The world was filled with madness and chaos. Blood intermingled with terror, darkness with light. There were a thousand voices wailing and screaming with agony, and their potent pain permeated into the very depths of her soul. An explosive energy burnt her up from the inside until she was suddenly ripped from the arms of the familiar and into the unknown.

Kate opened her eyes, and found the sky aflame with devastation.

Home, at last.

She smiled.

A year later

Scott forcefully bumped against the loud motherfucker who was swearing at him a minute ago. "You have a problem with me, bitch?"

"Keep your nasty hands off our girls."

Scott cast a quick glance at Darla, the new culebra who recently started waitressing at Jacknife Jeds. "She's not your girl."

"She's my kind, boy, and no yellow-bellied chink like you gets to talk to her."

Scott smashed his fist into the trucker's jaw, pushing him to the ground. A smug grin crossed his face when he spotted the surprise in the asshole's eyes. He hadn't expected Scott to be strong. Feeling the rush of power surge over him, Scott punched the white trash douchebag again when someone yanked him away.

"Put a fucking leash on it!" Seth barked at him.

Scott stood up, rubbed his knuckles which were still sore from the punches he threw.

"What the fuck is this, huh? You got chinks running around this place, treating us good folks this way?" the trucker spewed. "I'm an American and I ain't gonna be treated this way!"

Seth gave him a bright smile as he helped pull the trucker to his feet. "So you want the good old-fashioned homegrown American treatment, huh? We got some real perks for our extra special customers like you," He put his arm around the trucker, leading him away from the crowd. "We got to go out back though. Don't want the non-specials to find out about this, you know."

Scott watched as they exited the restaurant and went around to the back.

"Are you okay?" Darla asked, coming up to him from behind.

"Of course I'm okay. I'm the one who won, remember?"

"Well, big boss wants you in his office. He wants to talk to you."

"What the hell does he want?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't give him any attitude if I were you," Darla warned.

"Whatever."

Reluctantly he made his way to the backroom and towards the elevator that led to Richie's office. Over the past year of working at Jacknife Jeds, he'd managed to avoid coming down here, making up all kinds of excuses to stay away. He suspected Richie and Seth knew it was all bullshit but they didn't press him about it - not until tonight anyway. As the elevator came to a stop, he felt that same twist of pain in his gut as always. This is where he'd abandoned Kate to Malvado, and his brain never fail to remind him of that.

"How many times do we have to have this conversation?" Richie asked calmly, not bothering to look up from the papers he was holding. Dressed in a suit, he was sitting behind his desk like he was running a corporation or something.

Scott stifled the urge to tell his boss to go fuck himself. "He was a white trash piece of shit who was yelling racist things at me."

Finally, Richie looked at him. "I don't give a fuck about what he said. You don't beat up or eat customers inside our place of business. That gives us a bad name. Makes us look unprofessional." He leaned back in his chair, hands draped along the armrest. "This isn't Mexico and we're not the Titty Twister. You got that?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking kid."

"Then stop acting like a fucking kid." Richie stood up and buttoned his jacket, circling around the desk to approach him. "I get it. You're still messed up about..."

There was a brief pause, and Scott wondered if he was actually going to say Kate's name. Richie never did, not anymore.

"But you need to get past it and move on."

"Oh yeah? Like you did?"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Scott sneered. "It's just a co-incidence you hired a Kate clone to work here?"

"Darla came with great references."

"Is that why you're fucking her too?"

"You need to mind your own business."

"And you need to stop being a fucking hypocrite. Don't tell me to move on when you can't either."

"Hey Scott, why don't you get your ass back upstairs?" Seth yelled, coming into the room. "Big Bubba ain't feeling too good after I showed him our special perks. He's going to need help getting into his truck."

Scott shot Richie a defiant glance before heading back to the elevator.

"Make sure no one sees you and don't make a goddamn mess," Seth hollered.

Scott stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button to go up.

The door shut, and he felt a temporary sense of relief now that he was out of the lair. He really fucking hated that place.

"That kid is going to get us in trouble," Richie said, watching as the elevator door closed behind Scott.

Seth walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. Nursing the glass in his hands, he took a seat across the big desk, propping his feet up on the table. "He remind you of anyone?"

"Meaning?"

"He's as annoying as you were at that age. Hell, you still are."

"He's nothing like me." Richie pushed Seth's legs off the table before reclaiming his seat behind the desk.

"It's been a year, Richie."

Richie ignored his older brother, focusing his attention back on the delivery receipts in front of him. There was a discrepancy in the amount that was owed to him, and it was starting to piss him off. For the first couple of months it had been smooth sailing but now a few of the tributes were coming in late, in some cases not at all, and he had enough of that bullshit.

"So we're just going to pretend it didn't happen?"

Angry, Richie slammed his fist against the table. "What the fuck do you want me to say? Yeah, she's dead. She's gone. She rushed into something she had no business getting involved in, she panicked and got herself killed. Talking about it isn't going to bring her back so why should I waste my time doing it?"

Seth clenched his jaw. Richie knew his words hurt Seth, but it was the truth. Nothing was going to bring her back and there was no point in dwelling on it. Her face flashed across his mind. Her smile, her laugh, the way she stood up to him and called him on his shit. He'd spent his whole life trying to prove himself to others, but she'd accepted him for who he was from the very beginning. I hope you burn in hell. He gave himself a mental shake. She haunted every moment of his dreams, and he refused to let her bleed into his thoughts while he was awake.

"We shut down the bar for Uncle Eddie's anniversary," Seth said, downing the rest of his drink. "We should do the same for Kate."

"Fine. Do whatever the hell you want."

Richie felt his brother scrutinizing him for several minutes before Seth finally stood up. He set his glass down on the table.

"Carlos fired the gun," Seth reminded him.

Richie snickered, the sound a bitter cry. "So it's not my fault anymore, brother?"

"No, it's both our faults she was there. And now we get to live with it."

Seth sauntered away, leaving Richie alone with his thoughts.

He sat back in his chair, surveying his surroundings. He had power and respect, people feared his name. It was everything he'd ever wanted.

Yet his world still felt hollow and empty.

There's no more love left, Richard.

Seth crawled into bed, his body aching and tired. Fuck. He was getting old, he could feel it in his bones. The goddamn noise machine was set to ocean sounds but instead of making him want to sleep - something he had a hard time doing these days - it just made him want to take a piss.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the past few hours. Scott was going around acting more pissed off than usual but Seth didn't need to be a shrink to figure out what the hell was going on with the kid, especially considering the timing.

I'm not ready.

Her quivering voice echoed in his brain. She wasn't ready but he'd kicked her out anyway, and she ended up in trouble just like he always knew she would. And now she was dead.

Kate.

He reached for the bottle of scotch he kept in the nightstand drawer and pulled it out. It didn't numb his brain like the smack did, but, whatever. It would put him to sleep, which is what he needed.

It took most of the bottle to make him forget her blood-streaked face.

A/N - I've been super stoked to write this after I watched the finale (which I loved). Hope you guys enjoy it and let me know what you think!