She doesn't even see the cliff -- one second, she's spinning, and a heartbeat later, she's falling (tailspinning), coming so hard she can't make a sound.

Eyes closed and brows knit, her body shudders; her hand slips to Beckett's thigh to anchor herself as she unravels, mouth open in a soundless oh.

"Bill -- god, Kate -- god."

Her voice is hardly a breath, their names a broken prayer on her lips. Her nails mark Bill's skin with shallow crescents, and her shoulder blades press into Beckett's torso while she keeps moving with Bill, for him, knowing his control has to be razor wire-thin by this point.