I'm back! It took me so long to get rid of this writer's block or at least get a good enough idea to start writing again.
I know, I promised you guys a lot, like HSL sequels and continuations, but this has been a weird six months for me. And I haven't had enough time to write. Not with school and everything else.
I hope you'll like this though. It's just an idea I thought of when reading a book (it's one by a Slovenian author, so...) and I decided it'd be worth to try to put it to paper - or in this case computer.
I hope you like it AND never mind if you're confused as to the details of this story for now. It's only temporarily. I'm going to tell you everything in the next chapters, ok? Ok.
Now, continue with reading please.
I hope you'll like it! (:
CHAPTER 1: I'M OFF TO...
I know that feeling. You have to do something. You have to change something radically, because you can't stay like you are for another second, or you're going to explode.
Jennifer Echols – Forget You
April 1st, 2002
Many people have often wondered upon meeting the young Richard what he is going to be once he grows old enough to understand the unfair pressure of the world on the youth and the need to make choices and choose what is going to be best for you in a few years. The world never really offers you a chance to choose between living your life to the fullest and forgetting all about present and instead planning for future.
So Richard, or Rick, as many of his friends call him, has doubts about the stupid clichés of everyday life. What does living even mean?
He wants adventure, he wants passion, he wants to do something he's never done before and rediscover himself in the process.
That's exactly the reason why he decides to run away from his own life.
He's never thought of himself as flighty; more clingy than anything else, really. But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Only that's too cliché for a young man like Rick, who is hoping to become a world-known novelist and have his books selling in millions of copies. He wants to share his inner thoughts with other people, find out if they process emotions in a way he does.
"Richard?" He snaps out of his thoughts as his mother's voice fills his small Manhattan apartment. He bought this small loft on a whim, after hearing the story of its owner. He's always been a sucker for stories. Not that he's sorry for buying the small apartment; it's cozy and big enough for him to live in. It was once almost too small for him and his –
"There you are!" Rick's mother sighs as she steps into the living room where he's standing in front of his bookshelf.
"Hello, mother," he exhales as an answer, but his look doesn't stray away from the books and their dusty, old covers.
"Richard, what are you doing? We need to be going in 10 minutes if we want to get there in time."
"I know," he says. His mother, always the drama queen as she's supposed to be, waves with her hands in a desperate manner and turns him around with her hand on his shoulder.
"Listen to me, darling. I know this is hard for you and that you're still hurting from the events of the past few months, but you need to move on from that. And what better way to do that than with your friends by your side as you finally reach your 24th year of life?"
Richard scrubs his hand down his face and through his hair, ruffling it. There is a thought that flutters in the back of his mind, something about hair gel and how he's just run out of shampoo, but it's gone as quickly as it's come when his mother steps in to guide him to his bedroom and deposits him in front of his closet.
"Now, dear," she starts, "Seeing as you're apparently not going to do anything by yourself, I am going to help you. But only this time, do you hear me? What's done is done, Richard. You cannot weep forever after what you've lost."
Rick can barely hear her words. He's still stuck somewhere in October, when he was called into the hospital from his friend's engagement party. That hospital and that phone call still haunt him, they wrap like vines around his neck at night when he can't sleep. There's only so much one can withstand before they collapse.
And that night spent at the hospital, Richard almost gave up on himself. If it weren't for his mother, he'd never be half the man he is now. Even though the man he's currently staring at in his bathroom mirror doesn't resemble the Richard Alexander Rodgers everyone used to know a few months ago. He doesn't even recognize himself anymore.
Kate Beckett has always prided herself with being able to read people, being able to see through their lies and recognize the truth.
Now, Kate wonders how she would look in another person's eyes. Broken? Fierce? Saddened? Determined?
All of that, probably. If anyone would be able to truly read her, like her mother does – had been. Like her mother had been.
Kate's lost now. All alone in this too-big world. At least it feels that way to her. Like she has no one. Never mind her Academy friends. They don't know much about Kate, just know about the loss that's made her want to bring justice to others. They don't know about the nights she spent crying on her bed, just wishing the world would go away. They don't know about the grief that's driven her mad, made her break into a precinct's file room to search for the justice, the closure she never got.
Kate's not crazy, no. Just hurt. And desperately wishing to travel back in time to repair the damage that's been done to her without any reason.
"Beckett?" She spins around on her heel and stares at the young man casually leaning on the doorframe. She gets an almost irresistible urge to shut the door in his face.
"Hey, Espo," she answers instead.
"You coming to the club tonight?" he asks her slowly, with narrowed eyes. He must know something's not entirely right with her. Then again, she hasn't been alright since that night in January a year ago.
"I don't know. I'm not really in the mood tonight," she says lamely and scrunches up her face, then sits down on her bed.
"Come on, Beckett. It'll be fun, take your mind off things."
"I don't really think that's possible anymore, Javi," she tells him seriously and he sighs, then steps forward and crunches down in front of her.
"Kate. I'm your friend, right?"
"Yeah. Yes. You are." He seems pleased with that. His mouth turns up a bit and she finds a small smile gracing her face in return.
"Then trust me when I say a night out with some of the most awesome people in here will make you feel better." She laughs suddenly, the weight easing off her heart for a moment as she looks down at her friend.
"Okay," she finally gives in and sees Esposito's eyes lighten up.
"You'll come?"
"I'll come."
"Great! Get dressed then, we meet outside in ten with Kevin and Lanie," he tells her as he stands up. She gives him a brief nod, then jumps a little when the door slams closed after him.
She had been planning on telling her friends only after she'd get out of the Academy and was already at her destination, but she figures now is as good time as any. They would probably react a bit better if she told them the news in person.
The light blinds him for a moment as Rick takes the first few steps into the Old Haunt. There is a crowd gathered there; his friends, family members, some of his colleagues from New York Times. He's supposed to feel happy, right?
Well, news flash. He doesn't feel happy at all.
He doesn't know if it's the atmosphere or the missing presence of his ex and…
He feels empty.
He should be happy; it is his 24th birthday after all. But all he feels is this nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the absent voice of a child's laughter and the memories of having ice cream Sundays, and spending long evening hours watching Disney movies.
He misses all the things he never even got a chance to have.
"Happy Birthday!" he hears the crowd cheer, and he manages a weak smile and a low 'thank you'. He's sure he's never been this unhappy in his whole life.
His mother comes charging into him, kisses his cheek and wishes him all the best, hugs the crap out of him, then finally moves out of the way to let other people near him, too.
He receives congratulations from almost everyone, even his boss, Gina.
It feels Rick up with grief; this cold and unsettling thing coiling deep in his heart. He doesn't want to hurt people who love him, doesn't want to leave his mother alone. He wants to find Meredith and make her try again, make her try for them. But Rick knows she would have refused. She's like that: flighty and emotionally unstable to have a serious relationship with anyone. At least not right now. And even if Rick tried for this thing they called relationship to work, he got burned. He got burned real bad, and that made him fear loving anyone ever again. He's still not completely over Meredith. Not yet. But in a few years, maybe he'd be able to forget the saddest story he would ever tell in his whole life.
The club is thumping, the electronic music blazing through the speakers as Kate walks in with her friends. Esposito takes Lanie's hand and drags her off to the dance floor immediately, presses in close to his girlfriend and drinks in her red dress and black hair that glows so brightly with the lights in the club.
Kate turns to her left and fins Kevin standing there, watching her closely, trying to figure out what's different about her.
She figures Esposito has told him about their encounter in Kate's room.
"Are you okay?" he asks suddenly and for a second there, she feels the rush of possibilities run through her head.
"Yeah. Thanks, Ryan," she gets out of her mouth, before she's tugging him by the sleeve of his jacket towards an empty table in the back.
He's being awfully quiet, even as he sways slightly to the music and watches their friends dance together in a tangle of limbs.
"Kevin…" she starts and his startled eyes flicker to meet hers. "I'm going away," she admits, so quiet that she thinks he couldn't possibly hear her, but she hears a sharp intake of breath and knows he heard her loud and clear.
"Why?" he asks her after some time, after he's cleaned his face of confusion and sadness.
"I have to."
"You don't. Beckett. Why?" Kate's tempted to tell him everything, tell him about how she cannot fall down that rabbit hole again, how she needs to feel again, needs to be away from everything for a while. Kevin's a nice guy and she could picture him as the caring boyfriend she has always wanted, but he shouldn't get involved with someone like her, someone with so much baggage. He doesn't deserve that.
"I need to leave New York. Leave this city. I'm so filled up with grief, Kev. I'm not sure I'm able to feel anything anymore."
"Where will you go?" he asks her desperately.
"I'm not sure. Somewhere in Europe. I can't – I can't tell you where. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me, Beckett. Think instead of your father. Are you seriously planning on leaving him alone at a time like this?" Kate feels rage bubble up inside her. How dare he even bring up her father?
"Don't. He's – he's not my father anymore. I want to help him but I'm breaking myself while doing it already. It's not any good. He can't stay sober for more than a few days anyway."
"Kate, you have to think this through. Have – have you thought this through?"
"No," she answers sincerely, doesn't shy away from the question. She knows that what she's doing is completely irresponsible and stupid. But she needs space and time to clear her head and fill herself up with energy and life. She wants to feel again.
"Are you sure?" comes Kevin's timid question.
"I'm sure. I'm not backing off on this, Ryan. You can't convince me to stay," she tells him over the music and keeps his gaze.
"Then I guess I'll just have to support you," he says and Kate's eyes water with gratitude for his support, for him. She would kiss him, if she wasn't so fucked up.
"Thank you," she says instead, takes his hand across the table and squeezes it with trembling fingers. Kevin nods and gives her a tight-lipped smile, then stands up and leads her to the dance floor to forget everything.
He's sitting in a booth in the far corner of the bar, cradling a glass of scotch between his fingers, when his mother rushes to him and pulls him up by his elbow.
"Stop trying to avoid the party," she hisses at him, tugs him with her to the bar, away from the booth he'd grown so accustomed to over the past hour and a half.
Rick wants to tell his mother to leave him alone, but he knows Martha Rodgers has always only wanted what's best for her son.
"I'm not avoiding the party," he pouts, sits down heavily on the stool at the bar and drags his mother to sit down on the opposite one.
"Yes you are. This is your party, Richard. You're 24. There's no need to put up an act of a good boy to impress me, darling." He huffs and downs the rest of his scotch, signals to the bartender for another one. "Richard. Stop drinking and go out there and socialize, for God's sake. I'll get old and rusty before you even speak to any of the beautiful girls here," she says and he fakes a laugh to try and get past that last bit of her comment. He's still not over Meredith, he tells himself.
"Mother, you're already old. There's no need to embellish things, you know." He gets a flick at his ear for that and jumps at his seat, opens his mouth in protest, but his mother is glaring at him and that shuts him up.
"Richard. I'm still quite young and able, thank you very much. But enough about me. You should go mingle."
"I don't want to," he responds and shrugs to emphasize what he's just said.
"Yes you do."
"No I don't. Stop trying to act like you know me," he hisses at her over the rim of his glass and then closes her eyes as Martha visually shrinks in her seat.
"I'm your mother, Richard. I have to know you. If I don't, then all I've ever done for you, was for nothing, if I hadn't taught you anything at all." Rick looks away from her and instead focuses on the spot on the pale yellow wall behind the counter. "I'm sorry about everything that happened to you in the last few months, Richard. But I raised you. I know you're stronger than this and I know you'll get better in time."
"And that's exactly one of the reasons why I'm leaving New York tomorrow morning." His mother's eyes widen and then narrow as she stares at him.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
"Where?" she asks, fishing for information.
"I'm going to travel across Europe, probably. I've saved some money from when I…" he trails off and Martha's posture softens.
"My dear. You don't have to go to make yourself whole again. There is so much that could happen to you here. Don't lose faith."
"I haven't lost faith in myself yet, Mother. I've just lost faith in this city. And I do have to go. I'm numb, mom. I can't feel anything. I've lost the light of my life before I eve got the chance to…" he chokes out, then stops as he feels a wave of tears against his eyelids. His mother's hand is right there at his shoulder to comfort him and he finds himself reassured and collected once again.
"I'm leaving in the morning. I won't be back for a month."
"Why would you do this to yourself? Spend time away from you loved ones?"
"I don't feed on love, Mother. I have to learn to live without it. And besides, look at this as a kind of a personal growth experience. I'll get to see people I never would if I hadn't made this choice right now. I'll be able to write stories and books about people I'd see on the street. This is where I'll find myself again, Mother. In writing. I just have to start again and I can't do that here." His mother nods slowly and then sighs. She looks unwilling to let go of him, but he's desperate enough to run away from her if she clings too tightly. He needs to escape this city and the dark hold it has on him. He needs to get away as soon as possible.
"Fine, darling," his mother says eventually. "Do what you have to do. But if you come back same or even worse as you were, be prepared to face judgment, kiddo. I'll miss you, though." He smiles.
It's just going to be a month and then he'll come back. Hopefully completely renewed and ready to face the world.
Thoughts? (:
Oh and it's SO good to be back!
Ariela