This takes place a few days after "nothing more than a wounded heart". Kara has smuggled the injured Carlito off to Montreal, Canada.
It's New Years, and she's feeling just a tiny bit lonely...
The snow was slowly falling from the sky, dancing and twirling around and around in the wind. Large, soft snowflakes landed on Kara's face as she sat there on the park bench, looking up at the night sky. The cool bits of fluff caught on her eyelashes, tickled her nose, and melted on her lips with a tingly sort of sensation.
The girl sighed. She could see her breath before her as the warm air from her lungs mixed together with the cold. Her gloved fingers tightened around the beer bottle, and she took another sip.
The liquid travelling down her throat was of a near freezing temperature, but she didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed the cold. It was numbing, and that's what she needed at the moment.
Her focus soon drifted from the stars to the little ice rink in the park before her. Couples skated around, arm in arm, exuberant grins on their faces. Kara set the bottle down and watched the happy celebrators, letting herself fade into the background as she had done so many times before. No one even noticed the girl sitting alone on the bench. She was nobody, normal, ordinary—just another face among billions.
But that's all she wanted, really. To be normal, to be safe. Not having to always watch her back for Triad thugs that wanted to stick a knife into her. She wanted to be able to spend her time with somebody she cared about and not be worried that she'd be putting them in danger. When she was younger, a long, long time ago, she had always wanted to meet the fairytale prince that would sweep her off her feet. And then they'd ride off into the sunset without a care in the world…
But being who she was, she quickly learned that fairy tales are just… that. Imaginary stories made to comfort the people who couldn't cope with how tainted and twisted the world really was.
And she'd learned to cope at a very young age. She not only coped, but she thrived in the dark. She didn't need such silly stories…
Really, Kara? If it's a date you want for New Year's, then you of all people can get one. A flirtatious smile here and a little wink there-you'll have at least three respectable potential partners buying you drinks in a heartbeat. Come on, you've done it a million times before…
But that was the problem, you see. Kara HAD done it a million times before, and none of them meant a single thing to her.
Well, none except for one.
Her mind drifted towards the forensic specialist in question, wondering what he may be doing on New Year's Eve. Probably at a new year's party with his friends, trying to hit on girls quite clearly out of his league, and then getting hilariously drunk and being carried home by some disgruntled workmate of his. She'd also heard something about a horse…?
Wow, you're pathetically pining for the one guy you can't have? What is this, some sappy chick flick? Now if you'll just burst into song about how utterly unfair your life is it'll be the perfect—
Oh shut up. Nobody asked for your opinion.
She was talking to herself again. This was probably not a good thing for somebody who considered themselves as a relatively sane individual.
It'd be better, she thought, if he just wasn't so good. If he wasn't on the right side of the law; if she didn't need to be so careful around him; if he knew how to protect himself—
No, it wouldn't. And you know it wouldn't. That side of him draws you in. With him, you can be you, without any fear for your own safety.
I thought I told you to shut up.
Kara didn't even blink when the crowd before her suddenly bust into synchronized counting. The bells soon came on and the clock chimed twelve. The skaters that stopped skating to lean in for that special New Year's kiss under the remaining Christmas lights that the city was too lazy to take down—none of that bothered her. She wouldn't let it bother her anymore.
Maybe it was time to finally let go. A new year; a fresh start. She'll stop thinking about the man that had captured her attention, the man that had taken away some of the rage and the pain that she'd felt for so long. And after a suitable amount of time has passed, he'll just become another memory, nothing—
Her phone beeped in her pocket. Would nobody let her finish her train of thought without interruption?
[Received] Happy New Year, Yan.
She raised an eyebrow, seeing who it was from.
[Sent] Aw, that's so cute! Didn't think you cared, Flores ;)
[Received] I don't. It was either that, or "Hey Yan, there's a doctor standing outside the apartment you rented, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne. He keeps asking for a 'Rachel Shen', who I have no doubt is you." How the hell does he even know this address? I know you're more careful than that…
[Sent] Oh. Him. The hospital you went to kind of wouldn't let me move you somewhere else while you were still unconscious without the supervision of a medical attendant, and I really didn't want to be staying there longer than we needed to, so…
[Received] Well he's still there.
The girl rubbed her temples, trying to sooth the headache that was already blooming there.
[Sent] Yes yes, I'm coming to fix it; don't worry. Get back to sleep or whatever your analgesic drugged self was doing beforehand.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket and abruptly stood, tossing the still half full bottle of beer into the metal garbage can that was beside the bench. The alcohol wasn't doing anything to help her steadily developing migraine anyways.
Shaking a few of those large, soft snowflakes from her dark hair, she started to walk again.
Happy New Year…