Aberration (n)- (1) the act of departing from the right, normal, or usual course. (2) apparent displacement of a heavenly body, owing to the motion of the earth in its orbit.

Chapter 6

He shifted from foot to foot, anxiety fluttering in his chest, the coffee burning his palms through the thin cardboard walls of the go cups. This was a bad idea. Probably one of the worst he'd had, and he'd set the bar high for comparison. But after a week of debating he's here. With one final steadying breath, he shifts the coffees around in his arms, lifts a fist and knocks.

After the third knock, there's shuffling on the other side of the door, a frenzy of muttered curses as something crashes to the floor. Finally, the door opens and a pair of bleary eyes peer out at him from the chained crack between the hall and the coveted apartment. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Beckett? You may not remember me, we met a few days ago." Rick begins as he leans forward to look the older man in the eye.

Jim Beckett responds with a shake of his head, one hand scrubbing at his salt and pepper hair which is a few weeks overdue for a cut.

"My name is Rick Rogers," Rick continues. "I'm a detective at the 12th. I work with Detectives Ryan and Esposito."

Recognition dawns in Jim's eyes and he heaves out a sigh as he shuffles backward to close the door. The chain scratches along the track and when the door reopens Rick is face to face with a sober and wary version of the man he had met the week before. "What can I do for you, Detective Rogers?"

Rick holds out the second coffee in his hands with a smile and the older Beckett accepts it, taking a small sip as he backs away from the door gesturing for him to come in. "I'm sorry its so early, but I wanted to stop by on my way into work and see how you're doing."

"You're here to check up on me?" Jim huffs out a deprecating laugh and shuffles over to small galley kitchen, the bottom of his open terrycloth robe fluttering around faded pajama pants.

"No disrespect intended, sir," Rick continues, watching with a jaundiced eye as Jim removes the top of the go cup and tips an open bottle of scotch- the label the same as his own favorite- into the black coffee. "I just know that Ryan and Esposito made a promise to look out for you after what happened to Detective Beckett, and since I'm part of the team now, I wanted to step up and see if there was anything I could do as well."

His hand fidgeted at his side, fingers clenching and unclenching as Jim pegged him with a hard stare.

"Son," Jim started, his gaze never wavering, and Rick's heart clenched in his chest. "Do you have any idea what today is?"

Rick racked his brain, flipping through a mental filofax of memorable dates. "No, sir."

"It's January ninth."

Rick waited a beat for further explanation that never came. "I'm not sure I follow, sir."

"Exactly. Now, get out. No disrespect intended."

Jim turned his back to him and shuffled on his slipper-clad feet toward the open bedroom door of the small sparse apartment, scotch-laced coffee in hand. The older man disappeared into the dark room and Rick let out a sigh, rubbing one hand through his hair, making it stand on end. All things considered, it could have gone worse.

He debated going after the man once again but instead turned on his heels and strode across the small living room to the front door. His toe caught on something in the entry and he stumbled, foot caught in the strap of a dufflebag. Rick leaned over to unwrap his ankle, but paused as a glint of metal caught his eye from the inside of the unzipped bag.

With a quick look over his shoulder, Rick reached in, pulling out what looked like a .40 caliber Smith and Wesson from its nest of clothes. Straightening up, he let the gun dangle from his right index finger as he turned to look back toward the bedroom. There were only two reasons a man in Jim Beckett's state would need a gun and neither of them were good.

"Mr. Beckett?" Rick called out as he neared the bedroom door.

"I thought I told you to leave." A voice grunted from the dark.

"You did, sir. But I can't do that." Rick replied, standing his ground just outside the doorway.

Jim reappeared and his gaze fell to the gun in Rick's hands as he stepped back into the light.

"You mind telling me why you need this?"

"None of your damn business."

"It is my damn business if you intend to hurt yourself or someone else."

"I don't intend to do anything. I'm about to head out on a hunting trip."

"You'll excuse me if I don't believe you, Mr. Beckett. Last time I checked, you don't use a handgun to hunt. Now, what's the significance of today?"

Jim glowered as he shuffled around Rick to the sofa. He slumped back into the seat, downing the rest of his coffee. "It's the day my wife was stabbed. It's also the day my daughter was shot."

Rick's heart leapt into his throat, and he swallowed hard to force his words out. "The same day?"

"She wouldn't let it go. I begged her to just move on with her life. Let it be, but she couldn't. She was like her mother in that way. Stubborn. Tenacious. She would let it go for a while. Pack it all away, but it would always creep back- one step at a time until the obsession, the addiction would grab hold again, drag her under. In the end it finally took her from me, just like her mother."

"You think it was the same people?" Rick sank down on the couch beside Jim, the gun heavy in his hand.

"Cops never closed the case. Called it 'random gang violence', Kate never accepted that answer. Just before she was shot in a 'random robbery', she told me she was onto something. Something big. Then she was gone.

"Tell me Rick, how many cops do you know would be shot in their own house by a random punk looking to score a couple easy bucks?" Jim's tired eyes met his in question.

"Not many."

"Kate was good. The best, according to some. A survivor. And she was shot, in her bedroom, two feet away from her back up gun, that gun," Jim continued, pointing at the pistol in Rick's hand. "By some random punk? I don't believe it."

"Now," Jim continued, reaching out for the gun. "If you don't mind, I was on my way to my cabin."

"I'm sorry, but I can't give you this back, and I won't leave you here alone until I'm sure you won't do anything."

"Dammit!" The word exploded from Jim's lips as he bolted up from his seat, a sudden fire burning in his eyes. "Why won't you just go?"

"Mr. Beckett," Rick began again, his tone toeing the line of too calm. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. To lose… everyone you love. But through you, through the other detectives at the twelfth, I am beginning to get to know Kate. And I know she wouldn't want to see you like this."

"My daughter isn't coming back."

"No," Rick agreed. "She's not. But you're still here, and so am I, and Detectives Ryan and Esposito."

"So, what? Are you going to call the Wonder Twins and tell on me?"

"No," Rick replied, even as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "But I'm not leaving you alone."

Jim eyed the badge and gun strapped to his waist. "Don't you need to be at work?"

RIck shrugged, putting a period on the end of his text before hitting send. "Today I need to be here."

"Hey! Looks like you've had a rough day. Catch another tough case?" Kate greeted him with a smile when he trudged through the door after midnight and guilt gnawed at him like a hungry lion when he nodded in confirmation. "I'd offer to make you a drink," she continued, holding up her hands, fingers wiggling. "But these are pretty much useless right now."

His stomach turned at the idea of scotch but he forced a small smile in her direction, even as his stomach sank at her blissful ignorance. "Thanks, but I think I'll skip the drink tonight. What are you watching?"

"Well, it was Mythbusters this morning, but it's been a How It's Made marathon since noon and I think I might be going a little insane."

"Ah, so you're just happy to see me because I can change the channel."

"You said it, not me."

The banter that had become a normal part of his day over the past couple of weeks came easy, a balm for his aching soul. "Okay fine," he grumbled in jest as he plopped down next to her in his wrinkled half-tucked shirt and jeans. He placed his badge and gun on the coffee table, swapping them out for the remote and settled back, flipping to the guide as he toed off his shoes. "What do you want to watch?"

"Ooh, Temptation Lane." Kate exclaimed pointing at the screen and Rick did a double take at the former detective next to him. He had received no indication, from her from anyone else, that Kate Beckett would be a soap opera fan. Especially one as corny as Temptation Lane.

"Soap opera, really?" He teased, even as he selected the show, and waited on her answering eye roll.

"Yes, really. I like it."

"I never would have guessed. What other dark secrets are you hiding? Oh!" He gasped, turning in his spot to look at her. "You like candy corn don't you? I should have known. No one as gorgeous as you is without faults."

Kate smirked, arms folding over her stomach as she relaxed back into the couch. "Oh, so many layers to the Beckett onion, how will you peel them all?"

"One day at a time, my dear detective."

Silence fell as the drama played out on the screen.

"You know, my mother was on this show for about 3 weeks before her character met an untimely demise." Rick said as a dramatic cliffhanger gave way to commercial.

"Really? My mom and I used to watch it together. It was our thing, especially on sick days."

"Do you miss her? Your mom?"

"Everyday," Kate paused, a sad smile crossing her lips. "You know, it's weird. Part of me expected to see her here. Find her waiting for me, assuming there was an afterlife. Maybe she'll be there when I finally get out of this limbo."

"You don't think she's caught too? Waiting for her case to be solved?"

Kate leaned forward, eyes landing on the closed shutters at the far end of the room. "I don't know," she said, contemplating. "I don't even know if that's why I'm here. But I hope not. I can't stand the thought of her stuck in that alley for eternity."

"Well, my offer stands. We could work on it together. Get closure, peace, for both of you."

Kate turned back to him, but this time her smile was forced. "I can't let you do that, Rick. Too many people have already suffered for my cause, I can't risk adding you to the list."

"Some causes are worth the risk." He answer even as the image of Jim Beckett passed out, sprawled on his bed, played through his mind.

"Not this one. I should have listened, I should have stayed away. It took me dying to realize it. Promise me you'll stay away."

"Okay." Rick replied guilt gnawing at what he already knew was another lie. "I'll stay away."

"Thank you. Now let me watch my show. I love this episode."

A/N: Apologies for the delay. And, as always, thank you for your patience and kind words.