"You and your elephants," Rick muses, staring at the giant painting of one on her wall.

He's always known her to love that animal. Her obsession with them extends back to grade school even. In fact, thinking back on that Valentine he gave her, he's pretty sure he tried to draw her an elephant on it. Emphasis on tried.

"Blame my mother," Kate tells him, walking into her bedroom to drop off her freshly folded load of laundry. "Even more so now."

"Do you still have that stuffed one you used to keep on your bed?" he calls after her.

He can still picture it now. The thing was the size of a small puppy, its grey fur – yes, fur, it was a stuffed animal after all – was matted down from being loved for so many years. It also had a baby pink ribbon around its neck.

"Mrs. Dumbo?" she winces, stepping back out into her living room. "No. She's in storage at my dad's somewhere."

"That's probably for the best. That elephant has seen too much."

She groans again. "Please don't remind me about the time we accidentally had sex on it. My inner child was very traumatized by that."

He remembers her freaking out about it, her rambling on about how this is why she shouldn't be sneaking him into her room in the middle of the night. He had managed to calm her down, like he always did. He was good at that, wondered if he still was.

Rick laughs, sinking down on her couch. "Hey at least it wasn't one of your parents who walked in on us."

"Oh god, Martha. How is she?" Kate asks, heading into the kitchen to pull out a fresh pitcher of lemonade.

"Oh just as dramatic as ever. Still in love with life on the stage."

She grins, joining him on the couch with two glasses of lemonade. "I bet. Does she still do a lot of plays?"

Rick nods. "Maybe not as many as she used to, but she just keeps auditioning for things. She's getting to the age though where they start trying to cast her as the mother instead of the lead and she's not too happy about that. Although the last play she auditioned for, they tried to offer her the role of the grandmother. I thought for sure that she was going to try and sue."

Kate laughs, shaking her head. "Sounds like the same old Martha."

"Ah yes. She certainly hasn't changed much since you last met."

"So what else is new? Or has everything else managed to stay the same?"

"Well I uh, I had a kid."

He decides it's best to get that out in the open. He's not entirely sure what he expects to happen, if anything, but he figures it's definitely better to lead with the father card than have her find out later on her own.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "You? A father?"

"I happen to be quite excellent at it, thank you very much. I think I found my calling."

"I thought writing was your calling."

Rick pauses, thinking about that. "My other calling. Want to see a picture?"

She nods and he pulls out his wallet, handing over her most recent school photo.

"Her name is Alexis."

"Oh wow she has your mom's hair," Kate smiles.

"Her mom is a redhead too. It was bound to happen."

She hands him back the photo. "She's gorgeous, Rick."

"Thank you. She's spending the day with my mother."

"But she lives with you?"

He nods. "Meredith, my ex-wife, decided she's not really cut out for the whole mom thing."

Sympathy flashes across her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It just means I get to be the favorite parent."

She laughs, taking a sip of her drink.

"So what's some big shot author like you doing in this apartment building?" Kate asks.

"I just bought the penthouse loft. My mother lives with us now, so I needed the extra space. I don't have laundry machines in it yet so here we are. I guess the previous tenant either didn't need them or somehow managed to take them when they moved out. Did you know the guy?"

"Oh please like the penthouse owners would ever associate with us normal apartment holders," she says, gesturing around her apartment with her arms.

"That snotty, huh?" he laughs.

Kate groans. "Oh yes."

"Well don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the little people…yet."

She rolls her eyes and pushes him, nearly sloshing some of his drink over the rim.

"You think Derrick Storm has made you that much of a hot shot?" she asks, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Well clearly, if you've heard of it."

She rolls her eyes again. "I still read everything you write, Rick. And I think the Storm novels are your best work yet."

"My publisher seems to think so," he shrugs. "So tell me about you, Katie – I mean Kate. Any men in your life?"

She shrugs and he can sense her withdrawing a bit. Is this a sensitive subject? He didn't mean for it to be.

"Just my dad. And the guys I work with," Kate answers, trying her best to sound like she doesn't care. But he knows her. He can tell that she does.

"How are you possibly single?"

"Work keeps me pretty busy. I was in a pretty serious relationship for a while, but he got a job offer in Boston and he took it."

Oh, there it is.

"You could have gone with him," Rick suggests, hoping to get more out of her.

She shakes her head, her hand coming up to pull at the chain around her neck.

"I became a cop for a reason, Rick. I didn't do it for the sake of becoming a detective, but I think you know that."

He realizes he's breeching dangerous territory here, but he keeps pushing, the writer in him not satisfied without getting the full story. But he has an idea of where this is headed. She wouldn't leave with the guy because of her mother's case. He's starting to see how much she's let the thing consume her.

"She'd want you to be happy, you know," he tells her, catching her gaze with his.

"And I will be. Once I catch the guy that did this to her."

She's still tugging on that chain. He catches the glimpse of a ring between her thumb and index finger. It's probably Johanna's wedding ring; worn around her neck to keep her close.

"So what, you're just gonna put the rest of your life on hold until you get there? Are you anywhere close?"

She's silent, her gazing dropping to the floor.

"Look, I know it's been years, but I like to think that I know you pretty well. You can't keep hiding in this case and forget to live your life."

"I'm not the same girl that I was in high school," she says, softly.

"No, I know. I get that. Katie hadn't been hurt like you have. But I also know how much you like to have fun and sitting home on a Saturday night doing laundry isn't it."

"You're doing the same thing," Kate says, looking over at him.

"Yeah, because my kid was out of clean underwear."

She laughs a little at that, scrubbing a hand through her hair. "What if my excuse is that I was out of clean underwear too?"

"Were you?"

She pauses, trying to keep her lips from twisting into a smile. "…No."

Without thinking, he reaches over and grabs her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

"My point is, Kate, that you don't have to let this thing consume your whole life. You can still live and keep investigating at the same time."

She shakes her head. "You can't just come in here, after being out of my life for as long as you have, and try to tell me how to live it. You weren't here when she died. You didn't even come to the funeral and I half expected you to. You don't know anything about who I am now or how important it is to me that I close her case. I'm a big girl, Rick. I can make my own life decisions."

He settles back against the couch, his hand leaving hers.

"I just don't want to see you throw your life away," he tells her.

"I'm not."

"Really? Are you happy right now? Spending your days catching killers, coming home to your empty apartment alone?"

"I'd stop right now if I were you," she says through gritted teeth.

He holds up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I just thought you might want to talk about it."

"Well I don't."

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, both of them fidgeting with their lemonade glasses. His mind races, trying to find something else to say to her. All these years later, and he still hates it when she's mad at him.

"You know, if I remember correctly, we only broke up because you were moving to California," he starts in, hoping to have found calmer waters. "And we had this awful fight about long distance relationships and just decided to call it quits rather than try to make it work. You never even bothered to tell me that you moved back here."

Kate shrugs. "I figured you'd moved on."

He had. He'd met Meredith and tried to start a life with her. But that hadn't exactly worked out.

"Well I'm here now. If you need me. You don't have to go through this thing alone."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"Okay, I'll rephrase. I'm not going to move away to Boston on you. I'll be right here rooting for you while you track down the son of a bitch who killed Johanna. I'll even continue to be your Saturday night laundry buddy if that's what you want."

She smirks at him and he can tell she's trying to fight it. "Don't you date anymore? Saturday night is prime date night time."

"Why would I need to date when I could hang out with the one who got away?"

"You really think that's me? That what we had growing up, really meant that much?"

He catches her eye, reading her expression. She needs this just as much as he does. A little piece of their pasts, come back to life.

"Don't you?"

She smiles at that, a little bit of her tough exterior melting away. She's put up walls in their time apart, an attempt to stop people from getting in to hurt her. But he finds himself hoping that maybe there's still a spot for himself inside those walls. After all, she's going to need someone to stop her from drowning in this case. That is if he can ever get her to talk about it again without biting his head off.

"I didn't get away, Rick," she sighs, playing into his hope. "I'm right here."