The moment I knew I loved you
Note from the author: "It is the small moments in a relationship that matter. The little gestures. Not the grand ones," Del says to Kat in S03E04. That was what got me this idea. I don't know if I got Little Kat right, but this is my first ever The Way Home fanfic. So let me know what you think.
Kat slips quietly into the loft, the soft creak of the wooden floor announcing her arrival. She finds Elliot stretched out on the bed, his breathing even, an arm thrown carelessly behind his head. Hesitating only momentarily, Kat slides onto the narrow bed, fitting herself snugly between Elliot and the cool wall, tucking herself under his outstretched arm. He shifts, his embrace tightening, his warmth enveloping her, silently acknowledging his wakefulness.
"You okay?" Her voice, a tender murmur, floats in the dimly lit room, cautious not to fracture the delicate peace.
"Mmm," Elliot hums, a gentle sound vibrating from his chest, his eyes still veiled by heavy lids. Kat studies him, tracing the serene arch of his relaxed brows, the subtle lift at the corners of his lips—a hint of a smile. She nestles deeper, comforted by the rhythmic pulse of his heart beneath her ear, the steady beat a soothing lullaby.
"I love you," she whispers into the quiet, her words faint, almost part of the air.
Silence stretches, and she lifts her head, peering at him, a flicker of concern darting through her. But his eyes, now open, gaze back at her with a quiet intensity.
"Do you remember when you fell in love with me?" he asks, his voice a soft thread in the sprawling canvas of their history. Kat shifts, lying on her stomach to face him, caught in the circle of his arm.
"I mean, considering you just said you do," he teases, a playful glint sparking in his eyes, the mood lightening.
"Yeah... that night at Lingermore," she confesses, her lips grazing his in a featherlight kiss. "But I think I knew long before. I just didn't realize it."
"And you?" she ventures, curiosity coloring her tone.
He nods, his gaze drifting past her to an old wooden table cluttered with forgotten objects. Kat follows his line of sight, landing on a pink flashlight and a small wooden box, relics of a shared childhood. "Where did you find that?" she inquires, a thread of wonder weaving through her words.
"Right where you left it when we were ten," he replies, his voice laced with nostalgia. "I remembered it last night. You said the little gestures make a relationship special, not the grand ones."
"So you fell in love with me because of a wooden box and a flashlight?" Kat teases, laughter bubbling up, but it fades as she catches the earnest depth in Elliot's gaze.
"No," he responds solemnly, the weight of his sincerity anchoring the moment. It was the meaning behind why you did it that made me realize I will always love you."
"Tell me..." she urges, her request firm. She needs to hear the words to understand fully.
She resettles against him, her head finding its place over his heart once more, enveloped in the security of his hold, ready to listen, to remember, to continue weaving their story together in the quiet of the loft.
Flashback – 1995
The late afternoon sky was tinged with the grimace of an impending twilight, the cold autumn wind slicing through the fields like a sharpened blade. Elliot's heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted across the sprawling expanse, his legs propelling him towards the only refuge he knew—the Landry barn loft. Mud clung to his shoes, splattering his legs with cold, wet splotches as he navigated the slick earth.
Upon reaching the sanctuary of the loft, Elliot collapsed onto the narrow bed, hastily kicking off his mud-caked shoes. The chill from the outside seeped into his bones, the cold gnawing at his feet and fingers. Shivering, he withdrew his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, using the covered hand to wipe away a drop of blood that had trickled from a fresh cut above his left eye—a souvenir from yet another violent altercation with his father. His father's drunken rage that evening had escalated quickly when a simple question about dinner was met with a shove, sending Elliot crashing into the doorframe.
As the hours dwindled, solitude enveloped Elliot in the loft. Through the small window, he could see Kat in the distance, her laughter echoing faintly as she played with her toddler brother, Jacob, who had just celebrated his second birthday. To Kat, that little boy was the center of her universe. The sight offered Elliot a brief respite from his troubles, a momentary glimpse into a life of innocent joy.
But as dusk turned to evening and the lights in Kat's house blinked out one by one, a profound loneliness settled over him. The loft grew unbearably cold, and his only source of light, a battered old flashlight, began to flicker ominously. Darkness was not a friend to Elliot. Though he scoffed at the local tales of the white witch that Kat teased him about, he wasn't keen on testing the myths. "It's just practical to have a flashlight," he would argue back, his voice a mix of defiance and fear.
Huddled on the bed, Elliot pulled his knees to his chest, curling into a ball in an attempt to conserve warmth. Just as he settled into the silence, the sharp sound of the front door of the Landry house swinging open pierced the night, followed by the unmistakable slam that echoed through the chill. It was a sound that, during the day, would undoubtedly belong to Kat—the way the screen door clattered shut and the inevitable scolding from Del, "Katherine, don't slam the door!" followed by her cheeky retort, "I was in a hurry!"
Despite the cold, the familiar banter a comforting echo in his mind, a smile tugged at the corner of Elliot's lips. In the darkest, coldest nights, thoughts of Kat and their shared moments of laughter and companionship were the flickers of warmth that kept the shadows at bay. Kat was more than a friend; she was a beacon of light in his often-tumultuous world.
Elliot's reverie shattered at the sound of footsteps on the creaky ladder leading to the loft. The distinct squish of wet slippers grew louder, and then Kat's voice floated up, tinged with annoyance, "Dang it."
Soon, she materialized through the loft opening, draped in her usual fluffy white and pink pajamas, her feet adorned with her favorite bunny slippers. Behind a mountain of blankets and sheets she clutched to her chest, her face was barely visible. One of the sheets—a once-white linen—trailed on the floor, muddy from the trek from the house to the barn under the veil of night. Elliot pictured it snagging on every rough edge as Kat had lugged it up the ladder.
"Hi, El," she greeted, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. Dropping the fabric heap onto the bed, she revealed a small pink flashlight in her hand—the same one she claimed was just for late-night trips to the kitchen, though Elliot knew her fear of the dark mirrored his own. He kept this knowledge to himself, respecting their unspoken pact.
"You okay?" she asked, her tone soft but loaded with concern.
Elliot managed a slow nod, but the anguish and fear in his eyes betrayed him to his perceptive friend. Suddenly, a beam of light from the flashlight washed over his face, forcing him to raise a hand to shield his eyes. Kat seemed oblivious to the glare she cast.
"You're bleeding," she gasped, the alarm in her voice widening her eyes.
"It's fine," he lied, mustering a bravado he didn't feel.
"Your dad did that, right?" Her voice dropped to a whisper.
With a heavy heart, Elliot averted his gaze and nodded, his silence more telling than any words.
"It's okay. I'll help you." Kat moved to the old wooden desk by the bed, her silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the flashlight and moonlight streaming through the window. She rummaged through a drawer, and when she returned, she held a makeshift bandage in her hand.
"Head up, please," she instructed, her tone gentle yet firm, echoing the care her mother had often administered. Elliot felt a soft pressure against his forehead as she applied a folded paper tissue, securing it with tape. His fingers gingerly explored the temporary patch, feeling the stickiness of the tape against his skin.
"In the morning, I have my favorite bandages in the bathroom. We can put one of those on instead," she explained, her voice carrying a promise of better care to come.
"We should sleep," she suggested next, turning to the disheveled pile of blankets on the bed. "Ugh, this one is wet," she muttered, flinging a damp sheet to the floor before shedding her slippers and climbing onto the bed.
Elliot hesitated only a moment before joining her. As he slipped under the covers, he felt the immediate comfort of warmth enveloping him, chasing away the lingering chill of the loft. Beneath the blankets, Kat found his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze—a small gesture laden with shared understanding and comfort.
"Good night, El," she whispered her voice a soft lullaby in the shadowy loft. As sleep crept upon them, the loft wrapped around them like a protective cocoon with all its memories and secrets, the outside world and its harsh realities momentarily kept at bay.
The next morning, as the soft light of dawn filtered through the windows, Kat and Elliot made their way back to the main house, leaving behind a jumbled heap of blankets and sheets in the loft.
"Morning, you two..." Colton's voice carried the warmth of the rising sun as he greeted them in the kitchen, his smile a beacon of welcome. However, his expression shifted to concern as his eyes landed on the makeshift bandage adorning Elliot's forehead. "What happened to you, Elliot?" he inquired, the cheer in his voice dampening.
"His dad hurt him," Kat interjected, her voice carrying a mix of pride and protectiveness.
"Hi, Buddy. Let me take a look at it," Colton said, pulling out a chair at the breakfast table and gesturing for Elliot to sit.
"I already did, Daddy," Kat chimed in, her tone brimming with pride.
"And you did a great job, kiddo," Colton praised her warmly, his affirmation restoring a sparkle to Kat's eyes.
"Katherine, go upstairs and get changed and ready," Del instructed, her voice carrying through the living room.
As Kat shuffled through the room, the muddy, water-soaked soles of her slippers left a trail on the clean floor.
"Katherine Landry! Did you go outside in your slippers?" Del's voice rose in exasperation, her hands pressing against her forehead in a familiar gesture of frustration, while Colton's smile lingered, amused by the situation.
"Yeah, Mum, I went to help El," Kat replied, her confusion evident as she failed to grasp the depth of her mother's irritation.
"Kat, please take off your slippers before you get upstairs and place them on the floor in the bathroom. We'll clean them later," Colton instructed, his tone gentle yet firm, devoid of the frustration that tinged Del's words.
Obediently, Kat scooped up her slippers and ascended the stairs, the wet fabric heavy in her hands. Meanwhile, Colton retrieved the first aid kit, turning his attention to properly caring for Elliot's wound.
"I better go up there and see what she's doing," Del murmured, her concern palpable as she moved toward the staircase. Pausing, she looked back at Colton with a shake of her head. "Did you see her bed this morning? She yanked everything off it. I don't know what she was doing last night," she remarked, her tone a mix of bafflement and mild reproach.
"She was being a good friend," Colton replied, his voice soft yet firm as he met Elliot's gaze with a reassuring smile.
Present time
Kat's laughter filled the room, musical and light, as she playfully covered her face with her hands. "Please, that's not what happened," she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. As she lowered her hands and lifted her gaze to meet Elliot's, the laughter softened into a tender smile, recognizing the earnestness in his eyes that affirmed the truth of his recollection.
"Yeah, and a few days later, I went up to the loft again," Elliot continued, his voice dipped in nostalgia. "And there, neatly placed on the old wooden floor, was this wooden box containing five bandages—your favorite ones. Beside it, your flashlight and a set of spare batteries lay ready for use. Tucked away under the bed, I found a blanket from your room and a pillow." His eyes held hers, intense and filled with unspoken words.
"The way you always took care of me…" Elliot's voice trailed off for a moment, laden with emotion. "I knew then I loved you, and I always will. I have never loved anyone the way I love you, Kat Landry." His declaration hung in the air, a sincere testament of his feelings, resonating with warmth and depth.
Her heart swelled at his words, and with a gentle grace, she shifted closer, bridging the gap between them. Their eyes locked, and as Elliot's arms enveloped her, pulling her tightly against him, the world seemed to pause. The kiss they shared was more than just a touch of lips; it was a fusion of past memories and present emotions, intense and all-consuming. As their embrace deepened, they were not just reconnecting—they were reaffirming a bond that had been forged and tested through years of mutual care and understanding.