're my husband. I made a promise to you. For better or worse, the time of our lives. I have never even thought about cheating on you." She pauses, and then, because she wants him to hurt just as much as he's hurting her, "God, I could actually say the same about you. I'm sure your loyal fans are just dying to make it onto your list of ex-lovers. Who's to say you haven't slept with some here and there on all these stupid tours you've been going on? Who the hell are you anymore, Rick?"

"Me? What about you, Kate? When the hell did your job become more important than all of the other factors in your life? When did it become more important than us?"

She's nearly trembling with the weight of what they've become. She never imagined they would fight so much, rip their marriage apart with such a reckless abandon.

"It's not more-"

"It's not? Then why-"

"I can't do this anymore," she cuts him off, turning away from him, from his harsh words and ferocious looks. She goes to their bedroom, pulling a duffel bag from the top shelf of their closet, finding clothes for the next few days and shoving them in it while she tries to hold back the tears threatening to break free.

"What are you doing?" his voice comes from behind her, but she just pushes past him, throwing the bag onto their bed on her way to their bathroom to grab necessary toiletries. "Kate."

"I'm leaving. I can't fight with you anymore, Rick. I can't do it."

Her voice breaks and she sucks in a deep breath, swallowing roughly against the lump in her throat. She hates this, hates fighting with him, but it's all they do. All they know how to do anymore, and it's pressing down on her, suffocating her and she just needs air.

"What do you mean you're leaving?"

"I don't know right now. All I know is that I can't keep going in circles with you."

"Oh, this is just classic Kate, running away from the problem," he mumbles, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"See, that right there is what I mean," she snaps, finally looking him in the eye, doesn't even try to hide the wet trails streaming down her cheeks. She's hurt and she misses them. "The man I married would never use the past against me like that. That hasn't been me in years and you know it. I love you, I do, but I just cannot deal with this anymore."

"Where are you going to go?"

"My dad's or Lanie's. I'll figure it out."

"And when you run out of clothes?"

He crosses his arms, eyes following her as she puts the last of her things in the duffel bag, zipping it shut. The sound cuts through the room, slices her heart a little bit more.

"I'll come back and get more."

He just stares at her, a little hurt but mostly angry, and part of her expects, even hopes, that he'll fight for her to stay, to work it out this time.

He doesn't.

He turns and walks out of their bedroom, shoulders slumped, tired of fighting, she presumes. She knows the feeling, tries to ignore the heavy weight that is dragging her heart down anyways.

Her eyes roam over their bedroom once more, just to make sure she has everything she'll need for now, but they get caught on the happy memories that clutter the space in the most perfect way. The shells they gathered on their very first trip to the Hamptons that he has displayed on the wall, or the picture on his bedside table of her from their wedding day. Her lip trembles, but she drags in a sharp breath. They'll be fine. This isn't permanent.

She won't let it be, and she wants to believe he won't either.

She leaves their home without another word, just a final slam of the door.

Trust me and stick with me, that's all I have to say. We all want the same happy ending.

Feedback is seriously encouraged and welcome. I would love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading.

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