AN: An additional note of thanks to send along to Travis, who kindly created and surprised me with cover art for this story.

Chapter 2

Kate stood alone in the break room at the precinct that early morning, the whirring and gurgling of the coffee machine she'd woken for her much-needed fix ever a contradiction to its silent elegance in slumber.

That it had its home there had begun to peeve her again across recent weeks, even more than it did years before when it first arrived by Rick's courtesy, back when he was little more than a nuisance instead of the man she'd come to equally want and need.

Now it was an in-her-face, daily reminder of time sliding helplessly backward. Rick's practice of arriving each day with two cups in hand, one for him and one for her, had come to an abrupt end. That quiet gesture with the loudest resonance had been replaced by those harsh whirs and gurgles, and they pounded in her ears.

"Detective." Her captain stepped up beside her, empty mug in hand. "My office in ten?"

Surprised by the company, Kate required an active breath to settle.

"Morning, sir. Sure."

Gates eventually broke the awkward lull that followed.

"I miss the days when all you had to do for a cup of coffee was press one damn button. I'm going downstairs for mine. It might be mud, but I'm sure it's ready," she said with a bite Kate had come to know well before leaving the room.

Watching from the window as the woman crossed the bullpen, Kate couldn't help but curl her lips in a tiny smile over her boss's routine prickliness. While so often unwelcome, there, then, it was exactly the thing her mind needed to net a grain of ease. Weeks of choppy seas had it starving for normalcy, for calm, and though the life preserver came in surprising form, it clung to it gratefully.

"Detective, close the door. Sit."

Kate stepped into the office and parked herself in a chair in front of Gates's desk, a single finger unconsciously drawing the circumference of her coffee mug's rim over and over as she waited.

It struck her as she sat there, wondering why it was she'd been summoned, just how different it felt being in that chair without Roy Montgomery opposite her. She'd admired and trusted him so deeply, loved him for the shield he'd watched over her with and, more than that, for the man he'd been without it. That such a profound bond could develop again inside that office seemed almost unthinkable. That Victoria Gates could be the one she shared it with even more so.

"Sir, if you want me to come back, I can-"

It'd been north of two minutes since a word had been spoken.

"I don't." Gates slid off her reading glasses, folded their tortoise temples together in a fist. "Detective Beckett, tell me where it is you see yourself going." She clarified when the knot in Kate's forehead twisted tighter. "The NYPD. What are your plans? What is it you want out of your time here?"

Kate could hardly have imagined that was the reason for being called to meet. In all the months since her return following her shooting, since her introduction to Gates, no such interest had ever even been hinted at, let alone expressed.

"I'm sorry, I don't…why are you asking me this?"

"Is it such an unreasonable question? I'd expect someone with your skill and success on the job would have their future all mapped out, especially given what you went through last spring." She dropped her glasses, nestled back into her chair. "Why haven't you taken the sergeants' exam? You have the prereqs. You're certainly able. More than qualified."

"I like my job, sir." Immediately, Kate felt the need to amend what was a true though insufficient statement, and she did so with the nip of a chill in her tone, as though suddenly believing she'd been challenged. "I love my job. To answer your question, I've considered the exam, and I'll continue to consider it until I'm ready to take it."

Gates angled slowly back toward her desk, braced her elbows, and clasped her fingers together. "You can stand down, Detective. This is a conversation." Glancing at the paperwork that was laid out, she pushed her glasses back onto her nose. "I received a call yesterday evening, Beckett. It seems you're being vetted."

"I'm sorry. I'm being vetted? For what?"

"Apparently, you left quite an impression on a former golden girl of the FBI, one Jordan Shaw. I understand you worked a local case together a couple of years back, saved her life in the process. That'll get you on the good list. And the short one. She's moved up, leads her own team in D.C. now with the DOJ."

Despite its star status, Jordan Shaw was a name Kate hadn't heard in ages, and it couldn't have come back around in more unexpected or confounding context.

"What does that have to do with me? I'm a cop, in New York."

"Today you are. What about tomorrow? What could you be then? Look, clearly this is the first you're hearing about it, and I don't have any details for you. I got a call from someone in Shaw's office, at Shaw's direction, requesting to set up a further discussion about you. Take the day, Detective. Think about whether you want me to schedule it. If not, I've got plenty of other ways to fill my time." She flicked a glance toward the door. "That'll be all."

Kate got up and left without anything more, went back out to her desk and immediately did an internet search of Jordan Shaw for recent news, the hundreds of results of which she began to click through.

She'd been recruited from the Bureau just over a year before, they revealed, and now spearheaded a task force that worked in conjunction with the U.S. Marshal Service on the most violent and dangerous fugitive cases in the country. Even just skimming over a few paragraphs plucked from here and there, flipping the few puzzle pieces her morning had time for, kicked Kate's heart rate up to a sprint.

She hadn't met many women of such prestigious rank in her field, let alone partnered with any, brief though their cooperation had been, and despite her initial trepidation about her own role in their shared effort being trampled on by federal boots, Kate had found then and still held a great respect for Jordan Shaw and her lengthy list of achievements, none of which, having spent time with her, surprised. Not as did finding out that the feeling appeared to be mutual.

Even more challenging to reconcile was the fact that a partner with whom she'd worked but for a handful of days years ago was now seeking her out to open a dialogue, while she couldn't get the partner with whom she'd worked nearly every day for the past four years-a man who'd professed his love for her, no less-to talk about anything at all.

That was the part Kate thought about all that day, as morning became afternoon became evening and Rick never showed. Whatever the future she'd envisioned-before the shooting or after, and across their years together-he'd always been a part of it. She'd always seen him there with her because he'd become a part of her, one of the dearest and most treasured parts.

But with him distancing himself more and more from her present, and continuing to back further and further away, that future, the image of that "always", was rapidly and helplessly fading from view.

"Sir?" After her team had gone home, Kate stood in the doorway to Gates's office with her bag over her shoulder, her favorite red leather jacket draped over her arm.

"I haven't gotten to your write-up. It'll be reviewed by morning."

Kate took a step inside. "That's not…I want you to schedule the call, sir." She spelled it out, unnecessarily so, when Gates finally granted her eye. "With Shaw's office. If you wouldn't mind."

"I guess you are curious about what you could be tomorrow, Detective Beckett. Glad you caught up with the rest of us." Her focus shifted back to her business at hand. "I'll take care of it."

With an unseen nod of thanks Kate turned to go, and for the second time that day her heart began to race.

xxxx

Gates made no mention of Shaw or any phone call again during the two days that followed, leaving Kate's mind to fixatedly contemplate the possibilities of what it all might be about not only on top of some grueling work hours, but over the weekend's hours too.

It didn't help that Rick ducked out early that Friday afternoon to head out to the Hamptons, and not alone.

When she learned of it from Javi, who assumed she already knew, she made the mistake of asking if anyone went with him. He made the mistake of indulging her with an answer she told him she could handle. If ever there was a lie cloaked so masterfully in indifference.

Following a couple of healthy pours of wine that Saturday night, she almost called him. Almost as in she had her finger over the button but couldn't manage to bring herself to press it. It wasn't the first time that events played out that way, and it was probably just as well. She certainly didn't have a clear enough head for any conversation she wanted to have.

That and knowing he was away with another woman doing god knows what had all her words knotted in her throat.

When Monday came, Kate found herself back in her captain's office, again behind closed doors, this time to the inquisitive eyes of her partners left out in the bullpen, Rick included.

"Beckett, I had a conversation with Jordan Shaw late Friday evening," Gates began. "Much of what was discussed I don't intend to share, nor is it relevant to the question at hand."

"What question is that, sir?"

"As shocking as it may sound, given it's our federal government we're talking about, she recently received notification of approval for a petitioned increase in her budget. With that increase came the ability to grow her team. She's currently in the process of considering candidates for two available positions and asked for my input on you being one of those potential candidates. So, that makes the question, Detective: What is your interest in being considered at this time?"

Kate could barely hold back laughter at the presentation of it, at Gates's entire manner quite frankly, as though it were tiresome to her how often the two found themselves in such a circumstance, when in fact the surprise of it was almost to the point of absurd.

"Jordan Shaw thought of me, after two years, for a federal job."

"Yes."

"Why?" Kate uttered under her breath. It didn't go unheard.

"Maybe your confusion is your answer, Detective. Either way, Shaw is moving quickly. I need to inform her office by end of business Wednesday."

As she sometimes did in conversation when the air of it grew heavier, she removed her glasses and set them aside.

"I'm not going to tell you what you should or shouldn't do here, Kate. I may be your boss, but that's no more my place than anyone else's. I will say, however, you are a fine officer, one of the finest I've worked with at the NYPD, and from what I've read, Roy Montgomery before me recognized the same.

"Now, if some voice inside of you is filling your ear with doubt-and I don't have the first idea what that voice could or would be saying-I recommend, whatever it is, you tell it to shut the hell up, so you can give serious thought to what's being offered here. Shots like this," she said and knocked her knuckle against the stack of paperwork in front of her, "come around for few, Beckett. There's a reason for that."

Kate dropped her chin a moment, gathered herself, and then lifted it high.

"Wednesday? Thank you, sir," she said before exiting the office to two rather than three teammates. Rick was nowhere in sight, which also had a voice whispering in her ear.

"What was that all about?" Javi asked. "Everything good?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Her eyes swept the bullpen but didn't find what they were looking for.

"Said he had a meeting or something."

Kate's expression gave away her secret, her quiet disappointment. Rick would've been the first person she told about the job, and even amid the present tangle that was their relationship, the impulse to bring him in was one still alive and ticking.

"I got that street-cam footage cued up, Beckett," Kevin informed in attempted distraction, and for her benefit played almost giddy about it. "You want to take a look? Quality's pretty good."

Those she held close knew her quite well.

xxxx

Kate worked late that night at the precinct, earned the finger of bourbon she poured for herself when she got home, which she paired with leftover noodles she found in the refrigerator and picked at cold.

At the desk in her office, she sat and let her gaze wander over the newspaper clippings, notecards, and photographs that by her hand lined the opposite wall. For nearly two years that practice had been a common one, across restless nights and unoccupied hours, a ritual she'd shared only with Rick. And now what would come of it if, she wondered.

The timing of it all struck her so unlikely. With as much of her heart as she'd been able to give, she'd promised him, asked him to hold on to the other end of the rope for just a little while longer, and until a few weeks ago, she'd been able to feel the willing weight of his grip. And now, suddenly, with the rope slackening in her fingers, the opportunity for an opportunity had come knocking on her door. She wasn't someone who'd ever put stock in grand design, but the way in which the pieces were falling was curious if nothing else.

Before she could tip back her final shot of Michter's, her phone lit up with her father's image.

"Hey, Dad," she answered with a soft smile of affection. The pair spoke regularly in the evenings, but it'd been days. Too long. "It's good to hear your voice."

"What's that in yours? Rough day on the beat?"

"Just…long, that's all." Kate paused in thought. "Dad, can I ask you something?"

"It's one of my favorite things," Jim replied, and she knew he meant it. "Shoot."

Blinking away the blur of some faraway place, the collage created of pieces of her mother's case came into focus again.

"If I ever decided to leave New York, would you be okay?"

"Well, that is a question. What's going on, Katie? What's wrong?"

There really wasn't anything to tell, and what was wrong wasn't something he had the power to fix.

"Nothing's wrong, Dad. I'm guess I'm just thinking out loud. I told you, it's been a long day." She emptied her glass of what was left, took a long breath in to cool her throat. "We should have dinner. I could use a dose of dad. Maybe next week if you aren't too busy."

"For you, I'll always make time. You know that. Really, Katie, you're sure nothing's wrong?" he asked again when the line went quiet. "l don't know how good I am at the advice, but I do know I'm a pretty good listener. That's what your mother always told me, at least. I suppose that could've just been her humoring your old man."

That won a tiny laugh.

"No, she wasn't, and thanks for the offer. I'm wiped, that's all. So, it's a dinner date then?"

"I'm a lucky man," he said and the sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes.

When they hung up, Kate switched on her computer screen and typed in an internet search for D.C. apartments.

Her mother always told her she could be anything.