TWO

Kate Beckett walked confidently into the New York City coroner's office and nodded a polite hello to the guard. She followed the familiar path down the maze of halls until she reached the area in which she knew she'd find her friend and medical examiner, Lanie Parish. She poked her head in a few doorways before she found her typing up notes presumably from her latest examination.

"Hey," she announced herself as she walked into the room. Then, she pulled the siren red clutch bag from her wrist and gave it a little shake before placing it on the edge of her friend's desk. "Here you go—as requested."

Lanie turned away from her computer screen and smiled. "Thanks Kate; you're the best. Now get out of here—you shouldn't be in the morgue on your day off."

Kate shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not planning on staying; I'm in the middle of running errands. You know—all that stuff you have to do but never seem to have enough time for."

The equally hardworking Lanie nodded in understanding. "Oh, I'm familiar…however, you do seem to spend a lot of your alleged 'free time' doing case work where as I spend it going on dates. Speaking of," she said as she reached out to take the bag and move it to the opposite side of her desk, "do you want me to ask Tyrell if he has a single friend for you?"

"No thanks," Kate said as her typical response to almost every one of Lanie's suggestions for double dates. She appreciated the gesture, but history had proven to her that she and her friend had very different taste in men. The nights hadn't always been bad, per say—Lanie did always know how to have a good time—but they hadn't been successful enough for her to want to continue down the path of endless blind dates.

Lanie sighed and shook her head as though her friend had just announced she was leaving the NYPD to join a convent. "Kaaaate."

"What?"

"You're thirty years old; you should not be celibate."

The detective protested in the form of a squeaked, "Wha—I am not celibate!" Lanie arched a skeptical eyebrow, which had Kate backtracking with, "I'm...selective."

"Extremely selective."

Kate huffed as she had no real defense to that accusation. It had been while since she really dated anyone, but there were extenuating circumstances, like always being busy with work for starters. "Yeah, well, you know I really don't like dating."

Her friend nodded. "I do, and you have had some bad luck, I admit. Really, the whole thing can be a cesspool depending on where you look, which is why I like set ups since unlike you I don't have any other viable options."

"What options do I have other than set ups?" Kate asked with genuine confusion.

Lanie tapped the bottom of her chin with her index finger in a faux-contemplative way. "Oh, I don't know…how about a certain entrepreneur who is charming, attractive, and smitten for you."

Kate thought for a moment about who Lanie could possibly be referring to but she genuinely had no idea; she couldn't think of anyone she'd been linked to recently who could even come close to being described as an entrepreneur. "Who?"

"Rick."

Kate actually laughed for several reasons not least of which was the fact that he was one of the last people she would think of when it came to owning a business. "I don't think I would call him an entrepreneur."

"He owns a business."

"Technically, his whole family owns it and it's not even a business—it's carnival stand that happens to be in a building not a tent."

Lanie gasped. "Wow. Harsh!"

Kate merely shrugged; she was calling it like she saw it.

"So if you think he's some sort of charlatan, why do you let him assist on so many of your cases?"

"He doesn't assist on that many cases," she responded instantly. Again, Lanie looked skeptical, but Kate remained steadfast. "He doesn't!"

"It was two last month alone!"

Kate opened her mouth to protest, but then she realized that was a correct statement. In the four months since she'd first met Rick Rodgers, he had assisted with at least half a dozen of her cases. The first after the initial round of copycat murders had been one that involved the other side of his business. Technically, it was the store operated by his mother and her sister in Queens, but the murder had taken place in Kate's jurisdiction. When Kate had questioned his mother, Martha, as part of their investigation, the elder woman had called in her son and he'd once again requested to be an assistant to the case. The case after that, he ended up being a witness to what was originally suspected as an accidental hit and run of a bike messenger, which ended up being an intentional murder.

For the others, he generally just happened to be at the right place at the right time—even if he put himself there. Rick had taken to showing up at the precinct on Monday and Tuesday mornings to see if anything interesting was going on. His shop was closed at that time and he usually brought coffee and donuts, which made most of her coworkers happy. Kate remained skeptical until one day he'd offered to buy her lunch so he could ask her some questions and, intrigued, she took him up on the offer.

After that first day during which he asked her some NYPD procedural questions, they had begun to have lunch regularly—almost every Monday or Tuesday; sometimes both. She'd come to learn that his love matching business was only open part time Wednesday through Saturday because he viewed that job more as a familial obligation; writing was his real passion. As Kate did not particularly like his love-matching line of work, but found his writing one much more interesting, that was where their topics of conversation tended to stay. Through these discussions Kate found that Rick was actually quite interesting. He'd done research with various law enforcement agencies including the FBI and CIA. He also had forays into the world of professional thievery, practicing wiccans, and a few other fascinating topics.

Since he showed up at the precinct with regularity, he inevitably did so in the middle of investigations. He'd sit in the chair beside her desk, gaze at the murder board, and sometimes make quite insightful observations, which was how he'd ended up consulting on a few other cases that she had worked on. She was actually thoroughly impressed with some of the connections he drew in the past, which was why, though she sometimes rolled her eyes and faked protest, she never actually felt too mad about him nosing his way into her cases.

"He…well, he's surprisingly helpful and perceptive at times. And he's funny."

"Ah yes, which fuels your crush on him."

"Wha—I do not have a crush on him!"

Lanie merely blinked. "Yes, you do."

"No, I do not. That's…ridiculous." Such a concept was so absurd she couldn't even process it. How could she have a crush on someone who did what he did for a living? It simply wasn't possible. Sure, there had been several times over their lunches he had her laughing to the point of tears, but that didn't mean she had a crush on him. She simply enjoyed his company…in small doses.

"Whatever you say Kate…"

"Yes, well, have fun on your date."

"You know I will. Bye Kate," Lanie added in a sing-songy tone, which Kate happily ignored; she had errands to run.

Stepping out of the subway near Washington Square Park, Kate continue to repeat the mantra she'd had for the prior two hours: I do not have a crush on Rick; I do not have a crush on Rick….

It was ridiculous, really. She didn't have a crush. She was thirty years old, not sixteen. She didn't have crushes. The image of herself drawing hearts on her notepad or writing his name over and over again in the margins of the paper calendar on her desk was laughably absurd. Rick was just her friend…kind of.

They were friends for the most part. They had lunch together and work together on occasion. She hadn't really seen him outside of that, though, so perhaps they were just acquaintances. True, he had invited her to a few things that she politely declined, but that was mostly due to her instance that she keep him at an arms' length. She didn't want to get wrapped up in his family business in any conceivable way. Actually, the mere thought of that side of him almost made her want to cut ties with him entirely, but she rationally knew that wasn't fair.

Kate didn't know how Rick's love matching system actually worked mostly because she didn't want to know. She suspected he might explain it if she asked, but she didn't care to. She knew it involved hand holding and some sort of faux-magic, but that was as far as she wanted to go with it because magic wasn't real, and she knew that if she found out what was "behind the veil" so to speak, she might be too disgusted to continue their friendship—er, acquaintance-ship.

Thankfully that side of Rick did not come up much during their time together. They talked about his writing or his daughter or her work. She appreciated those conversations. She would even go as far as to say that she liked them. And, okay, if she was being really honest with herself, she liked that he made her laugh. He made her laugh more than anyone had in quite some time. He wasn't constantly cracking jokes, either; he just had a very enthralling storytelling ability. And she liked his stories—and his books. She liked the way he told his stories with passion and animation in his hands. She liked the little crinkles that appeared beside his eyes when he smiled at her and—

Oh. Well maybe Lanie did have a slight point. She didn't have a crush, but it was possible she felt a little bit of attraction towards him, especially when they laughed together. And the thing of it was: they seemed to laugh together quite easily and that was something she hadn't had in…well, as long as she could remember.

Kate realized then that she had stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the sidewalk on 6th Avenue near Bleeker Street thinking about the little crinkles beside Rick's eyes and…

"Crap." She sighed to herself, finally admitting that she did like Rick…and his shop actually happened to be rather close to where she was at that exact moment, so she thought: why not?

"Oh, hey; it's you." Rick smiled when he looked up to see Kate Beckett walking through the door of his shop. She looked as lovely as always in a sable color trench coat, jeans, and dark brown boots. She carried a small white shopping bag in one hand and had her purse slung over her shoulder.

Giving him a small wave she said, "Yeah, it's me."

"How's it going? Oh—you're not here for a case, are you?" Rick was happy to see Kate any time but hated to think she was visiting at the expense of someone else's life.

"No, no—it's my day off and I was running errands and thought I'd say hello. You don't have a customer waiting do you?"

He shook his head. "No; no appointments until later in the day."

"Good."

"So, what kind of errands are you running? Anything fun?"

A light chuckle escaped her lips and she walked forward to place her shopping bag on one of the guest chairs so she could adjust the tie on her trench coat. "No, boring ones I'm afraid. Dry cleaning drop off, picking up a prescription, and I need to buy a new vacuum."

"Ah, thrilling."

"Actually, it's much harder than I was anticipating; there are a lot of options."

He hummed and took a few steps towards her. "Mmm well it's your day off. You have to do something more fun than buying a household appliance. Do you have any dinner plans?"

"No?"

His heart rate increasing slightly he proposed, "Would you like some?"

She arched one brow at him. "Are you going to make a suggestion?"

"I thought maybe you'd want to have dinner with me. We could play Scrabble."

Her brow crinkle as she asked, "Is that a euphemism I don't understand?"

He laughed, feeling the tension in his chest break slightly. "No, I really mean the word game Scrabble. It's my favorite board game."

"You have a favorite board game?"

"Sure! Don't you?"

She gave a little shrug and slid her hands into her coat pockets. "I guess I don't play enough board games for preferences."

"Well you could come play with me. Us—I mean us. Alexis will be there if you don't mind," he added as an official way to indicate that the invitation wasn't for a date. Well, not yet anyway. It was a pre-date. A friendship get-together. The truth was: he liked her. He liked her a lot, but he was struggling to get a read on how she felt about him. There had been a few times during their lunches together that he was sure she was flirting with him. Other times, particularly if his Love Match business came up, she would practically give him a cold shoulder. Still, she seemed interested in him more often than not, which was why he finally decided to take a shot—an experimental shot. He'd had his heart broken enough times to know to be a little cautious, but there was just something about Kate Beckett that made him want to take a leap of faith.

She was quiet for fifteen seconds before finally agreeing, "Um yeah; that sounds like fun."

Rick's heart skipped a beat and he resisted the urge to punch the air with joy. Instead, he just shifted his weight a bit and casually brushed his hand back through his hair. "Great! I, um, well the shop's open until seven tonight, but I already have some chicken in the crockpot. Why don't you come over around quarter of eight? I should have everything done by then and we can play as we eat."

"Can I bring anything?"

He shook his head. "Nope, no need."

"Well, um, thanks Rick. That sounds great. I guess I should continue my vacuum search, but do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick?"

He shook his head and gestured towards the office. "Of course not. Right through there and to the left."

She dropped her purse on the guest chair beside her shopping bag and called out, "Thanks!" before scurrying into the office.

Once she was gone, Rick let out the heave of breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. He skimmed his one hand across his jaw then cautiously reached up to touch his hairline. God, was he sweating? How was he sweating? He was nearly forty years old for Christ sakes. He'd been married and divorced, and he was a father. Why did a woman like Kate Beckett make him so damn nervous?

Because she's absolutely incredible and you'd be the luckiest man alive if she agreed to go on a date with you, his internal monologue answered.

That was definitely true, but perhaps he was also a bit out of practice. It had been a little while since he had really dated. Nearly a year in fact. Ever since the rekindling of his relationship with his publishing agent, which once again had been doomed to failure. Thankfully that door had been closed for good after relationship blow-up number two. He was ready to get back out there and Kate had more than caught his eye in that respect.

After the first case they worked together on, he was endlessly impressed by her, but those feelings only grew the more time they spent together. She was gorgeous, of course, but more than that she was interesting—layered. She dedicated so much of herself to her job and was clearly driven to do right by every victim that crossed her path. He was astounded enough by that level of dedication and drive, but then she'd told him why she really became a detective: her mother had been murdered and the case remained unsolved. Rick found himself overwhelmed by the heartbreaking notion that Kate did what she did for others, but yet no one had done the same for her; she truly was extraordinary and he was extremely lucky to be someone in her life, even if they remained only friends.

When the bell above the business's front door jingled, Rick turned with a smile on his face, prepared to greet a patron, only to have the words die on his lips from pure shock. "Hello, can I…I…"

"Shut up," hissed the gun-wielding man now standing in his doorway. The disheveled gentleman Rick estimated to be in his early twenties was wearing a black knit cap, dark jacket, and carried a navy-blue duffle bag under one arm. In the opposite hand, he held a revolver, which was pointed directly at Rick's face.

Rick slowly raised his arms up into goal post stance and began slowly, "Okay, I-"

"I said shut up!" the man hissed.

"I-"

The sound had barely escaped Rick's lips when the man charged towards him, putting the front of the weapon just inches from his nose. "What part of 'shut up' aren't you getting asshole?"

Afraid to speak, Rick instead leaned back against the counter and darted his eyes towards the office, where presumably Kate would soon be finished using the facilities.

Thankfully, the assailant picked up on this gesture and asked, "Are you alone in here?"

"No."

"How many others?"

"Just one; she's in the bathroom."

The man nodded, presumably thinking, and then gestured with the gun towards the seating area that had Kate's belongings resting on it. "Go sit down."

Rick did so silently. His focus bounced between the man with the gun and the doorway to the office for almost another minute before he heard the bathroom door open. The gunman met Kate at the office entrance and shoved the gun at her nose. "Don't say a word; just go sit next to him."

Kate also raised up her hands and rotated her body slowly so that she could move towards the seating area while keeping her eyes on the gunman. "I'm a cop," she explained as she moved.

"A cop? Shit! A cop?" The man's arm momentarily relaxed and the gun began to lower towards the ground, but only for a fraction of a second before he pointed it more forcefully at Kate and demanded, "Give me your gun."

She shook her head. "I'm unarmed. Off-duty."

He stared for another moment before looking at Rick and demanding, "You. Check her for weapons. If you try and use 'em, I'll shoot."

Rick stood slowly, unsure of what exactly he should do to check Kate for weapons—and what to do if he found one. He carefully put his hand in her left coat pocket, then her right. There, he found a set of keys which he held in his flat palm to show the gunman. The man shook his head, so Rick put the keys back and pulled her coat up to show there was nothing beneath it in the back. He took a step away from Kate but then the gunman said, "Her ankles—show me her ankles."

Rick considered this for a moment, thinking this might not be the gunman's first offense if he knew to check for an ankle holster. When the gunman demanded "Do it!" Rick dropped to his knees and pulled up the hem of her pant legs one at a time to reveal a slender ankle and the top of the boot with no room to hide a weapon.

"Now sit; both of you," the gunman said once Rick was standing again.

"What's your name?" Kate asked, her tone amazingly conversational—as though they were not presently being held hostage. That, Rick supposed, was her training kicking in.

"I'm not telling you," the man snipped before walking towards the front of the store and peeking out the small double window there.

"Want to tell me what's in the bag?"

"Nope."

"How about what you're doing in here?"

The gunman whipped around and snarled, "How about you shut up?"

Rick swallowed hard and leaned back further in his seat. He watched Kate do the same, only her hands moved subtly behind her as she pressed back against her purse. His brow began to knit as he glanced from her hands to her face. When their eyes met, hers widened and then darted towards the gunman before turning back to him. Rick again glanced at her hands and saw she had slid a few fingers into the open gap of her purse.

Though it took him a moment to pick up on what was going on, he eventually realized she was in search of a distraction, so he scooted his rear towards the edge of his seat and leaned forward with one hand braced against his thigh, which partially blocked Kate from the view of the gunman. Though his heart was racing still, he tried to keep his tone even as he said, "I don't have any cash in here if that's what you're looking for."

"I'm not."

"Well-"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" The gunman hissed. Then he reached up and yanked the black cap off his head. He scratched that hand through his hair and muttered, "Why can't you just shut up?" before turning back towards the window.

"Did he say anything to you?" he heard Kate ask in a tone barely above a whisper.

"No, he just-"

"I can hear you whispering!" The gunman shouted.

Kate turned his eyes towards him and said, "I'm just trying to understand why you're here and what you want from us."

"I want you to sit there and shut up," he said, holding out the gun in her direction again. Rick's heart jumped up into his throat for a brief moment, but thankfully Kate leaned back against her seat and appeared to be doing as he asked, so the gunman turned back around. Rick then risked a glance in Kate's direction, and though her face remained stoic, she nodded ever so slightly towards him, which had him hoping that help would soon be on the way.

For another five or six minutes—Rick wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed—they sat in silence. Neither Rick nor Kate so much as shifted in their seats while the gunman retained his post very close to, but not right up against the window. As they sat, Rick couldn't help but think about this gentleman and how he might have arrived in the position he was in.

With the black knit cap, gun, and duffle bag, Rick could only assume he had just committed some sort of robbery. Maybe not a bank robbery (one didn't hear about those too often anymore) but perhaps something smaller scale, like a small jeweler or pawn shop. Presumably whatever shop or business he stole from was reasonably close to that area. Rick imagined the man had been fleeing on foot when he was spooked by something, which caused him to run into his store, one of the only non-residential buildings on the street.

Just as he was trying to imagine whether the man might have needed the money for a personal tragedy, or if he had targeted the business because a vendetta, the woop-woop of a cop car siren could be heard on the street not too far away. A few seconds later, Rick could hear car doors slamming and men's voices, which led him to guess that the cavalry had indeed arrived.

"Cops!" The gunman hissed as he turned around, training his gun back on Kate. "You called the cops."

She blinked casually. "We didn't make any calls; we've been sitting right here."

Rick flattened his lips together tightly, not wanting to betray anything with a facial expression. While that was technically true that neither of them had made a phone call, he was pretty sure Kate had done something with her cell phone. Maybe cops had some sort of "panic" button with a GPS uplink installed on their phone so they could silently call for help.

"Then why are the cops out there?"

"I don't know."

The gunman took two menacing steps forward, gun at the ready. "You did it; I know you did it."

"Hey woah," Rick said in an attempt to defuse the situation. "She didn't do anything; we've both been sitting right here like you asked."

"It's okay, Rick. It's fine. We're all calm right?"

He shook his head. "You called your friends."

She leveled her gaze in his direction, "I didn't make a call, you know that."

He shook his head then raked his hand back through his hair once more. He shifted his feet on the spot a few times and Rick could tell he was beginning to come unraveled, which was either very good or very bad for their predicament.

"Where's your phone?" the gunman asked.

"It's in my purse."

"Get it—slowly."

Kate flicked her gaze towards Rick and held it for half a second before she said, "Okay…" in a very slow tone. Rick swallowed hard and fought the urge to hold his breath as he watched her move at a snail's pace to grab her purse from behind her and slowly stand. She took a step forward as she dipped her hand inside the bag. Her actions seemed casual, but Rick had a suspicion they were purposeful; she had a plan.

"Oh, um, sorry it must have fallen…I think it's…"

Her action was so lightening quick, Rick had been staring directly at it, but he still felt as though he missed what really happened. One second Kate stood in front of the gunman with one hand in her purse; the next the dark brown bag was flying through the air while Kate dodged to her left and simultaneously reached out to gain control of the gun. The second after that she had his arm twisted behind his back and was lowering him to the ground and placing her knee at the small of his back.

"Woah! Holy shit!" Rick proclaimed. It had all happened so quickly! Almost as though she had some sort of magical power that allowed her to move faster than normal human speed!

"Rick?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, still feeling a bit shocked from what he had witnessed.

"Take the gun—carefully."

"Ah, okay." He reached out and took the revolver by it handle when she held it out to him. Then followed her instructions to place it on the chair he'd been sitting on.

"Now take my phone and call 911. Put it on speaker."

"Okay. Okay." He repeated as he listened to her instructions and did as she asked. As it turned out, the phone was not in her purse, but actually in her back jeans pocket. He crouched down and reached out his hand tentatively before saying, "Is it okay if-"

"Just take it," she said through gritted teeth as the man struggled beneath her hold.

The writer quickly grabbed the phone from her pocket, pulled up the emergency call screen, and did as she asked.

"You stupid bitch," the gunman muttered as Kate held him tight.

"Yeah, that's me," she muttered to him before looking up at Rick, who was holding the phone out towards her. When the 911 call operator picked up, she said, "This is Detective Kate Beckett inside Love Match LLC just off 7th Avenue. I need you to tell the officers outside to stand down; suspect is in custody."

"Please hold for a moment Detective," the operator said.

"Why can't we just tell them?" Rick hissed quietly as he thumbed towards the street; that seemed a much more logical option to him.

"I don't want any trigger-happy rookies to shoot at you if you go out the door looking like the white male suspect."

"Ah…" He nodded. He hadn't thought of that, but he was very glad she had.

The call with the 911 operated made a clicking sound before they heard, "Detective? Officers are standing down."

"Thank you," she said to the phone. Then, looking at Rick she continued, "Now you can open the door—but don't go out."

"I…okay." He crept to the door, did as she asked, and then stood back to wait for the officers to respond. He then realized he still held her phone so he crept over to her and placed it on the ground by her purse before asking, "How did you do it? Contact the police, I mean?"

She smiled gently. "I texted the emergency help line."

A moment later they were interrupted by officers pouring into his shop so Rick stood back out of the way and watched the arrest process take place, feeling himself rather stunned by what had just taken place, but endlessly more in awe of a detective named Kate Beckett.

After clicking "submit" on her incident report, Kate pushed herself away from her desk and let out a huff of breath. She couldn't exactly say she was angry about having to come in to file a report on her day off, but she wasn't happy about it either, especially since it meant she'd have to push the rest of her errands off to a different day. The two stores she wanted to look at vacuums at were still open, but she really wasn't in the mood to research cleaning efficiency after the afternoon she had.

As she wrote up her report, Kate realized how glad she was that she decided to stop in to see Rick at the exact moment she did. If she hadn't, Rick would have been alone as a hostage with the man they now knew had just robbed a pawn shop and assaulted a street vendor. Who knew what could have happened then? As much as it wasn't how she wanted her afternoon to go, she was glad she had been a part of it and been able to de-escalate the situation as efficiently as she had.

Still thinking about Rick, Kate pulled out her phone as she left the precinct and texted him to check in. While she relied on her training and experience to keep her calm, she very much doubted someone in Rick's line of work faced a life-threatening situation…well, ever. If he was shaken up it would be entirely understandable. She could even help him get in contact with a professional counselor to speak with if he felt that would be helpful, but at that point she was just acting as a concerned friend.

He responded about five minutes after her first message and confessed he was still a little rattled by the incident.

I'm sorry, she texted back. Do you want to talk? Grab a drink?

That sounds nice, but I shouldn't leave; Alexis is a little upset too

Understandable, she responded. She then put her phone in her back pocket and boarded the subway that would get her closest to her apartment.

It wasn't until she arrived at her building again and saw he'd texted, Would you like to come to my place for a drink? We could talk here.

Kate's fingers hesitated above her phone's keyboard for a moment as she was unsure how to respond. She had no issue talking to Rick about what he experienced, but was doing so at his apartment appropriate? That was to say: was it a bit too friendly since it was in his home. Thinking it might be, she began to type back a negative response, but then realized she was being ridiculous. Rick wanted to talk about an incident during which they were both held hostage. Just because it was at his place didn't make it inappropriate. They'd probably just sit at his kitchen table, drink beers, he'd talk about how he felt, and as his friend she would listen; there was nothing inappropriate about that.

Sure – what time?

Eight?

Sounds good; see you later, Rick.

With that, she put her phone in her pocket and walked into her apartment to scrounge something up for dinner before she made her way to Rick's later that night.

A/N - Thank you all so much for your reviews/follows. Just as an FYI I do want to finish this fic in November so I can move on to my Christmas-themed stuff so I'll post Tues/Thurs/Saturday this upcoming week :)

Also thanks to Travis for the cover art!