A/N: This is the story I told the readers of Loving and Losing about. Just posting this first chapter, seeing the reaction I get, and then deciding on whether or not to continue.

I have a few ideas on where to take this story. But I'm not feeling too pulled to finish it. So, if I get a really negative, or if I find out I'm blatantly copying a prompt that has been done before, I'll probably delete it. So, let me know. Might raise the rating to M sometime in the future, especially with the setting of this story and everything. Not sure yet, need more feedback. The ages and some of the dates have been changed to help facilitate the setting, of course. I'll reveal more if I decide to continue.

So, read and let me hear your thoughts. :)

The heat's out again. Why is the heat always out?

It's all the burrowing she can do to try to escape the sting of winter outside. The windows of their apartment raddle, the panes lose and wobbly in the frames against the wind. Like a warning to burrow even deeper into the covers and curl up even tighter against the wind as it cuts almost effortlessly into her room. It seems colder than it was last year. But last year also felt colder than it was the year before that. It's always the coldest year they've ever had here in New York. A never-ending cycle of misery and complaining that serves little purpose other than to help her cope with the seasons.

Her head turns against her pillow, which she wishes she hadn't turned over a few minutes ago to try and make herself more comfortable. The other side was warmer, at least. Usually, it's this kind of icy-cold winter morning that would help her sleep in, but not this morning. All it's doing this morning is keeping her awake and making it uncomfortable to stay in bed, but also reminds her that it's less comfortable out of bed at the same time.

Her eyes open, her vision fuzzed slightly by the down-comforter pulled against her face. It's just a little after seven. Her roommate should be out of the apartment by now, if not up and about getting ready to head out. One of the benefits of having a roommate in medical school, she's almost never here. So as long as she keeps up her half of the bills and doesn't touch anything labeled as hers in the fridge, she doesn't really have to worry about making friends. She doesn't even know if she would bother if the opportunity arose. Doesn't see much of the point. It would be nothing else but empty platitudes, feigned niceties, and swallowed annoyance being kept under her tongue to keep the sea levels steady.

She's not falling back asleep anytime soon. Nothing much else to do right now but read anyway. Ever since she finished up her last few credits needed for her degree and took an early graduation at the end of fall semester, she's been bored. Open enrollment doesn't even start back up until the summer. On top of that, since she's no longer a student, her job on campus was no longer an option. She had enough saved to keep the bills at bay for a while, but now her reserves have run out and she needs a new source of income.

But she's feeling drained. Exhausted even though she's been slacking on exercising lately. The back of her mind keeps poking at her, telling her why. But admitting it would mean admitting it's a problem. She just needs to get out of bed and everything will be fine.

But it's too cold with the heat broken, plus there's no real point in looking through the job listings this early. Most places don't accept applications before nine anyway.

So she pushes out a sigh, topped with a roll of her eyes to herself as she reaches out of the covers and grabs the spine of the book lying next to her alarm clock. She pulls it off her nightstand with a loose grip, but the gas bill/ bookmark falls out and onto the floor. "Son of a-" She hisses to herself.

That's a great start to the day, Kate.

She rolls herself over the edge of the bed and picks up the gas bill, slamming it back down to the nightstand in frustration. If her memory is right, she was in the 140's, probably page 146 or 147. Somewhere in the middle anyway. She rolls onto her back, readjusts the covers tighter over her and burrows herself into their familiar warmth again and cracks open the book. With little effort, she finds her page, just one page before the next chapter.

It's not one of his best. Not nearly as good as Flowers for Your Grave. But still, the familiar use of wordplay and vocabulary found a particular place in her interests. She's thinking of just giving up on this one and going back to In a Hail of Bullets. That was a great book. But 150 pages in, she feels too invested into these evil wickens to give up on them now. She can't help but have faith in the author that he'll somehow bring it to a good end. Or at least a happy one. All his endings are happy. Or ends in the villain getting caught, exposed, made to pay for their crimes and the harm they've caused people.

She reads for another hour and doesn't hear movement outside her bedroom until she finishes another chapter. Her roommate must have a late start today, or maybe even the day off. After placing the gas bill back between the pages of her book, forcing it into the spine a little harder to ensure it stays there, she flips the covers off and stretches out her lazy and tired muscles until her feet stretch out onto the floor. Luckily, she can't feel the cold of the floor over her two pairs of socks.

She rustles out her shoulder-length hair as she stands up. She makes her way around her bed to her dresser, grabbing a band off the top and putting her shoulder length hair back into a low ponytail, leaving a pair of bangs to frame her face. Her long, grey, thick sweatpants slide against the floor as she opens her door, making it almost a point to keep her eyes faced down to avoid eye contact with her roommate, who she can hear is in the kitchen.

She goes to the end of the hall and into the bathroom, staying locked behind the door for far longer than she normally needs to. She stays in the shower just a little longer than she needs to, she brushes her teeth just a little harder and uses more strokes than she normally does, dries and brushes her hair out longer than she needs to, spends more time applying the very light touch of make-up she uses than normal. But the entire process only takes a little over a half an hour.

She then makes it quick to head back into her bedroom to get dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a longsleeved black t-shirt and dark purple polo shirt that almost blends in with the black of the longsleeved t-shirt. With another two pairs of socks on her feet and her hair returned to the low hanging ponytail, she heads out into the kitchenette, hearing her roommate sitting on the couch watching TV, the morning news probably. "Morning." Her roommate says over a mouthful of cereal.

Nonetheless, despite herself not wanting to really make friends, Kate smiles. Her roommate is plenty nice enough, even funny at times. "Morning, Lanie," Kate says from the fridge, opening it and pulling out an orange and a paring knife to aid peeling it.

Kate moves over to where the dining table is near the door and sits down, pulling over the day-old newspaper. Might as well start looking through want-ads now, even if they are a day old. "Heat's still broken." Lanie says.

Kate looks over with a small, placating smile. "Yeah, the super is supposed to be looking into it." She says, flipping open the paper.

"Do you have a copy of the lease?" Lanie asks, standing up from the corner of the couch with her bowl. Kate looks over with a raised brow, silently asking her why. "I can't remember if we're allowed space heaters or not."

Kate shakes her head, being honestly frustrated with their landlord's stupid rules. "No, we're not." Kate looks back down to the paper with a roll of her eyes and begins to cut open the peel of her orange. "Trust me, if we were, we wouldn't be able to see our breath."

Lanie chuckles softly and goes over to the sink. "Well, I'm headed to my residency." Lanie says over the sink as she rinses out her bowl.

Kate smiles again, nodding her head as Lanie moves to the closet next to the front door and pulls out a large winter coat. "Bye." Kate says, almost under her breath as the door opens and shuts a few seconds later with her roommate rushing out the door. Kate lets out a relaxing sigh, finally letting herself be at ease now that she's alone in her apartment. She pops the first orange slice in her mouth and glances at the listings opened up in front of her.

After grimacing at biting down into a seed, she quickly starts looking over the list. Slaughtering pigs for minimum wage, secretary, grocery delivery, modeling scam, part-time clean-up at the Garden. She sighs at finding nothing as she puts another orange slice in her mouth. She didn't really expect to find much on her first try, much less with a day old newspaper. But when she goes to the next column, her eyes catch something.

Hiring immediately, twenty-one plus, waitress experience a plus but not required, interviewing applicants any time after eight. This might be worth looking into. Twenty-one plus is probably a bar or club. It wouldn't be her first choice, especially not a club. Having to shake her ass and wear some low-cut blouse that can only be buttoned up halfway over a cheap pushup bra, all to get some drunken frat-boys who are getting drunk off lite beer to tip her with singles asking for her number written in sharpie... not nearly her first choice.

But she knows this part of town. Not the club scene. And the name doesn't sound like you could hear a thumping base from the street. The name paints it as a hole-in-the-wall bar, catering to lonely drunks just looking to find the answers to the world's problems at the bottom of a glass, or bottle. Whichever comes first.

And she knows those kinds of people all... all too well.

She commits the address and the name of the bar to memory and goes to change into a pair of black slacks, black tennis shoes, a white blouse and grabs a long coat from the closet. She grabs a few papers stacked up on her desk in her bedroom and staples them together, putting them in a manilla envelope and heads out. She steps out onto the sidewalk and her face automatically scrunches together against the cold wind cutting through the street, wafting cold flakes of ice against her face. She bundles herself up and starts down the street in the direction of the subway.

After a few stops, she gets back up to the sidewalk and takes a couple more blocks before the name on the sign pops out at her. It's a dark green sign with gold cursive lettering, spelling out The Old Haunt. "This is it, I guess." She mutters to herself.

She carefully takes the snow-covered steps and pushes open the door. At least it's warm in here. A lot warmer than her apartment. She takes a long look around at the empty bar. The lights are all on, including the ones under the bar. The chairs around the few tables that line the center that cut between the row of booths against the back wall and the bar have chairs all stacked up on top of them. She lets the door slide shut behind her, cutting off the winter outside, and takes a step forward, looking for other signs of life.

"Hello?" She calls out.

She hears movement from the other end of the bar, sees a shadow move against one of the walls, and after a few seconds, she sees an older man, thin with a bald head of hair, glasses hanging from a band around his neck and a pair of suspenders over his shoulders. "Yeah? What do ya want?" He asks in a gruff voice, thick with a Brooklyn accent.

Kate scrunches her hands together, almost nervously, and takes a few steps forward. "I'm uh... I'm here about the job, i-if you're still hiring."

"Uh?" He asks and narrows his eyes over to her as he leans forward. But after a moment, it seems to come back to him and he nods. "Oh, yeah, yeah yeah. Come on down." He says and waves his hand, waving her down to his office.

Kate gives him a friendly, professional smile and follows him down the staircase to the office. This place definitely has a speakeasy feel to it. Not surprising, she thinks. This place must have been insane during prohibition. It's probably one of their selling points that keeps the regulars coming in, their history. She did see the wall of black and white photos as she walked through the bar. The man turns and lets his glasses fall around his neck and extends his hand. "Name's Tony Romano."

She grabs his hand and shakes it. "Kate Beckett." She says and pulls out her resume from the manilla folder under her arm.

Tony nods and takes her resume, putting his glasses on the tip of his nose and begins to read over it. "So... Kate," He begins, giving her resume a quick once over, "you have experience as a waitress?" He asks, looking over his glasses at her.

Kate nods seriously, "Since I was fifteen, yes, sir."

He nods and looks back down to her resume. "You over twenty-one?"

"I turned twenty-two this past November, sir."

"You ever serve alcohol?" He asks, looking back up at her over his glasses.

"No, sir."

"You have a problem serving alcohol?"

Kate stops her eyes from rolling and nods her head. "No, sir. I'm familiar with alcohol to know the drink orders well enough."

Tony nods and flips to the next page, silent for a minute or two as he reads. He speaks after a moment. "Says here you did a semester down at Stanford, out west. But then came back here to finish up at NYU?"

Kate feels herself grow cold. "Yes, sir."

He grins, chuckling heartedly a few times. "What's a matter? Didn't like California?"

Kate glances back up at him before shaking her head. "Just... some family trouble, that's all."

He nods after a moment, seeming to accept her answer. "Alright." He says and continues to read. "Degree in Criminal Justice?"

Kate nods stiffly. "Yes, sir." Tony hums with another nod and turns his eyes back down to the papers. "I'm uh... I'm actually planning to enroll at the Police Academy once enrollment starts up in the summer."

That gains her his eyes. "You gonna be a cop?"

She nods seriously. "Yes, sir."

"I got a cousin who's a cop down in Boston. It's a rough life." Kate looks away from him, having heard it all before. "You sure you're up for that?"

She looks back over to him, "Do I have the job, sir?"

Tony looks over at her for a moment before cracking a smile. He flips her resume back over and puts it back down to his desk. "You can start tonight." He says and moves around to sit down behind his desk, opening a drawer.

"Tonight?"

He grabs a pen from a coffee mug on his desk, "What you have on should be fine. If you work out, I'll order you a shirt you can wear. Pay is minimum wage against tips, but most of the customers here are pretty generous. Especially when it comes to a girl like you." He says, waving the end of his pen at her.

"I'm sorry?" She asks.

Tony looks up to her with a smile. "This is a bar, little lady. No way around it, you're gonna get hit on. And let's face it, you're... objectively attractive." He says with a raised brow as he goes back to filling out a form. "Most of the people who come in here are nice enough, but occasionally we'll get a barfly who needs told to kick rocks. But, perfect training for you if you're gonna be a cop I guess, right?"

Kate pushes out a sigh, shifting her weight to one side. "Right."

"You can come back here at three. Micky, our bartender, will get you started."

She sets the try down on the counter next to the sink, with three glasses of half-melted ice sitting at the bottom of each one. The bartender, Micky, is friendly enough. Late thirties, two kids, him and his wife separated. She doesn't need that much training, really. Most of her experience carries over pretty easily. And Micky is quick enough that she hasn't had to make a drink yet.

Kate is just turning back around to the register when Micky is calling for her. "Hey, rum and coke with a whiskey sour, table eight." He says, putting two glasses on a tray on the edge of the bar.

She pushes out a hard breath and takes the tray. She saw the guys at table eight, one of the middle booths near the back. A rowdy couple of guys, not afraid to let her know that they find her attractive, using less polite vocabulary. But she's heard it all before. She's long since numbed herself to everything, every advance, ever shallow compliment, every obvious ogling stare, every hungry gaze. She feels nothing toward them now. For the best anyway.

She takes the tray over to the booth, setting the glasses down in front of the guys, who are just making their laughter die down. "Here you are." She says, her voice somewhat monotone and droning.

"Yeah. Hey, thanks." The guy says with an all too obvious grin as she takes the empty glasses from them, setting them on her tray to clear it off. She pays him no mind, being too obvious that she's ignoring him. If she plays along, he'll probably leave her alone when she shoots him down. But she's too frustrated to play along. "What, no you're welcome?" The guy says, putting his arms over the back of the booth.

Kate looks up at him with a blank stare. "That costs extra."

"How much would it cost for your number?" He shoots back.

But she's quicker to shoot back. "More than you'd earn in a lifetime." She says and turns to go around the other side of the bar to round around the other side, passing along the booth near the back corner near the front door.

And as she looks up to see the front door open, she feels the tray dig into her stomach and feels herself running into something, before the sound of smashing glass rings out across the bar. She looks down, seeing the drenched button-up shirt and wet dark jeans of someone standing in front of him, his arms held out in front of him. Her eyes stay downward as she feels a drag of annoyance, fear, panic, embarrassment, and shame hit her. "I'm... so sorry, sir." She starts and kneels down, picking up the shards of glass front the floor.

She hears him chuckle under his breath, then sees him kneel down across from her out of the corner of her eye. "It's alright. This shirt wasn't really doing it for me anyway." He says in a low, steady voice.

She looks up and sees a man smiling at her. He's handsome, cute... hot, even. Maybe a little older than herself, but his eyes are really, really blue. It catches her slightly off guard, but it's back up with the flick of a switch. She looks back down to the floor and starts picking up the ice. She chances a glance back up in his direction when he starts helping her with the smaller bits of glass that fell in between the cracks of the burgundy tile.

She's still in the process of picking up the last bits of ice when she sees his hand extend toward her. "I'm Rick."

She looks back up to him with another blank stare. "Is this you asking for my number? Because if so, you'd be the fourth guy tonight."

His soft, boyish smirk remains on his face as he looks away, "Would it help my chances if I said no?"

She narrows her eyes. "About as much as it helped the other guys."

"What if I said you didn't have to pay the dry cleaning bill for the shirt?"

She rolls her eyes, swallowing a scoff. "I apologized, didn't I?"

"And I never actually accepted that apology, so..." he says, his soft smirk turning into a small, tight smile.

Kate breathes out a hard sigh as she stands back up with the tray of shattered glass, seeing Rick stand up across from her with another soft smirk. "Can I get you anything?"

Rick just tugs at his wet stomach with the tips of his fingers. "Just... bring me whatever it is you just spilled on me, I guess."

Kate rolls her eyes again and shifts her weight, but can't help the smile she feels tugging at the edges of one side of her lips. "One rum and coke, then."

"That's what it was?" He asks, his expression twisting together. "Oh god, that's going to be sticky."

"Hey!" A gruff voice shouts from the other side of the bar.

She quickly turns in ear at the sound of the manager's voice yelling in her direction. She sees Tony leering at her from the edge of the bar near the stairs to the office, glaring at her. But after a moment, she sees an arm being raised up at him. "It was my fault, Tony. Wasn't looking."

Tony seems to disengage in an instant as he shakes his head with a smile, waving his hand at him. "Ah, Ricky. You know, if you weren't so pretty, you'd be out on your ass!" Tony shouts with a smile and a pointed finger.

"I knew your wife kept me around for a reason!" Rick shouts back. The manager just shakes his head as he laughs, waving his hand at him again as he goes back to the register. Rick then turns to her, grabbing a napkin from the booth he was seated at.

Kate looks at him for a second, following him with her eyes, too consciously aware that her eyes are following him too much. "Thanks."

He smiles and starts to clean off his shirt. "Well, if not your number, can I at least get your name?"

She nods, putting her tray in one hand and extending her other out to him. "I'm Kate."

He smiles warmly at her, looking her in the eye. Something about his smile makes her gut twist, her chest tighten. "Nice to meet you, Kate."