Kate loved the feeling of being connected. She longed to feel connected with the world, that's why she loved public transportation so much. She had to avoid it when it came to getting to and from work during the week but tonight, tonight she was ready to connect. She stood still. Right arm folded at a ninety degree angle. The back of her thumb just inches away from her breast. In her hand, a long, cold, steel pole with an arch at the top, protecting her from falling acid that now covered the night in darkness. The glow of bright light-post dripped patterns down the black plastic and fell to splash against the concrete sidewalk as it flickered above her, leaving Kate to sort through her unnerving thoughts.
The roar of the city bus engine reached in and pulled Kate out of the darkness that blurred her vision. Her eyes lifted, giving up and finding patterns in concrete. The doors swung open and she pulled down her shelter, closing it before entering the bus, letting a handful of acid drops reflect off her leather coat and bounce to seep into her skin. Each carrying a memory, each breaking in collision with her, warm skin turned cold, she took three weak steps into the bus and swiped her card.
She made her way to the back of the bus, arms lifting to grab hold of every pole she passed. Her stabilizers. She found a seat and sat down beside the window. She loved looking out the window as the bus drove passed civilization. The outlook on life as it flies by without warning.
The bus was empty by then. It was 12:47 am; you've got to have a few loose screws to be out this time of night in New York City, but that didn't stop Kate. No, she was a detective. She was supposed to be strong, forceful and willing. Supposed to. But things have changed dramatically ever since that night. May 7th, 2012. When Kate knew she had to take action or she'd lose him for good. The constant battle in her head was silenced long enough for her to grab on to that courage and ride it. Straight to his doorstep. That night, Kate allowed herself to be vulnerable. She opened that door and found that, this, whatever it was she felt, was so strong she began to act irrational toward the morals and promises she had made herself 14 years ago. January 9th, 1999. It will be fourteen years, this January that she made the promise to herself that she would never feel this much for a person. She would not allow herself to love this much only to feel the pain and absolute terror that follows their death.
She no longer felt the power she possessed years ago. The strange thing about Rick was that he made her feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time. When he was just a ride-along she felt so powerful, being in control, she was able to see what her every move did to him. Her every sway left a mark in his eye. The early years of their partnership were fun at times, she could not deny that. But now, now that they have crossed that line, there was no going back. There was no way they could go back to the way it was three years ago if things went south. The thought entered her mind last night.
It had been their first argument as a couple, yet both of them knew it had been a pointless one. Kate was not even sure if she remembered the real reason she acted that way, but what did stick was the words, like knives, she threw at him. Kate wanted him to know she became irrational when she was caught in a bad case, and she figured he knew. She figured. He did know the way she became when she had no suspect, but all he wanted was for her to say it. He was tired of her expecting him to understand, he wanted her to acknowledge the effort it took to give her space when all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let go. He wished she could see that.
Kate had entered the bus that night with the intention of going over to his place and wordlessly apologizing to him for everything she has put him through. That was not the thought that was racing through her mind as she stepped off the bus almost twenty minutes later.
Kate sat there, head leaning against the window as drops slowed down. The glow of Christmas lights intensified the effect of raindrops upon the glass window. She wanted to hold him, the way she knew he wanted to hold her. She did not know why she found it so hard to speak the words she knew he wanted to hear.
She was ready tonight.
The bus ride did not prepare her for what she was coming to face as the bus turned the corner. Unconsciously, she peeled her head off the window. The flashing of colours she knew all too well. Red, blue, red, blue. Over and over again, the colours spun wildly creating a tornado of emotions.
Yellow tape creating a barrier around her heart. She pressed the button and commanded the driver to stop as she reached for the pole to steady her descent.
When her boot collided with cold concrete, she could have sworn the rain intensified all over again. Although she knew sirens echoed against every brick wall in sight, she heard no sound but the wind.
Her legs, weak from terror, carried her to the gathering police officers. Her eyes searched the crowd for a familiar face but came up empty. With shaking hands, she crossed the street. Nearly getting run over, Kate did not flinch. She pressed on until she saw something she did not want to. Her friend walked out of the front door with a saddened expression. The woman looked up with regret, searching the crowd. Her posture, stiff, assuring Kate that this was, in fact, what she thought it was.
The ME's voice was soft but clear, "Kate, you don't want to go in there." She saw pain and fear grow within her friend's eyes. "Trust me, don't go in there," she pleaded, "Kate.." her voice became dense with compassion, but Kate pressed on. Step by step, brick by brick, she stumbled toward his front door only to confirm that it had, in fact, been ripped off its hinges.
Kate didn't know which was worse, the fact that there was so much blood and Rick was most probably dead, or that he might still be out there, alive, clearly severely injured, but out there somewhere, unable to get back to her.