A/N: The onscreen chemistry between Richard and Kate is undeniable, I couldn't help myself. Hope you like it.
Chapter 1
Niko was dead. Branded a traitor by President Tito, executed by the hand of his own Yugoslavian countryman, he was gone from her forever.
There was nothing that could make it better. Sure she could tell Laura, perhaps confide in the other girls; but it wouldn't have been the same. No one would understand her frustration, her pain, simply because no one understood the whole story. Like countless other Pan Am stewardesses before her, Kate was a girl who fell in love with a tall, dark, and charmingly handsome stranger.
But she was also the girl who'd fallen in over her head, involved in the matter of national security, unintentionally fooling her lover and binding him to a near death sentence. She thought he would work for the American government, she thought Niko would stay with her in the city, she thought they would be able to be together forever. It seemed she knew nothing these days.
Kate received the news when on a mission in Rome. When she delivered the small secret envelope to Roger, something was off. He was too quiet, too stiff. She asked what was wrong, and when he told her, the world itself crumbled down around her. She turned her back on him and walked away, too concentrated on maintaining her composure to say anything back.
Being who she was, Kate managed to conceal her emotions. She was never one to run into the arms of a loved one for comfort. She stuck it through the entire trip, smiling on the plane back, serving drinks with fabricated cheer, preparing meals for strangers with the upmost grace. She went through the motions quietly, waving goodbye to her friends, hailing a taxi home, pushing her key through the lock, and stepping into her empty apartment. She set her bags down, hung her coat up, and sat neatly on the end of the couch.
She was at a loss. What should she do, what could she do? .
There was no chance of saving Niko anymore, no chance of bringing him back. The body was cold and half a world away. She felt helpless, incredibly small, painfully insignificant.
Her blue eyes stared off into the blank darkness surrounding her, when sudden initiative swept over her mind. She stood up, not bothering to grab her jacket on the way out. Still in her uniform, she ran out the door into the night.
-p-
He didn't know why he cared.
It was a Cold War for Christ's sake, and no one knew how to keep a war cold like he did. No one understood the necessary sacrifices that this country needed to make in order to stay on top. He was a red blooded patriot, a young man who believed in the power of the nation he grew up in.
He himself had left the world he knew to join the CIA. He gave up his chance at love, at finding a stable romance. To Richard Parks, casualties were unfortunate, but not wrong. To him, Niko Lonza's life was just another on a long list of men who had died along the way.
Or at least, it should have been.
But in place of his usual desensitization, he was unsettlingly concerned. Not quite for Niko Lanza, but for the woman connected to him.
He knew her flight touched down a couple hours earlier, and decided to pay her a visit. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to express his condolences or satisfy his curiosity.
Nonetheless, once he left the office, he found himself in step in the direction of her apartment. As he stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, he looked up. His dark eyebrows furrowed together, observing that no light was on through her window. Perhaps she had already gone asleep, though that prospect was unlikely.
Deciding it would be better to leave things be, suddenly sobered by the reality of his actions, he swiveled on his heel to leave. But as he should have already figured out, nothing quite panned out the way it was supposed to when she was involved.
Just as he felt himself turning the street corner, he heard it.
A long whistle, followed by a multitude of hoots and cat calls. Reckless drunks were making their nightly rounds, stumbling along the road and recklessly making noise without inhibitions.
Richard craned his neck to see what was causing such a scene. In one glance, he saw the mess of light red hair, a blur of white and pastel blue swaying under the street lamp lighting. She was walking unsteadily, one hand barely holding onto a pair of shoes, the other resting limp at her side. She was entirely oblivious to the entourage of bumbling admirers stalking closely behind. He recognized her immediately.
Kate.
It happened without forethought, without first comprehending the repercussions of his actions. In several quick, long, strides, Richard found himself standing beside her. She stopped as she caught his shadow on the concrete ground, slowly she raised her head.
Glassy blue eyes stared up at him, his image clicking with a respective thought as she straightened a bit.
"Richard," she whispered softly, almost inaudible. She was surprised by his presence, so much that she said nothing more.
She fell forward, threatening to hit the floor before he caught her with one arm. He shifted so that his arm was snaked around her waist, hoping he could support her enough before she collapsed.
By this point, the group tailing Kate had caught wind of Richard. With one glare, they dispersed. Satisfaction swelled his chest as he watched their fleeing backs. As they disappeared into the darkness, he felt her hands pushing him away.
"You," she slurred, clearly intoxicated. She pressed her index finger against his tie. The hint of alcohol reached his nose as he leaned over. "This is your fault," she choked out, "This is because of you," she repeated, he swore he heard her voice break.
She tried to push him away, but he stood firmly in place.
"Let go of me," she resisted as she pulled away from his grasp. She nearly fell backward until he grabbed her.
"He's dead because of you," she spat, this time louder. "All in the line of honor, right? It had to be done," she laughed without emotion. An anger ignited in her eyes, she narrowed them, glaring. "Get away from me." She ordered. As he didn't react, she began beating her fists against his rigid body.
"What's wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice shrill.
"Kate," he stated as he looked down at her, the one syllable somehow enough to embody what he meant.
She'd come entirely undone.
And he felt responsible, horribly responsible. This beautiful, independent creature reduced to a state he never associated with her.
He remained stoic, no hint of emotion crossing his statuesque features. He'd never seen her like this, so devastated, so hurt. His lungs twisted together internally, he found it difficult to keep his breath even. Through the corner of his eye, he saw several lights flicker on in a nearby building.
They were causing a scene. Needless to say, a man physically handling a woman in the street at such an ungodly hour would compromise their privacy. He wasn't too keen on explaining to a couple of strangers what was truly going on. Assessing the situation, Richard bent over and swept her up in one fluid motion. In an instant, he was carrying her up into the apartment complex in his arms.
Her response was slowed by the alcohol she'd earlier consumed, though still taken aback by his actions. Even drunk, she was shocked by his uncharacteristic actions. She wasn't even sure she'd held physical contact with him any longer than a mere second.
She regained her senses soon enough, and began hitting him again. She kicked her legs and flailed to no avail, he wasn't about release her. She watched as he pulled a key out of his jacket pocket, a key she didn't remember ever giving him, a key that fit perfectly into the lock guarding the entrance to her unit.
He stepped into her home as if it was his own, closing the door behind him with his shoulder. He set her down on the couch sitting by the far wall. As she landed on the cushions, he backed away. The tall man made his way to the leather chair a few feet across from her. He sat back, watching her with questioning eyes.
He was older than her, yes. But in more ways than what years could express. He had seen more, experienced more than most would in their lifetime. He took the secrets that would detriment society and bury them. He carried the burden of that knowledge with him, the burden of consequence.
And now she was carrying her lover's death on her trembling shoulders.
He waited there expectantly. She just stared at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. She moved her legs so that she was sitting now. For a moment she thought Richard was going to say something, when she felt overtaken by unprecedented grief.
The image of the untouchable, fearless Kate Cameron shattered.
It couldn't have been controlled. Tears poured down in streams down her delicate cheeks, silently and unnoticed at first, then running down and dropping down onto her collar. As she realized Richard was witnessing her vulnerability, she tried to stop. But her efforts were for naught.
She began sobbing, a terribly painful noise to her own ears. Her throat closed up, her hand slapped against her mouth to stifle the sound. Her shoulders jolted as her breathing slowed, she gasped for air whenever she could do so. She kept her line of sight on his black shoes, afraid of looking up.
Moonlight entered through her windows, exposing the scene inside the brick walls.
He was supposed to be unattached, he wasn't supposed to get involved.
Richard rose to his feet, settling in place next to her. He placed an awkward arm around her shaking form before she sank against his body. She turned towards him, burying her face in his sturdy shoulder. Growing closer, he embraced her, letting her fall into him. Not knowing he could be so gentle, his hand went up to stroke her hair.
He hushed her, lulling her to a calm and steady pattern, soothing her as if she were a child.
He removed his hat and set it on the nearby table.
He let her cry, something he'd forbidden himself to do since adolescence.
He didn't tell her everything was going to be okay, because he wasn't a liar. He didn't feed her any falsities, he didn't appease her with something that wasn't the truth.
He didn't get up to leave that night, nor did he wake up the next morning and bolt out the door.
He didn't push her away.
He didn't shun her, wear the mask he usually did.
Richard Parks didn't do anything he was supposed to do when it came to Kate Cameron.
End Chapter 1
A/N: So...what did you think? Would love to hear your thoughts on whether or not to continue, thanks for reading!