A/N: Thanks for your reviews!

Chapter 2

"What is this place?" Kate asked when she finally found herself standing in a living room that was unfamiliar to her.

"Take a look around," Sarah told her.

Kate hesitated, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I can't do that, it's not my home."

Sarah smiled. "It's alright, look around."

"I don't feel right doing that; it's not my home…I've never been here."

"That's not exactly true," Sarah quipped. "It could be said that this is your beginning."

Kate's brow rose. "Meaning what exactly?"

"Your mother spent the majority of her pregnancy here," the spirit replied. "This is where she first lived on her own…where she fell in love…where she started her marriage…where she began preparing for the baby she carried. So see, you have been here, you were just in the womb at the time but this was home."

She gave her a skeptical look. "How do I know that for sure? I've only ever saw the outside of the building."

"Now, Bunny; you know you've seen pictures that were taken in this apartment and if you'll look around, I'm sure you'll find familiar objects."

"I still don't think it's right."

"Just do it, Katie," Sarah replied. "She's not home right now; let's look around."

She gave a huff of annoyance but began to move around the room; noting the look of slightly mismatched furniture which didn't seem much like her mother at all.

"She built her home with the help of family who had things to give her," Sarah remarked.

"What do you do, read my mind?" Kate hissed.

"When it suits me," she said with a nod. "But it's true; a few pieces were bought new…others were gently loved hand-me-downs."

Kate ignored the comment, tearing her gaze away from the furniture and moving to the objects on the shelves; her eyes moving over the knickknacks before studying the framed photos that she recognized from the photo albums she used to browse as a kid; photos of her mother and her aunt Colleen. A family photo of Frankie, Valerie and baby Greg; a photo of Naomi McKenzie with her two daughters when they had been little…and there sitting between seashells, was a picture of her parents, taken on their fabled road trip. She knew that picture best of all; it was still framed and sitting on a shelf in her parents home office…those same seashells were tucked away somewhere, being protected from further damage that time had bestowed on them. But of course that didn't mean that this wasn't some ruse that the spirit had concocted; and she hated to acknowledge that she had been forced to accept that ghosts were real last year…but she wasn't sure she completely bought this scenario that Sarah had dragged her into; after all, how was she supposed to know if she was really in the past or some convoluted piece of theater that perhaps a spirit could commit. For all she knew, this was a fraud, some odd dream she was having that she'd wake up from any minute.

"I am most definitely not a fraud," Sarah declared; her chin lifting with offense.

"Quit doing that!" Kate exclaimed

"Doing what?"

"Quit knowing what I'm thinking…it's creepy."

"It is not," Sarah insisted. "I only use the ability when I have to…and since you're so stubborn and so very much like Elizabeth Beckett, I have to use it to know what you're thinking because I know you won't tell me."

"I am not like my grandmother."

"Oh you are, darling," Sarah said with a nod. "I've met her, I know."

"Yeah, well, I knew her when she was alive and while I do have her hair color, I am not like her."

"I will allow you to have that delusion if you wish," Sarah remarked. "But I am not a fraud; this is not a piece of theater as you termed it. We are in the past."

"How is that even possible? If time travel was possible, wouldn't someone have invented it by now?" Kate asked.

"Ours is not to question why," the spirit replied. "You don't need to know how…and perhaps it hasn't been invented yet because God doesn't feel the world is ready for such power and the responsibility that comes with it…if too many people had the ability, the consequences could perhaps be disastrous."

"How can you say that? If we could go back; maybe things could be changed, preventing the bad things that have happened in the world."

"Perhaps bad things happen for a reason at times; did you ever consider that? If someone goes back and keeps events from happening, then what history do we have to learn from, darling? Bad things come at great costs of life, happiness and material things…but sometimes it must be that way even if it seems wrong. Some lessons are learned the hard way…and there are some things that can not be changed…just like I could not keep your mother from the trouble that found her although I wish with all my heart that I could have by taking that letter off her desk but it wasn't allowed, Katie. I know you think I could have…or that she could have done something differently; but it wasn't how it was meant to be. She was spared her fate, because it was God's will…and the time it took to get her back home, was his will too, even if both of you disagree with it…but he needed it to be that way…because it took both of you to take care of the evilness that plagued you. He needed you both to find the answer together…to keep it from happening to more people. She has in many ways, made her peace with that as much as she can…but you haven't; nor have you made your peace with her."

"How can you say that? She's in my life, if I hadn't made my peace with her so to speak, she wouldn't be in my life."

Sarah's dark brow rose. "At the moment, she's not in your life, is she? That's why you haven't heard from her since your wedding day."

"I was on my honeymoon for three weeks, Sarah; she wasn't going to call me on my honeymoon. Her and Dad were also in London for at least six weeks; they said it was possible to stretch into eight."

"That's still three to five weeks past your honeymoon; and as far as I can tell, telephone calls can go all over the world, so she could've called you…but she didn't."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"And she hasn't told you that she returned home…although they did spend an additional week in Europe after your father's business was finished."

"Why?" she asked.

"There were other nearby places they wanted to see," Sarah explained. "Their friends accompanied them to those places. She's been very happy this summer."

"I'm sensing the keywords, happy without me," Kate remarked.

Sarah shook her head. "No; she aches about that…but she's made her peace and allowed herself to enjoy her trip, the places and things she saw. She allowed herself true enjoyment without guilt for the first time in a long time."

"So happy for her," Kate said sarcastically.

Sarah smirked at her. "You haven't exactly spent much time thinking of her either…after all, you were on your honeymoon and in your newlywed bliss…it's only the past week or so that you remembered that you had parents and that you hadn't heard from them in quite some time."

"Shut up, Sarah," she muttered.

"No, thank you, I do not care to shut up," the spirit replied. "Go on and look around some more, since you think I have the power to concoct some elaborate set up of a fourth floor apartment from the 1970s to trick you."

"How do I know which floor I'm on?" Kate asked.

"Perhaps the view from the window will tell you that you're not on a ground floor," Sarah suggested.

Kate eyed her as she moved to the windows behind the sofa. She pulled the curtain aside and looked out, seeing that she indeed wasn't on a ground floor. She studied the outside, people on the streets were dressed in seventies fashions…the cars clearly from the sixties and seventies, one went by that she was sure was probably a holdover from the fifties. She glanced at the other buildings, there were familiar landmarks from the times her mother had driven her past this building to reminisce…but some of the signs were older than she remembered from recent ventures in this neighborhood…the streetlights weren't quite the same. She could see a payphone on the corner…and not one single cellphone in the hand of anyone walking by. Her stomach churned a little; maybe she was in the past…somehow and in some way.

"Is it sinking in, Bunny?" Sarah asked.

Kate pushed away from the window with a glare. "What is the point in this?"

"To learn," the spirit replied.

"To learn what?"

"That you don't know your mother as well as you think. You've never met this version of her, the unmarried, childless, young career woman. You're so sure she's never had certain traits…but you didn't know the woman who had no one to hide them from. Once you came along, she had to mask certain things."

"Why?"

"Because mothers don't want to be weak in front of their children."

"I saw her cry when I was a kid, Sarah."

"It's not just physical emotion of tears or yelling," she remarked. "It goes deeper than that; you're just being hardheaded. Go on, look around some more; we have time before she gets home."

"We should probably leave before she gets home," Kate suggested.

"Oh no, that would defeat the purpose."

"I'm not sure your purpose is fully understood in the first place, Sarah. How do I know that this so called version of my mother hasn't been manipulated to fit your narrative?"

"I don't have the power to change people at their core, Katie. I do have missions to try and help heal wounds and help someone move on; but I can not change anyone. I assure you that no manipulation has occurred or is needed."

"Whatever you say."

"You'll see for yourself."

"What if I don't want to?" Kate asked as she moved to the kitchen. "What if I don't want to do this?"

Sarah smiled as she shrugged. "Too bad for you?"

"Really, I have no choice?"

"None at all, isn't it wonderful?" she said lightly.

"I'm so glad you're amused, Sarah."

"Thank you, I am quite amused and I always enjoy that."

"I'm glad my mother isn't as perky as you are," Kate remarked while glancing around the kitchen.

"Why is that?"

"Because I wouldn't be able to stand it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I probably couldn't stand you for too long either," Sarah replied.

"Why?" Kate asked in offense.

"Because you're surly," she replied. "I like to have fun."

"I like to have fun!"

"I have a feeling we have different definitions of the word," Sarah remarked as she watched Kate move to the counter where Johanna's recipe book laid.

"Fun has improved since the 1920s," Kate said sarcastically.

"Aren't you going to open the book?" the spirit asked.

Her fingertips hovered over it but she pulled them back. "No."

"Why not? Afraid you'll recognize her handwriting?"

"No, I'm not afraid…I just figure you might have some sort of hand in making the handwriting match."

"I can not mimic your mother's handwriting. Goodness you're suspicious."

"Yeah, well, I'm a cop, Sarah; when things don't make sense there's usually a reason why."

"You see, that's part of your problem…you never clock out from the job. You never allow yourself to look through any lens but the ones you use for your work and that's not healthy, Katie. You need to remember that there is more to you than just being a cop."

She rolled her eyes. "I am a cop and it's not exactly a job that you clock out from, Sarah."

"It is if you allow yourself…you did it for your honeymoon…you do it for your husband, select friends, just not family."

"You exaggerate…like my mother. I see now why Grandpa had an issue with her having some of your traits," Kate stated as she moved away from the counter. "They're not her best side, that's for sure."

Sarah scoffed. "I've rarely seen your good side since you were a child so perhaps you shouldn't be throwing stones."

"You're a little bit snarky yourself, Sarah."

"Yes, because you provoke me, not because I enjoy it. You don't want to be seen as having the same emotions as all other women, you think it makes you weak, that it will make you soft on the job…but in reality, all it's doing is making you hard hearted to the people who love you most…the people who loved you before you found your career."

"Spare me the lecture…and quit believing everything my mother tells you."

"Darling, I don't need to hear it from your mother. I see it for myself every day. You need to find that other part of yourself before the next generation comes along."

"You keep talking about this next generation, Sarah."

"Yes, because it's important…the next generation is the bridge that leads you all from this messy business you've been embroiled in for years; but it can't properly be that bridge if you and your mother don't make amends…in fact, if you don't start learning to pull your weight in this relationship, her greatest fears will come true."

"Do you always sound so dire?" Kate asked. "Did you ever think there just needs to be more time and distance from it?"

"There's been enough distance…and time shouldn't be squandered when it's been reclaimed."

Kate blew out a breath and moved back into the living room, the lady in green following behind her. "Keep looking, her bedroom is down the hallway."

"That seems like a bigger invasion of privacy," Kate replied.

"Go on; take the full tour," Sarah prodded.

Kate felt like a trespasser, stepping into the bedroom a few moments later, and she supposed that in reality she was, despite the assurances of the spirit trailing behind her telling her it was fine to do so. She went to the closet and opened the door, seeing the full rack of clothes, a mixture of work attire and other more casual clothes and dresses. Her gaze moved to the floor of the closet, seeing the rows of shoes. Kate nodded. "That's more like her," she murmured. "Tons of shoes."

"It is a key component of her life, isn't it? The amount of shoes she always has."

"Yes…but a lot of women have a shoe fetish; it's not so unusual."

"No, it's not unusual…but sometimes there are reasons for it deep down inside."

"What reason would she have other than the fact that she likes shoes?" Kate asked. "She's always liked shoes."

"Maybe it's something you can ask her; go ahead and look some more. I know you're still skeptical in some ways that this is really her home."

She rolled her eyes but returned her gaze to the clothing, her hands reaching out and pushing them apart on the rack, curious about what sectors of seventies styles her mother had dived into. Her work attire was as she expected, on trend but classy…expensive looking. She remembered once that her mother had told her that when she had started her career, she had made sure to buy high quality for her work attire; feeling as though she'd get more respect starting in the field if she was dressed in the finest things she could afford. She moved down the rack, reaching the more casual dresses…the mini skirts and lower cut tops that she was sure her mother wouldn't have dared to wear to work but probably wore to clubs and parties. She looked back down at the rows of shoes…it always seemed like nearly every color was accounted for, different styles for different moods and wardrobes. Up on the shelf of the closet, she caught sight of handbags and small boxes that she was sure were packed with her mother's mementos.

Kate closed the closet door, moving to the dresser and pausing as she spotted the jewelry box that sat there. She knew that wooden jewelry box with its painted pink flowers that screamed the sixties…and she had a feeling that if it was opened, she'd see a pink satin lining inside. She knew that jewelry box all too well…remembered her mother unearthing it from a box in the attic when she was kid so that she could put her play jewelry in it…and then as she got older, the few pieces of real jewelry she had started to acquire before she had been gifted a new jewelry box.

"Open it," Sarah prodded.

"It's not right," she murmured.

"Go on…you want to know if it's a match, don't you?"

"Yes…but how do I know you haven't done something to make it match what I'm recalling since apparently you have the power to read minds," Kate replied.

"I don't have the power to change the objects someone has owned," Sarah replied. "I can move them, I can play with them, but I cannot change them to suit my whims or anyone else's."

Kate studied her for a long moment and then reached out and gently lifted the lid of the jewelry box, holding her breath as she did so. As expected, the inside of the box was lined in pink satin…and her eyes found a familiar blue velvet box and she lifted it out of the box, cracking open the lid, finding the emerald earrings her mother wore every Christmas…the pair that Jim Beckett had given her before they had even been dating. For whatever reason, the sight stole her breath for a moment as she continued to gaze at those emerald earrings in their white gold setting. Slowly she closed the lid and put the box back in its place before closing the jewelry box. She turned slowly, her gaze landing on the vanity that sat in front of the window; her eyes widened…that was her mother's vanity; the one she knew for a fact was currently sitting in her bedroom.

"I knew you'd find familiar objects," Sarah said, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "You doubted me but I knew you'd find them."

Kate moved to the vanity, looking it over as she glanced at the items that laid on top of it. "She really has had this thing forever," she murmured.

"Yes, ever since she was a teenager. It was the first thing she had loaded on the truck when it was time to move in here," Sarah replied.

"Why has she always hung on to it? She could have a newer one."

Sarah smirked at her. "Well you know your mother and her love of antiquated things and notions."

Kate bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the words she wanted to say, but a few of them slipped across her lips anyway. "You're a smart-ass ghost."

Sarah shrugged a silk clad shoulder. "So I've been told."

She sighed softly, making her way to the door of the room. "Can we go now?"

"No, you haven't spent time with her yet."

"How am I supposed to explain this?!" Kate exclaimed. "She's going to think I'm crazy and call the police…or shoot me."

"She doesn't have a gun," Sarah assured. "But I will help with the explanation…but there are rules for this visit."

"What kind of rules?"

"First and foremost, she won't remember this, or at least she's not supposed to. It rarely happens that a subject remembers being visited, but just in case, you are not allowed to tell her anything that might change the course of her life if she would happen to remember."

"So I can't tell her about the case?"

"No, absolutely not."

"But if she's not going to remember…."

"No, Katie; you cannot tell her on the slight chance that she could retain some memory of it in this timeline…it could alter the future and maybe not in ways you'd like despite what you think."

"Then how am I supposed to talk to her?"

"You can talk to her without mentioning those specific details. You're not to tell her anything that will alter her course here. Do not give exact dates either."

"Why not?"

"Because, if she would happen to retain a memory of this visit; it would be pressure on her to obtain certain goals before those dates."

"She's probably going to ask questions though."

"Yes, she will; and you can answer, just mind the rules, Katie…it's very important that you follow the rules. No specific dates…do not give specific details about the passings of certain relatives."

"Meaning don't say how or when?"

"Exactly."

"Am I allowed to say that she doesn't practice law anymore?"

"As long as you don't tell her the real reason why."

"Can I tell her that she teaches now?"

"Yes," Sarah said with a nod. "Just promise me you'll be careful and follow the rules."

A touch of nervousness spread through her. "I promise," she murmured; feeling the weight of that responsibility settle on her shoulders as they moved back into the living room.

"Don't be nervous, dear one," the spirit assured. "She's your mother."

"Not here she isn't," Kate muttered. "She's going to think I'm a lunatic."

"We'll take care of it," Sarah replied.

Kate opened her mouth to speak but she heard voices outside the door, the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. "Sarah, let's go, I can't do this," she pleaded.

"No, darling, we're staying."

She was about to protest but the door swung open, Johanna McKenzie stepping inside, Jim Beckett following behind her carrying a pizza box; their chatter still in the air as Johanna laid down her purse and briefcase and turned to see the women standing in her living room. "Who the hell are you!?" she exclaimed. "And what the hell are you doing in my home?"

Kate felt her blood run cold, her tongue tying as she regarded the young woman looking back at her, her green eyes snapping with fire as her friend set down the box he carried and stepped closer to her, his stance protective as always. This wasn't going to go well at all, she mused. Not good at all.