A/N: Big thanks to those who stopped by with their feedback and those to whom I couldn't respond personally! Totally appreciated. And huge thanks as always to Kel and Annie.

Chapter Two

Twenty

"We're ready!" Lanie hollers from upstairs.

I'm sitting on the couch in the midst of reading an article about manned missions to Mars. I'm engrossed in it because I know first hand how hazardous it can be to prepare for one. But I put down the paper, take off my reading glasses and turn towards the staircase.

There's a framed photo in my line of vision.

The photo sits on a shelf next to the railing. I took it nearly eighteen years ago, when Allegra was two years old. In the photo she's trying to squirm out of her mother's grasp but Kate catches her just before she succeeds, by looping her fingers through the back of our daughter's overalls. My camera caught their faces in the instant that they both realized what was happening. Allegra's expression is all shock and awe at being caught and my wife is biting her bottom lip with glee, eyes lighting up with smug satisfaction. She who catches killers, ninjas and zombies, wasn't about to let her own toddler escape.

I love the photo because it tells a story. Kate hated it because her hair was a mess and there was an applesauce stain on the t-shirt she was wearing. But she agreed that if I did a bit of photo shopping, I could frame it. So I did. Even though she never got to see it on the shelf.

It was the last photo that I took of the two of them together.

I see Lanie coming down the stairs first. Lanie, who kindly does double duty as my daughter's personal stylist before all her big events, has a massive grin on her face and she's followed by Allegra, who, literally, takes my breath away as I stand up.

She's stunning. And when I say stunning what I really mean is crazy, indescribably beautiful.

The two women make their way down the staircase and Lanie points both arms towards the result of her labour of love. Over an hour of fussing, primping and styling. "Well?" she asks.

Allegra's wearing a gorgeous, low-cut blue dress that brings out her blue eyes and makes for a perfect contrast to her dark-brown hair, which cascades over her shoulders in one flawless wave after another.

My little girl looks like an exquisite work of art and I can't stop staring and marvelling that I could have had some hand in creating it.

"Wow..." is what comes out of my mouth.

"That's all you got, writer boy?" Lanie shoots back, unimpressed. "'Wow'? You're a walking thesaurus and all you can come up with is 'wow'?"

Allegra smiles. "Less is more when it comes to my Dad. He isn't usually speechless. Trust me."

She's right. But I am at this moment.

I knew she'd look good because Allegra's been going on about going to this thing for months now. This United Nations gala was bigger than prom or graduation in her world. But this is way past looking good. She's a knock-out.

I listen to Allegra thank Lanie for her efforts, which she downplays, saying she didn't have all that much to do given what she had to work with (I agree with her but don't say anything) while my daughter insists that's not true and that all credit goes to her. Women.

They hug once more before Lanie steps over to where I'm standing. I give her a hug too. She deserves more than that really for all that she's done for my kid, all she is still doing. "Thank you," I whisper into her ear. "This meant the world to her. Especially since Alexis couldn't be here."

"Don't you thank me for this," she whispers back after making sure Allegra's out of earshot. "Means the world to me, that you let me be part of her life. Makes me feel like my best friend's still here with me."

I don't say anything else because I don't really trust my voice right now. It doesn't happen that often anymore. That I miss her so much that it hurts. But it's happening now and it hits me with a force that almost cuts off the air to my lungs. It's the combination of looking at the photo, then seeing Allegra walk down the stairs, a carbon-copy of her mother, coupled with Lanie's words. It's all a bit much. Even for me.

I push the sensation away as I kiss Lanie on the cheek and walk her to the door.

Not now, I scold myself. This is her night.

I wait until Lanie's stepped into the elevator before I close the door and turn back to my daughter. It gives me the time I need to compose myself. Something I've gotten really good at over the years. Kate would be proud.

I beam at her. "Ready?"

I'm not going to the event. I'm only her chauffeur, dropping her off at the UN headquarters on 1st Avenue, where she'll meet up with her boyfriend.

Allegra doesn't say anything and for the first time since she came down the stairs, my eyes wander beyond the gorgeous facade and take a good look at her face. What I see is not at all what I expect.

She looks absolutely miserable.

Almost as miserable as the she did the day our dog died when she was fourteen. When she wouldn't come out of her room for two days. Alexis spent a lot of hours on the phone with Allegra then, trying to coax her baby sister out of her despair. Even though she'd been working in Geneva at the time and they were all long distance calls.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"I can't go to this thing tonight...I can't..." she starts, her voice chocking up mid-sentence. The tears are starting to fall.

She's not a crier. Of my two girls, Alexis is the one who wears her heart on her sleeve, not Allegra. My youngest is a brooder, like her mother.

But wow...she's crying now. It's like watching a dam burst in front of me. A flood of tears she can no longer hold back after letting the first ones escape.

I have no idea what's causing her grief but it doesn't matter. I take her in my arms and let her cry. I tell her it's okay to let it all out and she does, in big, wracking sobs that make her body tremble.

My shirt is wet from her tears by the time she's done and finally lets go of me.

I take her hand and lead her towards the couch, grabbing a box of tissues on the way. I hand it to her and she takes a couple, blows her nose and then reaches for a couple more to wipe her face. Her beautiful make up is ruined. There are streaks of black and purple running down her cheeks and bloodshot eyes, along with the scary blend of colours swirling around them. She's more suited for a zombie walk now than a United Nations gala.

"I'm sorry, Dad..." she says softly. There's still a hitch in her voice and for a second I think she might start sobbing all over again. But she doesn't.

"No need," I tell her.

I get a sniffle in return.

"Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

She blinks a couple of times, squeezing out a few more tears before answering. "I broke up with Damian this morning."

Ah...

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I tell her. But that's a bit of a lie, to be honest. I never liked the guy all that much. Rich, handsome and very well-connected Damian Cartwright was supposedly the catch at her college and part of me always suspected that's why Allegra wanted him so bad. Because no one else managed to get him.

But I learned my lesson with Alexis when it comes to meddling in my daughters' love lives. So I didn't say anything. Allegra was eighteen when she started dating Damian. Old enough to make her own decisions. At least she wasn't telling me she wanted to move in with the guy. Nor was he sleeping on the couch. Memories of Pi suddenly enter my thoughts. I shudder a little and quickly push them aside.

"I'm not sorry," Allegra tells me. She grabs another tissue before she turns to me. Done with crying. That's my girl. "I'm sorry that I didn't do it sooner. I've been such a fool."

"What happened?" I ask gently.

"There were so many clues and little things I should've noticed a long time ago."

"Like what?"

"The way he treated people, or I guess, certain people. He'd belittle the waiter at a restaurant for not taking away his plate fast enough. Once he yelled at a fast food worker 'cause he gave him the wrong change. It was no big deal, Dad. He was off by a quarter and I'm so sure it was an honest mistake, but Damian threatened to get him fired." Allegra pauses and looks at me sadly. "He was younger than us, maybe sixteen and he didn't even speak much English and he was so apologetic. Damian terrified him and I just stood there and watched. I didn't even say anything!"

Her eyes start to water again. Shame is what I see in them now.

"Damian had a tough exam that morning so I figured he just needed to let his frustrations out somewhere...but I did that all the time. I made excuses for him." Another tear rolled down her face and she didn't bother wiping it away. "I'm so ashamed...that I never did anything or said anything. It makes me just like him, doesn't it? But you raised me to be better than that. I know you did."

"Hey..." I take her hand and squeeze it. "You don't have to be this hard on yourself. You loved him. Love blinds us sometimes. Makes us incapable of seeing another person's faults."

She frowns, furrowing her brows in thought. "I don't even think I loved him. I loved the idea of being with him. Of having him, because no one else at school could say the same."

"So what changed this morning?"

"We went out for a coffee in Tribeca," she explained. "When we got back to his car there was a ticket on the windshield and the parking cop was still there. He just finished writing it. We' were only over the clock by about ten minutes, so Damian tries to charm him...asks him to let it go, that is was only a few minutes. But the parking cop says he can't. Not after he already wrote the ticket."

"And then?"

"I tell Damian to let it go. It's forty bucks, Dad. It's literally nothing for him. But he doesn't...he loses it and starts yelling at the cop, telling him how pathetic he is. How sad it was that some guy in his forties is still wearing a uniform and writing up tickets for living. He asks him whether he even finished high school. Told him he probably doesn't understand the fine print on the back of the ticket."

By now I kind of want to punch Damian. Might still do it, if given the chance.

"I snapped," Allegra remembers. "Maybe it's cause this time it was a cop. It made me think of Uncle Espo and Kevin...they both wore uniforms before they became detectives. Even Mom was a beat cop at first. Damian would have looked down on all of them. That finally made me see him for who he is."

"Did you tell him all that?"

"Sort of. But I got so angry. I took forty dollars out of my wallet and threw it at him. He started laughing. Can you believe it? He said I was blowing everything out of proportion and needed to calm down." She pauses and there's a smirk on her face. "But I didn't want to calm down. It felt good. To be angry and see things clearly. I broke up with him right then...told him I wouldn't be his date tonight or for anything else. I ended up taking the subway home."

I bite back a smile and wish I could have been there. She can be so fierce sometimes, it's magnificent to watch. Fills me with the same pride I used to have when I watched her mother take control of an interrogation at the precinct.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this when you got home?" I question. Now that I think about it, we barely exchanged two words when she got home. I saw her come through the door and then head upstairs. She usually checks up on me and chats for a bit. Bugs me about what I'm working on. She loves being the first person in the world to see the rough drafts of my Nikki Heat books.

I should have suspected something was off. But I'm getting old and sometimes I miss her cues. (Correction. I am old. I just like to pretend I'm not).

Even so. Why would she have gone through with the whole farce of dressing up and having Lanie come over? Why would she pretend everything's okay right up until Lanie left?

"I was so confused when I got home," she explains when I ask her. "At first I didn't want to go tonight. Couldn't stand the thought of seeing him there. Then I changed my mind, I mean, yeah, I was his date...but we're in the same programme at college. I had my own invitation. I wanted to meet all these delegates and get a chance to make all these connections. When would I ever get that again?"

I sense a "but" coming my way.

"But... then I thought it over and asked myself if that's even what I wanted...to go into international law. Why did I choose pre-law? Is it because grandma was a lawyer or because it's what Alexis does? For so long I wanted to be like Alexis...but the thing is...I'm not her. I'm me. And right now, I don't even know who I am anymore." She blinks more tears away. "How sad is that? I'm twenty years old and I don't know who I am. Or what I want to do."

I lean in and kiss the top of her head. "Why? Because every other twenty-year old out there has got it all figured out?"

She groans. "You know what I mean."

I do. But I don't indulge her this time. Her emotions are reeling. Might not be the best time to make major life changes. For what it's worth, I do think she's passionate about law. Maybe not necessarily international law. Allegra's very hands-on and not all that big on diplomacy and politics.

"So you ended up deciding you didn't want to go tonight?"

She nodded.

"Why not call Lanie and let her know?"

"By the time I made up my mind it was less than an hour before she was supposed to come here," Allegra explains. "She really likes doing this stuff. Make up and hair and all that...sometimes I think she still misses Mom and doing these things, it helps. Helps Lanie not miss her so much."

I think you're right.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"If after everything you went through this morning, you still pulled yourself together to do that for Lanie, I think that's kind of extraordinary." I pull her close and give her a hug. "I'm proud of you, kid."

"I don't feel proud of anything lately..." she sighs dramatically. Sometimes I see traces of Martha Rodgers in her too. "I feel like everything's been for nothing. This dress. The make-up. Almost two years I wasted with a jerk that I don't even like just because I let other people convince me he's some sort of prize."

"Hey, hey..." I don't like it when she starts beating up on herself. Reminds me too much of someone else who had the same habit. "Stop that. Let's do something fun to make up for this mess tonight and talk about life decisions tomorrow."

"You don't have to try and make me feel better. I'm okay. "

She looks so young and lost right now. Twelve, rather than twenty.

"Have to?" I pretend that I'm horribly offended. (I kind of am). "Do I have to remind you that you just soaked my shirt with your tears? Making you feel better is an act of self-preservation for me."

She rolls her eyes and can't help a smile.

I'm good at that. Making her smile.

"There's a horror festival at the Ziegfeld," I mention. It's true. There is a movie playing there this week that I've been dying to see. It's about a horde of dogs that escape a lab experiment and start killing gondoliers in Venice. My daughter does love a good gore fest as much as I do.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe..."

I give her a little nudge. "Get changed and then we'll decide."

"Okay."

"Hot chocolate?"

Another reluctant smile. "Okay."

She's not big on sweets but hot chocolate has been is her thing since she was five-years old. For a while, as a teenager, she was too old and too cool for hot chocolate. She switched to vanilla lattes. But I know hot chocolate is still her go-to beverage in bleak moments.

Allegra drags herself up the stairs and I make my way into the kitchen to steam some milk.

By the time I amble back to the sofa with two mugs of hot chocolate, overflowing with whipped cream, my daughter's already there. She takes one of the mugs from me and whispers a quiet thank you.

She's changed into jeans and a t-shirt and washed all the make-up off her face. The beautiful waves in her hair are the only remnant of Lanie's efforts.

We drink our hot chocolates in silence until both mugs are empty.

"Want me to check the movie listings?" I ask once I sense she's ready to talk.

"Can I ask you something, Dad? I was thinking about this a few days ago."

"Sure."

"My name...why'd you choose it?"

"What?" This is random.

"Allegra. It means joy and happiness."

"Maybe I wanted all my daughters to have three-syllable names starting with A?"

"Funny." Her face is serious. "Your Mom died the day I was born. Happiness must've been the last thing you felt. I don't know why I never thought to ask you this...but I should have, because it doesn't make sense."

I set my mug down on the coffee table. Her questions come out of the blue and I don't know how to respond. How to possibly explain all the things we felt that day. Not only on that day but in the nine months before she was born. It's not something I've ever really talked to her about.

But sometimes I forget that there's so much she doesn't know about our lives before she came into the world. I always assumed she'd hear a lot of this from her mother. I never imagined I'd be the only one around to tell her all this.

"I guess it's a good question."

I could start at the beginning. Maybe it'll make more sense that way.

"When we found your Mom was pregnant, we'd been trying for a while and were starting to think that it wasn't meant to be. She was almost forty."

"So you were...surprised?" Allegra asks.

"Surprised...yes." I've never told her any of this. "But mostly we were happy...stupidly happy."

Allegra smiles.

"Two weeks later we found out that Gram had cancer. When they caught it, it already started spreading. She had to start aggressive treatment right away."

My daughter's smile fades.

"We did everything we could to keep her spirits up and keep her comfortable during chemo...but at the same time your Mom had a rough time with her pregnancy. Constant morning sickness that left her with no energy. I told her to take time off work but she said she couldn't. There was a lot of drama at her new precinct at the time. There was a suspect who died in holding and the media scrutiny was brutal. As Captain it was all on her shoulders. She had her plate full trying to weed out some bad cops and gain the respect of the good ones. We fought a lot because I thought she needed cut back her insane hours but she refused. It was hard on Alexis too...to see Gram get weaker and weaker. For nearly nine months all of us were stressed and exhausted and cranky."

Allegra doesn't say anything. Just listens with rapt attention.

"A couple of weeks before you were born, Gram was admitted to the hospital. We all knew she wasn't going to come back home this time."

Allegra blinks and for a second I think she might cry again. Cry for the larger than life grandmother that she never had the chance to meet.

"The night your Mom went into labour, the doctors from Gram's hospital called me to tell me that they didn't think she'd last the night. That I'd want to be there."

It's not easy for me to talk about that night. It was overwhelming, in so many ways.

"I won't lie..." I admit. "I didn't want to be there. Didn't want to watch my mother die. I wanted to be with your Mom. To watch you come into world. I wanted life that night, not death...but your Mom insisted. Said I would regret it if I didn't and she was right. Alexis wanted to be there too and she needed me."

"Oh, Dad...I can't imagine having to make that choice..."

"Your grandma died around ten o'clock that night. I stayed at the hospital with Alexis for a couple of hours afterwards and we bawled and reminisced so much the nurses gave us each a box of tissues. Then your sister went to get me a cup of strong, disgusting coffee from the hospital cafeteria and stuffed me into a taxi, telling me I needed to go, to be with your mother. I told her to come too...but she wanted to stay there a bit longer. She needed some time alone with Gram."

"Wow..." Allegra struggles to digest it all.

"I told the taxi driver he needed to get there in ten minutes or less. That it was a matter of life and death."

"You did?"

I grin, needing to lighten both our sombre moods. "Nah...just messing with you."

Allegra slaps my shoulder. "You're unbelievable."

"I did tell him to hurry up though. Scout's honour."

"And then?"

"You were born at 12:37 am and I got there just after one in the morning. You were already half an hour old."

"Are you messing with me again?"

I chuckle. "Not this time." Truth is, I'm grateful she was born after midnight. It was only a few hours difference but I'm glad she doesn't share her birthday with the day my mother died. In my mind, they are two completely separate days. An ending and a beginning.

"I stepped into the maternity ward and there you were, in your mother's arms already. Perfect and healthy and screaming at the top of your lungs."

Allegra smirks. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I tell her. "One look and I was madly in love. Willing to forgive you for trying to shatter my eardrums."

"Oh stop it..."

There's more I want to tell my daughter but it's almost too intimate. I remember the look I gave Kate when I came into the room, the one that let her know how sorry I was that I missed it all. Sorry for every damn argument we had the last nine months. But she wouldn't have any of it, didn't even let me speak. All she did was pull me into her arms and tell me how much she loved me, how sorry she was for my loss, while squishing our newborn daughter between us and enveloping us both in her strength.

I didn't think I could love Kate Beckett any more than I already did, but that night proved me wrong.

"You know, you haven't answered my question."

"Why we named you Allegra?"

She nods.

"We threw around a lot of possibilities while your Mom was pregnant but by the time you were born we still hadn't decided. That night we even debated naming you after both your grandmothers. Johanna Martha."

Allegra's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Only for a moment," I tell her. "Your Mom shot down that idea as fast as I did. We didn't want you to drown in a legacy before you could walk. We wanted you to be you. No shoes to fill. And..." I smile. This is my favourite memory of the night. "More than anything else, you reminded us that even on the worst days, there's the possibility of joy. After seeing my mother die and watching Alexis grieve for her...I didn't think I was capable of feeling anything but numbness that night, but I was wrong. Because holding you, in my arms, so alive and so perfect, and knowing your mother was fine and healthy after bringing you into this world, it filled me with joy. That's how we chose your name."

Allegra's eyes are moist when she looks at me.

"Hey...this is a story with a happy ending," I chide her. "No more crying allowed."

She quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thanks for telling me."

I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. "Thanks for making me happy." I eye our empty cups of hot chocolate and have a sudden urge to get us out of this apartment. Make my daughter forget about her crummy ex-boyfriend and the weight of her past. "You know what would make me even happier? Going to see that movie about the killer dogs at the Ziegfeld."

Allegra pushes herself off the couch, but not before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I have another idea."

She runs up the stairs. Two steps at a time. She's still so fast. Still trips over her own feet sometimes.

I get up and put away the empty mugs, set them in the sink to wash later. Procrastination is something else I'm good at, not only when it comes to my writing.

I walk back into the living room to see my daughter holding a big square box.

"What's that?"

"It's your birthday gift."

"My birthday's not for another three weeks," I tell her.

"I know. But I was thinking we could make use of it tonight." She hands me the box. "Open it."

I take it from her and set it down on the couch, lifting the cardboard lid off the top.

"Sorry it's not wrapped," Allegra adds.

A shiny blue sphere is what I see at first, until I lift it out of the box and recognize what it is.

"You got me a motorcycle helmet?"

"Yeah," she grins. "You said you wanted to come riding with me one of these days. You can't do that without one of those."

I hold it in my hands. Speechless. I did say that a while ago, it's true. But I was partly kidding. Only said it to get a rise out of her. As if I expected her to go riding with her Dad, especially after I spent all this time trying to talk her out of getting a bike. But she spent four years saving money from two part-time jobs, determined to earn it herself, and by the time she was eighteen it was her decision. "You really wanna go bike riding with your old man?"

She bites her lip, exactly the way her mother used to do when she had something up her sleeve. "Yeah. Let's do it."

I choke down the saliva that's building up in my mouth, with a gulp. "I, uh...okay. What am I supposed to wear?"

"Your new helmet."

"Nothing else?"

"A light jacket. It'll be windy on the freeway. I have an extra pair of gloves tucked in the bike. You can wear those too."

"Okay..." It's all I can get out. I'm both giddy excited and about-to-pee-my-pants terrified.

"I'll grab mine too," she says and is racing back up the stairs again.

I step towards the hallway mirror and try on my new helmet. Search for the straps and adjust them a couple of times, until finally it's a good a fit for my big head. Feels a bit like a superhero accessory. Maybe I could get a lightning bolt painted on it...

"You know you don't have to put that on until you're actually on the bike, right?"

"Right..." I grab a windbreaker from the closet by the door, noticing only then that my daughter's wearing her Mom's old leather jacket.

Allegra got the jacket about five years ago, when on a rainy day, she decided to rummage through some old boxes I have in storage in the basement lockers of our building. She asked me if she could keep it along with her mother's Omega watch. I understood her need to have something tangible that belonged to her mother, but I wanted to say no. Because I wasn't sure I could handle seeing her wearing something that was so intrinsically Kate Beckett to me.

But I couldn't tell my daughter that. So I said yes and banked on them not fitting her. She was far too skinny for either of them back then. Kate's huge men's Omega watch was massive on her tiny wrist and the jacket hung loosely on her small frame.

But that was then. Now the black leather jacket is only slightly too big and the watch mostly stays on her bedside table. Instead, she usually wears none at all or some slender thing full of bright stones that Damian gave her last Christmas. (I notice she's not wearing it now. Probably never will again).

I didn't keep many things that belonged to Kate.

Figured I didn't need physical reminders on top of all the memories. (I guess this is where I should confess that I still see her face every time I close my eyes before I go to sleep. Still hope that one day I'll wake up and she'll be lying next to me. Sometimes I think it borders on insanity and sometimes I think it's precisely what keeps me sane). But I did hang on to a few things out of nostalgia, like the dreamy white outfit she wore at our wedding in the Hamptons, her NYPD captain's uniform, her watch, a ceramic coffee mug I bought her on a trip to Vancouver, a tape of some news footage from the day she arrested Bracken and her black leather jacket.

"You okay, Dad?" Allegra asks me, maybe because I hesitated too long. Lost in my thoughts.

"You bet," I shoot back.

We head down to the garage where her bike is parked and she gives me a few pointers after lowering the passenger foot pegs. How to sit on it, where to put my legs, how to hold on to her, what to do when we stop. It's kind of funny, that of all the crazy things I've done and in spite of all the fast cars I've owned, I've never been on a motorbike.

I'm not entirely convinced she can handle the bike and my weight in the back seat and tell her as much. Her response is an eye roll. "Uncle Espo's about the same weight and he's sat back there more than once. He's still alive to talk about it too."

Okay then.

"I have to get on first," she tells me. "Then you climb on and you tell me when you're comfortable and ready to go."

I clumsily climb on the bike and hold on to her midsection, the way she told me to. "Okay...good to go."

The engine roars to life and Allegra smoothly pulls out of the spot and makes her way out of the garage.

A massive grin is plastered on my face. This is seriously cool. Way cooler even than watching a horde of murderous dogs at the Ziegfeld.

At first the heavy New York City traffic doesn't allow her to go very fast.

In those stop and go moments, I indulge myself for a minute and pretend it's Kate I'm holding on to as my fingers grasp her old leather jacket. I close my eyes and let them water, but I'm smiling at the same time, because I'm so ridiculously happy.

She makes her way through the Lincoln tunnel and before we know it we're on the Jersey turnpike. Allegra moves over to the left lane and picks up some serious speed.

The wind is whipping at us, occasionally cutting off my breath and slapping parts of Allegra's pony tail into my face from underneath her helmet. I watch us pass every car in sight until traffic becomes sparse and the only thing I see ahead of us is wide open road and darkening skies above us.

She pushes the bike to go faster still and I'm torn between squealing with delight and screaming like a little girl.

I do neither but the grin that's plastered on my face keeps getting bigger. My cheeks are gonna hurt after this.

This was the. Best. Idea. Ever.