The new season is set to start in a few days and Rick's partner is a young singer with bright eyes and an exuberant personality. Their pre-season interviews are plastered all over the internet and though she tells herself she will not watch them, she can't help herself. After the first interview it's plain to see the girl's the polar opposite of Kate, especially back when they first met.

She has absolutely no right to be jealous—you turned him away, she reminds herself if not a bit bitterly—but she's powerless to stop the tingling in her veins every time the girl looks at him a little too sweetly.

Closing her laptop, she slides it across the couch and forces herself to focus on something else. Anything else. She's performing one of her routines on The Today Show in a week, her first appearance on the rink at Rockefeller Center, but even that's not enough to truly shift her attention.

The day before the premiere, she impulse buys a plane ticket to Los Angeles.

She shows up at LAX feeling ridiculous, a little stupid, and all too much like a school girl with the twisting in her stomach. Now that she's actually here, she has entirely no idea what she's doing.

They've had a few conversations in the time since she finally responded to the poor guy, and Rick, bless him, hasn't brought up her departure. He's kept it in neutral territory but has still managed to talk to her as if she didn't completely blow him off. She doesn't deserve his level of kindness, but she's grateful for it.

Standing in the terminal, carry on hanging from one arm, she feels it might be a tad unfair to just show up like this, to spring herself on him after shutting him out so harshly.

Kate berates herself for giving him the cold shoulder after sleeping with him. After mauling him, really, because she's the one who initiated the whole thing. She just—she needed time. To think, to... get herself together. She thought she needed to get back to her normal routine, to return to some semblance of familiarity.

Turns out she was wrong.

It didn't help in the slightest. Her old normal doesn't feel much at all like normal anymore. If anything, being home and jumping right back into what she knows best has made her realize how empty her personal life is. She has friends, of course, has people she'll hang out with occasionally outside of the rink, but it was different in LA.

It was different because of Rick, and she was terrified of admitting she wanted to be with him, of the prospect of starting something so new. She's always been her worst enemy—she knows this, and she's working on it, trying to be better.

As she catches a car to take her to her hotel, she hopes she's making the right decision.

Tom responds to her email quickly, assures her there's always a place for her in the ballroom when she wants to visit. She'd asked rather last minute (an hour ago, to be exact) if there was a way she'd be able to get into the studio audience for the premiere.

"I want to surprise Rick," she'd written in the email, because that's not a lie. Of course, she's not sure he wants this particular surprise.

Brushing it off for now, she tampers a smile as she closes her laptop. She is officially going to the first show of the season.

She's not really sure what she would've done had she not gotten a ticket. She did fly here completely on a whim, figured she'd worry about that bridge when she came to it. Logically, she supposes she would've waited outside, rooted herself in the parking lot near his car.

This is, admittedly, a much better outcome.

Pulling the dress she'd chosen for the occasion from her bag—a simple black dress with detailed lace and a low v neck—she lays it across the back of the chair.

Tomorrow, she'll tell him.

It feels weird being in the ballroom without actually being in the ballroom.

The opening pro number sends shivers down her spine; her eyes immediately find him and she can't help the soft smile that creeps across her face. He looks so happy up there doing what he loves most, and she swells with pride. He really does deserve this spot.

She leans back a little, tries to make herself as invisible as she can. She doesn't want him to see her until after the show; she tells herself it's because it'd be a distraction to him should he notice her sooner, but truthfully she's more than a little nervous about his reaction.

All of the couples do fairly well for it being the first week. There's an Olympic gymnast this go 'round, and Kate knows that'll give her a leg up over the competition. Like skating, gymnasts have the artistic knowledge and flexibility that prove extremely beneficial to dancing.

The media will likely call her a ringer, much like they did with Kate, but things don't always go as planned. They can't discount anybody just yet.

When Rick and his partner come out and stand in front of the orchestra while their package plays, Kate's heart leaps into her throat. It really does appear to be a cute partnership—the girl's younger than she thought, just only turning 19, and she laughs at the initial jealousy.

The girl's just excited to be in the competition, wants to do her best, and Kate's already rooting for them.

Of course, she'd root for him regardless of partner, but she genuinely wants to see them do well.

They have the samba, a difficult ask for a week one dance, but they pull it off nicely. Two sevens and an eight from Bruno—not too shabby, not at all, and she finds herself whistling as they make their way up to the sky box.

When she hears him speak, the soft timbre of his voice, a new wave of anxiety and excitement bubbles beneath her skin.

He first catches sight of her after the show ends. He weaves through the sea of reporters in the ballroom, each of them waiting for an interview with the couples, and stops in his tracks. Kate watches on nervously as he does a double take, but then his face transforms into a broad smile.

Rushing over, he foregoes all pretenses and wraps her into a hug. "Kate," he breathes. "You're—you're here."

"Yeah, I'm here." She laughs as he pulls back, some of the nervous energy seeping from her pores. His partner wanders over a minute later, and Kate shifts her attention. "You two did really great tonight."

Rick just beams.

"I've got pretty big shoes to fill," the singer says. "You two were on fire last season."

After a few minutes of pleasant conversation, his partner points over towards one of the reporters, tells him she'll wait over there. When she's gone, Rick's eyes find hers once more.

"I can't believe you're here." His fingers wrap around her hand, squeeze. "What are you doing here? You should've said you were coming, I could've picked you up from the airport or something."

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, I uh—I kind of have something I need to tell you."

His eyes search hers. "Are you okay?"

Her hands are clammy and she gently extracts them from his grip.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just—not exactly something I thought should be done over the phone." His mouth opens, but she shakes her head, gestures towards the ballroom floor. "Rick, go. Do your interviews. We'll talk after, okay?"

Reluctantly he nods, agrees to speak to the reporter first, but not before giving her one last once-over. He takes in the rigidness of her posture, the hesitance written across her face, the hands resting shakily over her stomach.

Something washes over him, flashes in his eyes, but Kate just chuckles, points again towards the reporter currently waiting with his partner.

"Go. I'll still be here when you're done."

Kate sits patiently in one of the chairs in the back of the audience and watches as, one by one, reporters and contestants alike begin to file from the ballroom. She remembers these nights, having to go through line after line of reporters, each eager to ask them about the night's performances.

This, she doesn't miss.

She sees Rick in the crowd; he says goodbye to his partner and sees her out, waves politely to his fellow dancers as they go, and then he's searching for her.

It doesn't take long to find her—she's one of about five people still waiting off of the floor—and he bounces towards her with long, purposeful strides.

"Hey," she greets quietly. "Finished already?"

"Yeah, there weren't as many this week. A few couldn't make it, so we all get to skip out early."

"Great. Do you want to...?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you have a hotel room? Or we could go back to my place, it's only twenty minutes away."

Kate stands, grabs her bag from the seat beside her. "That's fine. I'll follow you?"

He guides her from the building, his hand falling to her lower back. They fall into perfect step and it's almost as if she never left.

He's jittery. It's the first thing she notices upon arrival. His hands aren't nearly as steady as she knows they should be as he unlocks his apartment door and gestures for her to go ahead.

Something's... off.

There's something on his mind and his face does little to hide the fact. She doesn't understand it; he seemed fine when he'd first seen her on the floor, almost bordering on too excited considering what she's done. But there's been some kind of a shift since he went to talk to that reporter and she can't quite put her finger on it.

Maybe he's finally realized she's here, that she treated him like shit, and he's rethinking his decision to talk to her.

She takes a seat at his kitchen counter, puts her bag on the stool beside her and rests her elbows on the surface.

"Are you okay?" she asks, concerned eyes on him.

He nods but it's a little too fast, a little too bobble head. "What? Yeah—I'm fine. I should be the one asking you that."

"I'm all right. It's been pretty crazy, lately, I guess, but everything's okay." She takes a breath, gesturing at nothing in particular. "This is a little nerve-wracking, but..."

Training for the Olympics this time around, in theory, should be easier. She's done it before, she knows what to expect, so in that aspect she supposes it is weight off of her shoulders. But it's not all that much easier, not really—coming back to defend her title means extra scrutiny. Everyone expects more from her this time, especially in the aftermath of her last win.

There are no more newspapers blasting her as Kate Beckett, arriviste, but she knows she still has a lot to prove, if only to herself.

Rick gives a nod but doesn't say much else as he drops his keys into the bowl he keeps on the counter top. He braces himself against the edge, eyes trained on his hands for a moment before they lift to her.

He regards her in a way she can only describe as odd, and she gives him a quizzical look.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out, and... well, that's nowhere near what she was expecting.

"You're... sorry? I'm the one that should be sorry. I am sorry."

She's the one that blew all of this up, ruined the good thing they had going. What could he possibly have to be sorry for?

Sighing, he slumps a little, leans his weight against the hardwood cabinets beneath the counter. "No, this isn't your fault," he says, running a hand through his hair. "We both just—we weren't thinking straight. I wasn't thinking straight and I—god, I should've stopped, made sure we..."

"Hey." She reaches over to rest a small hand on top of his. "I wanted it, too. I was very much a willing participant. If I remember correctly, I started it."

Rick head bobs. "I just—your silence, the way you pulled back for over a month. It makes so much sense now," he comments aloud, his voice low. "I'm sorry you were alone, Kate. Whatever you decide to do, know I'm going to support you... no matter what."

She blinks, forehead creased. "Thank you," she says, slowly. "I wasn't alone, though—I went back to my rink, to training."

"Still. If I had known, I would've been there," he assures her, and she cocks her head, confused. He clears his throat. "Do you, um—do you have any idea what you're going to do?"

"I'll keep training and take it one day at a time, I guess."

If she's honest, she hasn't really thought about much else post-training. Well, training and hopefully something with him. If he's still interested.

"Is that safe? You know, all of the jumps and stuff."

"As safe as they've always been. Rick, my shoulder's completely healed—you don't have to worry about that," she says, giving him a reassuring nod.

Rick blinks at her. "Safe for the baby, Kate."

"Baby?"

"Yeah. You're... you're pregnant." His voice is confident at first, though now it's a little uncertain. "Aren't you?"

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. "I'm not pregnant."

His mouth drops open. "You're not pregnant?" Kate gives a quick shake of her head. "Why did you look so nervous?"

"Because I didn't know if you'd be okay with me just showing up here, Rick, surprising you after... well, everything. I thought I was protecting you, in some weird backwards kind of way, but I went about it all wrong and I'm sorry."

Rick shakes his head. "I won't lie and say it didn't hurt, because it did, but I'd never not want to see you, Kate," he promises, resting a hand over hers. "Once we started talking again I at least figured we were still friends. Right?"

"Of course." The knowledge that he's not mad at her, doesn't hate her, allows the tension in her shoulders to relax and she releases the breath she's been holding for hours. "And I promise we can circle back to this conversation and you can ask whatever you want, but I just—why exactly did you think I was pregnant?"

He lets out a small, apprehensive chuckle. "Well, the nerves for one. I mean, you're never nervous," he says. She's ready to correct him, tell him she does get nervous she's just learned through time to channel it into adrenaline, but he continues. "Your hands were resting so carefully on your stomach, like you were guarding something. And then you say you have to tell me something and my mind flies to how it's been a few months and we didn't use anything and you completely dropped communication and I just..."

"Is that why you looked so freaked out all of a sudden?" He gives a sheepish nod. "Rick, I'm sorry," she laughs. "If I'd have known that's the conclusion you'd drawn I would have told you right away. I'm on the pill—I had it covered."

Rick heaves out a deep breath. "So you didn't come here to tell me you were pregnant?"

He asks one last time, just to be sure.

"I'm not pregnant and, if I am, it's not yours." Rick blanches, and it really shouldn't but his reaction gives her more confidence. The thought of her with another man doesn't sit well with him. Good to know. "I'm kidding. The answer is still no."

"Kate..." He huffs before sobering up, looking to her. "Then what did you come here to tell me? That you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she lifts her eyes to him. It's now or never, and she sure as hell didn't fly across the country to leave more of a coward than she was upon arrival.

"That I love you," she says finally, lets the words fall from her lips with a small, almost awed chuckle. She feels lighter, somehow. "I'm sorry that I just left like that and shut you out. I'm not good at this kind of thing, Rick, but I never meant to hurt you. I knew I could be happy with you and that scared me, so I did what I do best and I ran. I'm so sorry."

He's silent for a moment, his mouth open, and she's almost nervous that she's messed this up. That he doesn't feel the same after all, that she read too much into every action, every reaction—

But then his eyes brighten, his lips curling into a wide smile, and he moves around the counter, takes her face in his hands and presses a kiss to her lips.

"That's pretty convenient," he breathes, "because I love you too, Kate Beckett."

Kate smiles into the next kiss, her fingers curling themselves in his hair.

"This time we should talk things out before we go any further, yeah?" Rick suggests with a laugh.

She nods against his forehead. "Yes, definitely."

"So," he hums, peering down at her, "you think you could be happy with me?"

Her tongue peeks out between her teeth. "Don't let it go to your head," she teases, "but yeah. I do. I went back to what was routine for me before all of this, but I realized something was different. It didn't feel as good as I thought it used to."

"I really think so, too." They're quiet for a moment, just holding each other, before he speaks again. "You think we'll be okay with all of this long distance stuff?"

Ever since her breakdown after their night together, she hasn't really been that preoccupied with the long distance. She focused more on the I'm not good at relationships angle as a reason to run.

She might mess this up. She will make mistakes, but they both will.

Sure, they'll be on opposite coasts, but with their jobs there's plenty opportunity for travel. She trains on the West Coast for a few months out of the year, and Dancing with the Stars does a decent amount of New York promotion. Not to mention the live tour that'll take him to the East Coast for a few dates, and the other skating tours she'll be on.

Between Skype and impromptu surprise visits, they'll see plenty of each other.

It scares her, but she thinks she'd follow this man anywhere.

Burrowing deeper into his embrace, she lets out a contented sigh. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head before resting his chin there.

"Yeah, I think we'll be just fine."

A/N: There we have it, folks. I can't thank you enough for keeping with me on this little AU journey! Please note the epilogue might take a few extra days to post, just because I'm going to be super busy and may not have time for edits as quickly as I usually do.