«What's Isaac doing here?» Annalise thought, walking out of the courtroom and noticing a familiar wide-shouldered figure. She didn't know what made her turn her head — probably, the proverbial voice of her heart, or even more proverbial fate — but she saw Isaac not so far away from herself, and what was left of common sense left her mind. It went blank, as if a roller went over her brain. Isaac was softly talking with someone from the Disciplinary Board — she forgot her name as well — nodding, smiling gently, cared-for looking, without any hint of…

— You okay? — Connor's voice interfered, and Annalise, as if she was caught out from the mazement, said:

— Yes. Let's get out of here.

She turned away and started walking, but Connor didn't even think about it. He seemed to have been trying to understand what made Annalise so confused, so he was standing not moving a muscle, trying to find the summons and make the conclusion. It's not so hard to put two and two together, right? Connor caught up with her and said softly:

— Is it your therapist right there? Doctor Isaac Roa, I've visited his office once.

As much as Annalise wanted to nip this conversation in the bud, fastening her walk, she knew that ignoring Connor would make her look rude. It wasn't the best option. And he always gets what he wants anyway — that's why she took him as her assistant in the first place. She stopped, sighed and told him:

— Yes, it's him. Why?

— You look like you've seen a ghost, — Connor shrugged. — I thought you needed to talk to someone about this… — as if he was the worst scandalmonger, he turned away and glanced at Isaac once again. He was still talking to the woman who stayed unknown to Annalise, nodding to her words, but then he lifted his head into their direction… and saw them. The smile on his face went down of course. — What is it, did you fell out or what?

— You think I need another therapist? — Annalise asked sarcastically. — And you consider yourself one?

Connor frowned.

— It's not that. I mean, if you want to talk about it, I'm always here to support you. You know, you can't call me a perfect boyfriend for Oliver, so I know how a person who thinks they treated somebody like dirt looks and feels. — Now it was Annalise's turn to frown. — Yes, and stop looking at me like that. It feels you know you wronged him and let him down, that's why…

— Annalise? — Isaac voice suddenly ringed out from Connor's back, and his therapeutic rebuke was finished as quickly as it started. Connor turned away, stepping away from Annalise and setting his hand forth apologetically.

— I'm going to leave now. I'll call you up later, right?

Annalise nodded her head, rolling her eyes by sap, and Connor left, leaving them almost face to face. No, there were some people passing by, but she didn't notice them, loaded with her own thoughts and not strong enough to lift her eyes at Isaac. She didn't even know how to greet him. His look was soft and even compromising. He knew why she felt awkward, but was going to stay as decent as he had powers to.

— How do you feel? — he asked tenderly. Too tenderly, if you think about it. Not like her therapist, Annalise thought, but she chased the thoughts away. Like who then? Like a friend? Like a lover? No-no, no need to give time to think about it. A lover. The sky is the limit, but it would affect him badly. He won't survive. Would she survive without him, though?

— Good, — Annalise nodded, finally raising her eyes and smiling with constraint. She hasn't seen him for a month, but he didn't change a tad. It was unclear what was there in his eyes — it appeared to be joy mixed with sadness. Does he believe her at all?

— How's the class action?

— Keeps going. Recently we… it's Connor, he's my student you've just seen, found a face case. He's a father of an old acquaintance of mine… he spent more than twenty years in jail and nobody cared enough to medically examine him at least cursory, set aside psychologically. He seems to have gone mad… — «And I had no psychotherapist within my grasp to prove my theory», she thought, glancing aside unsurely, so that Isaac wouldn't notice her puzzle, which he did. — He's just an example, by… as the story goes, I'm on my way. Nobody refused still, so I'm supposed to get it right.

— That's good. I'm glad for you, really, — he inclined his head like he was trying to look and sound more convincing — and it was unclear whether he was trying to make this impression on her or on himself. Annalise swallowed a lump in her throat. It was stupid to think that a person with a psychological education wouldn't be able to crack you down. — Honestly, I was scared that if something went wrong, you would relapse, but… — Isaac glanced at her open neck, a collarbone closed with a dress, at her lips and her eyes again — and bit his lip nervously. The person with a higher education was cracking himself like a rotten nut in a nutcracker. — I mean, look at you. You look gorgeous, as if you didn't even… — Isaac silenced as if he didn't know what to say. Isaac was losing control. Isaac was anxious. Annalise felt her voice would tremble if she spoke. Annalise was lying — she felt worse without him. AA meetings always reminded her of Wes and prison, and after individual sessions with Isaac group therapy seemed unworthy to say the least, like a stoned chocolate sweet next to an exquisite chocolate biscuit. And she missed him. She wanted him back. Annalise wanted to see him. Maybe she wasn't really lying after all, making up an idea to stop seeing him? Maybe that's true…

— Thanks, — she forced herself to say, looking down. It's better to see nothing in front of you than seeing him fidgeting. If he is, he's feeling something for her. Something she's afraid to give a specific name to. In this name, there's hope for a happy ending, and that's so foolish. Not foolish but wrong still. She knew how emotional Isaac could get, and how loud his eyes could scream. Right now they were screaming about him missing her. He perhaps missed her even more than she did.

— Annalise… — Isaac said softly, and she hardly restrained herself from not lifting her hand to encourage him to stay silent. She didn't want to listen. She didn't want to know what's next. Instead she shook her head and sighed. — Were you telling the truth?

— When?

— About this «problem of yours»… That you got too close to me? — he asked, with his voice giving away all of the efforts of him saying it. He shoot them out like a cannonball, as if he decided to know the truth once and for all. But Annalise didn't know what to say. It was a little bit different; she lied to him only because she didn't want to mention Jacqueline, but the past month had showed her that… was it just a month? Sam, he's not Sam, he's not, she's repeating all over again, slowly looking at him. Isaac asks calmer: — Annalise?

— Why would I lie to you?

— That's not the thing… — It was his turn to look down at his shoes for some time, and then… Annalise didn't even notice his fingers slightly touching her hand, softly pushing the back of her hand with his fingers' cushions. She would never admit it neither to her neither to him — but a single touch from him was enough to make her shiver. — I don't think this problem is very hard to solve. I don't see the problem. That's it.