She was standing there talking to her new acquaintance, Molly, outside of 221B Baker Street, discussing their mutual friend Sherlock and wondering if the human hand on the sidewalk was somehow of his doing when Chelsea saw Kates approach. Stunned silent for a moment, she excused herself from Molly and moved down the sidewalk to greet her, but she stopped well short of her, much shorter than she would have if the circumstances were normal.

Because they weren't normal. Not even close to that. The last time Chelsea had seen either Kates, or Keats, her employer, was over a week ago, and the night had ended in flames, literally. 

And then there were the murders she'd committed. Bare-handed, right in front of them. Chelsea honestly never expected to see either again, certainly not Kates. It was a regret that she had made herself learn to live with, but here she was, standing here on the sidewalk and not looking at Chelsea with hate, fear, repulsion, or even judgement in her eyes.

"Kates. It's... a pleasure seeing you again. Really," she said, offering a smile. "What brings you here? Is everything okay? Is Keats-" She stopped there, and her mind went back a week, this time more carefully. She'd done what she'd done, there was no way around it, even if it wasn't something she remembered. Fire, she remembered that, sure. The thugs that enjoyed hanging around the bookstore and hassling Keats. She remembered that, too. What she didn't remember was what happened from that point up until she awoke back at her hotel, her blouse covered with blood and her knuckles slightly bruised and swollen. She'd pieced together enough of it from the papers to connect the dots, and had assumed the K's had gotten through the evening unscathed, despite what the fire had managed to accompish, or what either may have seen her do. She never thought about any further repercussions until now. Had there been more of the thugs? Were cops leaning on Keats for answers? She'd left a mess back there.

"I feel like I owe you an apology. I don't... I don't know what you saw, exactly. I'm sure it was bad," she said, dropping her gaze as she shoved her hands into her pockets. What she didn't say, was that she'd do it again, let it happen again, if it meant protecting what was hers. 

The K's were not hers, though, neither of them. And she needed to remember that.

For the first night after the attack, Kates had barely slept. Eventually, at 1 AM, she went into Tibbs' room. Just having the cat there made her feel a little more comfortable, but she still lay sleeplessly for half an hour before her breathing slowed and she drifted off to sleep. Keats had made a wisecrack in the morning about a policy against employees sleeping together, but it was clear that both Keats and Kates were rattled by what had happened. The physical damage to the place was minimal; it'd only take a week or so and the bookstore would be ready to open. But both of them seemed just as bothered about what had happened with Chelsea; Kates had explained that she'd dispatched the two thugs and then just... run off. 

They both assumed that Chelsea had run to avoid the cops. It made sense. But as the hours and days began piling up, Kates couldn't understand why Chelsea didn't call. Was she okay? With the bookstore not opening yet, she had a few days to look for her friend, and so she resolved to do it. She explained her plan to Keats, who seemed skeptical, but wasn't about to look his employee in her room, either. For better or worse, she was eighteen and he respected Kates' right to make her own decision. It didn't hurt that he was concerned about Chelsea as well.

Fortunately, Kates didn't have to go far. She was able to learn about 221B Baker Street by asking about the only other friend that Chelsea had ever mentioned: a certain 'Sherlock'. Kates was nervous when she saw Chelsea on the sidewalk, but approached her regardless, relaxing at the sight of Chelsea's smile.

"Oh... you don't need to apologize. Keats is fine... is there... a place we could talk in private?"

"Yeah, sure, sure. Are you hungry? I mean, there's a sandwich place just right here," she said, gesturing at the little sandwich place next to 221. It had some tables she could see through the front windows, but she wasn't sure about the privacy. Taking a chance, she pulled the handle on the door and held it open for Kates, then followed her though it.

It was fairly busy inside, but not overly so. Neither woman was particularly hungry, so they each just ordered a soda and bag of chips, then seated themselves at a table tucked as far from the ordering counter and door as possible, with Chelsea facing all the egress and ingress. They popped their bags open and sipped at their drinks as they studied each other across the table. No one was paying them much mind, which, combined with the ambient noise, made it the ideal place for privacy. 

Chelsea watched Kates trying to decide what she was going to say, or maybe it was how she was going to say it. Or ask? It was obviously important to her, so it made sense to give her her undivided attention. That wasn't difficult to do anyway, because from the first moment that Chelsea had laid eyes on Kates, during that one moment of raw exposure, it had proven nearly impossible to not want to give her that undivided attention. She'd caught herself thinking about that moment, over and over, Kates' face superimposed on top of what her body had been going through. 

Was that all it was? Right place, right time? She was blushing herself, now, and it wasn't the memory of sex on the stairs with Kates  looking down at her. It was the lingering need to know why she couldn't get her out of her mind at all.

"So you wanted to talk about something?"

Kates was wearing her best outfit, the one that she'd worn out on the night she'd first become friends with Chelsea. Her dress was a dark grey, with black lines on the collar, the wrists, and the hem. Her favorite part of the outfit, however, was still the boots: they were black leather, heeled, and reached her knees. With the dress falling to her mid-thigh, it made for a striking combination. She'd remembered how Chelsea had complimented her, and it was no accident that she was wearing it again today. 

They quickly grabbed drinks and chips and sat in the corner together. 

Kates smiled as best she could, looking up at Chelsea. They were both quiet for a while.

"I was worried about you. You just sort of disappeared after saving Mister Keats and me. And Chelsea... I mean, I admit I was scared. I really don't like violence and I saw enough of it in Vegas, and it was really scary to see you just chase after those men like that... but Chelsea, you were amazing. Who knows what those men would have done if you weren't there."

She nodded earnestly.

"And I just realized that I'm afraid. A lot. And maybe I should buy a gun. Or a knife. So I could protect myself, be more like you and do what you did- but I was also wondering why you never called us, either."

The last part had slipped out in her excitement.

"You don't have to answer that, of course."

Chelsea's eyebrows shot up in surprise. This wasn't the anticipated reaction at all. After a moment of silence to process this turn of events, she tried to explain.

"There's... there's something in me, Kates. I'm not sure I know what it is. What SHE is. She is separate from me. When she's around, I'm not. I can't control when she comes out to... play. It's usually only during two types of situations, though, and you've now seen them both," she said, her eyes moving away. She was going to finish this, though. She had nothing to lose that she hadn't thought was already lost.

"She's not good. She's not bad, either. She's just... well, protective. Possessive. And sexual," she said, daring to glance up at Kates.

Who, of course, was blushing like crazy.

"You are so beautiful when you blush like that." Whoops. Trying to play if off, she grabbed a chip.

"I could teach you self defense, if you want. If you wanted to learn how to use a weapon, I could teach you that too, although I'm personally more adept with knives than handguns. I don't want trouble with Keats, you understand. We'd have to do this with his approval. He cares about you an awful lot." But so do I. Leaning forward across the table, she lowered her voice.

"I will never hurt you. She won't, either. But she's a monster, and that's why I disappeared on you two. People are frightened of monsters."

Kates mouth dropped open in confusion- and it stayed open as ChelseaUccello continued to speak. She tried to process everything, but between the revelation and the compliments and the offers to help she was speechless. Kates stared at Chelsea for a long time.

"I..."

She blinked, and Chelsea waited as another minute went by. Chelsea could see Kates battling to make sense of things and, not for the first time, realized that there was a prodigious thinker behind those grey eyes. 

"Starting with more... wordly things. Yes I think I need to know self defense, and I don't think Mister Keats would mind at all."

With that bit settled, Kates tried to move on to the other things; she was silent as she finished her chips, seemingly asking with her eyes for time to think. Chelsea granted it to her. When the questions did finally bubble to the surface, Kate leaned forward with an intense curiosity.

"Okay. Okay."

She reached out her hands and took one of Chelsea's hands between them. Kates' hands were smooth and soft: with the exception of a couple months of nursing, the hardest work they'd ever had to do had been flipping through pages of books, and it showed.

"Chelsea, you're my friend. And I'm going to try to help you here, okay."

Kates looked intently across the table.

"Tell me... how did all this happen? Where did this monster come from? Is it a-?"

She mouthed the word "demon", as if she didn't want to offend Chelsea. Her voice and expression seemed to convey that she was very engaged with Chelsea; internally, her mind was racing with possibilities, explanations, and ideas.

It was hard to concentrate now on anything coming out of Kates' mouth. The hands encasing hers hadn't left, and the feel of them made listening to words very difficult. The mouthed word 'demon' brought her back down to earth, however.

"I don't know where it came from. One day, it just was." She really didn't want to divulge the things she'd been told, or read about. She'd killed a woman in spectacular fashion, that first time, and had apparently... no. Don't go back there, she told herself.

"Something bad triggered it. Something bad triggers it now. And something good, sometimes," she said. 'I've met someone who has offered to help me... get rid of her, control her, whatever I want. He's also offered to wipe my memory of my ex-husband," she smirked. "I don't know about the first part, though. As I said, she's not... bad. I don't know if I want her gone. She's the most effective self-defense one could have," she said honestly, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. "I don't know that controlling her is the best idea, either... she's actually a clearer thinker, when it comes right down to it. She doesn't make mistakes, or second-guess. She is unfettered by normal human error." Here she was, discussing so casually an entity that possessed her, and Kates wasn't bothered by it. In fact, she was holding its hand. By rights, that made her the more fascinating one at this table. 

"So. That being said, I'm not sure how you could help me, exactly. Although the offer means a lot to me," she added, giving Kates' hands a squeeze. 

Kates kept her eyes locked on Chelsea's, curious about signs of any changes she'd see. 

As far as she could tell, there were a few possibilities here, and she threw herself into her analysis.

Drugs or psychosis were, by far, the two most likely scenarios here.

Perhaps Chelsea was a trained killer who found solace in drugs- perhaps hallucinogenic ones or ones that enhanced the senses. Something connected to adrenaline, surely, if she tended to 'activate' during violence or sex. 

Or perhaps she'd developed some sort of psychosis not uncommon to victims of violence: a way to cast some "Other" as responsible for the horrible things she did- even when they were justified.

"Does this 'her' have a name?"

She squeezed Chelsea's hand gently.

"No," said Chelsea, "I just always called her the Other."

"Always" and the length of time with the "Other" that Chelsea was referring to... it seemed to suggest psychosis over drugs. Perhaps a childhood trauma?

Kates wasn't going to push. If she was going to help Chelsea, it would have to be over a longer period of time where she learned more. Still, Kates wasn't about to abandon one of the two people left alive who seemed to care about her- especially Chelsea, who seemed so protective of her. Maybe she was the one who needed the protection, really.

"Come back and stay with us. You can stay with Tibbs. And you can show me how to protect yourself."

She paused, clarifying.

"Because you'd never just hurt an innocent person, right? No, you wouldn't. I know you. But yea... you don't have to, of course. But will you think about coming back?"

Their hands were still clasped, and an invitation to stay with the woman touching her was doing things to her. Her chest tightened at the thought, and then her eyes widened as she finally came to the obvious conclusion that she was attracted to Kates. It wasn't curiosity. It wasn't fascination. After Keats, there had been a couple opportunities with attractive, interesting men, but she'd detoured around them.

She could now understand why. Finally admit it, at least to herself. She wanted Kates. And not just for a romp, either. She wanted her like she'd wanted only one before. 

And look how that had ended.

"I- I'm actually here in this neighborhood looking at this apartment next door. But as you know, I'd be walking distance to the bookstore. I'm happy to meet with you regularly, teach you what I know," she said, and she couldn't help it, her thumb needed to brush over Kates' finger, so she let it. 

"I'm not broken. I promise. Nor am I crazy, which I'm sure has crossed your mind. I'm not a harm to myself. Can't say the same about others, but, yeah. You've seen my work," she smirked. "So let's make a da- a plan. Whatever you wish to learn first, we'll do that."

Kates grinned at Chelsea, half-teasing, not admitting her true thoughts.

"People telling you they aren't crazy... definitely a reliable source."

Smiling, she squeezed Chelsea's hand a final time and stood from the table.

"Well good, it's settled then. I'll try to help you with your... everything. And you can help teach me how to not just run and hide behind things. And I'll start wherever you'd like. Guns are... intimidating. But I think I have a better shot with a gun than actually, you know, hurting someone up close. I assume it's at least a little bit easier..."

"You would think that. You'd be surprised how difficult it can be to pull the trigger, when it comes right down to it. No room for error, or hesitation. But yes, we can start there, if you'd like," she said, getting up herself and walking Kates to the door. She reached inside her purse for a card with a number on it. 

"Not a personal line, I'll get that to you when I have one. And you see where I live. Well, probably will live. Still need to get to that. Let me know when you'd like to meet up, and we'll get to work," she smiled.