(no subject)
On the day that Nico Lanza died, Richard fully regretted taking women into the CIA. Women's emotions were not covert, and they were far from simple.
Kate had triggered the kill shot herself, and the immense guilt of her act weighed heavily on her already bruised shoulders. She had killed the man she loved. Richard could do nothing but hold her hand, talk to her, and hope that she wouldn't blow her cover- again. So they walked together, often, whispering about plans of action. Her voice grew a little less strained each day, and he found himself utterly invested in her recovery. He had brought her into this mess, after all.The one time he mentions his own guilt, she immediately begins to cry, and he is left feeling even worse than before.
On the day of the funeral, they find themselves on the outskirts, but together, watching from a distance. Her head finds his shoulder; her fingers intertwine with his. They stand there in silence for the entire ceremony. As the crowd departs, Kate places one gloved hand to Richard's face and turns him towards her. "Richard..." she trails off, as if preparing herself for the words. "Richard, it's not your fault." She meets his gaze and smiles wryly, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "Don't cling to it."
He stares down at her, utterly shocked, then gives her a slow nod of recognition. The grin he receives in response is like a bolt of lightning through his heart- he hadn't seen her smile in weeks. "Come on, then," she murmurs, gently guiding him away from the scene.
He won't cling to guilt anymore, he thinks. He can cling to her.