Chapter Text
Kate Whistler is well aware that crime doesn't sleep nor goes on holidays, but when her ASAC notifies her of a crime that may be related to two unsolved murders she worked on last year a mere week before Christmas, she feels like screaming.
She wouldn’t call herself the biggest holiday aficionado. Not anymore, at least. Nothing fun or special about it when you spend it alone with take out, a glass of wine and cheesy romcoms for background noise.
Still, Christmas holds a special place in her heart for what it once was.
Her parents never celebrated it, not in the way she wanted them to at least. They would go to the mass and do a big feast, but there were never presents, pine trees, ornaments, ugly sweaters or anything that made Christmas, Christmas.
Noah was the one who pulled her into the Christmas magic. He would leave small gifts, handcrafted or bought, under her window with a note that read ‘From Santa, x’ – he would place one under his window too to keep the magic more believable. Socks were hung inside each of their doors and they would spend the week before Christmas filling it with candies, cards, rocks and anything two kids deemed good enough to be considered a gift.
When Kate was eight, she overheard two girls at her school talking about how Santa wasn’t real, how it was actually their parents buying the gifts. That stumped Kate. Her parents wouldn’t be thoughtful enough to leave gifts under her window. They didn’t even believe that Christmas should involve gifts. When she interrogated her brother about it, he reluctantly admitted that what the girls said was true, but it wasn’t their parents leaving the gifts, it was him.
It’s funny, the two girls back at school seemed devastated with such discovery, like now the presents didn’t hold as much meaning as before. To Kate, however, it was quite the opposite and it just made her love her brother even more.
On their next Christmas, Kate left a handmade bracelet under her brother's window with a note that said ‘From Santa’. Noah never took it off.
As the years went by, the traditions grew.
When Kate was 12, Noah got his own apartment. Christmas that year looked like it was spat from a bad Christmas movie. They got a massive tree that barely made it through the door, bought the entire Target’s Christmas collection and did a few of their own ornaments to give it a personal touch. Noah got them the ugliest Christmas sweater he could find – it included blinking lights, pom poms and that’s all you need to know.
They built gingerbread houses and marathoned every Christmas movie Noah got his hand on at the local video store. The socks remained a tradition as well as the gifts underneath windows.
When Kate was 14, Noah wasn’t home for Christmas. He got held back in his post in the Army and wasn’t able to make it home in time for the holidays. Kate was devastated, but when her brother finally returned home, he made sure to make up for it.
As the traditions grew and so did their little family.
In the following year, Noah got himself a girlfriend, Alicia. She joined them for some of the traditions and Kate loved every second of it. She was the best gingerbread house maker and taught Kate all the little tricks to keep the walls glued together. Kate, as a surprise, bought her a sock just like hers and Noah’s and hung it by the fireplace next to theirs.
Noah might have weeped a little bit.
At 16, Kate asked Noah if her best friend could join them. She wasn’t from around town and since she wasn’t going home for winter break, she wouldn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with and no one deserves to be alone during the holidays.
It was the greatest Christmas, but Kate spent the majority of it fumbling over her words and looking like a tomato because Noah kept throwing her knowing glances and secretive smiles everytime Kate’s eyes lingered a bit too long on her friend, or when their hands accidentally brushed.
Telling him about her crush was a really big mistake.
Unpredictably, according to Noah, by the next Christmas her best friend became her girlfriend. In retribution, Noah gifted her with a brand new sock. Kate didn’t weep, but she hugged her brother really really tight.
Where there were two, now there’s four.
That’s how kisses under the mistletoe became a tradition too.
At 18, Noah wasn’t able to be home either. But now Kate had her girlfriend and Alicia to keep her company, so it wasn’t so bad. She still missed her brother dearly though, and made him promise to make up for the lost time just like four years ago.
“It doesn’t feel like Christmas without you.” She complained in one of Noah’s rare calls home.
“Hey. I’m always with you, even when I’m an ocean away.”
“Not the same.”
“I know, I know.” Noah said. Kate couldn’t see him, but she was sure he was giving her a sad smile, “Gonna tell a certain someone to keep you… entertained. You’re not even gonna miss me.”
“Gross.”
“Not the entertainment I meant, but it's gross to know your mind went there.” He makes a gagging sound before continuing, “Oh, please don’t make me come home to a niece.”
“Asshole.” Noah just laughed in response.
At 19 and 20, Christmas was the usual, which means it was great. Noah was home for both and, in the latter, he got engaged. Kate was ecstatic and, with her girlfriend, began making the arrangements that very same night. Noah and Alicia just rolled their eyes at them and kept eating their gingerbread house.
At 21 she didn’t celebrate anything at all.
The past seven years haven't been easy. Every December her grief hits harder than in any other month, but it’s become manageable now. Getting out of bed is not as hard as it used to be and, after years of therapy, she’s learned how not to let the loneliness outweigh all the good Christmas once brought her.
This year, however, she did have plans.
Her partner and friend, SA Cole Oliveira, invited her to spend Christmas with them and their family in Seattle. Kate’s first instinct was to say no, but Cole brough up all the wonderful Brazilian dishes their mother was going to cook and all Kate could think of afterwards was stuffing her face in rabanadas and chester with farofa while watching snow fall outside. How could she say no to that? Plus, she was genuinely excited to be among people again during the holidays.
So of course she is packing to go to Hawai’i to solve a murder instead.
Her phone buzzes alerting a new message.
Cole Oliveira: still can’t fucking believe i have to trade my mom’s rabanadas to go lose my appetite over a dead body.
Cole Oliveira: oh god why must i suffer 🕳🚶🏽
Kate Whistler: Oh god, why must you be so dramatic.
Kate types back, like she wasn’t dreading the same thing just minutes ago.
Kate Whistler: But yeah, I was really looking forward to those.
Kate Whistler: That just means we have to bring our A game, and solve this in less than a week.
Cole Oliveira: you say that like we don’t always bring our A game
Kate Whistler: Fine, bring our A+ game.
Cole Oliveira: better
Kate rolled her eyes fondly and shoved her phone into her back pocket. She has 30 minutes to finish packing if she wants to make it to the airport on time. She doubts her boss is going to be lenient with her delay.
+++++
“Ok, I regret what I said on the plane. Hawai’i slaps,” Cole said, whistling appreciatively the moment the beach came to view through their taxi's windows.
Kate had to agree. She knew Hawai’i was going to be beautiful, breathtaking even, but she didn’t expect to go so far as saying it’s probably on the top 3 most beautiful places she’s ever been to after being here for 40 minutes, 20 of which spent inside the airport.
It’s hot today. On December 18th, Kate can’t believe the weather report says 80ºF. Part of her wants to say fuck it to her job and go catch some waves.
From the corner of her eyes she sees Cole picking up their phone to snap a few pictures.
“Oh no, you won’t,” Kate said, snatching the phone out of their hands when they pointed the camera at her.
“Jezz. Some would think you are on the FBI's most wanted list with this aversion to having your picture taken.”
“I’m not photogenic.”
“Uh, have you looked at yourself?”
Kate rolls her eyes and hands them their phone back with a warning look.
They arrive at the hotel at 11am local time. Kate knows that they are just dropping their things and heading straight to the NCIS base to catch up on the case, but she never got the hang of how to sleep on a plane and that, added to the jet lag, was definitely taking a toll.
Her room is alright. Not too shabby, not too fancy. A small twin-size bed sat, a little crooked, between the wardrobe and a side table. The sheets are not as white as they could be, but given Kate's tired state, it looks all too inviting. She places her files and purse on the side table and looks around, taking the rest of the room in. There's a TV with a little Netflix sticker in the left bottom corner and a mini fridge as well. A single candy cane lays lonely on the top of the fridge and Kate sighs. That's depressing.
Dropping her suitcase onto the bed, Kate fishes out the first blazer she sets eyes on. Fortunately, Past Kate was smart enough to pack the deep blue one, the one that matches her pants, last. She puts it on, quickly checking herself in the wardrobe mirror. Once she deems the reflection acceptable enough, she picks up her discarded purse and files, and leaves the room at the exact moment Cole appears in the hallway carrying two cups of coffee.
"You beautiful human," Kate said before taking a huge sip of her cup, not even caring about how it burns her mouth and throat on the way down.
They walk in silence to one of the rental cars the FBI left them, a brand new Mercedes. Kate hums, good to know that their tightwad with accommodations doesn't extend to cars.
As soon as the doors close, Cole turns on their seat to ask her, "You think we've got a serial?"
"Yeah," Kate answered plain and simple. She spent the entire journey here reviewing the cases through and through. The details were too specific to be an unrelated case or even a copycat.
The guilt for not catching the killer the first time around makes itself known, and the coffee on Kate's stomach churn.
Even though Kate did everything in her power to solve it last year, the lack of DNA at the scene and the trail of evidence getting cold fast had her superiors forcing their hands and shutting the case off.
Kate tried to argue, but they just told her to get over her beginner's guilt and grow some balls. Back then, she was too new at the Bureau, too terrified of pissing off the wrong people and jeopardizing her entire career to push them any further.
God, how she wished she'd had the courage. Lena Madden should've been alive right now and it's Kate's fault she isn't.
Guilt, however, isn't going to take her anywhere. She learned this the hard way many moons ago. But right now, there's a new chance to make this right and Kate is gonna grab it like her life depends on it.
"Earth to Kate," Cole pokes their head back in the car. She didn't realize they had already gotten out.
"Oh shit."
Kate jumps off the car and gives herself a few seconds to admire the place. The view is spectacular and it has Kate half wondering if it's too late to apply to NCIS instead.
They go through security. Kate firing case related questions and Cole concocting theories to explain them. Then, they switch, repeating the process with Cole making the question and Kate coming up with theories. But, just like the first time, they don’t have nearly enough information to lead them anywhere significant.
Kate is so busy thinking of an answer to Cole's question that when she notices her , it's a little too late.
Their eyes meet and Kate freezes on the spot. The wind gets knocked off Kate’s lungs and it takes an active effort to not let her jaw hit the floor. The woman stops too.
Kate is acutely aware that there are other agents in the room and they are all looking at her, but she can't take her eyes away from the small brunette in front of her.
Part of her, the most intrinsic part of her, tells her to run. Tells her to hop on a plane back to DC and pretend she’s never even left. The other part, the one who is still 22 years old looking at a restaurant window whilst facing the weight of her mistakes, tells her that DC isn't far enough. Interpol is hiring. Maybe being an ocean away will do the trick.
Cole clears their throat, snapping Kate’s attention back to the present. With a slightly pointed look from her partner, Kate remembers she has a job to do.
"Special Agent Kate Whistler. FBI,” She steadies herself before walking the rest of the way to where the NCIS agents are waiting, “And this is my partner, Special Agent Cole Oliveira. We are here pertaining to an open investigation about Lena Madden's death."
A slightly older woman takes a step towards her with an extended hand and a warm smile, "Special Agent in Charge Jane Tennant. Thank you for coming in such short notice. This is my team: Special Agents Lucy Tara, Kai Holman and Jesse Boone. They will be the ones working alongside you throughout this investigation."
Kate feels the corner of her lips tug upwards.
Special Agent Lucy Tara , Lucy’s giggly voice fills Kate’s ears. No, she reprimands herself, not here, not now . Still, she risks a glance at Lucy only to find the woman already looking at her. Her stomach flip flops and she quickly looks away, shifting her focus to Cole, who is staring at her with an expression that makes it seem like they know too much – which in fact they do. Kate glares at them and hopes the 'shut your fucking mouth' message gets across.
Tennant clears her throat. She is staring back and forth between Kate and Lucy with a semi raised eyebrow as she tries to make sense of what’s going on. The blonde feels her cheeks begin to tint pink at the unwanted attention.
"Well, I uh, I have a meeting to attend now, but if there's anything you need, do not hesitate to call me". The SAC then turns to her team and adds, "Be nice," with a look that would make even the naughtiest kid think twice before doing something stupid.
Once she is gone, an uncomfortable silence fills the bullpen. The five agents all stare at each other, silently hoping that someone else will make the first move.
Cole looks expectantly at Kate's direction, but when she remains frozen on her spot, eye glued to the floor, they gently loosen her grip on the tablet she’s holding and take the lead presenting the case to the other team.
Kate clenches her jaw and does her best to pay attention to Cole’s briefing, to the new information being presented by agents Boone and Holman, but her eyes keep moving back to Lucy over and over and over.
The hair length is the first thing Kate notices. It’s longer than when Kate last saw her, the curls look more defined as well. Kate has to clench her fists to stop herself from doing something dumb like reaching out and running her fingers through it. Her face has hardened with time, there's a scar on her left eyebrow and a faint one at her chin. Kate wants to brush her fingers on it, ask her how she got them, if someone was there to help and take care of her afterwards.
She looks tinier than Kate remembers but just as beautiful.
Kate kind of wants to split herself in half.
Shaking her head and frowning, Kate forces her eyes away from Lucy for what it feels like the millionth time and focuses on the case.
Once Cole is done with the briefing, silence takes over again, less awkward this time. Kate can see the cogs turning on each agent’s brain. There’s a pair of eyes on her, but this time she is able to restrain herself from looking in the direction of it.
“Do we have a profile?” Lucy’s voice catches Kate off guard. God, she had missed that voice. The blonde snaps her head away from the stain on the floor she’s been studying for the past five minutes and locks eyes with the most familiar set of amber brown eyes.
Kate is so caught up on how much she missed Lucy’s voice, that it takes a minute for the words to register. When it does, she shakes her head in response. Lucy raises an eyebrow in a question Kate purposefully ignores. She hopes her face isn’t as red as she feels.
“Actually we may not have a closed profile, but,” Cole added, going through some files and handing a loose page to Lucy. “Last year, when we first got the case, I contacted a friend at BAU and despite the lack of evidence, or rather because of it, all they could tell me was that the killer probably fits into the organized offenders profile.”
When none of the NCIS agents react, Cole sighs in exasperation and goes into the details of what it means to be an organized offender.
"Ok, where does that leave us?" Boone asks after Cole is done with their speech. He looks around the room, but no one offers him an answer. No one knows how. "Great."
A grim silence fills the room. Their job is rarely easy, but cases like this were just fucked up.
Unpromptedly, Lucy rounds her desk and starts typing furiously on her keyboard. Kate looks at Holman, but the man just shrugs as if saying that’s typical Lucy behavior.
Kate follows Lucy, trying to get a peek of the computer screen over the smaller woman’s shoulder.
“Wait. You think he’s killed again?” Kate asks. Lucy turns to look at her and it’s only then that Kate notices how close their faces are. She jumps back and tries to act casual about it, but by the looks shared among the other three agents in the room, she fails miserably.
“The crime scenes are all identical, with one exception,” Lucy states. Her voice sounds a little choked up, so she clears her throat. “The first two murders are messy, it looks like a massacre. Killing someone with multiple stab wounds usually does that.”
“But with Madden they only needed one fatal blow,” Kate says, catching up on what Lucy is trying to suggest. “The scene is cleaner.”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Lucy says and Kate can’t hold back the surprised smile that forms on her lips. The brunette seems to realize what she just said and a faint shade of pink graces her cheeks. Kate finds it endearing. “Sorry. I, uh, yes. So that means…”
“They got better.”
“It might not be much but,”
“If we go through unsolved stabbing cases,”
“Then we might find something that leads us to the killer.”
“Cole,” Kate prompts.
“On it.”
“I’m going with you,” Says Kai, running after Cole.
Agent Boone has an amused expression on his face that stays on until Lucy tells him to get lost and go check for updates with Ernie, the tech guy, Kate suspects.
Surprisingly, he does what he is told and just like that, it’s her and Lucy alone in the bullpen.
“Hi.” She says needing to fill the silence somehow.
“Hi.” Lucy’s voice is small and a little tired.
"How, uh, I–" Kate takes a deep breath, willing her brain to formulate coherent sentences. "H-how are you?"
"Good." Lucy answers. "Good, good. Uh, you?"
"Good."
"Good."
Kate nods and reciprocates the smile Lucy is giving her like this isn't the singlehandedly most awkward interaction she has ever had. Her heart feels like it's about to beat out of her chest, her hands are clammy with sweat and she can't stop fidgeting.
"How's FBI?" Lucy asks, her eyes widening like they usually do when she is trying to convey thoughtfulness or when she wants the other person to know she is paying attention to them.
"It's alright," Lucy raises a single eyebrow and Kate rolls her eyes halfheartedly. "The ASAC could be better and I don’t have the beach at my doorstep, but I kinda love it.”
“I’m happy to hear,” Lucy smiles like she meant it for the first time since Kate's arrival, her eyes glistening. Kate has a hard time remembering the last time Lucy looked at her like this.
“Well, it’s never too late for a transfer. I heard they are needing it.”
“Yeah, right.” Kate scoffs, “I’m sure you would love to have me around all the time.”
Kate regrets it the moment she says it. A little red light blinks in the back of her mind screaming dangerous, dangerous, dangerous . Lucy, to her credit, doesn't visibly react. Her eyes are glued to the floor and her hair cascades around her face making it impossible for Kate to read her expression.
“Sorry. That was–”
“What happened to being the FBI's best criminal profiler?” Lucy interrupts, looking up at her again. Her face betrays nothing.
“Oh, uh,” Kate tries not to look as shocked as she feels at the sudden change of topic. Right, that . “I uh, I quit Psychology.” Lucy, on the other hand, makes no effort to conceal her stunned expression. It would be comical if they were in any other situation.
"Why?"
Kate gives her a dry chuckle, “Seemed like a pretty good idea to wreck every good thing in my life back then.”
Lucy's eyes soften to something remarkably close to pity, and Kate can't handle pity right now. Not from her. Not when she is being assaulted by flashbacks of all stupid, fucked up things she's done and said back them.
She needs something else to focus on before she starts crying in the middle of a federal building.
Roaming her eyes through the bullpen, Kate catalogs every Christmas decoration at the place. There aren't a lot, but enough to make the place a bit more homey than your usual bullpen. She spots some miniature Christmas trees on a few desks, mason jars with candy cane in others, Santa's hats placed on some computers and at her right, almost hidden from sight there's a familiar Christmas sock hanging from one of Lucy's desk drawers.
It feels like an ice cold bucket being poured over her head.
Lucy picks up on her reaction and follows her eyesight. She visibly winces, “I–”
"It's fine," She says, pivoting before Lucy has a chance to utter a word, "It worked out at the end."
Lucy studies her face for a brief moment and Kate tries to seem as unaffected as possible under the scrutiny, “I–” She tries again. But whatever she has to say, Kate is not sure she can take it, so she gives Lucy what she hopes to be a reassuring smile and says, "I gotta go check on Cole."
Kate doesn't wait to see what Lucy's answer will be. She simply turns around and marches down the bullpen feeling like the world's greatest asshole.
Lucy burst into Ernie’s lair, clapping her hands together in fake excitement. Her brain, a whirlwind of thoughts playing and replaying the last half an hour in a non stop loop.
“So, where are we on digging up the victims' dirt?”
Ernie and Jesse slowly turn away from the computer screens and stare at her. Jesse's got his Dad expression on, the one that tells you that he thinks he knows too much about something that he actually doesn't. Ernie just stares at her unimpressed.
"What?" She asks, feigning innocence.
"Special Agent Kate Whistler," Ernie pronounces each syllable cautiously so as not to be misunderstood. Lucy squints her eyes at Jesse in what she hopes is a threatening way, but with the multitude of feelings going on inside of her right now, she wouldn't be surprised if she just seems very, very uncomfortable.
“What about her?” Lucy asks, joining the boys in front of the computer screen. “Wow. No results yet? Not in our best today, uh.”
“Don’t offend me to try to keep the topic off yourself,” Ernie scolds her, then mutters more to himself than to her, “It will work.”
Lucy can’t help the sympathetic smile that greets her lips and Jesse gives a gentle and comforting tap on the other man's back.
“So who is she?” Jesse asks, diving back into the topic and crossing his arms like he is in an interrogation room.
“No one!” Lucy lies. God, they are so annoying. This whole team makes her siblings sound like angels on Earth.
“Well, she is pretty,” Jesse continues.
“And blond,” Ernie pitches in. “And tall.”
“You haven’t even seen her!”
“No, but I can see you blushing.”
Lucy opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before huffing, “Well, I don’t see how Special Agent Whistler being pretty, blonde and tall interferes with the case.”
Ernie and Jesse look at each other with faint smiles on their lips, then back at her.
"Are you interested? I can get her number for you,” Lucy says in a serious face. “Though, I’m sure Heather is not going to be pleased.”
“Oh, I’m sure we are not her type,” Ernie laughs good heartedly.
“She might have changed, you never know.”
It’s a slip up. A very dangerous slip up that holds a very crucial information and God damn fucking federal agents.
“So you do know each other,” Jesse asks, raising his eyebrows. Lucy feels sorry for his kids.
“Yeah, I met her, like, 30 minutes ago. You were there,” How she says this with a straight face, is beyond her knowledge.
“Alright. Don’t tell me,” Jesse relents.
“I won’t.”
The three of them play a staring contest for a couple of minutes before Ernie’s computer emits a ping that immediately gets everyone's attention.
Unfortunately for them, like everything else in this case, it doesn’t give them a lot.
Ernie's facial recognition program, tells them that Madden was in DC for some conference when the first two murders happened. However her hotel wasn’t anywhere near the neighborhood where the other two victims lived and were killed. The CCTV also doesn’t place her anywhere near the places Shaffner and Thompson often attended to.
"Ok, so the killer is from DC. Chooses their victim there, but before they are able to get their hands on Madden, she comes home," Jesse suggests and it's a good theory, except…
"Why wait a year though? It's not like she was hard to find."
"Opportunity?" Jesse offers.
"I don't know," Lucy begins pacing back and forth, "Does the killer really seem like the type that would plan this ahead? It would be so much easier to just pick another one."
"Agent Oliveira did say they were an organized offender," Says Jesse at the same time Ernie suggests, "Unless Madden was picked for a specific reason."
"Which would be?" Lucy prompts.
"None, because apparently there's no fucking connection between the three victims," Jesse picks up Ernie's stress ball and squeezes it so tight that Lucy half expects for it to explode.
But she gets the feeling. The fact that they can’t come up with a single good theory about why these victims were chosen makes Lucy want to rip her skin off. She hates feeling useless.
The next couple of hours are reserved for digging anything potentially substantial, something that either proves that DC is the link, or that something else is. As frustrating as this is, it also serves as a great distraction from keeping her thoughts away from Whistler, from how devastatingly beautiful she looks.
Tennant meets them after her meeting asking where they are on the case. No one wants to be the one to tell their boss they have absolutely nothing, zero, nada, especially since doing so you can visibly see the annoyance building on their expression. But being the best boss she is, Tennant just pulls up a chair and helps them on their digging.
Kai calls eventually, saying that despite the aggravating number of open stabbing cases, they weren’t able to pin any of them to their killer's MO. They checked Hawai’i and DC’s records and came up empty handed. He promises to go over it again with Feds and call if they find anything. It doesn't look promising though.
The rest of the day goes on much in the same fashion, chasing false leads and hoping for a miracle. At around 7pm, Tennant sends them all home and of course, they protest. Well, Lucy protests. Kai is still hanging with his new FBI besties – I am not jealous, Ernie, I am simply stating a fact – and Jesse quickly packs his things anxious to go spend some time with his wife and kids. Tennant hangs around a little longer and so does Lucy, but at this point she is too tired to do anything other than just type random things into the database to see if something comes up. So when Tennant leaves for the night, Lucy does too.
On her way out of the base, her phone pings with a new message, a 'hey, are you free tonight?' text shows up at her screen and she types a quick 'sorry, so swamped' in response. The last thing she needs is a dull date where she spends half of the time wishing it was someone else there with her.
Don’t , the voice in the back of her head warns. Lucy shakes her head and makes a mental note to call the girl tomorrow and tell her that a one time thing means a one time thing.
Despite her exhaustion, Lucy finds herself parking in front of her favorite bar. It's a quaint little rustic place near her apartment that reminds her of her hometown. The food is spectacular and they serve some of the best drinks Lucy has ever tasted. The country music blasting through the speakers is just a nice little bonus.
She slides on a stool and greets the bartender, "Hey Dom."
"'Sup, Lucy. The usual?" He asks with a kind smile on his face. Dom has a bit of a cuddly bear vibe, he is almost twice as tall as Lucy and his biceps are pretty much the size of her head, but he is one of the sweetest men she has ever met. He was the first person she met here in Hawai’i and he immediately made her feel like home.
He reminded her of Noah.
Fuck .
"I need something stronger today."
"Tough day?" He makes a face and she smiles faintly.
The uncharacteristic sound of heels clicking on the floor gets Lucy's attention. She raises her head from the autopsy report she's been studying and looks around for the source.
She stops dead on her tracks the exact moment Kate Whistler's eyes meet hers. Lucy has to blink a couple of times to make sure her eyes are not just playing a trick on her.
An entire hue of feelings pass by the blonde's face. Shock, happiness, hope, shame, sadness, regret. Lucy is quite sure she matches them all.
Whistler breaks out of her stupor faster than Lucy, who still hasn't been able to take her eyes away from the woman who once meant the entire world to her.
The FBI Agent introduces herself and Tennant takes on the job of introducing the team, something Lucy is eternally grateful for, considering she is not sure she would be able to speak right now.
The FBI Agent. Part of Lucy wants to tackle the taller woman into a bear hug and scream ' we fucking made it!', the other is a little more contained, plagued by the knowledge that life went on. For both of them, life went on. They accomplished some dreams and lost others halfway. Bittersweet doesn’t begin to cover this entire situation.
When Tennant leaves them alone, it's agent Oliveira that takes the lead. That's the first time since their arrival that Lucy acknowledges their presence.
Oliveira is tall, losing to Whistler by only a couple of inches. They are wearing a well fitted suit with doc martens and their curly brown hair is tied neatly into a ponytail.
Lucy doesn't miss the way their hands linger on Kate's arms or how they call Whistler by her first name or the way they seem to match each other's movements so effortlessly. She catches herself thinking that Whistler has a type and curses herself for it.
Trying to focus on what Oliveira is saying proves to be an incredibly challenging task when Whistler's eyes are on her. Every time Lucy looks her way, Whistler looks away and every time Lucy looks away, Whistler looks back. It's the same old game they used to play throughout most of high school.
Whistler is much like Kate and yet, not at all. Lucy finds herself caught between the girl she once knew better than anyone and this complete stranger.
Kate was a gesturer , she was easily excited and everything she said, she said it with her whole body. Whistler holds herself differently, every word measured, every move calculated.
Kate was confident, but too shy and awkward to be considered intimidating. Whistler has the same confidence, but Lucy is pretty sure she could intimidate the president if she put her mind to it.
The loose curls on Kate's hair are now straightened in a high ponytail so tight Lucy is not sure how she doesn't get a headache 24/7.
In all the places Kate was soft, Whistler is sharp.
And yet, Whistler also bites her lower lip when she is focusing, brows furrowing ever so slightly. Her eyes glisten when someone says something that gets her attention, the same way Kate's did.
The fidgeting with her fingers when she is uncomfortable hasn't stopped and neither has the way she does the little eyes-lips-eyes thing when she looks at Lucy.
Seeing the mannerisms she spent so many years becoming fluent on after such a long time, awakens something Lucy thought she had buried deep enough to never see the light of day again.
Lucy is not sure if she wants to cry or laugh, so she focuses on the case instead – there will be time for all of that later. She even feels bold enough to direct Whistler a question. The response she gets, however, isn’t at all what she’s been expecting and when the blonde's face falls for a fraction of second, Lucy's whole being, even after all these years, begs her to reach out and smooth the frown on the other woman's face.
Oliveira then starts rambling about the profile types, Kai and Jesse look like the FBI agent is speaking Greek. Lucy, on the other hand, is already too familiar with the concept. A fresh memory of an excited 19-year-old Kate leaving her first Forensic Psychology class and throwing up words that Lucy had no idea what it meant back then, but it didn't matter because she looked extremely cute doing so.
Stop it, the little voice in the back of her head screams.
Fortunately, a case related idea comes to Lucy's mind at the exact right time and she runs to her computer. Whistler asks her a question and when she turns, their faces are inches away from each other. Lucy can’t breathe or speak or focus on anything other than the fact that if she just tilted her head up for about ten degrees, her lips would be on Whistler’s.
Lucy wonders if she still tastes like coffee and blueberry mint gum.
Clearing her throat, Lucy tries to rid her mind of thoughts about kissing her ex-girlfriend.
The other agents leave to do their jobs and instead of following them like she should, Lucy stays behind. She gets up from her chair and rounds the desk, stopping beside Whistler, who is leaning against it with hands tucked into the pockets of her sinful deep blue pantsuit looking very much like she was transported from one of Lucy’s fantasies.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
They enter in what’s quite possibly the most awkward conversation Lucy has ever been a part of, and despite Lucy’s best efforts to sound as genuine as possible, she can’t help feeling that everything she says sounds so incredibly wrong.
The thing is, the anger had faded. Somewhere along those seven years, the anger she felt towards Whistler ebbed and all that was left was the throbbing pain in knowing the blonde didn’t want her anymore. But then Whistler opens her mouth and says, "I'm sure you'd love to have me around all the time," And all those scorching flames of rejection came right back to surfice.
You were the one who didn't want me around. You were the one who ruined everything.
Lucy has to bite her tongue to avoid saying the words out loud.
But then…
“Seemed like a pretty good idea to wreck every good thing in my life back then.” And Lucy feels like a dick.
Lucy might have been ruled by poorly managed emotions back then. She was 22 and stupid and heartbroken and angry and needed something, someone to blame. Whistler seemed like the obvious choice.But she is older now. The years between them gave her some perspective and she didn't need her therapist to point out that Whistler was dealing with an impossible situation, her entire world shifted under her feet in the most terrible way possible, and she was coping in the only way she knew how.
Lucy realized that then and she knows that now when Whistler's eyes find the sock she still hangs every Christmas. She can pinpoint the exact moment Whistler’s facade cracks and for that split second, she’s Kate again. Lucy feels her entire resolve crumbling. She feels like she was the one who got stabbed.
"I–" Lucy begins, but Kate doesn't let her finish. Instead she gives a flimsy excuse and runs away, leaving Lucy alone to question every single decision she has ever made.
Lucy sighs, dropping her head on the counter with a thud.
“Tough day. Yeah. You could say so.”