Prologue

In New York City, a man and a woman wake from a night of restless slumber. They lead different lives... and yet they are universally interconnected. Their unrelated lives are bound by the same string of cosmic relief, despite the complexities life has thrown at them. They are unaware that soon their lives will intersect in a matter in which neither will expect. We are bound by our choices.. in such a way, that if we were allowed to go back and change one thing, however small, or unimportant, our entire lives as we know it would change.

There is an order to things, and whether we make our own decisions our not, it's the results that could perhaps define us. Whatever it may be, call it Fate, or Kismet...the effects of the decisions these two make in the next few hours, will force their individual strands to twine together. They will face the toughest of choices and the greatest of triumphs, but more than anything, they will live with the understanding that their worlds will forever be linked by the product of their choices. Lives defined by their own free will...

And it's without this knowledge that the woman turns over in bed. Away from the unwanted warmth beside her to stare off at the window, with it's curtains drawn. Only a small bit of light peaks through, and she's never felt more anxious for a new day. A new start. She looks over her shoulder at the form beside her. And although it's deliciously warm where she lays, the body she shares her bed with gives her no comfort, nor stability his arms once held for her... making it that much easier to slip out of bed and into the chilly air of her bedroom.

Her bare feet hit the cold wood floor, and she curls her toes, cringing lightly with a shiver. Wrapping her arms around her bare shoulders, she walks on the balls of her feet to the bathroom mere feet away, and relishes in the soft rug in front of the sink.

"Oh, Kate," she sighs as she shakes her head at her appearance. Her green eyes stare back. Dull, even her flecks of brown have lost their spark. She feels haggard as she pulls at the blackish skin under her eyes. Pure evidence of her insomnia and lack of any kind of relaxation.

Her brown hair lays limp and lifeless around her face, and she tucks it all behind her ears, feeling the greasy texture. She makes a face in disgust, and leans closer to the mirror. Blinking a few times, she just stares at herself. This unidentified woman. Who is she these days? With everyday the past few weeks bleeding into the next, she thinks she's lost a bit of herself along the way. She really doesn't know anymore. And she's too tired at the moment to find out.

A sound from her room startles her. She freezes, fingers tense at her cheek bones, while her eyes snap to the doorway. She listens, hearing the bed springs and then a groan, then nothing. She lets her hands drop to the sink with a sigh before glaring at herself over her small panic, and then tip toes to the door to shut it. She's back at the sink. Listening for more sounds, and then refocuses on her reflection. Her hands grip the counter with white knuckles as she leans in until her nose touches the cold glass. Her eyes unfocus and refocus, but she still looks the same. The same over-tired, over-worked Kate. But she won't change that. Her job is everything, and anyone who's been around her should know that.

And yet...

She sighs. Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments as if to gather herself, and then spins around to turn on the shower. She pulls a soft green towel from her closet. Holding it to her face, she breathes in the smells of fabric softener. For some reason it soothes her for the moment, making her eyes close involuntarily. It's the building heat and steam of the shower in the confined space that wakes her. With another sigh, hopefully the last one for the day, she climbs in and hopes that the stress of her life will stay itself behind the wall. She gets into the shower realizing after a moment that it's highly unlikely.

He stirs, the cosmic pull of events still unknown to him as he wakes. He turns over blinking his eyes up at the ceiling. The little bit of light peaking in from the window, casts a sharp line across his line of sight. He swings his arm out beside him, finding it empty and he's still unsure about how he feels about it. Whether he prefers the cold space his hand finds, to the body that use to fill it. He brings his hand back to rest on his stomach under the sheets, wishing he could stay in bed all day. Feeling like it's almost not worth it. Almost. But he does eventually, and reluctantly he slips out from under the space only his warmth provided and out into the cold air of his bedroom.

His bare feet hit the cool floor beneath, aiding in the waking up processes as he makes his way to his bathroom. Rubbing a hand over his face, and into his messy brown hair, he soon opens his eyes to his tired reflection. He leans in a little closer.

"Wake up, Rick," he demands of himself, slapping either cheek, trying to shake the sleep from his wary mind.

His blue eyes stare back, less piercing, not condoning the fun loving man he's supposed to be playing. When did this happen? He narrows his eyes, his hair falling in a mess over his forehead. He grimaces, as a feeling of discontentment washes over him and he rubs at his growing stubble. He wonders if it will ever change, if he can find that man he's wanted to be. But somehow he's gotten lost in all the jumbled expectations.

He hears a sound from upstairs. He pauses, his hand still on his scruff, while his eyes look towards the door. He listens, hearing a running feet, a small laugh, and then nothing. He lets his hand drop to the counter, with a sigh of relief before staring down his bleary image at his small panic. He pads to the door, closing it to a crack, and then turns back to the mirror. He stays still for another moment, and when nothing further filters through the crack in the door, he grips the sink. He looks, stone faced at himself, waiting for... something. But nothing happens. He still looks like the same emotionally and physically tired Rick. And some of that might change. He has something very dear to him, that depends on him a great deal.

His everything...

He sighs. Closing his eyes from a small moment, as if preparing himself, and then turns around to turn on the shower. He gets a soft blue towel from the closet, holding it to his face. It feels nice against his face, wrought with insomnia. It soothes him for the time being, until he breaths it in. It smells like her... He growls, throwing it onto the counter before stepping into the steam of the shower already fogging up the mirrors. He hopes that the small amount of time he will spend in here, will fog up enough of his brain to help him cope. But as the scolding water bites at his skin, he doesn't find that likely.

Her curtains are pulled back when she walks out of the bathroom in her soft towel. Droplets cling to her skin, chilling in the air of her room, and rising goosebumps on her flesh. But the sun warms her on her way by it to the bed. The bed is empty with the covers drawn back so far it irritates her. She grits her teeth, hearing him banging around in the kitchen, and goes about her morning ritual. The smell of cherries fills the space around her as she stands at her dresser. Pulling out a few articles of clothing, she throws them onto the bed before she ties her hair up into a tight bun, so tight it hurts.

She lets her hands rest forcefully on the top of the dresser with a sigh. She just can't help it. Wishes this day would be over. And it's early. First bad sign of the day... When this part of her life is over and done with, she needs to do something to get some of her control back... or maybe lose control...just something, anything to make her feel more alive and less suffocated and claustrophobic. That's what this relationship feels like these days. Weighing her down and drowning her in the unknown instead of making her feel happy and free like it used to.

She wipes a hand over her eyes, needing coffee to help with that last bit of drowsiness, and opens her small jewelry box. She delicately removes her mothers ring, ducking her head to place it over and around her neck. The cold metal rests against her skin, sending a shiver though her body, as if she can feel her mothers' presence. Kate stares at the ring resting there through her reflection in the mirror, taking in deep breaths and then dropping her eyes back to the box. Her fathers watch. She fastens it around her wrist and then dresses for a long hectic day at work.

She holsters her gun at her hip, opening the door and leaning against it as she lifts one leg, pulling on her heel, and then the other. All the while looking at the floor and avoiding him all together. But once her foot meets the ground, heels on and ready for work... He can't keep quiet anymore.

"Are we going to talk about this?" he asks as she walks past him to pour herself a cup of coffee.

She takes a long sip, staring out into the living room. She cradles the hot cup to her chest with both hands, the flesh of her palms nearly burning. "There is nothing to talk about, Will." Her voice is even. Having thought about this to the point where she wants this to just stop. Be over so she can move on. Even though her speedy process won't make it any less painful.

She looks over her shoulder at him. He's standing with his own cup in one hand, the other outstretched and resting on the side of the fridge. "Kate," he protests, hand slipping down as he steps closer.

She takes a step back, staring at his chest clad in a black FBI t-shirt. It's her favorite shirt. She eternally shakes herself. "No, you are going to take that job, it's a good opportunity, and I won't keep you from that." His hair sticks up adorably, and she resists the urge to go to him, and feed her fingers through it.

Will sighs. He knows how stubborn she is.

"Bye, Will." Kate turns away from him, placing the cup into the sink and walking to the door for her keys and coat. Her heels click, sharply, like her tongue when she speaks to him.

"Kate, come on." He sounds defeated and yet still tries anyway. His attempts are futile.

She spins around, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face in irritation. "We both know I love my job too much to leave." They both also know that this is more about her mothers' unsolved case than anything else.

"Just think about it."

"I have thought about it! God, Will! Just go. Can you please just go? Leave your key on the counter, get your stuff, and lock up on your way out." Without anything further, she swipes her keys from the table by the door and slams it behind her on her way out.

Rick walks into his room, towel drying his hair as he goes. Throwing the towel onto the floor somewhere, he tries not to look at the empty bed as he steps into his closet. What to wear? Does it need to be sharp? He just wants to swap a pair of dress pants for sweats, and a suit jacket for a t shirt. But he can't. He hangs his choice on the back of the door, pulling on a t shirt for now, and a pair of pj pants. With a grim sigh, he exits his room and into the study. It's warmer in here than in his room, the windows large, inviting in the sun of the early morning. But it's pleasant shine does not alter his current dark mood.

He can hear his mother's door open on the second floor as he takes a seat at his desk. This buys him a little more time to end this. It's over... or at least it will be when he signs the papers. At the moment the manilla folder stares up at him from it's cold place on the desk resting in his laptop. His brow creases severely, as he grabs the thing, opening the annoying little accusing clasp and pulling the papers from inside. He grabs a pen, nearly knocking the cup that holds the rest over, and hovers his hand over the place that demands his signature.

The sound of a small laugh and the gentle sooth of his mother reaches his ear. His heart clenches, and his eyes cast downwards, blurring at the words on the page. What will this do to them? He can't help but go through all the scenarios. This is not one of those things he can fix like in his books. He can't rewrite their story, or create a new ending. It's just one of the many things he has no control over...And he needs to get some of that back. Maybe it's better this way. He knows he didn't do anything wrong... well... not that he knows of. He tried. But maybe it's just her. She couldn't handle them. She's too flighty and carefree to be tied down by anything. But did she have to cheat on him?

"Richard?" He startles. Looking up to find his mother peering around the door.

"Give me a minute," he says, his voice icy, but he hopes she knows that he does not mean it.

She nods her head, pursing her lips and giving him a look of sympathy before ducking back out. He drops his head into his hands. Elbows on the desk and sighs loudly and aggravatingly into his hands. He gives himself just a moment. Thinking about this. And then his head comes out of his hands with determination. There is nothing else to think about.

With a firm nod at his inner agreement, Rick pushes pen to paper, and signs his name on the line without regrets. He crosses the T, and dots the I, before sliding the paper back into the folder with a sense of finality, before getting up from his desk. He grasps the folder in one hand, pushing his hair away from his forehead, and leaving his study. He throws the document onto the kitchen counter, and takes the stairs two at a time.

Both doors swing open to the morgue, flying violently back as she quickly steps away from them and jumps up onto an empty autopsy table. The ME turns around in her chair, startled. Once she takes in the strained expression of the brunette, she tilts her head to one side and lets her shoulders sag.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she offers, knowing there is not much else she can give.

Kate shrugs, eyes cast downwards at her fathers watch, which she twists around and around. "Was only a matter of time," she finally says, her voice strong. She looks up, meeting the soft brown eyes of her friend, and shrugs again.

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," she replies, leaning forward in her swivel chair.

"Oh, it hurts alright," she says, an edge in her voice; an underlying rasp with the need to cry behind it.

The ME regards her for a moment. Even though Kate is here for some emotional support... her wall is still up, and she's utterly guarded. That wont change. It's all over her face and in her posture. Stiff back, tense jaw. But it's her eyes that give her away. Tired and defeated. They don't shine like they used to. At least, as much as the medical examiner has ever seen. But she knows that the true light has been missing for a very long time.

"What do I do now, Lanie?" Kate finally asks.

Lanie lets a diabolic grin spread across her dark skin. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she stands up, walking over and leaning her hip on the table next to Kate. Kate's eyes grow wide in alarm, as Lanie's eyebrow corks up at her own inner amusement. She places one hand on her hip, while the other tugs playfully at the bun of Kate's head.

"Now, we let our hair down."

"Hi, Pumpkin." Rick holds his arms out for his 7 year old daughter.

"Daddy!" She runs over from playing with her dollhouse, and fixes her father with an adorable smile, arms out yawning. He lifts her up, kissing her little heart shaped face, and smoothing her flaming red hair from her forehead. She laughs as he hugs her to him. A little more than usual. She is all he has now.

"You'll be all right," his mother says from the doorway.

Rick holds his daughter out to fully look at her. His heart already repairing itself. Looking at her now, he knows they can make it. She is everything he's ever wanted. And he never knew it until she was born. This tiny human being he helped create. So what if her mother is too dense to see it. She doesn't deserve this beautiful little girl.

His little girl reaches out a hand, pushing at the hair flopped on his forehead. He laughs, taking in every line of her face, the joy in her eyes. Her blues show him a love he will never receive from anyone else. This is unconditional. It's not stilted, or forced. Her love is innocent and everything that should be right in this world. And he's not going to let the follies of others tare him down, or keep him from loving her all the same.

"I know."

Rated M for future mature content.

A/N This will be something much different then all my other stories. I hope you give it a chance. Reviews are always appreciated! And thanks to Monkeywand for being my beta for this :D