Written by Beth

"There's rosemary; that's for remembrance," Munch said under his breath.

"What?" Kay asked, and Munch had to smile at the all-too- familiar look on her face. What in hell are you *talking* about? it said.

He gestured at the herbs neatly laid out in the stall before them. "*Hamlet.* When Ophelia goes mad after the death of her father, she hands out flowers and herbs that signify her grief. Rosemary stood for remembrance."

Kay stared at the rosemary. "Okay, but why mention it now?"

Munch shrugged. "Who knows what causes the mind to fire one way or another?" he asked. "I think I see an open table over there."

They walked across the farmer's market then sat down.

"How long do you have?" Munch asked.

Kay consulted her watch. "An hour, give or take," she said, then looked curiously around at the various food stands. "So, is this the homicide unit's new hangout?" Her face was wry.

"Not exactly," Munch said. "I come here to read sometimes."

"The farmers sell porno mags?" Kay looked around with wide eyes, mugged a bit.

Munch raised eyebrows at her, then watched until she laughed. Her whole face lit up when she was amused.

"So . . . food," he finally said. "I'm buying, okay?"

"Fine with me," Kay said.

"How about something from the Indian place over there?" John suggested. "Hands down the best curry in town."

Kay looked vaguely pained. "I . . . How about a sandwich or something?"

"Your wish is my command," Munch said, grinning a little. He'd forgotten that Kay wasn't exactly adventurous when it came to lunch. "Turkey on wheat, right?"

Kay raised her hands in amazement. "Get outta here!"

"Hey--I remember the favorite sandwiches of all the women in my life," Munch gravely told her. "Point of honor."

"And here I was thinking there were no gentlemen left," Kay said as he walked away.


"Catch any fugitives yet?" Munch asked as he watched Kay wolf down her sandwich. It was a real pleasure to see a woman who wasn't afraid to be voracious.

Kay took a swig of orange juice.

"Oh yeah," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Tons."

Munch smiled. "Really, though. How is it down there?"

Kay looked away, something she tended to do when trying to figure out exactly what to say, Munch had noticed.

"It's different," she at last said. "A lot less depressing, a lot more boring. All in all, there are far worse places to be."

He nodded. "And the people?"

Kay shrugged. "Haven't had any problems."

"You'd hardly recognize homicide right now," Munch said. "Lots of new blood."

"Yeah, well it's that way everywhere now, isn't it?" Kay said matter-of-factly, picking up her orange juice bottle and beginning to peel off the label. "I've heard a few things about someone from Seattle, I think."

"Laura Ballard," Munch said, then sighed. "She's--well, I suppose she's a good enough cop, but get this: there are flowers on Frank's desk now."

Kay smiled broadly. "Oh, he's going to love that," she said. "Half of me wants to come back just to see the look on his face when he finds them."

"Are you?" Munch asked.

"Am I what?"

"Coming back," he said impatiently. "We could really stand to have you, Kay."

Kay shifted in her chair. "That's, well . . . I don't know."

Munch leaned forward, spoke with great urgency. "Kay, that whole Felton thing was--none of us was thinking right, okay? Gee included. And I--it would be a huge shame if you were to go away because of--"

"That's not it," Kay quickly interrupted, then rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well, that's not all of it. I just-- things change, you know? Maybe it'd be good to do something else for a while."

"You are a murder police," Munch firmly said. "And a great one, too. It's where you belong, Kay."

Kay pushed away her half-eaten sandwich, then leaned back in her chair and started twisting her hair into a bun. Munch watched, fascinated, as she somehow got it to stay in place without so much as a hairpin. It seemed like forever since he'd seen her do that.

"People change, John," she said once her hair was up. "And anyway, by the end of my days in homicide, I was getting pretty damn frustrated. I wasn't even going out on cases, anymore--did you notice that? Hmm?"

John slowly nodded. Why had they let that happen? What had Gee been thinking?

"Hell--once I made sergeant, seems like the only reason I was around was to do research and take messages for other people." Kay shook her head in disgust. "That and try to get Meldrick Lewis to do his damn job."

"Hey, far better men than you have failed at that," Munch said, feeling uncomfortable.

Kay gave a short laugh, then looked straight at him. "In fugitive, I go out every day if I want."

"Yeah, but in fugitive, you're not doing God's work," Munch returned, and Kay grimaced.

"I'm okay with that," she said. "I think I was getting a little sick of running around for God."

She really wasn't kidding, not even a little bit. Munch sighed.


"So what about you?" Kay asked as she crumpled up the paper her sandwich had been wrapped in. "You still happy in homicide?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "I show up, I drive around, I do paperwork, I go home. It's a job."

Kay frowned. "Talk about being a fine detective . . . You've done some pretty damn good work yourself, you know?"

Munch made a noise of disgust.

"I mean it," Kay said. "When you care about a case, there's no one better. Really, John."

"Yeah, well, motivation's not exactly growing on trees these days," Munch said. "Particularly when my favorite people keep leaving the department."

"It's not like we're never gonna see each other again, you know?" Kay softly said.

"Okay, then, consider this: you've been in fugitive for, what, two months, right?"

Kay nodded.

"How many times have we spoken since then, Kay? How many?"

She reddened a little. "So, we'd have to make a point of it. We could do that."

Munch raised eyebrows. "You'd be up for that?"

Kay looked blankly at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He didn't even want to touch that one. "Okay, then. Why don't we set something up now?" Munch reached inside his jacket for his date book, then froze when he saw the look on Kay's face.

"Uh, how 'bout I just call you?" she softly said.

"What--I said something wrong? I've offended you?"

"No! No." Kay looked earnestly at him. "It's just . . . Seeing you brings back an awful lot of memories, you know? Good and bad."

She looked off into the distance for a moment.

"And I can't be thinking about homicide all the time if I'm going to do a good job in fugitive."

Munch couldn't speak.

"It's not personal, John. It's not that at all. I just-- Look: leaving the murder police is not an easy thing to do, okay?"

For the first time that afternoon, Kay looked awkward, and a little sad.

"You can understand that, right?"

Munch took a deep breath, pulled himself together. "Yeah," he finally said. "I understand. But listen: if you don't call me in a few months, I'm going to march down there, drag you out to lunch, and force-feed you, all right?"

Kay gave him a smile. "Deal," she said, then looked down at her watch. "I should probably be going now."

"Well, then." John stood up and extended a hand to her. "Always a pleasure, sergeant."

"It's good to see you, too, John," Kay said with feeling, then got up, stepped neatly around his hand, and gave him a hug. Once his mind stopped reeling, Munch slowly put his arms around her and leaned down a bit, closing his eyes and pressing closer. Her hair smelled like flowers.

"Okay then," Kay said after a little while, gently pushing him away. She looked unsettled. "Take care, Munch, all right? And you'll hear from me in a few months. Promise."

John smiled down at her and didn't think of Bolander and all his phone calls. "Great," he finally said. "I--really--it was great to see you again, Kay. I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks," she said, then worked a small notebook out of her coat pocket and began to flip through it.

"Bye, Kay," Munch said, grinning a little. Her mind was obviously already elsewhere.

"What? Oh. Bye, John," Kay said, and gave him a final crooked smile before walking off.