Chapter Two:
There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me.

December 21, 2003.

Kate tried to have dinner with her father as often as possible but it was always difficult to catch up with him around this time of year. Just like her, her father seemed to lose himself in this seasonal depression. It amazed her, actually: how similar they were in so many ways, but in other ways they were polar opposites.

She was reminded of this as her father - once again - expressed his opinion that her increasingly frequent visits to The Rink and her journey to find joy from complete strangers was an unhealthy coping mechanism.

Personally, she found his apparent belief that joy could be found at the bottom of a bottle to be the more unhealthy option of the two. But she had begged and pleaded for him to stop, he never listened.

Or worse: he'd utter a hundred apologies, make a million promises that he had no intentions of keeping and be back to ruining his life the very next day. She just wished he could see that his actions were ruining her, too. She had already lost one parent, was barely holding onto the scraps of the one she had left and - if she was to be completely honest with herself - she wasn't sure how long she could keep trying before she would have to admit he was gone, too.

"What?" her father asked bitterly as he finished the last of his generously poured bourbon; tired of her studying, of the concern he had perceived as judgement. "You never have a drink at the end of a bad day?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "When was your last good day, Dad?"

He stood, pushed the dining chair out from under himself and staggered toward the kitchen.

"I don't need your judgement," he mumbled as he glanced over his shoulder to her.

When he reached the kitchen he placed his empty glass on the counter and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the almost-empty bourbon bottle.

Kate sat silently as she watched her father contemplate pouring himself yet another drink. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She was tired of crying for him, crying because of him, but that seemed to be one well that never ran dry.

Her father sighed heavily. "Why are you even here, Katie?" he asked her, all traces of anger leaving his voice.

He pulled the bottle from the countertop and - much to Kate's surprise - placed it back in the cabinet above the refrigerator.

"I wanted to see you before you left," she told him. "And I figured you could use a nice, homecooked meal," she added, earning her an indignant scoff.

"I'm not some low-life drunk, passed out in the corner of a bar," he defended.

A justification she had heard too many times. He still had a job, was paying his bills and performing for those who stood on the outside looking in so that they couldn't see his pain, couldn't see his struggles.

But the moment he was alone...

"I never said you were," she reminded him.

"I can look after myself," he argued. "I cook, I clean, I go to work-"

"And you drink," Kate stated bluntly. "More than you should."

"Says who?"

"Says me, Dad," she yelled, her voice breaking with emotion. She stepped forward, slowly moving toward her father. "Your brother and sister. Your friends. We care about y-"

He laughed sardonically, cutting her off before she could finish that thought. "You care about me?" he asked incredulously, his voice raising with every word he spat. "If you cared about me you'd just leave me alone! I don't want you here."

The unexpected thump of his fists against the countertop startled her, had her flinching away from him. Her father had never - not even once - laid a hand on her and she truly believed that he never would. But the anger... it just wasn't him. And this version of her father wasn't someone she wanted to pick a fight with.

She nodded slowly, accepted that there was nothing she could say or do to help him tonight.

"Just do me one favour?" she asked quietly, shakily.

He looked at her, waited for her request.

"Don't drive to the cabin tonight," she pleaded.

Don't put yourself - or someone else - in harm's way.

"Just wait until the morning... wait until-"

"I'm not going anywhere tonight." He walked around the counter until he stood in front of his daughter, placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her into his arms. "I promise."

She buried her face in her father's chest, wrapped her arms around his waist.

For now, she trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn't do something so reckless.

But that trust was wearing thin.

The wind felt like a million tiny razors against the frozen tip of her nose but she didn't want to be anywhere but here.

Rink side at Rockefeller Centre, she desperately sought out a spark of joy that could be bright enough to distract her from the dark and hollow emptiness that she felt inside.

Keen eyes searched the crowded rink taking in every spin, every laugh, every kiss. There was joy to be found everywhere, all you had to do was look for it. She often found herself wondering if her father had even tried...

She mentally 'shook off' the negative thoughts, focussed solely on finding her joy.

And that was exactly what she found.

She spotted the familiar face in the crowd; froze when his crystal-blue eyes locked to hers. She wasn't sure if he had noticed her yesterday, if he was staring because he recognised her or if he was just seeing her for the first time - but he smiled as if she were an old friend.

She found herself smiling back, just the subtle tug at the corners of her mouth that she couldn't resist.

The man on the ice looked down at the girl beside him - she was holding his hand, still staying close but Kate could tell the girl was feeling much more confident than she had been yesterday - and whispered something in her ear. The girl's face brightened and she nodded eagerly, then the two of them began to move again, joining the rest of the skaters circling the rink.

Kate spent the next ten minutes trying too hard to not pay too much attention to one particular group of people: the last thing she wanted was to be caught staring... again. But she couldn't help herself, the fiery red braids were just too easy to spot in the sea of skaters. She couldn't stop her attention from drifting back to them as they played and laughed as they circled the rink.

Slowly, she had migrated closer to the ice until she found a spot against the glass panel fencing and, as the duo who had captured her attention glided toward the exit, she tried her best to focus on anything else.

"Can we come back tomorrow, Daddy?" the girl asked as she stepped off the ice.

"Again?" the man whined.

"I'm finally getting good," the girl explained. "I want to see if I can do a lap all by myself!"

Barely a second had passed before the girl broke out into an obviously well rehearsed pretty please with extra sprinkles on top.

Kate (who hadn't managed to smother her chuckle in time) glanced sideways to find two twin sets of ocean blue eyes, bubbling with amusement, on her.

"Sorry," she offered half-heartedly as she brought her hand to her mouth in attempt to hide her smile.

"Well, now daddy's going to look bad if he says no."

"We can come after dinner with Gram," the girl suggested, a melodic sound of victory already oozing through the sweetness of her tiny voice.

"Fine," the man conceded. "But if Gram cooks tuna casserole again you have to fake an illness to get us out of there before dinner."

"Deal!"

PROMPT:

"I often wonder if Jim ever tried to celebrate Christmas with Kate after Johanna died or did they just completely ignore the holiday? I know it's a depressing thought but could you write something to cure my curiosity? Maybe they tried and it was just so awkward they agreed never to do it again?"

A/N: sorry... dinner was more painful than awkward but I figured if Jim was 5 years sober in S1 (Beckett says this, right? That's not just some number I pulled from thin air? haha) then during this story he would be in the thick of it all. Right?