Till she spots a familiar shade of orange-red hair in the middle of her lecture.
She stumbles over her words as blue orbs the same shade as the ones that haunt her dreams catch her green ones, the gaze fierce, accusatory. She pauses, deliberately breaks eye contact with Alexis, draws in a deep breath and regathers her thoughts. Compartmentalizes. Gets on with the lecture with most of her forebrain while her hindbrain descends into panic and meltdown. New York is a huge city, and she avoids most of the places where any reminder of him could generally be found. She's slipped up though, slipped up by finding herself at Columbia and now she just has to get through the rest of the lecture.
She does, somehow. She avoids eye-contact with Alexis.
When she dismisses the class at the end, she considers fleeing quickly, too quickly for the girl to catch her, but she can't. She can't do that. There was a message in that first exchange of glances, and she won't hurt his daughter by running away from it. Not now. So she gathers her things at the desk in front, and waits as most of the class files out, a little rowdy, a little loud on this Friday afternoon, probably clocking off for the week, knowing Alexis will seek her out.
She looks up at the beautiful young woman who approaches the desk, hair pulled back in a ponytail, jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt on, the picture of youthful grace. No doubt she drives the boys wild. This time she doesn't break the eye contact, lets the anger pour out of Alexis, welcomes it into her as some sort of punishment, some sort of penance. She deserves it. She'll always deserve it.
The silence stretches out between them. The last of the students leave. There is no class afterwards coming in, thankfully.
She breaks.
"Alexis."
"Detective." Detective. Not Kate, not even Beckett. She deserves that too.
"How ar-" she's interrupted before she can even finish the trite phase.
"I'm not even in this class, you know. I'm not supposed to be here. But my roommate Cindy is sick, and she really needs notes and she did me massive favour a few weeks back so I offered to come down and take them for her." Alexis's voice is cold and clear, sharp like a sword.
They had a good relationship, before the split. OK, Alexis obviously didn't like seeing her father unhappy, and she knew she'd been the cause of that unhappiness on more than one occasion. But the girl had liked her and respected, consulted her for advice. In turn she'd liked Alexis, smart and filled with uncommonly good sense, a monument to his parenting skills. Whatever other accusations you could level at the man, you couldn't say he was anything other than a great father.
She could've grown to love the girl, she thought. Not as a mother, maybe more of an older sister or cool aunt. If they'd had the chance.
They hadn't.
"I'm sorry Alexis, for how things turned out. I hurt your father, and no doubt I hurt you and your grandmother too. I wish…things had been different."
"Me too." Alexis's voice is quieter now, more subdued. "He really loved you, you know. Still loves you maybe. God I don't know."
"I..yes, I know." I love him too. There is no way that is escaping her throat, not like this. "Is he…does he, I mean…?"
The spectre at the edge of her vision laughs at her, not unkindly. The way he always did, trying to make her enjoy the moment, laugh at her own inability to speak.
A look of pity washes over Alexis's face. That almost breaks her. Anger she can deal with. Fear, hate, rage, pain and any combination of them- all of that is just fine. But pity…pity hurts the most. Pity means her ache is close to surface, is visible in terms of raw emotion on her face, in her eyes. She looks down at the table, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath to centre herself.
"No, he isn't seeing anyone now. He hasn't seriously dated in the last few years. He kinda…just goes through the motions."
She knows that feeling. She knows it all too well. And she hurts for him. She expected she'd feel vindicated, powerful, satisfied, but knowing he's suffering too all she wants is for his suffering to end. He doesn't deserve to suffer. He's had enough pain. She can wear it for the both of them.
"Truly, Alexis, I don't what else I can tell you." Her voice catches.
"No, it's OK. I had…I had high hopes for you. And him. You made him happy, happier than I've ever seen him at times. But life isn't a fairytale, I learned that lesson fairly early in my childhood. I'm sorry it didn't work out."
A fresh wave of guilt wracks her. It's not his fault, but Alexis has grown up in the wake of two failed marriages and their own failed…thing. She probably has no choice but to be cynical about relationships in her life. His daughter doesn't really know the alternative, not viscerally, not deep down in her heart. At least she's had her parents' marriage as an example, before her mother's death.
"Please, don't…"
A short, sharp bark of laughter.
"Not a chance Detective. Not a chance I am mentioning you in his presence." The statement isn't bitter, just matter-of-fact. That makes it hurt worse, somehow.
And then she walks out, the stepdaughter she could've had, now just another piece of wreckage from the fallout. She considers packing up her things and going home, its 4pm on a Friday, even Gates would understand.
She heads back to the precinct.
A fair few questions in the reviews about how this AU diverges and what happens. Don't worry, it will become clear. It's a big part of the plot and we'll be flashing back to it.
Thanks for the reviews by the way, and keep them coming if you like the story.