first meetings

Spoilers: Beginning of series 3

***

He was four when they first met. Neither of them remembers; how could they? But his mother fondly recalls the summer they spent in Wisconsin when her sister lived there, and the little blonde girl down the road whom her son took such a shine to.

The two weeks when he spent as much time as he could with his new friend - going to the park, playing at her house, watching TV, making cookies, playing make-believe games - were his happiest days that summer. His mom recalls how upset he was that he had to leave, and the friendly kiss he gave his best friend on her cheek the day they left and promised to stay friends forever.

She doesn't recall the girl's name, but it doesn't stop her from teasing her son about the first girlfriend he ever had.

***

He vaguely remembers their second meeting. At least, he remembers the party he went to when he was 18 and visited his best friend from high school.

He particularly remembers it because it was the time he met the first girl he slept with. However, he also recollects the attractive blonde girl who confidently and amusedly rebuffed a number of drunken advances from unfortunate guys. Almost entranced, he couldn't keep his eyes off her all night and felt practically victorious as she glanced back in his direction and smiled. He found himself smiling back and for a moment there was something between them. That is, until her boyfriend turned up and gained her full attention.

Later, he thought he caught her looking back at him, but he was too preoccupied with his new female friend to pay much attention.

***

He doesn't remember the third time they met. Neither does she. It was several years and several girlfriends later. Perhaps they'd have better recollection if they'd had a couple less drinks each.

But he was hurting since the discovery that his latest girlfriend had been cheating on him - and had dumped him in favour of the other guy - and she was depressed over the breakdown of her marriage.

They met in a bar. He was drunk before she even turned up, and it was only after she had drunk enough to obliterate all memory that she noticed him sitting at the bar alone and decided to talk to him. There was a definite connection between them but he was angry and hurt, and wanted retribution.

They found their way back to his apartment and drunkenly fucked that night.

She left before he woke up, immensely hung-over and with only vague pockets of remembrance of the previous night.

With time, the evening's events are put together in a coherent timeline, but he doesn't ever remember who she was.

***

The next time they meet is the week before he's due to start his new job at the New York division of the FBI.

All of his stuff having arrived from Seattle, he spends the morning unpacking and later takes a break and goes to a coffee bar near his new apartment.

He notices her as soon as she enters; outwardly confident, self-assured, she doesn't pay attention to anyone as she makes her way to the line at the counter. He likes that.

He stands at the side of her, in the next line, deciding which coffee to buy. She knows exactly what she wants, and waits impatiently, and when they get to the front of the line, they both order at the same time.

They collect their orders, and she rapidly exits; he slowly strolls out, wanting to prolong his return to unpacking. She is there as he exits; she talks on a cell phone and sounds irritated. Hanging up, she mutters to herself, sips at her coffee, and is immediately annoyed.

"Couldn't even get the right fucking order," she comments, more to herself than to anyone in particular. "Who the hell drinks this orange mochaccino crap?"

He takes the lid off his cup. "Any chance you wanted a cappuccino?" he asks.

She notices him finally. "Yeah," she says warily.

"I think they swapped the orders." He hands her the cup. "I think this is yours."

"Oh, right. Thanks. You want..." she offers him her cup.

"The orange mochaccino crap?" he finishes with a half-smile. He accepts the cup.

"I didn't mean... Whatever."

"I was experimenting," he assures her. He samples the coffee, a moue of distaste creeps up on features. "I think I'll stick to the regular stuff in future." He throws the remainder in a trash can.

She smirks, amused. He looks at her, smiles. He thinks there's something familiar about her, but dismisses the thought.

"I'd better get back to work," she says eventually. Reluctantly?

"I should go unpack all my many boxes," he comments. "If I can remember where I live."

"You're new in town?" she asks. He nods. "Maybe I'll see you around."

He grins. "Maybe."

She smiles, and turns to leave. He watches her as she walks off, and notes with amusement and interest the way she glances back at him from half-way down the street.

It's later that he decides he should have asked for her number.

***

Their first official meeting is at the office. He remembers having met her earlier in the week, and is both surprised and pleased that he has the opportunity to meet her again, but he doesn't comment on it. He's not sure that she remembers. After his first case, he's not sure that he'd want her to remember him. He's an inexperienced newbie fuck-up and he doesn't find that appealing. He doesn't think that she'll ever want to know him as anything other than a colleague.

It takes a while before he can re-assess this decision.

***

It's not the first time they've met, not the first time they've kissed, not the first time they've known each other intimately. And in some ways it feels new; in other ways it feels familiar. He feels nervous and unsure; until she makes the first move and kisses him after the cab drives away. He knows that it feels right; as though this is how it should have been from the start, and he's increasingly aware of these thoughts as he acquaints himself with her body for what he thinks is the first time.

He doesn't remember the first time they met. He doesn't remember trading smiles with her across a room at a party; doesn't remember feeling angry in a bar.

It's not the first time he's had her intimately, but he doesn't remember that.

He remembers coffee, and meeting her for the first time as a colleague. He remembers late nights, and difficult cases. He remembers when she got shot; her comfort when he was upset about his aunt. He knows their friendship has developed into something else over time.

He doesn't know that some of the fond memories of the past are also linked to her. One day they'll figure it out, but it won't be so important.

Finally, he's found what he's been looking for, and it's so much the better for being able to share it with her. It may not be their first time, but it's certainly not the last.


***

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