Title: Whirlpool
Fandom:West Wing
Characters: Will/Kate
Rating:PG
Word count:647

Notes: 15_minute_fic word #13.

She cups her hands at the kitchen sink, lets the water rise up and bubble, foaming over the top and splattering down on the stainless steel, whirlpooling down the plughole and gone forever. A couple of droplets spray up, catching her dress and she swears softly, because silk and water do not mix. Then she wonders why she thought splashing her face with water would be a good idea, because make-up and water mix aren’t that good a mix either.

Reaching out, she pushes down the tap and the water stops abruptly, leaving only silence in the apartment.

Apart from two people breathing, and that’s why she’d put the water on.

“You ok?”

Will’s voice is soft, laced with concern, and all the way across the room, one third of the way to safety.

“I’m fine,” Kate replies, and she knows she’s using her Sit Room voice, but she can’t help herself.

She hopes he’s going to let her away with that, but she knows that he won’t. “You sure about that?”

She grips the sink, shakes her head, curls cascading from side to side. “I don’t know,” she breathes, and she’s surprised to find she feels better with the admission. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You’re the one who came here tonight,” he reminds her. “You found me. Why?”

Why had she come all the way across town in the middle of a blizzard, silk dress hiked up as she tried to hail a cab, coat doing nothing to keep out the chill?

Why had she left an Inaugural Ball, several men who were clearly interested in her, to come here? To a man who was moving to Oregon in a week?

“Because I missed you,” she admits. “I wanted to see you.”

“Which explains why you’re not looking at me.”

The words are said with wry humour, and when she spins to face him, she’s not a bit surprised to see a crooked smirk across his lips. “What are we doing Will?” she asks him. “You’re moving to Oregon. I don’t know what I’m doing. I sure as hell don’t know what we’re doing… why I came here…” She rubs the bridge of her nose with her fingers, looks down. “All I know is that the last few times I did this, I got my ass kicked… I don’t want that to happen again.”

She’s not looking up, hears his footsteps approaching her, feels his warm hands through the silk of her gown. “Kate…” he says, then there’s a long pause before he continues. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in Oregon… I don’t know what’s happening between us either. I just know that I want to try… whatever that means. What do you want?”

The million dollar question, but she doesn’t have the million dollar answer.

“I don’t know.”

His hands drop and he takes a step back, and she misses the warmth more than she would have thought possible. “I know you’ve been hurt,” he tells her. “I know what you’ve told me… and I know there’s plenty you haven’t told me. But Kate… it doesn’t have to be that way.”

She looks up at him, meets his gaze, and she sees belief there, pure and unadulterated, and it’s almost enough to make her believe. “How do you know it’ll be different for us?”

He shrugs, smiles. “I have faith. The substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.”

“I never was much for faith.”

He must sense she’s wavering, because he steps forwards, takes her hands. “Then borrow some of mine.”

His hands are warm, and maybe that’s why a rush of heat whirlpools through her body, strong enough to make her unsteady on her feet. She doesn’t – can’t – say anything, just steadies herself by stepping forward and wraps her arms around his neck.