10th of May

Robert Cox.

"What do you say, Karl, anything else we can do now?" Robert asks half-past seven. It's rather earlier than usual.

"No, I'm afraid not. We have to wait for the ME and CSU to finish."

"Should we go then?"

"Yeah, let's go." Karl agrees, but Catherine looks hesitant.

"It doesn't feel right, not with all that's going on," she says, looking half worried and half pleading at Robert.

"Nothing we can do now Cat, we all need a little breather, a chance to think about something else," Robert argues.

"It still doesn't feel right," she complains.

"You want me to cancel the reservations?" She considers it looking around at the others. 

"No. I suppose a night off would be good for us," she decides, but she still doesn't look too happy about it.

"It's your birthday, it's your choice." She gets up instead of answering. Lindsay offers her an encouraging smile which she accepts and copies.

"Come on," John invites me. My bank account is not going to like this. I get up and follow them. The walk isn't long, and we're soon seated around a round table. Judging by the alternatively colorful decor Catherine chose the venue.

They seem to enjoy themselves - for what I should think is the first time this year. I sit quietly, leaned back. Let them have the moment to themselves.

Robert raises his glass: "To the good times in the middle of the bad ones."

"To the good times," they all agree smiling. I lift my glass and take a sip as well. One night of not expecting the worst, not spreading compost on the dark thoughts to make them ranker, not counting the minutes till the next death. It seems to me the most challenging job they have had this year. The continued effort to make the evening pleasant does, however - despite what one may think - actually pay off. Or maybe it's the wine bottles. By the time the main course comes around everyone's laughing and sharing stories.

"You should consider yourself lucky," John tells me. "Usually new people get a special welcome from Catherine."

"Consider yourself very lucky," Lindsay agrees. "I ended up with purple hair for a week."

"And that cost me a 20," Robert complains.

"I bet him that I couldn't make you match me," Catherine explains when Lindsay looks confused.

"You made a bet on me?" she asks indignantly. "In my defense," she turns to me. "I thought it was washout dye and only agreed because it was for a new year's party."

"Don't worry Nicaa," Catherine tells me with a sugar-sweet smile. "I'll get you a proper welcome at some point - when's your birthday?"

"Don't tell her, whatever you do, do not tell her your birthday!" John warns and Lindsay nods her agreement. Robert sends a sideways glance to make sure Catherine can't see him before nodding, and Karl simply smiles and leans back.

"As if I couldn't find out!" she argues.

"You guys seem awfully sure I'll still be here by that time." That puts a damper on the mood. "If this case is still open by April next year something has gone really wrong," I tell them in an attempt at making my previous statement sound less death-like.

"What date?" Catherine demands with a new and excited smile. 

"13th of April," I answer, smiling too. "But as I said, I won't be here by that time."

"I'll give you the best birthday party you've ever had!" she promises, ignoring my last sentence completely. A hint of fear creeps over me, she seems sure she will get me one way or another. But I smile. Catherine inspires a different kind of fear than what I've come to accept as common now, and it feels nice to be reminded fear isn't always dread and survival instincts, but sometimes just looking at the unknown and knowing something is coming.

"Most memorable at least," John corrects her.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks indignantly.

"That I think you played a part in my 30th," he says with a smile and a knowingly raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, that's a good one!" she laughs.

"So Elena shows up out of nowhere with this giant cake from his favorite bakery," Robert fills me in. "And the whole office is just staring at this young girl dressed as a clown struggling to balance the cake and a bag with paper hats sticking out from under it, and everyone's too shocked by her appearance to offer to help so we all just stare." John chuckles to himself. "And she makes her way to John, puts it all down in front of him, starts singing 'happy birthday' - and Elena could sing, like, really sing. But she doesn't make it through more than like, five lines, before she smacks John's head into the cake." John smiles and takes shelter behind his wineglass, but he's smiling. I wonder how long ago this was, we were in the same grade back in Hill Lake, so he must be 30 as well.

"I bet you'd never have thought that of her," John asks with a shy look my way.

"No," I admit. "I remember Elena as the quiet type." Not that she was necessarily shy, not like Liv who was afraid to talk to strangers (strangers being anyone who wasn't me or mother), Elena was just selective of who she spent her time with. Once you made the cut though, she was pleasant and happy.

"Only around people she didn't know well," he corrects. She must have been close with everyone on the team to do something like that - at least I can't imagine her being on that close terms with the entire office.

"She did it all by herself!" Catherine insists with a huge grin and casually leans out of his reach. "I just made a bet with her."

"You..." But he can't keep it together to scold her and his face break into a crooked smile instead and he tilts his head. The family resemblance is striking like this, he looks exactly like the smiling girl in the photo on the victim board. "Never take a bet with Catherine," he warns me. "It won't end well."

"What exactly did you bet on?" I ask innocently.

"Whether or not she could make John blush," she admits and a mixture of giggles and deeps laughs washes over the table. "I had to make sure it'd be a birthday he'd never forget," she defends herself. Only Robert doesn't join in the laughing choir. He looks almost nervous.

"Speaking of memorable birthdays..." he slides his hand into his inner pocket and pulls out a little black box. Lindsay reaches over and pulls Catherine's plate out of the way with a giant smile plastered over her usually somewhat stern face. Robert places the box where the plate was before.

"I know fancy jewelry isn't exactly your thing, but I thought you might make an exception this one time." Catherine stares at the box as if it's about to jump alive and bite her.

"Robert, is this what I think it is?" Her hand rests awkwardly on the table, the box just out of reach of her fingers. He doesn't speak, he just notches the box towards her. Her fingers pull back as the box moves nearer.

"I've been hiding that thing since Christmas, are you going to make me wait that long now as well?"

"Since Christmas?" she asks. "Before New Years," she adds in a mumble. Her face loosens up a little, her mouth is no longer drawn into a thin line, but a hint of a smile is spreading across it, and then, as fast as Joanna was able to hit John, Catherine's arms around Robert's neck.

"Thank God," he laughs into her hair. "It would have been so awkward having to return that to my grandpa."

"It's your grandmother's ring?" she exclaims. "Wow..." She picks up the box and opens it.

"Here, let me." He takes the ring out and slides it on her finger. The bond runs around her finger to embrace the diamond from both sides, the ends entwirling with each other.

Karl waves over a waiter and asks for a bottle of champagne. Lindsay fishes a camera out of her purse and orders them to look at her. Catherine finally has to stop her after 20 pictures to which Lindsay reacts by bowing down to hug her.

"Congratulations!" she says half-buried in Catherine's bright red hair. Karl gets up to congratulate them too. He shakes Robert's hand with an approving smile and a little wink when Catherine isn't looking. John gets up as well and I follow troop.

"About time." He gives Robert a hug and a pad on the back.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you!" Robert returns the pad with a huge smile.

"Congratulations." I shake Catherine's hand and get pulled into a firm embrace.

"Be good to him!" John orders Catherine. "We need our top batter."

"Congratulations," I say again and shake Robert's hand.

"Thank you," he replies with a smile.

The waiter comes over with the bottle and glasses. Karl raises his glass.

"Too the good times," he calls.

"To the good times," we all agree. Robert entangles his arm in Catherine's before he'll allow her to drink. Her smile is so wide she can barely manage to take a sip.

"We've been waiting for this moment ever since she convinced him to open a kissing booth for the fundraiser five years ago," Karl explains to me with a true smile.

"And then changed her mind and bought all the tickets herself," Lindsay adds.

"Okay, no!" Catherine says loudly. "This is not going to be a night of 'look how crazy Catherine is.'" But she doesn't look angry, not in the least, she's still smiling and still has one arm entangled with Robert's.

"Okay," John agrees. "What would you like to talk about then? But it has to be a subject just as entertaining." Her smile turns crocked and her eyes narrow in pretend deep thought. John's smile fades and he looks nervous.

"I want..." she pauses dramatically, holding John's eyes locked to hers. "To hear stories about baby John." She finishes and looks to me instead. I hesitate. "Come on Nicaa, spill the beans. What was he like when you were children? Give us something juicy." With her demanding eyes now on me, I suddenly get how Elena was goaded into wearing a clown suit and singing in front of a large audience.

"You've been Catherined!" John whispers to me. "Just fight it, you're strong enough," he urges cheerfully. I look down and laugh.

"That," I say and nod at Catherine. "That is exactly what John was like - he could get away with anything."

"Spill," she orders me, leaning in over the table to not miss a word. I laugh nervously and look at John. He smiles and nods at his steak and fries, and I assume that's a permission.

"Let's just say he held a certain respect in the schoolyard."

"You mean he was a bully?" Robert seems to find the notion immensely entertaining, even Karl laughs at the thought.

"I don't know if I would actually call it that." I hesitate for a moment, digging up memories I've been avoiding for years. "He had quite a knack for getting out of trouble, and he wasn't ashamed to share it - which made him quite popular among a few kids who... well, let's just say they knew how to create their own respect. He started out as their little pet and by the 3rd grade, they did his bidding. He was too small to get his way with fists, so he used his wits instead. There were quite a few rumors of him taking the fall for someone and then getting out of any sort of punishment."

"Do tell," Robert urges. John doesn't object.

"Some graffiti was found on one of the buildings," I say, remembering the crude image on the wall to the gym. "The culprit caught with paint on his hands. The story went that John not only convinced the teachers that he was behind it, but that to constrict a child's right to express himself was against everything they stood for. The graffiti remained on the building for several weeks before a private citizen donated several large wooden boards and a ton of spray paint, effectively adding graffiti to the art curriculum - and doubling the art students for about a month. He was quite the hero for the remainder of that week." I finish without looking at any of them.

"A natural-born negotiator," Robert compliments him.

"Ethan had some pull with the mayor, and Elena and I - perhaps especially Elena - had some pull with Ethan," John explains with a reminiscent smile.

"You manipulated your dad?" Catherine sounds almost impressed. Or maybe it's surprise, things seem to have changed between the Lucas men.

"It was a lot easier back then," he defends himself. "And I had help from his favorite daughter." He finally looks up from his plate and looks around at the others. "Sorry," he says to Robert and Catherine.

"John," Catherine starts, but he gets up anyway.

"Just need a bit of fresh air," he says and leaves the table.

I notice Lindsay watch him carefully. I guess he's out the door by the time she turns back to the table.

"Has he spoken to any of you?" she asks. When no one answers she breaks the silence herself. "I'm worried about him, he's not dealing."

"It's only been four months," Catherine reminds her.

"Four months of trying to catch his sister's killer," Lindsay corrects. "He's not going to make it like this. He can barely even mention her name."

"He's not going to talk to us Lind, he's too proud. Nicaa, could you... could you give it a try?" Catherine looks at me. "You knew Elena better than us, he might listen to you."

"I don't think..." I barely knew her, much less saw her dressed up as a clown.

"Please?" she pleads. The others seem to think it impossible to resist Catherine, and today of all days I suppose it is a bad time to try. I push my chair back and get up. Lindsay sends me the same encouraging smile she used on Catherine earlier. I find John outside lighting a cigarette.

"Lind or Cat?" he demands, not even looking up to see who is approaching him. I guess he knows them well enough to know how they think.

"Lindsay hinted, Catherine asked," I reply.

"I'm sorry you have to be a part of all this." He puts the lighter in the cigarette pack and blows out smoke.

"I'm good," I assure him. "Since when do you smoke though?" He looks down at his hand like he'd barely realized that he was.

"I quit 6 years ago," he states. I reach out and take the pack from him. 

"Are they right to be worried?" I ask quietly.

"Maybe." He looks down at the cigarette between his fingers, turning it and studying it.

"I thought perhaps they were just being meddlesome." He laughs once awkwardly.

"Cat can be quite meddlesome, that is true."

"And Lindsay seems quite determined to fix everyone," I add.

"She just wants everyone to be okay, they both do." The cigarette falls to the ground. He stands silent for a while, his head bowed slightly, watching the still-lit cigarette at his feet. "What do you remember about her? About Elena?" I watch the cigarette too, afraid to look at him, afraid to say something wrong.

"Not much," I admit. He waits for me to continue, to tell him his sister didn't mean nothing to me, that I didn't forget her completely. "I remember the backpack incident," I say, thinking it a safe subject.

"Backpack?" He still doesn't look up, but the tip of his shoe reaches out and quashes the cigarette.

"You don't remember that?" I ask surprised, but in a quiet voice, not wanting to attract attention. "We were walking home from school," I remind him. "You and Elena, and Liv and I, and Elena started asking questions like why Liv was carrying her books in a plastic bag and not a schoolbag. When Liv admitted we couldn't afford a schoolbag Elena said she could have hers." It had meant the world to Liv, but I'm not sure how to explain that without making it sound sobby.

"Right. I remember convincing Ethan to buy Elena a new bag without telling him why. He didn't even notice that she kept the old one and gave the new one to Liv."

"Liv absolutely adored her after that. I wish she could have kept it longer." I should have added that last part I realize. He looks over at me with a puzzled expression.

"How long did it last?"

"Doesn't matter," I tell him. He doesn't need to know that. "It was the best gift she ever received, that's all that matters." He turns towards me.

"How long did it last?" he demands, his voice raised and drawing attention to us now. The backpack lasted three days, and then it ended up in the trash.

"A week," I tell him.

"A week? How come?" There's a hint of betrayal in his voice, like the backpack not lasting five years is a personal insult to him and his dead sister.

"We're the Harper girls," I say quietly. "We couldn't be allowed to have nice things." If your last name is Harper you are not welcome in Hill Lake, and if you don't move on your own people will be happy to provide you with plenty of reasons to get out of their perfect little town.

"So what? Your mother took it? I don't get it." There's frustration in his voice.

"No, nothing like that. Just... schoolyard stuff."

"But..." He hesitates. "I thought it was better, after..." Something dawns on him, and he looks down in shame. He never actually let anyone know he was hanging out with the Harper girls. Under his protection, we would have been safe from most of the schoolyard crap, but no one knew the Lucas boy had taken an interest in the freaks.

"We were fair game," I tell him. "The grownups hated Charlotte, and when children pick up on that kind of thing... We were fair game, no grownup really cared what their children did to us. Everyone crossed the street when we walked by, the mayor's children used to spit at us, and their mother pretended not to notice. When parents act like that there's nothing children can do to make it better."

"Is that why..." He looks down again, afraid to meet my eyes. "Liv, I mean."

"Why she never spoke? Yeah, I suppose that was her way of shielding herself. I don't think she ever spoke a word to anyone except mother, me, you and Elena." Actually, she probably spoke more to John than she ever did to mother.

"And your father?" he asks cautiously. "Do you know who he is?"

"I know someone paid for our house and our school tuition. I don't know why he would think it more important that we attend private school than we knew his name, but I'm happy to not have a mortgage to pay on top of everything else. Rose street is expensive."

"Did you ever go look for him?"

"Why would I? He was most likely from our part of town - or people likely wouldn't have cared so much. I know he was married, but apart from paying for our bills he never seemed interested in us. I don't see why knowing him would be so wonderful. I don't even know for sure that it was him who paid our bills, that could have been anyone really."

"Oh, you're still here," Catherine says behind us. "We thought perhaps you'd gone home."

"Yeah, you can thank Karl for dinner," Robert says with a smile.

"Oh, right - how much do I owe you?" John asks.

"Forget it," Karl answers.

"No, really, how much?" I insist. He doesn't reply.

"He paid the entire bill Nicaa, said it was an engagement present," Catherine clarifies with a smile.

"I don't let people pay for me," I inform Karl and turn to go back in after my jacket and wallet. Catherine stops me and hands them to me. I fish out a couple of 20s and hand them to him. He pointedly ignores me - much to the amusement of the others.

"In a battle of wills, it's time for the FBI agent to meet the school teacher to see who is, indeed, the most stubborn," Robert announces. I step forward and place the bills in the chest pocket of his jacket.

"And the winner is.... Drumroll please!" Robert requests. Karl fished the money out of his pocket and places them in Robert's hand.

"Shut up," he commands.

"Sir, yes sir!" Robert shouts and salutes him.

"Alright you," Catherine laughs and pushes him lovingly. "It's getting late and we still have work tomorrow." The night is indeed past it's prime. We say goodbye and head our separate ways.

John is quiet for the whole trip back to his apartment, as if his mind is otherwise engaged. He doesn't include me in it until we are back in his living room.

"I want to thank you." He throws his keys in the bowl next to the door. "It's been hard to focus on the good memories lately." I look down to take off my shoes. I know the feeling, but that's not going to help him.

"What were you doing on New Year's eve?" he asks his feet. 

"Mrs. Jones threw a rooftop party for the building, same as every year," I tell the couch.

"I'm guessing Zoe was there?" he asks the watch on my wrist.

"Yes, when Mrs. Jones throws a party it's mandatory," I tell his shirt collar.

"I wasn't with Elena." He takes a seat on the couch and waits for me to join him. "I was doing the same thing I do every year, I didn't even know what plans she had for the night, I just knew that she was going out with some friends." He rests his head in his hands. "When she decided to move to the city she begged me to talk to Ethan for her, they were always closer than he and I, and we both knew that he'd take her moving harder. And I kept my promise. I sat with him for the better part of a day, took every phone call for a month, made promise after promise that I'd keep her safe, that she wouldn't get hurt. I assured him that her new neighborhood was safe, that her job was at a respectable firm, and that I'd have her back. I spend so long convincing him that she'd be safe, and then New Year's came and like every year I was at a bar, not taking calls.

"My mother died on New Year's eve, I don't know if you knew that. Every year I do the same thing to avoid Ethan and avoid the memories. I go to a bar, I drink till it's all a blur, and I find someone to keep my bed warm. Someone I won't have to ever see again, won't have to share anything with." His fingers fiddle in and out between each other.

"I've gone over the timeline a million times by now. While my sister was being murdered, I was sleeping next to a Joanna, a stranger I'd met three hours before. It took Ethan 48 calls to get me to answer, and then only because Jo was worried. By the time I picked up, Elena had been dead for 12 hours. Ethan was worried because she hadn't shown up for their breakfast and she hadn't called to cancel. I told him she had every right to ignore him, especially on that day. They always go for brunch on the 1st of January, and then they visit mom's grave. I gave him shit about not pushing her and letting her grieve in her own way, the problem was that I didn't even believe it myself, I was just pissed at him for ruining my day." He gets up pulls out the bottle of scotch. "I drink instead. I drink, I party, and I pretend everything's fine, and then I go back to work as if nothing happened." He hands me a glass. "This is the first time since I was 11 that I actually spoke Ethan on either of those days.

"It didn't take me long to find her when I actually started looking. In the middle of the living room I had helped her furnish just two years prior, was an iron maiden, half-open. The bowl was on the floor in front of it." He downs the content of his glass in one. "The next-door neighbor had heard me and called the police. They pulled me in for questioning and I ended up calling Karl. He took a look at the case as a courtesy to me. Of course, I wasn't permitted to be involved." He pauses, thinking back. "I took a leave of absence and began investigating on my own. Obviously, the others knew that quite well, none of them would have imagined that I really wouldn't take matters into my own hands. Then it turned serial and my limited information was no longer all that useful. Robert came over and hauled me out for a drink, and Catherine pulled me into the boxing ring to let off some steam. I accepted their attempts more to please them than because they actually had the desired effect. It took them two weeks to stop trying so hard - when victims turned up across state lines and it became a federal case Karl requested it. A week after that Lindsay came by. I was sprawled out over the table, asleep over the files I had managed to compile. She gave me quite a talking to - and she rarely raises her voice. She told me quite literally to 'get my shit together' and then she threw down the autopsy report in front of me. She had negotiated a deal on my behalf, stating that there was no way I'd stop working on the case and that they might as well use me. I was allowed to come back, strictly on desk duty, but still in the inner circle. She had taken personal responsibility for me, for making sure I didn't go off the deep end, and she had gotten both Karl and the director to agree. She got me back in." He glances sideways at me. "Surprised?"

"I would not have expected that from her," I admit.

"Neither did I. But I think that's why she could. She's earned herself quite a reputation in the bureau. She's meticulous and detail-oriented - she can be a pain to work with sometimes, but her work is quite remarkable."

I put my still full glass down. "She's well respected; that I can imagine. So when she makes a request her previous work counts in her favor." I smile to myself. "I guess not everyone wants a Harvey Specter."

"Who?" There's wonder in his voice.

"Fictional lawyer."

"Not everyone has time forNetflix," he reprimands me with half a smile. He gets up and puts the bottleaway and picks up both glasses. "See you tomorrow."  I hear him drink the other glass as well inthe kitchen. I spread out the blanket again and wait for him to finish in thebathroom so I can brush my teeth.