#cic

2003

Kennedy clutches her chest with a gasp. Kevin snickers and avoids a hit to the shoulder. 

“You always do that,” she groans. The shrill sound of her locker slamming never fails to raise her blood pressure. Like clockwork, her best friend, now boyfriend?, would always amble over right when she was finished grabbing things out of her locker and slap the screechy metal door closed. It didn’t matter how many times he did it, it always left her heart racing out of her chest.

She’s wearing her black leotard and leggings, all prepped for dance rehearsal and Kevin can’t help but glance admiringly at her figure. Kennedy catches the look and smirks despite herself.

“Stop,” she admonishes, “I have practice in fifteen minutes.”

Kevin shrugs, “You want a drive?”

Now that they’re sixteen, he drives his mom’s car to school after dropping her and his younger brother off to work and daycare. He’s just found out his mom is pregnant and his dad has barely been present due to taking on yet another job to support the family. Taking the car means he gets to cart himself back and forth to school and his part-time job without worrying his mom or interrupting her day.

Nevertheless, he also doesn’t hesitate to use the Oldsmobile as a make out spot and personal chauffeur services for Kennedy. The dance studio area is on the opposite side of the school campus, but gives them a few extra minutes together during the day.

Kennedy doesn’t bother with a reply, merely walking ahead of him towards the exit doors. 

“Damn, you getting spoiled,” Kevin jokes.

She pokes him as he reaches her and they begin walking step to step, “You act like you were gonna decline me. First off, you NEVER do. And second, you’d be a complete shit head to ask if I want a drive and then just not give me one.”

“Just for that, one of these days, I AM gonna do that.”

“Mmm hmm,” Kennedy doesn’t even reply, knowing that hell would freeze over before Kevin Atwater would deny her anything.

They head over to the student parking lot for the short trek over to the studio. Kennedy’s become more focused than ever now that they’re in the thick of their junior year. It takes a year to apply to some performing arts programs in Chicago and she wants to have a head start in making a name for herself as scouts start attending recitals and showcases. 

“What are you doing after you leave here?” Kennedy asks. She settles into the passenger seat and hands him a fun size packet of Skittles from her book bag. 

“Work… As per usual,” his tone is tired but he doesn’t let her pull her hand away before kissing it in appreciation for the candy.

There’s an idiot freshman who runs across the street to head into the open field that leads out onto the main road and without hesitation, Kevin holds his arm out to brace Kennedy as he stomps on the brake. 

Kennedy curses and reaches over to blow on the horn, yelling “Dumb ass!” out the open window.

Kevin snickers.

“You don’t have to arrest them, but when you become a cop, I hope you go out of your way to scare the shit out of inconsiderate ass fuckers who jay walk themselves into nearly becoming roadkill.” 

“So just fuck the drug dealers on every damn block of the hood, huh? Go straight after the cross walk violators?” He jokes. 

Kennedy chortles, “I said you didn’t have to arrest them!”

They’re at the studio in no time. The walk would’ve tacked on an extra ten minutes or so for her, not to mention burned precious calories when she’d already be burning plenty during practice. She takes her hair out her bun because she loves the sensation of her coils and curls hitting her face as she pirouettes and fouettes. Kevin watches her pull the simple black scrunchie on her wrist and he slaps it against her skin for good measure. The admonishing slap of the hand she gives promptly after is just as routine. 

Now that she’s gathered her bag and arranged herself for rehearsal, she doesn’t want to get out. Her seatbelt is off but she’s still sitting comfortably.

“You getting out?” 

“Shut up!” she yells with a smile. “What time do you get off?”

“6:30. You tryna kick it?” He works at the local diner and the lady that runs it is nice enough to let him create his own schedule that works around and helping out his family. 

“Hell yeah. It’s Friday.” 

“Like you don’t be out on these streets every day of the week.”

“Shoot me for being a social butterfly, damn!”

Plus, anything’s better than home for Kennedy. The constant criticism from her stepmother. The constant absence of her father. The leering eyes of her uncle who mooches off his brother by taking up residence in the basement. 

She’s at Kevin’s house more than her own, which has been the case ever since they met freshman year. The deal after her parents’ divorce was that after middle school with her mom, she’d transfer to the Cook County school system and spend high school with her dad. The adjustment living under her dad’s roof was none too pleasant and the two plus years since haven’t fared much better. She’s not a social butterfly because she can’t turn down a party. It’s because being anywhere but home was a better alternative. 

When she finally confided in Kevin of all of the ways her family life is a nightmare, he started inviting over to dinner at his house. From there, a friendship evolved into something deeper.

“Aight, so what’s the move after practice?”

He shrugs with a mischievous smile on his face, “We’ll see.” 

He leans in for a kiss but she mushes his head out of the way before getting out of the car. She hears his boisterous laugh as she walks all the way towards the driver’s window and smacks their lips together.

“See ya later, fool!”

Kev gets to work at Malone’s Diner and spends the next three and a half hours serving customers and cleaning tables. He got the job over the summer to help start buying his own clothes and school supplies for the year. It seemed to eliminate some stress from his mom and it didn’t hurt that he could bring home dinner once or twice a week to keep her out of the kitchen. She was only just now starting to show but her anxiety has been on ten even before she sat down and told Kevin he was going to be a big brother again. It didn’t help that his father was gone more often than not, taking on a slew of random jobs to help contribute to the household. 

Before he gets ready to leave, he texts Kennedy.

You hungry?

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but grabs a slice of strawberry cake for her anyway. He places it into the bag that holds enough sandwiches and onion rings for his mom, dad, Kennedy, and himself. 

Strawberry cake is calling my name baybeee

He snickers at the text just as he’s getting ready to leave the diner. 

Gotchu

They head straight to his little brother’s daycare after Kevin picks up Kennedy. His mom doesn’t get off for another half hour so they take their time, taking a brief stop at the corner store to get his mom some peach rings. Dinner’s been touch and go this past week with her morning sickness, so something sweet is usually a safe option if she finds her meal intolerable.

“You mad at me?” Kevin blurts out. He can’t stand the silence and Kennedy has been uncharacteristically so since he picked her up.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

He shrugs, “You just seem out of it.”

“Got a lot on my mind,” she murmurs. "Anyways! Have you thought more on what you're going to do after graduation?"

Kevin takes the shift in conversation as the distraction that it is. He chuckles at her, "We got like two years until we graduate. You know that, right?"

"Less than two years, actually. And it's never too early to think about long-term plans."

"Well, you already know my long-term plans. Until then, the focus is getting this money up to help out my fam."

Kevin had been decided on joining the police force for a while now. His mind hadn't wavered on that front, his purpose found in serving his community in the best way he knew how. To make it feel safe. To provide a haven for a neighborhood that he felt comfortable letting his younger brother and soon to come sibling roam around without impending danger. In the mean time, he could devote himself to his family, picking up whatever gigs strapped him enough cash that kept his father home more and his mother less stressed.

Kennedy nods, biting the inside of her cheek. "How does your mom feel about you becoming a cop?"

"I mean, she def has her worries, but overall she's supportive."

"Good," she says, before further adding, "I worry, too."

Kev looks over at her, grasping her hand in his across the gear shift.

"We gonna be alright," he promises.

"You better be."

"Besides, who else is gonna show up with flowers, acting a fool in the first row when you close opening night with a killer ass solo?"

Kennedy giggles as he reaches out, tugging a curly lock of her hair.

"You know it! It's why I'm working so hard to become more visible. If I can get a major part in the spring showcase next semester, it'd really help with scouts from conservatories to see what all I'm all about."

"Yeah, you're gonna land up at some big name like Julliard and forget all about the little people."

Kennedy glowers. "Absolutely not! I'm not leaving Chicago. Maybe for some touring, but the Windy City is home."

"I'm just saying, Ken… I've seen you dance. That shit is out of this world. You're gonna be turning down offers at the end of the day."

Now parked outside his mom's job parking lot, he leans over to kiss Kennedy. His little brother in the backseat has other plans, though. Just before their lips meet, a toy block hits him square in the jaw.

"Aye! You s'posed to be my wing man!" Kevin yells towards the backseat.

Giggling, Kennedy takes off her seatbelt and crawls to the backseat. Their mom will be out shortly and she always minds her manners, allowing the pregnant woman to take the front passenger seat. Besides, she enjoys the face time she gets with her second favorite Atwater.

"Hi, cutie pie!" She purrs as she pinches one of his chubby cheeks.

At eighteen months old, Jordan was inching slowly but surely into the toddler stage. He was in that exploratory era where he was getting into anything his two feet could take him. A lot of his conversation was still baby babble, but he recognized familiar faces and graced them with their own nicknames.

Kennedy had been christened "KenKen."

"Ken" had been a frequent nickname, even by acquaintances and classmates, so the extra "Ken" made her feel special.

He lights up as she plays with him, his arms reaching far, even behind the secure hold of his seat belt.

"I'm your favorite, aren't I? Yes I am!"

Kevin rolled his eyes at her babbly baby talk.

"You staying for dinner, right?"

Kennedy shrugs. "Might as well."

A few minutes later, Gloria Atwater is walking out her job at the call center. She plods to the car like her feet hurt and they probably do with the old, battered sneakers she's had for who knows how long. Her frame slumps as she settles into the car, and even still, the smile on her face is effervescent as she greets her boys.

"Hi, my sweeties!" She greets. She grabs Kevin's face in her two hands, planting a warm kiss on his cheek. She looks to the back and tickles Jordan's belly, eliciting shrieking laughter from the young boy.

Once she has her own seat belt on is when Kevin finally cranks the car back up.

"Miss Kennedy!" She looks back to her as Kevin reverses the Oldsmobile. "Who's popping on the charts this week? I gotta go CD shopping this weekend."

It's the same questions she always asks. The two had bonded on the first afternoon Kevin had brought her home because Kennedy had burned the new Beyonce album through LiveWire on the household's computer.

Gloria had come home to "Baby Boy" blaring in the living room and they were instant friends from the moment the woman made Kennedy teach her the basics of belly-dancing.

"Snow Patrol's new project has been making waves."

"Who is that? A rapper?"

Kennedy chuckles. "No, they're a rock band. The album's good, but kind of depressing. They're all break up songs."

"Ahhh, fooey," she dismisses. "I need some heavy hitters. Something more happy! The only sad singers I listen to are Whitney and Celine."

"It'd be nice if you actually let Whitney and Celine sing. You be sounding like a dying cat tryin' to hit those notes," Kevin intercepts.

Gloria playfully jabs at his arm. "Boy! My vocals are blessed."

"By who?? Surely, not the man upstairs."

The trio breaks out into laughter altogether with even little Jordan joining in, clapping his hands with excitement.

It's late enough in the evening that they eat dinner right when they get home. Lew, Kevin's dad, was already home, only because he needed time for a quick nap before heading out on the road for work. Everyone ate at the table together and when it was over with, Kennedy washed the dishes so that Gloria could rest.

Kevin frowns when he walks into the kitchen.

"You ain't have to do that. I was gonna handle it."

Kennedy shrugs.

"You were focused on helping get Jordan to bed. Figured I could be productive."

Though not completely satisfied, he lets it go. He grabs the plastic bag labeled Malone's and holds it up.

"Wanna go have dessert?"

Kennedy squeals in excitement, breaking out into her happy dance. She reaches to grab the bag before Kevin raises it up above her arm reach.

"Greedy ass," he mutters as he leads the way outside.

She pushes him despite the amused chortle that falls out of her mouth. "I'm bout tired of you calling me out my name! You act like you ain't about to hog that entire slice, guppy lips."

"I ain't got no other choice if I want to have a bite."

Once outside, they settle on the back steps that lead out into the backyard. It's a paltry, narrow space with its brown fences pressed up against the neighbor's fences on both sides. The grass is getting taller and Kevin scolds himself, making a mental note to mow the lawn by the end of the week.

Instead of releasing the plastic container that holds the strawberry cake, Kevin feeds Kennedy bites, taking turns in between to taste some of the moist dessert for himself. It's not his favorite flavor, that would be red velvet, but any cake made by Bertha Malone, is the best sweet confection that would ever land on your lips.

Once they demolish the cake slice and Kennedy licks the remaining swipe of frosting, the two settle in closer together. Kennedy leans her head on his well-muscled arm.

"You doing anything this weekend?" He asks, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together.

She shakes her head, looking up at the stars. "I got homework to catch upon."

"You ain't even doing nothing with the girls?"

"Jahlecia got a new boo," she rolls her eyes. "You know she don't be paying me and Zip no mind when she in love."

"I thought she just broke up with ole dude from Washington Park," Kevin chortles.

"They broke up in July." Kennedy looks up at Kev's confused expression. July was only last month and it's only midway into August. "She don't care about no cool off period. It's onto the next soon as she kick the old one to the curb. Anyway, this guy's from Oakland. Lives over on 35th."

"He white?"

"You know of any white people from Oakland? Be for real…"

Kevin snorts. "Shit, you never know. I can't clock her tastes. The dude before Dustin was Salvadorian. And the dude before that was Nigerian. Her whole roster a United Nations meeting."

Kennedy giggles, shoving his arm and sitting back up.

"Leave my friend alone!"

Silence settles between them with the lingering notes of summer present in the cicadas chirping. If they look real close, there's even one or two fireflies hanging around and lighting their way through the Chicago night air. Kevin thinks twice about breaking the peacefulness, but ultimately decides to re-question her anyway.

"You gonna tell me what had you quiet when I picked you up from rehearsal?"

Kennedy sighs, takes her time to reply. So much pause dawdles where anyone else might think she's simply not going to answer. Kevin knows better. Knows when to push and when to pull back. Sometimes, she has to sit with the inner reccesses of her thoughts, clutching them one last time before she allows them to spill from her mind.

"It's just so brutal sometimes," she starts off. "I love it. Everything melts away when I'm dancing. I want to do it for the rest of my life. But then every single criticism and jab leaks in and sucks all the fun out of it."

"Nothing worth having comes easy, Ken. People probably hard on you because of how good you are."

It's a statement that comes with truth, but also unawareness. Kevin doesn't know how cruel her dance instructors or even her dance classmates can be. The inappropriate comments about her body. The vicious taunts when she's even off-balance by less than an inch. The callousness with every word that leaves her feeling like she doesn't belong. She knows it's not personal because that's what the culture of dance is. Her own mother, a performing arts director abroad, lacks tact and nurturance when it comes to criticism.

Kennedy pushes through it because she has no choice. She needs dance like she needs air. But a part of her wonders in fear if she'll lose her passion as the stress of such pressures builds and builds.

"Maybe so," she remarks.

He crooks his fingers, indicating for her to come closer. She lifts off the stoop and settles in his lap, his arms holding her in place. She leans against his chest, taking slow, comforting breaths.

This place. His embrace. It's the only place that rivals the stage. The only place she's felt safe as of late.

The thought of such makes her turn her head and kiss him like he's wanted her to all afternoon.

His hand finds her jaw, holding her there as the world stands still. He crushes her to him, and she lets him, her own arms sinking around his frame.

Oxygen is the only thing that finally separates them and even then, Kevin reclaims her lips once more before they finally part once again.

He looks at her with marvel, the stars behind her providing the perfect backlight framing her face.

"You and me?" He says.

Her reply, "Always and forever."

2014

Kevin's stressed. Not as stressed as he imagines Antonio to be given his son was kidnapped at the hands of a notoriously brutal Colombian drug lord. But his mind is still incredibly frayed. Him and Kim have been on high alert, listening on the radio for suspicious activity and awaiting instruction from the Intelligence unit.

That was on top of his usual patrol duties, along with making sure his aunt was able to pick up Jordan from hockey practice and that Vinessa had the supplies she needed for her school project they were supposed to work on tonight. He's also got to make sure his police blues are ironed and pressed for Willhite's funeral, a sure to be sorrowful event that Platt had notified everyone of earlier.

This all swirls in his mind as he sits behind the wheel of this patrol car that smells like ass. They're not far from the bus terminal that Intelligence was able to track down as the kidnapper's probable exit strategy. The plan is put together loosely and swiftly, threatening to fall apart at any unforeseen scenario that could end up with a young boy losing his life.

He doesn't know Antonio well, but he doesn't have to. To lose your child is an unimaginable loss to even conceive. Kevin's nerves rattle with frenzy as he forces his mind not to go there. The Intelligence crew is one of the best units in the city. If there's any one who can reunite father and son together, it's them.

Kim sits besides him in the passenger seat and when he glances over, he recognizes the laser sharp determination in her frame. She sits ramrod straight with her hand resting on her radio, primed and ready to hit the ground on further instruction.

She's just as hungry as he is. Tenacity and passion underlie her drive and that's exactly why he can't ask for a better partner.

Their patrol car sits clandestine in a spot swarmed by bushes and automotive repair equipment. They're situated near the back where buses come to get repaired, but in an open enough position that they can take off with a moment's notice if shit goes left. The only nuisance is the spotty reception with radio interference coming across the waves once or twice since they've been parked here.

It's why they both turn up their personal radios as well, not wanting to potentially miss an important piece of communication.

The radio in the car hums with a low buzz of staticky interference as it floats between the police line and a local arts station.

Famed dancer… returns home to Chicago after her most recent tour… put down roots… direction remains unknown.

Kim's radio sounds off briefly with intel about Diego being spotted boarding a bus with his kidnapper. Kevin shuts off the car's radio, leaning closer to Kim's radio as they listen to the improvised plans Ruzek and Olinsky make up on the spot now that they know that Lindsay's on board too.

The static cuts in and out, a whisper of chaos beneath the calm. Kevin's jaw tightens as he listens to the plan unraveling in real time.

There’s no time to think about the past. Not when a kid’s life is on the line.

By the time they reach the scene, it’s already shifting from chaos to cleanup. Antonio’s got Diego in his arms, the boy clinging to him, small and shaken but alive. Antonio stumbles as he embraces his son, not even trying to hide the tears.

Kim exhales beside Kevin, shaky, the kind of breath you only let go of when you’ve been holding it for hours.

Kevin doesn’t speak. He just watches as Diego wraps his arms around his father’s neck and buries his face there, safe again.

The ride home is quiet.

Antonio sits in the back, one arm draped protectively around his son, the other hand clutching the boy’s backpack like it might disappear if he lets go.

It's well into the night when they drop Antonio and Diego off back at their home. They bask in the relief that fills the air as Diego reunites with his mom, sister, and aunt.

Kevin and Kim smile, allowing themselves only a moment of invading the intimate reunion before driving off.

By the time Kevin gets home, the adrenaline’s worn off, leaving only fatigue, raw and heavy in his bones. He approaches the front gate of the house, keys in hand, ready to shut the world out for the night.

Still, he'll have to evade sleep for maybe another hour or two to make sure Jordan and Vinessa are tucked in for the night, prepared for another school day.

As he nears his front steps, his walk falters. Because his world has just became off-kilter.

He sees her.

Kennedy.