A/N: Well, here you go. Only four more chapters to go after this. I'm kind of sad to see the end in sight but fear not, there's always the sequel... Thank you for everyone who is still reviewing, this story has had almost 17000 views and there are 68 of you following this so I'm kind of upset that I've only got 38 reviews so far. I'd really like to make it to fifty reviews before this is over. Please?
Big thanks go out to Guest, theputz913, MelanieAtkins, Katie-Kakes97 and NinaK.05. I've also just found out that one of my friends from Twitter is reading this, I hope you're enjoying it NotEnoughLime. That reminds me, if anyone wants to add me on Twitter I'm Gemma30185, I'm pretty friendly, just send me a message. Thank you for everything so far and I hope you enjoy this one!
Disclaimer in chapter one.
Kate,
I know it hurts you to remember but have I mentioned how amazing you are, just like your mother? I never got the chance to meet her and I wish I did but I have the next best thing. I have you, this amazing woman following in her mothers footsteps, saving the world, bringing justice to those who deserve it and help to those who need it. I am in love with this miracle that walks on Earth who goes by the name of Kate Beckett and I thank God, my lucky stars, hell, I even thank the workers at the coffee shop that I got to find you and that you love me.
I know that you visit her, go to the cemetery after a really hard case, the anniversary of her death and every Christmas Eve. I asked you once why you don't go on the actual day and you told my that lovely story of staying up until midnight as a kid with your mother waiting to open gifts. I couldn't help but think what a beautiful, amazing memory that must have been for you to still smile and remember it after all these years. I guess that's why you never believed in Santa Claus, you're mother was magic enough for you.
I know that you always visit her on birthdays, hers, yours, your fathers; you all go and just sit there. You don't usually talk to her, at least that's what you told me. You just sit there and wait for the tears to come, another year passing by without her. I can't imagine what that must be like but every years the tears become less and less and over the past few years, after making so much headway in your mothers case you can finally let go of some of that hurt.
At least I never knew my father, I can't mourn what I never had.
I also know that every Sunday that you have free you go to visit your mothers grave, tracing the inscription. You told me stories of these extravagant dinners that your mother would make every Sunday and tales of standing on your fathers shoes as he danced around the kitchen, twirling and spinning while your mother laughed. You said that she had a beautiful laugh but I can't imagine a more glorious sound than the one you make when you're happy; honestly and truly happy.
You took me with you one day, a couple of weeks after we finally got together, I didn't know why now or what reason you had but I didn't question it, I knew that this was important to you. It feels strange to admit this but I was kind of nervous. You had built up the image of this amazing woman and after all I have learnt about her from working her case over the years I feel like I almost know her, like she's here and real and I was nervous, I was scared she wouldn't think I was good enough for you.
Well, we got there and you lead me to the right place and it was beautiful, there seems to always be fresh flowers by her tombstone and there was this beautiful willow tree covering the plot. The sunlight came through in patches giving the place a sort of magical feel. I was quite sure what you wanted me to do, I stood there just off to the side as you touched the head stone, fingers tracing the well worn inscription.
You introduced me to your mother. I stood there and watched as you talked to the air, little dandelion puffs flying past you and you told them all about me as if they held the spirit of your mother. You told them I made you happy, that you thought she would approve of me. You told her about my 'strange' sense of humor and that you felt safe for the first time. You told her you thought you loved me.
I felt like I was intruding, listening to a private conversation between mother and daughter. You didn't look at me for the entire time. When you were done you held out your hand to me, I took it and we sat down of the grass beside your mother's resting place, side by side, not saying a word. You kissed your fingertips and trailed them over the inscription one last time and we walked out of the cemetery, hand in hand in an easy silence.
Three days later you told me you loved me for the first time.
You may have taken a different path to your mother but you are so alike, you're both crusaders, always looking for answers, putting everyone else before your own needs.
You are amazing.
'V' is for the words you know so well, the words on your mothers grave. 'VINCIT OMNIA VERITAS'.
Truth conquers all.
I love you.
Always.
Rick.