I'm sorry I haven't updated in months. I had writer's block as big as Russia. I don't even know what happened. But enjoy. It's extra long, so I can try to make up to you.

CHAPTER 7: INTO THE UNKNOWN

I like the sea: we understand one another.

It is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have;

and so am I.

- Greta Garbo

The Brussels North Railway Station is full of life when Rick and Kate wait to board the train to Amsterdam.

The rain smothers the concrete beneath the legs of everyone that sit or stand still at the platform 3.

Kate looks around, watches closely, observes. There's a young woman, probably in her twenties, sitting on a white bench, paint crusted off and worn out by the thousands of people that have used it for rest. An old man sits on the dirty ground and smokes. A family of four is silently talking nearby. Two men with earphones on their heads are leaning onto the wall of the station.

And then, next to Kate, is Rick. He stands a few feet away from her, keeping his distance. Ever since the… incident at the hotel room yesterday, he's been further away than Kate can remember him ever being. It annoys her, suffocates and relieves her at the same time.

Rick has a book in his hands; his eyes seem to be eating the words and think them over all at once.

And Kate… well, she tries not to smoke too many cigarettes while waiting. She has this habit of chain smoking when she doesn't have anything to do. It gets hard to just be still sometimes, so she needs something to remind her that there's still a world outside of her head. And the cigarettes link her to this unyielding presence of the never-ending moving around her.

"Hey, do you think we should stay in Amsterdam or rather go somewhere… not so packed?" Kate hears from her left side. She looks at her travelling company and smiles. "I don't care," she says. "Wherever we go will be fine."

Rick stares at her for a long moment, and Kate finds her stomach painfully convulsing with want.

"Okay," Rick concludes finally and Kate exhales a breath of relief when he looks away.

When they board the train, they find it's almost completely full. They try to find an empty coupe, but have to settle for a random one, with only two seats left, because of the annoyed throng of people behind them. So instead of keeping their distance, they are forced to sit right next to each other, Kate pressed to the window on her left, and Rick on her right, while he has to endure soft torture of Kate's body seemingly flooding his ribs and his thigh and his forearm, and then on his right, a man in his fifties that tries not to sit too close to Rick. He's grateful for that, but he doesn't move away from Kate either way.

He knows he's been a little distant, but he is still embarrassed, and he is still so damn attracted to Kate that he doesn't want to be cruel to himself and be close to her all the time, knowing that he can never have her.

"Hey, you okay?" Kate asks him, and he looks down at her with a gentle smile.

"I'm fine. It's just a bit, um… tight."

Kate swallows and quickly looks away, then crosses her arms against her chest. "Yeah, I know," she mumbles, and it's almost too quiet for Rick to hear, but he feels so in tune with the woman pressed against him that he hears it.

"I – I mean, not – not that you're not – well – you're –" he starts blubbering, when he realizes it sounded like he didn't want to be close to her, but Kate stops him with two arched eyebrows and a clearing of her throat.

"Rick. Relax," she says softly, and he sinks into the seat. The jut of her hipbone cuts sharply into his, making him decide she needs to eat more, but nonetheless, it's all divine feminine curves against him. Rick doesn't know what to do, other than take off his sweatshirt (it's getting a bit hot) and take a sip of water from the plastic water bottle he's been carrying around since yesterday afternoon.

After that, Rick looks more closely at the passengers in front of him and Kate. There's a mother, whispering something to her young son that Rick thinks might be in Russian, and the window seat is occupied by a young man, probably not much older than Rick himself. The man seems to be reading a book, but Rick catches his gaze at Kate. Intentionally, he shifts even closer, pressing her shoulder between the seat and his arm, his hand steadied on the cushion, but slightly touching the ridge of Kate's knee. Kate shivers in her seat, draws suspicious eyes to him, and he is scared for his life for a small moment, but the man in the window seat visibly shrinks and lowers his eyes back to his book and Rick smiles victoriously.

"What are you doing?" Kate chokes out. She can't decide if she wants to punch him or kiss him, but he's making her extremely uncomfortable with his warm presence at her side, and his thumb under her knee. It's like he knows how to get under her skin.

"What?" he shoots back, shrugs and relaxes into his seat. She tries to ignore him, but even as she stares out the window at the moving expanse of trees and green fields, he is there.

He's there, and Kate doesn't know what to do with that fact. She's always been afraid of closeness from men. If they got too close, she'd get too attached, if they were too far away, she'd feel nothing. But Rick. He is just close enough to make her feel something and far enough for her to still feel free. It doesn't help. She can never have him.

Rick wakes up halfway to Amsterdam and when he does, it's all warmth that's surrounding him. Kate has apparently made herself comfortable. She's taken off her shoes and curled her legs to the side, so that her knees are almost cradled in Rick's lap. Her head is lying on his shoulder, her hair spilling out everywhere. She makes soft noises while sleeping and he wants nothing more than to brush his fingers across her cheeks and kiss her sleepy mouth. But he does neither. He only glares at the man with the book staring at them from the other side of the coupe and when he carefully retracts his eyes to the floor, Rick takes a chance and wraps his pointer finger around Kate's thumb. Then, he sleeps.

The announcement of arrival to Amsterdam cuts through the speakers suddenly and loud enough to wake both Kate and Rick. They knock their heads together when Kate jerks up, and groan with pain, but then it's just a blur of packing things and putting shoes on and running hands through disarrayed hair.

The platform is crowded with people. It's Amsterdam, so Rick would expect no less, but it still bugs him. He's always liked a little solitude. Or at least a silence of two people in the same room.

"Where to?" Kate asks him. She pulls a cigarette out, offers him another. He takes it. Hell, he'll take anything she gives him.

"I don't know," Rick shrugs, then looks at the board of departures. "We can stay here. Or. Train for north leaves soon. Leeuwarden, Friesland," he suggests.

Kate exhales the smoke and nods. "I can do Friesland. Only. . . Won't it be a bit cold up there?"

Rick shakes his head and says, "I don't think so, but if so, we'll find somewhere else to go, maybe. Or buy jackets if, you know. Our clothes don't work well. On the other hand, we could always just cuddle. We seem to be quite good at that," he winks, reminding her of the way she was completely folded up into him in the train. Kate huffs and hits him in the chest. He won't lie: it hurts.

"Ouch, woman. I see the Academy teaches you only violence," he comments, but then Kate's posture visibly falls. He doesn't know what he's said wrong, only that somehow he has managed to hurt her. "Kate?" he calls out, but she only shakes her head.

"Leave it, Rick."

"What – what did I say?"

"Nothing. I just. . ." she trails off, and he can see her trying to decide between telling him the truth and lying. "There are all these memories," she starts, and Rick strains to hear her quiet voice, "everything that has led me here. And now. . . I left home to come here, and I don't even know what I'm searching for." Kate chuckles sadly and flicks the burnt-out cigarette away. "It's weird. How you think you know everything, what's best for you, but it almost always turns out to be wrong," she confesses, and then turns away, leaving Rick to scramble after her.

It's already 3 PM when Rick and Kate arrive to Leeuwarden. It's sunny, but a little bit chilly, so they both take out their wool cardigans (Rick internally fangirls over the fact they both have them) and try to find a café.

Kate's not very picky about things, but her coffee is something that always has to be perfect, as she tells Rick. He looks funny at her, then holds up his hand, palm facing toward her.

"What?" she asks him.

"High five. I feel exactly the same," he explains, then wiggles his hand in front of her face. Kate rolls her eyes, then gives him a high five, so he won't cry.

"Come on. We need to find coffee. Now," she says, then pulls him after her.

They do find coffee. And it's good, too. Café de Rembrandt is where they get it. Kate picks it for obvious reasons. It's Rembrandt. He's one of her favorite painters, she tells Rick and he only smiles at her.

After getting the caffeine in their systems, they decide to explore around a little bit. Except for the historic center with St. Bonifatius's church, there's only pretty little houses and the boats down at the river canals. It looks beautiful, but Rick and Kate decide to go somewhere else.

They find themselves on a bus to Harlingen, a small town situated at the Wadden Sea, west of Leeuwarden. Their first stop is the shore, where they sit down on a bench, and light a cigarette each.

"It's beautiful," Kate says and Rick looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah."

"Seems like it's easier to think here."

"What do you mean?" Rick asks curiously and turns to face her.

"It feels like the sea and the sound of seagulls and ferries and people somewhere in the distance turn it all off; feels like the worries are non-existent in this place."

Rick carefully nods. "It also helps to have good company with you, right?" he jokes, but Kate looks at him like he's adorable. He is, in a way, she thinks. The hair flopping over his forehead, that thousand watt smile, those eyes. He is pretty cute.

"Yeah. It helps," she murmurs, with honesty. He helps. More than he knows, maybe.

Rick smiles gently and doesn't break his gaze. Kate doesn't either.

And then he leans forward and brushes his fingers against her temple, and Kate scoots backwards, until Rick's fingers fall back into his lap.

"I'm sorry, I just –"

"It's okay."

"No, Kate. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't, but. . . You're wonderful," he says, and Kate feels her stomach flutter.

"What?"

"You're. . . You're a mystery."

"I thought you weren't a Patterson kind of guy?" Kate says back to joke, to make it all lighter, but somehow, his gaze doesn't falter.

"Well. That depends. I do like a good mystery," he says slyly and winks at her. Kate exhales in relief and a laugh bubbles out of her. One more disaster avoided.

In the evening they find a cheap motel, get a room with two beds, then decide to get a snack.

While Rick is out, getting some chocolate and cookies and things he's sure they'll both want to eat, Kate steps into a hot shower.

The almost-scalding water surrounds her whole, and Kate can sink into her thoughts, think about everything. About her mom. About the Academy. About Rick.

She misses her mom. God, she really does.

She misses all the early breakfasts and her mother's I told you so-s, the way she would hug her daughter and Kate would feel like everything was okay again. Like everything was in a place.

Now, standing under the spray of water, she lets herself break down. Just for a minute. She crouches in the too-small shower cabin, allows the hair to fall into her face, covering her tear-streaked cheeks, the salt mixing with the water, her hands pressed into her eye sockets, trying to minimize the flow of tears. But she cries. She downright sobs like a small infant, and she doesn't stop until she feels well and truly worn out.

Once Kate calms down, she steps out of the shower, wipes the mirror with a towel, then wraps it around herself. She looks at herself closely for a long minute, observes her red eyes, her lips, her chin, the angle of her jaw. Everyone's always thought Kate looks like her mother, but Johanna always said, "Katie, you still have the time to become who you want to be. It doesn't have to be me, actually it is best if it's not me. Everyone is different, and someday, someone is going to fall in love with you because you are different, not because you are the same as everyone else."

And Kate has never believed those words. Not even know, staring at herself with a judging look on her face. She doesn't think she's different. Everyone is the same, we are all just broken in different ways.

When he comes back to the hotel room, Rick feels satisfied with his shopping spree. He's bought a lot of chocolate, some chips he's never heard of, cookies, mini bars, and maybe some other things he doesn't really remember taking.

He deposits the plastic bag on his bed (he assumes it's his bed, since Kate's backpack lies on the other one) and takes off his jacket and cardigan, until he's left in just a simple black t-shirt.

Just as he is about to unpack, the door to the bathroom opens, and Kate exits, wearing nothing but a towel that ends way too high for it to still be considered appropriate and non-arousing for Rick. He gapes at her, looks her up and down.

Her legs are seemingly endless, her thighs muscled and still damp (he can see water droplets travelling down from beneath her towel – oh God), her arms hanging limply by her side, then the hemline of the towel just on the swell of her breasts and then her long neck, and her lips and her jaw, and when he almost thinks it couldn't get better, he sees her looking at him like that, her pupils dilated, her eyes black, and it's just too much.

She must sense the need in him, see the little step he takes forward, because she clears her throat and crosses her arms across her chest.

"I, um. . . I forgot to take my clothes with me," she explains, but he really doesn't care, because she's still standing there, wrapped in a sinful little towel and there is just so much skin.

Kate suddenly moves, takes some clothes out from her backpack, then – with a sultry look and a seductive smile, of course – moves back into the bathroom, closes the door behind her.

Rick is left standing there, his mouth still hanging open, eyes wide like saucers.

She is just so smoking hot.

She doesn't know what she's doing. Oh God.

She saw the look on his face when she stood there in front of him, wearing almost nothing, but she couldn't for the hell of it move away. She liked the way he looked at her. Like he desired her so badly, he didn't know how to help himself. And that feeling of helplessness, the feeling of utter control over a man, that's what has always made Kate feel powerful.

Now she only sinks to the toilet seat and ungracefully drops her head into her hands.

There's a slow burn of arousal shimmering at the bottom of her belly, and she doesn't want it, not when she can't do something about it.

And she can't. She really can't.

Rick is a good man. She can see that. And being . . . intimate with her, would ruin that. Kate would ruin him, and she doesn't want to. He deserves better, he deserves everything that Kate doesn't have to offer.

She quietly slips into sweats and an old t-shirt and composes herself before exiting the bathroom.

Rick is sitting on the bed, mindlessly going through the stuff he bought. But when he hears her come out and he looks up, Kate has to stop herself from running to him and just kissing him senseless, because he looks at her like she's naked before him, like he can still see all that skin.

"What have you got there?" she asks him instead, runs a hand through her tousled wet hair. Rick shrugs and sits still for a moment, like he's composing himself, before looking at her with a grin.

"Come and see for yourself," he invites her, and Kate's not sure if he means only the snacks spread over the bed. Still, she goes and sits on the other side (so there's distance between them, because she really wouldn't survive being close to him right now), picks up a green carton.

"You bought ice cream?"

"Of course I bought ice cream! Who do you think I am?"

"A nine-year old on a sugar rush?" she mocks, and Rick grows serious in an instant.

"Oh, believe me. I'm far from a nine-year old. In fact, I'd happily demonstrate my manliness to you, if you want," he suggests, his eyes roaming over her body. Kate feels herself flush crimson, and no, she is not turned on only by his stare.

"I think you can keep those demonstrations for yourself," she answers after a moment and Rick smirks at her.

"As you wish."

It's late when they decide they have eaten enough and pack the rest of it into a bag for tomorrow.

"Do you want to stay up a bit more? Talk or something?" he asks.

Kate nods and slips under the covers on his bed. Rick doesn't know what to do, because he's already under them and they're practically in bed together, but she told him no just yesterday and he's really at loss here.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I read some of your writing?" she pleads. He considers turning her down for a moment, but then she turns those puppy eyes on him and he sighs in defeat.

"Yeah. Sure."

He searches for a page that won't tell her anything, a page that is just a made-up story. He finds one that he wrote before the . . . before his life turned worse.

She laughs while reading it, scrunches up her face when she gets to a tricky part. Her forehead is furrowed in concentration, her lips pressed tightly together. She looks beautiful.

"You're good at this," she comments when she's done.

Rick only shakes his head. "There are better."

"But you're good, Rick. You could have a future in this," she tells him and it's the best thing he's heard in a while.

"Thank you. You. . . You don't know how much it means to me. Coming from you."

Kate lifts an eyebrow. "Why is it so important if I like it or not? I'm not the whole world."

"But you're here now. Right now, you kind of are the whole world. At least to me," he says quietly and he can practically feel Kate's sharp intake of breath.

"Rick. . ." she warns him, but he can't help himself. She complimented his work, she smiled at him, she is here. And damn it if he's going to let it go to waste.

So he slithers closer to her under the covers, lifts a hand and wraps it around her jaw. Her mouth opens and her eyes get smaller, like she's not able to keep them open.

His breath fans out across her mouth, he knows it, because she really does close her eyes then, and lets out a murmured Oh.

"Kate."

Her eyes open again and set on the line of his mouth. His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, her skin trembling beneath his palm. Their noses bump against each other, he feels her foot pressing against his calf, and when he's so close, Kate jumps back and actually falls off the bed.

"Kate?" he questions, concerned. She shakes her head and tries lifts her hand up as if to tell him off.

"Rick. . . I told you. We can't."

She is not going to survive this. Him.

He's been saying beautiful things ever since she met him, and she is so damn attracted to him she doesn't know what to do with her hands.

"Why not?" he asks her then, anger seeping into his voice.

"Because – because this wouldn't last. Because I will ruin you," she tells him in earnest, but he scoffs and comes closer to the edge of the bed, kneels in front of her, so that his face is at the same height as hers.

"Kate, this. . . thing between us. You can feel it. I know you can. It's nearly palpable. You know we won't be able to go on like this forever."

"Not – not forever. God, just this one month, I wanted to be reckless, but then you came and. . . And now I have to keep myself in check so I don't completely tear you apart. Because that's what I do to people, Rick. And it's intoxicating and I can't stop," she nearly yells out, her eyes watering. Rick visibly deflates in front of her, but then his hands come up and cup her cheeks and there's warmth floating into her like a medicine.

"Kate, you won't ruin me. I'm already ruined. There is nothing left for you to tear apart, because I'm already torn apart. Don't you get it? I'll let you do whatever you want to me, just don't talk bad about yourself. You are extraordinary."

She can hear the quiet sincerity in his voice, see it in his eyes, the truth he believes in.

And it makes her cry, just knowing that somebody cares about her, that he wants her, that he wants to sacrifice himself for her.

Because it is so wrong, but so right at the same time.

She collapses into his arms and sobs into his shirt until she falls asleep.

She doesn't dream that night at all.

I know, I'm a bad person. Just wait for the next chapter and hope it won't take as long as this one.
I am really sorry, though.

Ariela