She caught having to close up again, so the streets are more empty than normal. As empty as they can be for Manhattan at one in the morning.
In her blue cargo jacket that comes just past her waistline, a comfortable snug fit under her grey zip-up hoodie, and her black tennis shoes that she wears for work, Kate walks briskly down the street toward the subway platform to ride back to her apartment for the night. She's missed him at the Haunt for the past week since he last came by. She doesn't know if he's just been busy or because he's decided that she was making it clear that she can't be in a relationship right now.
Whatever it is, she's missed talking with him. When he's not throwing himself a party celebrating his own pity and not trying to dance his way around her, he's actually a really fun guy to talk to. She can match him, wit for wit. She can verbally spare with him with relative ease. He can even be funny at times.
Kate checks her small, ten-dollar, drug store wrist watch only worn to keep track of the time at work, and sees that if she's going to make it home on time, she'll have to take a short cut or two. She looks up ahead of her and decides to cut through an alley in the split second when she passes it. She strides down the alley in a brisk walk, taking her strides long and quick. Something about the stillness of the night in the city tonight is making her lungs feel solid and pounding, making her stomach knot, feeling her breath dissipate before it satisfies her need for air.
The walls feel as if they're closing in on her, ready to fall on her at the slightest misstep. The shadows behind her, the darkness encompassing her feel as if it's slowly growing over her like an abandoned building would be overtaken by weeds and ivy.
"Kate..." a soft voice whispers to her in the stench of the air as it blows down the alley.
She skips a step and stumbles a bit when she sees a dark blue dumpster along the left wall, a large rat running along the wall behind it just as she notices it.
Kate's heart thumps wildly in her chest as she tries to catch her breath, feeling the shadows try to pin her down, almost physically. She can feel them on her.
"Kate..." the whisper beckons her again, becoming clearer in the air.
Kate pries her foot off the ground and forces herself forward toward the dumpster, the stench of the garbage and the litter around it assaulting her senses. Her legs are becoming heavier and heavier with every hard, sporadic thump her heart thuds through her system, her adrenaline spiking through her veins as she feels the shadows tentacle around her. Despite everything jumping wildly in her system, she pushes herself forward until she sees the tip of a black pump on the ground on the other side of the dumpster.
"Katie, I'm here..." the voice becomes clear, low and deathly.
The instant the voice becomes clear in her mind, she forces everything inside of her to her legs, pushing herself forward, being pulled back by the darkened shadows grabbing at her arms and at her shoulders, physically pulling her back. She can feel tears jump out of her eyes and run down her cheeks, blurring her vision as her toes dig into the gravel.
She makes it another couple of feet, struggling with all of her might and all of the strength she's tested herself with her twenty-two years on the earth. She sees her tan lynons, her grey pencil skirt, the sleeves of her matching grey blazer as she lay against the wall behind the dumpster.
"Katie..." She says again, the soft whisper sounding right in Kate's ear.
Kate violently thrashes against the shadows clinging to her, a mysterious force unwilling to just let her get to her. "Mom!" She cries out, but is silent to her own ears.
"Katie..." the voice says again as Kate finally sees her, her light blue blouse clean without a scratch on it, but her face sickly pale and her eyes closed. Her eyes open once Kate looks at her, still pulling against the shadows, and she sees her eyes blotted out with a veil of milky white, looking straight through her. "Save me, Katie."
"Mom, I'm coming!" She tries to scream again, her lungs aching and her vocal cords sore, but still silent to her own ears.
"Katie..." her mother says again as Kate digs her feet into the gravel on the ground, getting closer and closer to her as hard as she tries. "Save me."
Her eyes pouring with hot tears, Kate reaches her arm out to her as she whips and thrashes against the shadows pulling her back.
Her mother's perfectly pressed light blue blouse starts to fade, becoming wrinkled just as a pool of blood starts to grow larger and larger on her abdomen.
"No! Mom!" She tries screaming, but still can't hear herself.
"Save me, Katie..." she lifts up her arm, showing her a pink tulip, reaching it out to her.
"Mom!" Kate yells as her fingers dangle just an inch away from the flower.
"Save me, Katie..." She says again.
The shadows finally release her and Kate falls forward, but her mother dissipates into a puff of ash the instant she's free, only leaving the pink tulip behind. Kate falls to the ground face first, everything in her coming to a dead halt. She looks up and sees all she's clutching is the pink tulip, wilted and withering, the pedals falling off right before her eyes and turns to ashes in her hands and within seconds, is gone.
"Noooooooooooo!" She finally hears her own screams.
Kate jumps up in her bed, drenched in a thick layer of cold sweat, her entire body vibrating with adrenaline-driven terror, gasping and heaving for breath. Her eyes are jumping around, flicking from side to side wildly in the total darkness of her bedroom as she thrashes and kicks the bedding off of her legs.
"Mom..." She says in a strained, shaking voice. She leans off to the left of her bed with speed but little to no agility and clatters to the floor, scattering to find herself. Out of breath, she twists herself around and clammers herself backward until her back hits against the wall just below the window.
It's then that her blue vase falls from the window sill and lands on the floor next to her, the yellow, white, and pink tulips tumbling out and scattering across the floor.
The instant she sees them, she snatches them up in her hand and violently tosses them across the room, over her bed, and against the opposite wall of her bedroom. Kate heaves loudly from her place on the floor, trying to catch her breath that only seems more and more out of reach with every loud gasp she takes in. It only takes a few more before her throat constricts and her lungs start to push the air back out in a choked sob. With tears starting to burn her eyes, the next breath is another bout of sobs.
Kate closes her eyes against the tears and pulls her legs up to her chest, craning her neck inside the canyon created between her knees and her chest, hugging her legs to herself as she sobs.
She thought she was over them... but they're only getting worse.
His feet stamped down the grass as he walks through the-
Rick stops, grimaces as he rereads the sentence, and slams his finger down against the backspace in anger. He readjusts himself in the center of his couch, his feet up on the coffee table, leaned back almost horizontally to prop his head up using the center cushion.
Storm treaded through the sod, the dew wetting down his shoes as he walked through the-"Ragh!" Rick groans in frustration as he slams his finger down against the backspace again.
Starting a chapter set in a graveyard and he's no idea how to put it. He needs to get the tone right. He has to make the reader feel as if they're there. He needs to paint the picture for the setting and he has no paint. He's never been to a graveyard before. He has no extended family to speak of. The only family he has is his mother and she's going to be with him for a very long time to come. He has no idea what a graveyard feels like, what it smells like, the feeling one gives off when he walks through one.
Shaking his head, he slams his laptop closed, sets it aside, and decides that he needs to do what writers do best besides write. He needs to research.
So, after another hour of showering the lazy day away writing in his pajamas, he throws on some clean clothes, grabs his wool raincoat from the closet beside the door, and heads down to the street, catching a cab and giving him the direction to find a graveyard. The driver, seeming uninterested in why, mentions a few and Rick tells him to pick the one most out of the way. In his mind, the scene isn't set in a graveyard shouldered by skyscrapers and warehouses.
It's an hour and a half drive and a steep fare, but Rick steps out of the cab, telling the driver he can find is own way from here. Not seeming to care if he's leaving his passenger stranded, the driver collects his fare and drives off, leaving Rick standing in front of a large hedge of clover, towering above him a good four feet, with a small walkway cut into the side beside of the road going inside with a large black gate marking the entrance for the funeral procession.
Rick sniffs, shakes out his shoulders against the cold, and starts to trek through the snow.
As he enters the cemetery, seeing the wind blow small flakes of snow off of the headstones, the first thing he feels is small. He doesn't feel allowed to look at any of the grave markers. He doesn't feel allowed to study. This is a place meant for respect. He can almost feel the spirits of each and every one of the graves he passes look at him, not sneering at him or smirking at him, just staring, wondering what brought living flesh to their resting place. As he looks out across the large expanse of the cemetery, narrowing his eyes against the frigid wind, all he can feel is small.
His shoes brush and plow the snow aside as he marches through the cemetery, noticing a few more lines of tracks made fresh in the snow ahead of him. It's the next thing he feels, feeling as if he's invading and violating someone else's place. But he has to shift his perspective. He has to feel as if he's meant to be here. With another cold breath in to solidify himself, he keeps trudging through the snow, following the line of grave markers until he sees a line of trees, creating a small, cozy cove in the far corner of the cemetery.
There's an unearthly beauty to it all. He never liked the idea of having himself buried, left to rot in some wooden box for the rest of time, or until some new civilization digs him back up to make room for the next generation of people going into their own wooden boxes. But being here now, he can understand why people have burials, why people decide to create a place for their lost loved ones. It's not for the dead, it's for the living, it's for the family.
Rick sees the cove in the corner of the cemetery and after a second to focus, he also sees a line of tracks going straight into it, and when he takes a harder look, he notices a slender figure standing in the very back of the cove at one of the grave sites. His throat constricts, almost choking himself when he notices the distinct shoulder length haircut and the snug blue cargo jacket.
Not believing himself, he walks toward the cove, along the opposite side of the tree line. Hiding in the dead trees of winter, her figure becomes clear, standing a distance of fewer than ten yards away or so.
But for her, she smelled his cologne about a minute ago in the air. She's been waiting to see if he'd actually approach her.
Rick waits for a moment before his feet guide him out from behind the trees to stand behind her another ten yards. "What are you doing here, Rick?" She calls out to him, her voice emotionally drained.
Rick stops, his chest tightening. "I..." he tries, pointing behind himself and looking at her from his position adjacent to her. "Research... book research, I was writing and I've never been to a cemetery before, so I-I just..." he trails off, knowing he's rambling.
Kate doesn't turn around to look at him, just keeps facing the same marker she's standing in front of.
He nods to himself and looks down to the snow. "I'll leave you alone."
"Rick," she calls out to him again.
He stops and looks back over his shoulder to her.
"Come over here, please." She says in a steady voice. His heart squeezing painfully in his chest, he walks through the snow in a slow pace and comes to stand behind her a bit, focusing his eyes on her instead of whatever marker she's standing in front of. He still doesn't feel allowed to look. "It's okay, Rick."
He nods to himself and takes the last step he needs, pushes his hands into the pockets of his raincoat, and stands beside her, finally looking down to the maker, showing signs that she'd reached down to brush the snow from the lettering. The heading only reads as her last name, Beckett. Underneath, reads Johanna Beckett, and underneath that, Vincent Omnia Veritas. The dates at the bottom read February 4th, 1951 to January 9th, 1995.
The pieces fall into place the instant he reads the engraving, and Rick can feel his heartbreak inside of his chest.
"Well?" She says after a minute of him standing beside her. He looks over to her with a sad, but soft arch in his brow. "Aren't you going to ask?"
He looks back down to the marker before answering. "No." She moves her eyes to look at him. "You're a private person, Kate. I don't think I'm even supposed to-"
"Rick!" She says loudly, her voice emotional and demanding. He stops his rambling and sees her looking toward him. "Ask."
He lets out a breath and nods to himself softly. "Was she sick?"
Kate shakes her head, "No."
His throat tightens, not wanting what his mind is telling him to be true. "Car crash?"
He sees a silent tear scream its way down her cheek as it leaks out of her left eye. "No." She answers him in a trembling voice.
He feels his eyes drift shut and his neck crane, his heart aching painfully. "She was murdered."
He watches as her eyes flood with tears, spilling over onto her cheeks. But she keeps as stone-faced as she can, unwilling to fold to the emotion and just decides to reach up and wipe them away. Rick follows her hand as she swats at the tears and when she lets it fall back down to her side, his hand is pulling itself out of his pocket and reaching over, taking her hand in his in a soft grip.
Feeling the warmth of his skin on her palm, her fingers wrap around his hand in a tight grip, something inside of her wanting to cling to a reminder that there are other people in this world, good people.
Kate draws in a congested breath through her sinuses and bats away the tears with her eyelids. "They wrote it off, Rick." She starts painfully, feeling his thumb trace soft, caring patterns onto the back of her hand. "My own mother, and they said it was gang violence." She tells him, her anger starting to boil over her grief. "Police are supposed to care about people. They're supposed to want to help people. Why'd they just write her murder off like that?" She asks him, her voice shaking.
Rick decides to stay silent and hold her hand, feeling it's the best thing he can do for her.
Kate sucks in a strained breath to fuel another wave of emotion. "She bled to death alone... laying in a pile of garbage... and they just swept all that up just like the trash she died in! They didn't even try!" She sobs, tears pouring down her face.
Rick can feel his own eyes burn, watching someone this special go through this.
"So," she starts again, drawing in a breath and rolling back her shoulders, still clinging tightly to his hand, "that's why I have to become a cop. I have to show people that their families matter. I have to show them that there are cops out there that care and want to make a difference."
"I-" he cuts himself off, remembering not to speak.
But Kate hears him and turns to look at him with a tight knit in her brow and her face stained with emotion. "What, are you going to say I should just let it go like everyone else says?"
Rick looks down to the snow again and shakes his head, feeling her fingers dig into his hand. "I was going to say that you're a lot stronger than you probably realize." He tells her, looking over to her with a soft expression, disengaging the sneer she turned to him with. "It probably doesn't feel like it right now, but... not that many people would use something like this for something good. I don't think you know the depths of your own strength."
Kate sniffles again and turns back to look down to the headstone. "Do you think she'd be proud of me?" She asks in an emotionally vulnerable voice.
He lets out a soft sigh before answering. "I didn't know your mother, so I'm not going to assume as much to speak for her... but," he trails off, hoping his words help, "I will say that if I had a daughter, I'd want her to make her own happiness a priority over my pride." He tells her, looking over to the tracks of her tears. "Because she'd know that I would always be proud of her."
Kate sniffs again in an attempt to collect herself and gives him a solemn nod.
"But then again," he says and looks back down to the snow, "I haven't been so lucky, so I probably don't know what the hell I'm talking about."
Kate feels her throat tighten as another tidal wave of emotion roars up in her system. "I think you'd make a great dad, Rick."
"I hope to someday." He says after a pause.
Kate feels her eyes burn in that instant. It only takes a second before she snaps them shut and her breath stops, her lungs emptying in a sob. The breath she takes in to stop it only causes another sob to escape. After her body wracks with sobs for the third time, she lets go of his hand and reaches over with both hands, clinging to the wool lapels of his raincoat and pulling herself against his chest, pressing her face into the warm crook of his neck.
Rick doesn't judge her in that moment, nor himself as she pulls at him, fisting the fabric of his coat in her hands and sending warm huffs of breath against his neck as she cries silently. His arms snake themselves around her back and after a moment, he starts caressing the dip of her spine, hoping to soothe her emotions away with what little support he can offer her. She's trying her hardest to pull back as much emotion as she can, not breaking down and just letting it all out, but drawing in congested heaves and holding them, wanting to will the emotion away.
He stays silent for the long few minutes she uses him for support and after a while, she flattens her hands against his chest and softly pushes herself back, having his arms move out from around her and land on her waist.
"So," she says in a more feigned casual tone, "now you know." She tells him, looking up to him with a stern expression. "This is the path I'm on. This is why I can't afford a relationship right now." Drawing in another emotionally fueled breath, she realizes she isn't removing her hands from his chest, and isn't shaking his off of her. "I need to become a cop to show people that what happened to my mother doesn't have to happen to anyone else. I need to dedicate myself completely to this path, Rick."
He lets out a sad sigh and cranes his neck, not wanting to resolve himself to this fate of losing her.
"Listen," she starts again, taking a small shuffle forward and getting his attention back by petting his chest with her hands, "you're a great guy, Rick." She feels herself stop, her heart fluttering painfully as she rolls her tear-laden eyes to herself. "You're a really... great guy. You could," she stops to take in another breath, "have any woman in the city you wanted."
"But..." he says despite everything inside of him telling him to keep quiet, "what if I don't want any other woman, Kate?" He asks her, wanting to tug on her waist. "What if I just want you?"
"No, Rick?" She tells him, looking away from him with emotion still staining her voice as she pushes him back with her hands on his chest. "You can't, okay?"
"Kate, I'm not looking to be the guy to solve all of your problems for you. I just-"
"Rick, just..." she trails off, stepping forward again and framing his jaw with her hand, leaning up and pressing a firm kiss to his jawline, a simple, tender kiss goodbye. She pulls her lips off of his cheek with a soft pluck and leans back down with another wave of fresh tears in her eyes. "Goodbye, Rick."
Without another word, she steps around him, letting her hand linger on his chest as she takes off out of the cemetery.
Rick is left putting his hand over hers as she drags it off of him, taking it with her while walking away from him. Looking over his shoulder, he can see her walk away from him briskly, reaching up to swat away tears from both sides of her face.
His heart in pieces, he looks down to the snow again.
He's been making himself scarce at the Haunt but his own sake. But now, he'll have to make himself absent for her's.
A/N: Another chapter that inspired me to write this story and I finally got to write it. Busted it out in just under two hours. Hope you like it. Let me know and keep them reviews coming strong! :)