Previously: Rick invited Kate to his 12th Precinct Fourth of July Party, where she met Alexis and Martha. After Traveling away from the party, she met young Rick for the first time when he was 10, in the basement of the Alvin Theatre where his mother was an actress in the show Annie.
Monday, April 19, 2010 (Kate is 28 [from 2008])
Kate did her very best to obey the law at all times. Justice lived in her heart, and theft violated that. So taking unclaimed donations from the alley behind a secondhand shop was the closest she came to stealing—unless her life absolutely depended on it (like when she was stuck out of time for weeks and couldn't access any of her money and really needed some food).
She walked aimlessly down Lexington Avenue, grateful to whoever had made the recent donations she was currently sporting. Though the soot-gray sweatpants barely reached her ankles and the v-neck had stains around the collar, at least she wasn't wandering around East Harlem naked.
Kate considered her destination. She was in no immediate danger of getting arrested (for public indecency), getting run over (in the middle of the street), or drowning (in the middle of the river). A calendar in the secondhand shop's window had told her she was only a few years in the future, so the bookstore was probably a safe place to go. She could also go to her apartment, because she had no plans to move out of that rent-controlled haven any time soon.
Or she could push her luck (as she usually did) and search for crimes in progress.
Though the payoff wouldn't be for two years, she could commit the details to memory and record them for Esposito for the future. As long as she didn't try to prevent the crime, her witness account would only help the police.
She decided to make her way south toward East Village but keep her eyes open for wrong-doings. She was unlikely to come across anything homicide related—usually Travel that took her to that sort of crime scene was direct and short, lasting no more than half an hour—but she might find a B&E or the aftermath of an assault.
That was always the worst part about Traveling to the future. The knowing what was going to happen, but being unable to do anything to change it. She could only try to bring justice after the fact.
Kate shivered suddenly, despite the warm spring air. She leaned against the brick of the building to her left and breathed. Memories of times she'd tried to change things rushed over her and she struggled to keep them at bay.
October 1998, her own face, older, staring back at her, contorted with anger, pulling down the collar of a borrowed shirt and revealing puckered skin. Just a month later, her birthday, Travel, teenage follies and a lie, the course of events irrevocably changed. February, 1999, the horrible realization—
Kate focused her breathing and heartbeat, counted to ten and back, and brought herself under control. These were only a handful of the techniques she'd learned in therapy, perfected through practice, and rarely needed any more. But the future always had strange effects on her.
It forced her to think about her inability to change anything, and often unbalanced her thoughts. Sometimes it messed with her senses, blurring her vision or dampening her ears, making everything feel furry or metallic or searing hot to her touch. Sometimes it felt like a dream. Usually it was like looking at the world through a gauzy curtain, as though it might not actually be there.
This time, she felt surprisingly grounded aside from the emotions it had just stirred up.
She pushed herself off the building and resumed her journey south.
At every alley and back street she turned her head, searching for signs of criminal activity. She was so engrossed she barely noticed the trio of people walking in the opposite direction until one of them stopped abruptly in front of her and said, "Kate?"
She looked up. None of the three looked familiar, but she would play along as she had before.
"What are you doing all the way up here?" asked the handsome one in the middle.
"I, uh. Was on my way to get some coffee. Best coffee shop in Manhattan up here," she improvised, gesturing toward the coffee shop up the street. She mentally cringed when she realized it was a Starbucks—of all the ubiquitous coffee houses…
"Oh! Would you like to join us? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." He broke away from his companions and came to drape his arm over her shoulders. She suppressed a shudder—he was somewhat (really (okay, extremely)) handsome, but she wasn't one for PDAs, especially with strangers. "Honey, you remember John and Fred? They were at the pediatric wing's fundraiser last month. Oh, no, you weren't there for that one. Well, John and Fred, this is my girlfriend, Kate."
Kate found herself shaking hands with the two men and exchanging "nice to meet you's" all without the third man's arm leaving her shoulders. She settled back against him, trying to act natural. It did feel good, she supposed, though it would be nice to know his name.
"Come on, we were going to get coffee for our lunch break anyway." He steered her forward towards the Starbucks.
"So Josh," Aha, "where have you been keeping her?" asked Fred.
"Afraid we're going to steal her away?" added John.
Josh laughed. "No, we're both just busy all the time. You know how missions go, and when I'm not out there I'm in surgery here. Plus, she runs this little book store down on the lower East Side. They make these amazing bindings—you know that book in my office you were admiring? She and her assistant did that."
Kate listened to the three continuing to rib each other while turning over all that information in her head. The preliminary conclusion she drew was doctor, all three of them, possibly pediatric surgeons. Most likely they worked at Mount Sinai, only a few blocks away.
By the time they were seated with their coffee, she knew a lot more about the man whose hand was now resting on her thigh beneath the table: Joshua Davidson, cardiac surgeon, star doctor of Doctors Without Borders, and all around alpha guy hell-bent on saving the world, one person-in-need at a time.
"How long have you been dating?" John inquired, leaning back in his chair.
Kate started to answer, "A few…" and then realized she had no idea. She brought her latte up to cover, and luckily Josh finished for her.
"Just a little over a year now, in March."
Kate choked. A year? Well, that was certainly the longest relationship she'd ever had. But if they'd been together that long, surely he knew about the Travel? Maybe that's why he hadn't questioned her odd clothes or inability to answer the simplest questions.
"You alright, Sweetie?"
"Yeah, just. I guess I didn't realize it's been that long. It feels like the blink of an eye, you know?"
He smiled genuinely, making him even more attractive, and kissed the tip of her nose. John and Fred made sounds of protest.
Josh turned back to them. "Oh, what are you? Six year olds?"
"No, man. It's just you. You always gotta show us you're better, doing better at surgery, going on more missions, being all cute with the hottest girl."
"If we wanted to see that we'd've stayed in Mrs. Bowles' room on the fourth floor."
"Oh no, I'm never going back there again. Dr. Hart can deal with her from now on."
Kate was glad they had moved on to a topic where she was not expected to know what they were talking about. At least now her confusion was ordinary and she didn't have to pretend like she'd known this man for more than a year.
John changed the subject to a recent publication in the American Journal of Medicine, something about heart disease and psoriasis and shoddy lab methods. All three doctors had their own ideas about the study, and soon they were discussing what research they might like to conduct themselves, given the time and funds. Kate listened with interest, but as always when she was out of time most of her attention was given over to blending in and learning her surroundings.
Half an hour later the three doctors' lunch break was over, and they pushed back their chairs from the table. Josh picked up her empty mug and followed Fred, who was leaving. They piled the dirty dishes into the bin next to the door, and stepped out into the pleasant air, agreeing that they should be getting back. Kate added that she needed to go back to the bookstore.
"Well, Kate, it's been lovely meeting you," said John, offering his hand again.
She took it and replied, "You, too. I'll be sure to make it to the next benefit."
"You should stop by the hospital more often," said Fred. He raised his eyebrows at Josh.
"Now, now." He turned to look at her. "I'll see you later, after my shift. I'm off early tonight, so I thought we could go to Maria's again."
"That sounds great," she agreed easily. Whatever Maria's was.
Josh smiled broadly and kissed her. "See you later," he whispered in her ear. This time when she shivered it was a good thing.
He gave her one last look and then started walking up the street, back towards the hospital.
Kate finally felt she had something to look forward to in the future. Someone to spend time with, dive into it with, who was also a pretty good kisser. And they'd been together so long. She must really like him.
And he was really good looking.
Monday, July 27, 2009 (Rick is 38, Kate is 29)
It had been more than a month since Kate had come back into his life, and Rick was finally starting to feel confident that she wasn't going to disappear again. Not that a month was forever, but having her back, getting to see her and talk to her, it was like erasing some of those most horrible years.
And now it was almost better, because he didn't have to sit around in a basement waiting for her to show up—he could go to her whenever he wanted, call her, email her, invite her over.
Okay. Not any time, because he didn't want to overwhelm her, and she'd asked him to cool off a little, but still. He had his best friend back.
As he had at least twice a week for the past five weeks, Rick sat at a small square table next to the window at the front of the shop, a book he'd just bought in his lap and his laptop at the ready in case inspiration struck. This particular book was a good find, hidden away in a dusty corner and full of plot twists and quick dialogue. He couldn't wait to share it with Kate.
His first instinct was to tell her everything—Kate, Alexis taught me a new clapping game; Kate, I don't have writer's block anymore; Kate, do you remember that time when—but he was learning to control himself. Some of these things needed filtering, because they were exactly the kind of thing he would've said to her when he was eight. He was a different person now, and he'd worked hard to get here, so he couldn't allow himself to fall back on old habits.
"Hey, Rick, man," said Mark from the counter. "You know she's up in her office, right?"
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Something about clapping."
He groaned, but stood and stuffed the computer and book into his bag, thanked Mark, and made his way upstairs.
The office door stood open, so he went in and plopped himself in one of the chairs before her desk. She was scribbling over a document and didn't look up.
"Rick, what are you doing here?"
"I was reading this book from downstairs and I—"
She raised her head and quirked an eyebrow.
"Aw, come on. You're not still sore at me for Friday, are you? It is not my fault that Ryan won that last hand. He got a lucky deal."
"It upsets the natural order of things when sweet little Ryan is better at poker than the rest of us. But no, that's not why I'm 'sore' at you. I'm 'sore' at you because this is the third time you've been in my office, distracting me from my work. Don't you have anything better to do?"
No, he wanted to say. What could be better than talking to you? Instead he replied with a question. "What are you working on?"
Kate pushed her pen away and leaned back in her chair. She scrubbed both hands down her face and sighed.
"Rick, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time today. I have to edit this kid's witness statement because he barely finished middle school and the police are going to start suspecting him if he doesn't turn it in. I have two other cases waiting in the wings that I need to take because the clients are rich and this place is going down. I have to catch up on the books because there's a shipment coming in next week and NYU is having a booksale in two weeks that I have to prepare for because they're one of my best sources. To top it off I haven't Traveled in almost four weeks and I'm starting to feel like I'm overdue for an inopportune mishap of time."
"So let me help! I could do a signing here!" Rick sat forward, eager.
"How does that help?"
"It gets people in the door, raises awareness for the store. You could offer some kind of promotion, you know, bring in an old book to be rebound at half price, get a New York celebrity's signature on the way out."
Kate looked like she was actually considering it, but then shook her head. "I don't think this place is big enough for something like that. You've got hundreds of adoring fans, right? Our capacity maxes out at seventy-five. Besides, what book would you be signing? The one you've already done three book tours for? The one you've been writing for two years?"
"Ouch, Beckett, that hurts," he grinned. "First off, I have thousands of fans here in the city, and even though my book might not be finished yet it will be great. But I see your point, a signing might not work out. I know! You could let me help you with your cases."
"Fat chance."
"You let me help a few weeks ago," he said, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.
"I did no such thing," she said, completely serious.
The smile slid off his face. What? But, he knew, every conundrum of Kate Beckett could be solved by considering her existence in nonlinear time.
He watched her expression morph, and then she spun her chair around and began riffling through a filing cabinet behind her.
She pulled out a file and read it over, muttering, "Nice of me to mention I had help."
"I guess that was a, uh, future you that let me ride along. But it wasn't anything dangerous! There was just some guy whose friends thought he was lost but he was drunk and somebody posted a picture of him on Facebook and we went to pick him up—"
"I know, Rick, I have the report I wrote right here. But she—I don't mention you. When I read it after getting back, I figured she had just finished the case up for me. We do that sometimes. But why did I let you come with me?"
"I guess I have that to look forward to in the future then, huh?"
Kate groaned.
"Hey, Kate?" Mark called from the bottom of the stairs.
"Yeah?" she yelled back.
"Ms. Boyle just called. Turns out her dog ate it and she no longer requires your services."
"Okay, thanks." She returned her voice to a normal volume and regarded him. "So sometime in the future I'm going to decide that it's a good idea to let you help me with private investigations."
"So it would seem. I do have five months' experience working with the NYPD's finest. They're your boys, they'll vouch for me."
She shook her head. "That's not what I'm worried about. Mostly. Rick, I majored in Criminal Justice at NYU. I trained at the Academy for six months. I was an officer for three and a half years, and a detective for almost a year. Before all that, I spent thirteen years learning how to survive and defend myself in unreal situations, thanks to my unpredictable disease.
"The point is, these cases, the way I investigate them, can get hairy. I know how to take care of myself, but I can't take care of you too. I can't even carry a gun anymore. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt."
"I'm touched, Kate," he said sincerely. "I'll think about what you've said, but I know I could be a great help to you. Ryan and Esposito tell me I'm useful. Well, mostly Ryan. I think he believes everything I say."
"That doesn't surprise me." She stretched her arms above her head and sneered at the document still laying on her blotter, dotted with corrective red marks. "Well, it looks like I have some free time after all since Ms. Boyle cancelled. Why don't you tell me about your book?"
"Which one? The one I was going to tell you about or the one I'm writing?"
"The one you're writing. What made you choose Ryan and Esposito? Why not McNulty?"
Rick took a moment to consider. How much should he reveal? "The book—"
"Finite Laughter?" she interrupted. She must have seen the surprise on his face, because her face pinked and she explained, "It was leaked on your fansite."
"I wonder if Paula knows that. I'll have to ask—reporters aren't supposed to know that yet. But yes, that is the title right now." He paused and saw that she was still listening intently, even if she was still embarrassed at being caught out about the website. "In this book, I wanted to move away from the fast-paced thriller feel of Storm and focus more on the characters. What I really wanted to do was explore their relationships. The thin blue line is pretty famous, but I was curious about Ryan and Esposito's take on it. They seemed tighter than a lot of the other partners I've seen, and yet they hadn't known each other for very long. McNulty, he's a fine detective, but he held himself apart from the others. He didn't have that sense of brotherhood I was looking for. Plus he doesn't like me very much."
Kate smiled sympathetically. "McNulty doesn't like me very much either. Whenever I go in to work with Ryan and Espo, he says as few words as possible without blatantly giving me the silent treatment. I think maybe he just doesn't like civilians working his cases."
"I never thought of it that way."
"Let's just say I know the feeling. Not wanting civilians to work my cases, I mean."
"Oh, ha ha. Just for that I'll write your character out of the book."
"Wait, I'm in the book?"
A/N: Thanks, as always, for reading, and especially to those of you leaving reviews.
P.S. Still looking for a beta, I can be reached at this username on twitter, tumblr, and gmail
