1
"You're really going?"
Kate looked down at the hallway floor, focusing on a tiny piece of dirt embedded in the welcome mat. Her packed suitcase was beside her. The years that had passed meant nothing, the drunken father in front of her was less than a shadow of the man she'd known, and-
"I can't stay here. I can't stay here any more."
"Kate, I'll do better, we'll make it work-"
"I've lost one of my parents already. I'm not going to stick around and watch while I lose another."
Jim reached out desperately, his whiskey-logged mind causing him to stumble as he tried to embrace his daughter. She stood still, not even offering a hand to help him up. He leaned against the wall, his head in his hands.
"You haven't lost me, Katherine," he said softly. Kate felt her eyes prickle with tears, but she forced them not to fall.
"Call me when you find my dad," she replied. She let herself out of the apartment, dragging her suitcase behind her. It was heavy; she struggled with getting it down the stairs. The transfer had been easy to get; she had been top of her class at the Academy and was well on the way to making detective already. They were sad to see her go, but they understood.
She couldn't live with the ghosts any more.
The bus ride was long and uncomfortable; the seats were lumpy and the air conditioning was broken and the man beside her didn't seem to have discovered deodorant. Kate tried to remind herself why she'd chosen to move in the hottest week of the year.
She stared out of the window at the other cars, wondering about their destinations, the people inside them... She liked thinking about families that weren't broken, families that still loved and supported each other. She scraped a hand back through her hair and tried to ignore the wrenching pain in her chest.
Boston smelled different. Kate checked the address of her apartment. She'd signed all the papers a week ago after her BPD interview.
It was smaller than she remembered. Smaller and a lot less furnished. She thought fleetingly of calling the landlord, but she just didn't care enough. There was a bed, and that was all she cared about. She opened her suitcase to get out her linens and quickly made the bed. Then she opened the window, stripped down to her underwear, and flopped down on the hard mattress. The sunlight shone relentlessly through the curtainless windows; Kate put a pillow over her face and let the traffic noise outside lull her to sleep.
It was dark when she woke up. Her body was stiff from the journey. She picked up the leaflets that had collected inside the door and found the menu for a Chinese restaurant. She called the number and ordered some food, then did 100 press ups while she waited for it to arrive. Her buzzer went. She pulled on a t-shirt then opened the door.
She spread out her mother's case on the table before opening the cartons of food. Perhaps a different apartment, a different city, would give her a different perspective. Perhaps she would find something she had missed before.
She was going to throw out the empty containers, but realised she didn't have any garbage bags. She really needed to go shopping, but there was the whole weekend before work; she would go tomorrow. The containers could stay on the counter for one night.
The bathroom was disgusting. It had before, surely..? Kate sighed. There wasn't anything to clean it with that night; she'd do it tomorrow. She unpacked her case to get at her towels and washbag to shower, gritting her teeth as she stepped into the grimy bathtub.
She slept badly. It might have been the heat or the bad mattress or the journey... but the truth was Kate never slept well. She hadn't had a peaceful night's rest since January 8th, 1999. She was used to it now, though. She got out of bed at a reasonable time to do so and pulled on her running clothes. She even remembered to take enough money to buy a coffee on her way back.
Running was a good way to get to know a place. Kate plugged in her iPod and explored the city, taking in the architecture of the old Boston buildings. It was nice... It had a very different feel from New York. More peaceful, more affluent... New York was too occupied with being central and important. It was too big, too busy... Kate tried to tell herself this as her mind wandered back nostalgically to her runs in her home city. Because Boston was her home now, and she was determined to make it work.
She bought a coffee before going back to her apartment, a delicious coffee. She had her credit card with her and after a moment's deliberation she decided to go into a small grocery store and buy garbage bags and things to clean the bathroom with. She hated food shopping, that could wait, but she didn't want to take another shower in that awful room.
It was only about an hour before she had achieved an acceptable standard of cleanliness. All the cockroaches she found were dead... She tried not to think about them too much. She was pleased to discover the porcelain in her bathroom was actually white underneath the yellow grime. She cleaned the kitchen too, on a roll, enjoying having something to do.
She made her way around the whole apartment, but it was small and it wasn't long before there was nothing left to clean. She had her shower, then sighed. She would have to go shopping. Having things to do was better than not, though. She remembered her mother's advice when she'd visited her at college the first time and discovered her pathetic attempts at buying food.
"Make a list, Katie. You're a good cook, think of some meals that you want to make this week and write down the ingredients you need..."
Kate took out a pen and paper and tried to follow these instructions, but when she got to the store she didn't manage to buy very much, and she ended up ordering in again that evening. She looked up the number to call in the directory to get the TV connected. She didn't even like TV, but the apartment was so empty and lonely, she thought having it on might help. They said they'd send someone on Monday; she asked if they could come after 5. The conversation only lasted about a minute. Kate tried to be happy that she'd arranged something, but once the strange sounding woman at the other end of the phone had disappeared her apartment was horribly quiet and lonely.
She went back to her room to get changed, deciding she would go to a bar. She didn't want to drink, but at least there would be people to talk to. She couldn't be bothered with dressing up properly; she left her short brown hair in its go-to tousled style and simply switched her t-shirt for a loose white blouse. She left her jeans and sneakers where they were.
The bar she found was actually fairly upmarket. Maybe it was her subconscious... She sat at the bar; the bartender hadn't even noticed her when a young man came over and offered to buy her a drink. He seemed nice. Confident. Kate liked confidence, to an extent. He had a great body, too. She forgot her earlier decision that she didn't want anything alcoholic, and asked for a double vodka and cranberry juice.
Charlie, she learned, was from LA, but he worked for a publishing company and travelled around to meet with writers and editors. It seemed like an interesting way to see the world. Kate kept the discussion of herself to a minimum, simply telling him she was a cop and that she was new to the city.
"If you're new here, you should really come out and see the sights with me," he said.
Kate chuckled. She was on her third drink now. "What sights would those be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing how he would interpret this. He slid a hand around her waist.
"Well. There are loads of things. But my favourite thing about Boston is it boasts one of the nicest hotels in the world."
"Oh yes?" she asked.
"Yes. And I happen to be staying there."
He was a good kisser. Powerful but not aggressive, strong but attentive. Kate enjoyed herself. She left the hotel as soon as he was asleep, though. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him. The wrongness was with her. And while it had been fun, while it had taken the edge off her loneliness... Kate couldn't remember the last time anyone but herself had actually made her come.
She got a taxi back to her apartment and finished in her own bed with the unrealistic hope that it might make her sleep better.
It was about an hour before the tears arrived, and alone in the dark, there was nothing she could do to stop them.
On Sunday she went to an art gallery, but she wasn't sure she even saw the pictures any more. Just lines and marks on paper... She remembered when they used to mean something. Then she cleaned, again, even though it wasn't necessary. And then she ran.
Her colleagues said she ran too much. She didn't like to think about it. She didn't like to think about anything. That was why she ran.
She forced herself to at least be in bed, resting, but she still got up hours before she needed to, and got into work hours before she needed to be there, too. She was sick of being on her own, she didn't like her apartment, and she wanted to go to the gym.
It was almost empty – nice, though. Kate went through to the locker room and got changed. She'd collected her uniforms at the desk; the cop on the desk had raised his eyebrows.
"You're keen," he commented with a smirk.
Kate had winked at him. "I like to get in there early," she'd said.
She could hear someone using the punch bag. She taped her hands slowly, hoping they would finish so she didn't have to wait. They didn't, though... She went over to look. A woman. She was surprised. The grunts had been masculine; she'd been expecting a guy. But no. This was definitely a woman, a beautiful, agile, impressive woman.
Jane Rizzoli whipped her head around to see who was watching her.
"I don't know you," she said. Kate smiled.
"I don't know anyone. I'm Kate Beckett, it's my first day."
Jane kept her face blank of emotion. "Jane Rizzoli. Are you waiting for the bag?"
Kate was about to say yes, but she had a better idea.
"What about some real life practice?"
Jane grinned at this. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
Kate laughed. "Neither do you."
Jane sauntered over to the sparring mat, tying her dark wiry curls back behind her head. She looked the new girl up and down.
They were about the same height and build; Kate was wearing yoga pants that hugged her beautifully toned legs and a purple sports bra. Yes, purple. Jane wore black shorts and a gray BPD t-shirt. She threw the first punch.
To her surprise, Kate dodged her fist entirely and somehow ended up behind her. The smirk disappeared from her face and they fought with increasing intensity.
It took Kate 5 minutes have Jane pinned to the floor. Jane looked up at the woman straddling her; Kate winked.
"Pleasure to meet you," Kate said cheerfully.
"Yeah, pleasure... What unit did you say you were assigned to?"
"I didn't. But, homicide."
Jane gritted her teeth. This kind of competition was not what she needed.
"And you're from Manhattan."
"You can tell from the accent, huh?"
"Just a bit. You might want to work on that."
Kate got up off Jane and offered her hand; Jane got up without it.
"So you're in homicide too?" Kate asked.
"Yeah."
"And you must be from Boston."
"Just like everyone else here. Except you. Why are you here?"
"I moved," Kate said shortly.
Jane rolled her eyes as Kate walked out of the room.
Kate showered quickly and put on her uniform. She bumped into Jane again in the locker room as she was fastening her shirt; Jane had another chance to admire her abs.
"How did you learn to fight like that?" Jane asked, surprising herself with her own curiosity.
"I had a lot of time to practise..." Kate trailed off. She seemed to be thinking about something. Jane decided not to interrupt, thinking instead about how she could beat her in their next fight.
"I gotta go see the chief," Kate said abruptly, hurrying out of the room. Jane went up to the office. The detectives were already there. Korsak was waiting for her. She strapped on her gun.
"Why didn't you tell me there was someone joining the team?" she asked angrily. Korsak looked a little uncomfortable.
"I didn't think you'd like it..."
"She's going to beat me to detective," Jane muttered.
"No she isn't. Not necessarily."
"Then why was she assigned to homicide already? She's not a detective-"
"Neither are you."
"But I'm-"
"Special. I know. And so is she. She was top of her class at the New York academy, she's a real high flier, fantastic record."
"So she is going to beat me."
"You're just as good as she is. Maybe some healthy competition will be good for you."
"You could have warned me."
"You would have complained."
"No-"
Jane was interrupted by Kate coming through the door. She had her badge and gun strapped to her belt.
Korsak went over to her.
"Vince Korsak. Nice to meet you."
"Beckett."
"And you've met Rizzoli?"
"Yeah."
"You'll be joining us. We don't have anything new right now so you can get started on some cold cases."
Kate sat down at the empty desk. Jane sat opposite her, immediately transferring half her pile of cases to Kate.
"I hate these damn things," she said. Kate turned to Korsak.
"You gonna squeal on me?" Jane asked threateningly. Kate turned back to the cases. She made her way through the pile, making sure nothing had been missed. It was dull work, but it was important.
Jane left to go to the bathroom. Perhaps Kate wouldn't be much trouble after all. She seemed like a pushover-
She felt herself being slammed into the bathroom wall. Kate's face was an inch from hers.
"Every case in those piles, every victim that seems to mean nothing to you, that's someone's mother, father, son, daughter – so we do half each. Because none of them deserve to be pushed to the bottom of a bigger pile. Got it?"
Jane said nothing. Kate shoved her hard against the wall.
"Fine," Jane muttered. Kate let her go.
She waited until she was safely locked in a cubicle before she crumbled, hyperventilating, leaning against the wall so she didn't collapse onto the floor.
A/N: Thanks for reading, more soon, please review!