AN: Post-canon (season 3). Also, please see "Beginning."

Future

Peace had proven utterly monotonous for Linden and she's determined that it's not for her.

A lot of time is spent in the car. They'd gotten used to the smell of cigarette butts and stale fries absorbed in the seats. Spare changes of clothes and shoes are strewn in the back along with precious notes and empty coffee cups. They'd take turns sleeping with their feet up during long nights staking out and share the cost for gas.

Yeah they get in trouble with the higher-ups. Often. Very often.

But they get the job done.

In that unconventional way of theirs, they get the job done.

She's not one to pry because she's not a very disclosive person herself.

But one day she finds a crack, a seamless lead-in to something she'd been wondering about for some time.

"How's Caroline doing?"

He pauses and his jaw flexes. His answer is a wordless shrug and she changes the subject on his behalf.

And she thinks she'll never really get tired of the way he says the most random thing at the oddest times, just to throw her off. Just to make her smile.

While waiting for some lab tests to come back, she kills time by cleaning up her contacts. Most of her saved numbers are from witnesses or family members of victims whom she'd called once, maybe twice. At the time she'd taken them, they had been precious, essential information for getting her closer to a conviction. Now, they just take up space.

When she gets to Rick's number, she hesitates. It's been over a year since they'd had any communication, but feelings still linger.

There's no going back. But his number, this means of connecting to him, creates an illusion of this possibility. It creates an illusion that Rick is still there in some kind of capacity. The last thread that connects them will be gone, otherwise.

Linden decides to think about it. She goes on to delete more numbers and snaps her phone shut. The next day, the decision is easier. Like the ripping of a Band-Aid, she does it quickly and endeavors to distract herself, until the hurt fades.

There are still things to learn about this partnership. They'd been divided by an entire year and her initial impressions of him as the over-confident rookie are slowly eroding away. The new outfit of his helps, although the population they often deal with requires him to revert back to his hoodie and faded jeans.

But he's now better able to separate his work and his personal life. He's now more tactical and patient and has better self-control. He keeps her in check (which she doesn't completely resent) and he's ambitious.

They stand side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder (figuratively) as equals, as a team.

The life they share is all about death; death of the victims, death of old lives, of old habits, of passing relationships.

And she can't deny that he keeps things interesting.

Which will be sufficient.

At least for now.

-End-