Kate Beckett (
fanofthegenre) wrote2010-01-25 11:34 pm
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Entry tags:
[ rough morning ]
[ after this ]
Beckett wakes to an empty side of the bed and a sledgehammer pounding on the inside of her skull.
Slowly, she eases to a sitting position, releasing a groan with the effort, and lifts a hand to her forehead while the other fishes around on the bedside table for that glass of water she clearly remembers being there.
Clumsy fingers unintentionally knock the cup over, the contents splashing onto the carpet as Beckett reels forward onto her feet with a wave of nausea and an "oh, God."
If anyone's looking for her, she'll be in the bathroom praying to the porcelain gods for the next couple minutes or so. After that, she looks in the mirror, sneering at her own reflection.
Beckett wakes to an empty side of the bed and a sledgehammer pounding on the inside of her skull.
Slowly, she eases to a sitting position, releasing a groan with the effort, and lifts a hand to her forehead while the other fishes around on the bedside table for that glass of water she clearly remembers being there.
Clumsy fingers unintentionally knock the cup over, the contents splashing onto the carpet as Beckett reels forward onto her feet with a wave of nausea and an "oh, God."
If anyone's looking for her, she'll be in the bathroom praying to the porcelain gods for the next couple minutes or so. After that, she looks in the mirror, sneering at her own reflection.
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Getting up from the couch, Jack walks over to the bathroom and knocks on the door, just as the noises stop.
"Beckett? You okay in there?"
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Gradually, the memories from last night are starting to come back into focus, but she really didn't think Jack would still be here.
"Fine," she manages, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm fine."
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She grabs the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and quickly ties it around herself before she ends up accidentally reappearing in just her underwear or something equally mortifying.
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The sound of water dripping catches his attention, only this noise is coming from the bedroom, not the bathroom as he'd expect. Turning to look, he can see the knocked-over glass of water, the contents dripping off the bedside table onto the floor.
"Can you toss me towel so I can mop this up?" he asks.
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"You don't have to," she protests, weakly, holding it at her side in one hand. "I'm the one that knocked it over in the first place."
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"Yeah, but you don't look too good. Hangover?" he asks, keeping his voice low.
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Softly, she clears her throat and starts over.
"Little one."
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"Thank God for Milliways," she murmurs.
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"How are you doing? Other than the hangover, I mean," he says as he walks back into the bedroom.
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She cuts herself off mid-babble.
"I'm okay," Beckett repeats.
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"Really?"
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"Don't start with me. I'll totally kick your ass as soon as I can keep something down."
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"You're not even prepared, Bauer."
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He means it, too. Considering how jumpy he is, and the flashbacks he's been having, he knows he'd likely hurt her before he even realize who it was, and the thought frightens him. Another reason not to let anyone get too close.
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"I know you are," she finally replies, softly, her gaze holding a little more weight to it. There's a reason, maybe, that she can still remember some of Stenger's memories. It reminds her not to underestimate him. In any sense of the word.
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"You staying in here for a couple days, or were you planning to head back as soon as the hangover's gone?" he asks, turning away to fold the blanket he'd used.
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And maybe distract herself with other cases in the short term.
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"I really do appreciate it, Jack. And everything else you've done for me."
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Beckett waves a hand briefly, dismissively, her smile soft.
"It was nothin'."
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Once he's done that, he turns back to her, his expression serious. "Have you talked to your Dad about what happened, yet?"
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"I called him the night I found out, told him I had some news. I wanted to make sure I told him in person. I just haven't gotten over there yet."
It's up there, though, on her list for after she heads back through her door.
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"No."
It's enough to threaten the rise of memories that are all too recent, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
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"Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. I know you're probably not looking forward to that conversation."
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She has a feeling her dad is going to have about an easy a time taking the news as she did when she first heard it herself.
"I'm worried about him. After my mom died, he went to a really bad place for a while. I wasn't sure he would ever come out of it."
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"How has he been, lately?" Jack asks. That falling apart is something he has experience with, too. Kim would probably be a better person to sympathize with Beckett in that regard, but then he doubts that Kim would want to talk about him to anyone.
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It took her father a long time to get sober again and stay sober. The fingers of one hand absently brush against his watch on her arm in thought, the other going to her mother's ring on the strand that dangles underneath her robe.
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"You're probably right."
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Not that he doesn't feel like a hypocrite telling her this, considering what he'd put Kim through after her mother died.
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"I'm glad you stayed."
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"Still."
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"Tell you what. I'll shower, and then you can order up as much gratitude out of me as you'd like."
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