Holder half sat, half leaned against the hood of Linden's car, watching the door to the jail. Soon, he thought. Seward would be dead, and Sarah would walk back out into the waning daylight. He'd relax once he knew she was alright. It had been her who insisted she needed to be there, to see it through to the end. Talking her out of it was his role - an impossible one. "Can't talk Linden outta anything she puts her mind to," he muttered to himself.
Finally, the door opened and she make her way towards her car, her footsteps robotic and sluggish. It wasn't Linden who walked towards him now, but some empty shell who looked ready to collapse if someone so much as breathed on her. He wasn't much better, really. His head felt like a million little hammers were trying to pound their way out simultaneously. His own fault, for trying to drown his hurts in beer. He wondered how Linden was going to drown this hurt. Right now, watching her slow progress to her car, he wasn't sure she'd even be able to make it home under her own steam. The girl took things so personal. He understood it, though, because he did it too.
She was a ghastly white, he realized as she got near. He unfolded himself from the hood of her car, which caused her to startle and stumble to a stop in front of him. And then she just stood there staring at his chest. She didn't lift her eyes or acknowledge him in any obvious way. And that worried him more than anything, and reinforced his decision to stick around even after she had told him not to.
"It's done?" he asked, already knowing the answer but not really knowing how to break the ice. She nodded.
"I told you to leave," she said. He knew her well enough to know she was, or should be, feeling snappish, but her words were flat and void of any inflection.
"Yeah, well...You know how we do," he shrugged. "You alright?" he added, once again already knowing the answer was a resounding no. Slowly, she looked up and a new wave of fear washed over him at the emptiness in her eyes. "C'mon, Linden, I'll drive ya home," he swiped her keys out of her hands.
"What about-" Her words trailed off, but her question was obvious by the way her head tilted towards the beat up police issued car he'd driven out here.
"I'll call a uni to come get it. Get in." He ordered as he touched her shoulder and pushed gently to turn her towards the passenger side.
The haze in the air turned white as a fog rolled in while he drove. He glanced over at Sarah, who was staring out the passenger window, as close to catatonic as she'd been when he'd sprung her from the psych ward. He wanted to talk, to fill the silence and distract her, except he had no idea what to say. He offered her a cigarette instead, but it felt like an empty gesture. A little while later, when she took a shuddering breath beside him, he reached over and laced his fingers with hers. Squeezed. Hoped it helped, because he really didn't know how to help her, how to be there.
When he parked in front of her house she slipped her hand out of his before he could tighten his hold, unhooked her seatbelt, and then her eyes met his for the briefest moment before sliding away again. "Thanks, Holder," she mumbled as she opened the door. He knew she meant it, as much as he knew she was dismissing him. Lucky for him, the only car here was hers and she lived on an island with no bus service back to the mainland. So he concluded that that counted as an invitation, and followed her silently up the steps to her house.
She looked at him, confusion in her eyes when she turned to shut the door and found him in the doorway behind her. Obviously she hadn't figured out that he was stranded, yet. "You're my ride, girl," he told her with a shrug.
"Oh. Right," she muttered, before staring at him in silence for a good minute. He didn't say anything, just waited for her. "I'm...going to go shower," she finally said as she turned towards the stairs. He watched her drag herself up each step by the railing, and briefly questioned if she'd be ok alone. He'd give her fifteen and then knock on the door and check on her, he decided.
It was a good thing he did. When three attempts to check on her only got him radio silence, he picked the lock and walked in. She was sitting on the bathtub floor, under the shower spray. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, head resting on them, harsh sobs wracking her body.
"What the fuck, Linden," he growled. Her head jerked up and her expression was a perfect mixture of raw pain and utter horror as she stared at him, sobbing, hyperventilating. Her mouth moved silently. He thought she was trying to tell him to get out, but she couldn't even talk she was so wrecked. Jesus, he thought. If she couldn't physically yell at him to get out, he wasn't gettin' out, he decided.
He didn't second guess his decision, just stripped down to his boxers and climbed in, sinking to the floor beside her. He had no idea what to do next. Not for the first time, he wished there was an instruction manual for dealing with emotion, for comforting. He hovered his hand over her shoulder but knew that a simple touch wouldn't be sufficient, not this time. He steeled himself and hoped to hell that he wasn't wrong, and then he twisted his body and wrapped both arms around her to pull her tightly into him. She didn't resist or fight him, but her body was wet and slippery and shaking so hard from her sobs that it was all he could do to hang on to her. He tightened his hold and cradled her against him, resting his head on top of hers and hoping that this would be enough to help her through a storm that he had no power to stop. The only time he'd ever seen her show even close to this much raw pain was when Jack was missing.
"My fault," she gasped out on a sob, a few minutes later.
"No, Linden," he shook his head against the top of hers. "You did everything you could."
"My. Fault." she repeated on harsh exhales, her whole body heaving with her attempts to breathe.
"No." He stated emphatically, pulling away, turning towards her and cradling her face in both of his hands. He locked his gaze on hers, his hands tilting her face up as he forced her to look at him. "This is not your failure. Seward had chances to appeal, and he rejected all of them. That's his failure. Other people helped put him away. That's their failure. You tried to find the real killer back then, too. The judge wouldn't grant a stay. His failure. This isn't on you, Linden," he repeated, "You aren't responsible for this. You did the best you could. You did everything you could. More'n anyone else woulda done. More'n anyone else did." He stared intently in her eyes, nose to nose with her, waiting to see some kind of acceptance in them. It didn't come. "Breathe, Linden. You're good. Just Breathe."
She took a shuddering breath, and he hugged her close again. Held her. Waited. Finally, her head collapsed against his shoulder. He splayed a hand across her back, rubbing circles, slightly awestruck by the feel of her spine and her ribs, fragile but strong under his fingertips. Her skin was so soft. "You're alright, y'know?" he murmured against the top of her head. "You did the best you could. You don't want to die. It's not your fault." Just like she'd said to him last night. They were just taking turns saving each other, he thought.
She wasn't crying anymore, and her breathing was starting to level out - losing the ragged quality. She slowly relaxed against him, and then her hand came up - splaying across his chest. He glanced down. Her hand was over his heart, over his tat. Serenity. The one that Caroline thought was soooo cute. Caroline had no idea what it really meant, the struggle it represented.
He let the frustration that came with those thoughts go - kept his mouth shut, because this was about Linden, not him. So he just sat with her, silent, waiting. She was quiet for a long time, letting out the occasional involuntary hiccup. Finally, she sighed - a big deep breath and slow exhale. Her fingers started tracing a pattern across his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "How do you do it?" she mumbled a few minutes later.
He wasn't sure what she meant, and he was just about to ask her when she spoke again, "how do you find it?"
"Find what?"
Her fingers went back to right side of his chest. "Serenity," she whispered. It was only then that he realized that the pattern she was tracing was the tat.
It hit him, suddenly, that it was that simple. That simple, she understood what he was seeking. What they were seeking. His chest swelled as he was filled with the reaffirmation that they were meant to be together, to help each other on this journey. Because she understood, without him even saying. Because, broken though he was, he actually had something that he could offer her. "By making peace with the things you can't control. It's a hard, hard thing. Sometimes impossible. Hopeless, even, some days." He paused, wondering if he really wanted to tell her, realizing at the same time that she was the one person in his life who would truly understand. "I got the tat there, on my chest, so that when I look in the mirror I see it. It reminds me. Have you heard the prayer, Linden?"
"Yeah," she said, but he repeated it anyways.
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change - That's the execution, Sarah, the conviction. The courage to change the things I can - you've got more courage than anyone I know. You did more, tried harder, than anyone else would have. Gold medal, right there, mamacita." He tried to lighten his tone to teasing for a minute - and thought he had succeeded by the way she huffed out a breath against him. He ran his hand up her spine again, and rested his head over top of hers.
"And the wisdom to know the difference," he added softly. "You maybe gotta work on that one. Me too," he added quickly, before she could get defensive about the criticism and call him out on it. "We both need to work on that third one. And the first. All of it, really. It's a work in progress, Y'know what I mean?"
He gave her a few minutes to respond, and when she didn't, he carried on. "It's a blessing, when you find it. Serenity. But it ain't easy, Linden. And it doesn't always stay after you find it. It's a work in progress," he repeated. "Some days it's there, and some days... But you just gotta keep tryin'. And maybe it's easier when you have a friend to help you along the way."
Her fingers stilled and she pushed herself away from him, just a little bit, her hand splaying over his heart again. Suddenly her face was in his and she was staring into his eyes, as if she was searching for something. Before he could ask her what she was trying to find, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
She kissed like fire and ice, honey and vinegar. Sweet and tart, tantalizing, sending red hot desire straight through him. Kissing him the way he wanted to kiss her the night before. Needing him the way he needed her the night before. But unlike her, he wasn't strong enough to stop it. He slid his hand up to the back of her neck and then around to cradle her cheek as he kissed her back hungrily. When she shifted to straddle his lap, he was unable to help himself and he thrust up against her, once. God, yes, he wanted this woman. She whimpered in response and deepened the kiss into something hard, frantic, and desperate. He ran his tongue along her lower lip as she pressed herself closer to him. The feel of her against him was incredible. Her wet, naked, hot little body that he wanted so badly, but couldn't have. Not tonight. He wanted to. He knew she'd let him. Hell, she was practically begging him for it. But he also knew that tomorrow, she'd rationalize it, shove it aside, shut him out, never let it happen again. No way was he letting that happen. So he breathed her name, Sarah, on a sigh and he kissed her one last time before he pulled back. Carefully, he moved out from underneath her, settling her back down beside him and wrapping his arms tightly around her once more to cradle her upper body against his chest. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, stopping.
"Don't want you to regret anything in the morning. I'm here, though, one hundred percent." he murmured, desperately hoping she wasn't gonna get all frosty or think he didn't want to. Because he did. And soon, he thought, they could. When they weren't just grieving shells of their real selves. Then, then it would be different and he wouldn't have to stop. He hoped. Maybe he just fucked it up by pulling away, because she wasn't acknowledging him at all just now. It would go two ways, he figured. She'd be ok with it, maybe even relieved, or she'd get all offended and worked up that he didn't want to kiss her. Which wasn't true at all. He fought down all kinds of panic as he waited for her reaction.
But she just tucked her head under his chin, her fingers travelling across his tat again. He waited for her to say something, anything, but she didn't. He thought maybe it was ok, though, because she also didn't pull away. She just leaned her head heavier against him, as if he was her life vest, the only thing keeping her afloat. They stayed like that, sitting in the shower with Linden quiet in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder until the hot water ran out and even longer, until she was chilled and shivering. It was only then that he gave up waiting for her to make the first move. He reached out to turn the water off, and unfolded himself from the floor. He wrapped her in a towel and helped her to her feet before stripping out of his boxers and sliding back into his jeans. She just stood, staring at him as he dressed, and he couldn't help but shoot her a lecherous grin and wiggle his hips suggestively as he slid his jeans up. He could swear that the breath she huffed out was almost, almost a giggle.
"C'mon, Linden. Get dressed before I quit being a gentleman and...oh..." he drug on, grinned at her again, hoping that teasing her a bit would help her. "You know.. oggle you for reals." He wiggled his eyebrows, and the corners of her lips quirked slightly upwards before she ducked around him and out to her bedroom.
He'd left the door to her spare room open, and hers was open a crack too, so he was still lying awake listening to all of the little rustling sounds that proved Linden still couldn't just settle down. Plus, he knew every time she left her room. It was her third trip downstairs in two hours. He'd stayed still and pretended to sleep the other two times she had glanced into his room on her way down and again on her way back up. But it was starting to get ridiculous. Woman need her sleep.
"Sarah," he sighed as she turned away after checking in on him again. She stilled, then turned back to face him. "C'mere."
She didn't move, just stood in the doorway looking at him.
He blew out a breath. "Y'ain't gonna find serenity by prowling the house at 3am. C'mon, Linden," he patted the bed beside him and then she did move forward, hesitantly, until she was standing at the edge of the bed. He lifted the covers. "Get in."
"Holder-"
"Get IN, Sarah. I ain't gonna get you naked. Won't even try, no matter how much you beg me to. Promise."
Her breath came out, jagged and uneven. He wasn't sure but he thought maybe it was almost a closed-mouthed laugh. It was a small relief.
"You could try," she told him, not moving, "but you wouldn't succeed. And I never beg."
"Is that so, Linden? We'll see about that some other night, hmmm? For now, though, you need to Get. In." He reached for her, tugging her down, until she was in the bed and curled up beside him. He pressed himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her. He found her hand and laced their fingers together before pressing their hands over her heart. She took a deep breath, as if she was bracing herself, and then slowly relaxed against him.
"That's what I'm talkin' about, Linden. Now get some shut eye." He breathed her in and let himself start to doze. He didn't have to listen for her anymore, not now that he could feel her beside him to know she was ok. He could do this, stay with her like this, all platonic like for tonight. He knew now how much he loved her, needed her. He'd known as soon as he'd thought he lost her, when the Pastor had her. Life without Linden was unimaginable. And he'd find a way to show her, later. When they were both healed. When she couldn't just pass it off as just empty solace.
He was almost asleep when her anguished whisper drug him back out. "Every time I close my eyes I see him, hanging there."
He squeezed her hand, kissed the top of her head. "It'll be alright," he murmured. "Accept the things you cannot change. Change what you can. Just think of something different, for a while," he suggested, but he knew how hard it could be, so he started talking to her about lions and their prides - he'd seen it on Discovery the other day. He rubbed his thumb against her hand and talked in her ear until he felt her body slacken against him and her breathing slow with sleep.
"That's what I'm talkin' about, Linden," he murmured, nodding off himself.
She was still there when he woke up, sound asleep and curled up against him, hugging his arm to her chest. He tipped his head down, nuzzled her hair, gave in to the urge to kiss the top of her head before carefully untangling himself from her and slipping out of the bed. They had an hour and a half before shift, he figured he could let her sleep another half hour before worrying about having to wake her.
Her fridge was basically bare. Their leftover takeout from a couple of days ago and not much else. A few eggs, celery that was growing something, and a science experiment in the back that he wasn't even gonna try to identify. "Seriously, Linden," he muttered to himself as closed the fridge and went to root around a cupboard, looking for coffee. "You need a keeper, girl..." Luckily her cupboards were halfway organized so he found coffee supplies without too much difficulty and had a pot brewed when she came down the stairs and into the room.
"Mornin', Sleeping beauty," he drawled as he snooped around for a couple of mugs.
"Go ahead, make yourself at home." She said dryly, sinking into a chair at the table.
"Don't mind if I do," he told her triumphantly as he pulled out two mugs. He poured her a cup and brought it over to her. "You're the one who benefits, anyways, Linden," he pointed out. He poured his own cup, and sat down next to her before taking a sip. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," she answered after a long pause. Her lips tightened, thinned out and quirked up slightly. Of course she'd lie to him.
"Sarah." He put his mug down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning into her space, getting closer to her. "You scared the hell outta me last night, in the bathroom. Tell me the truth. Are you alright?"
She didn't answer right away, and he realized with a sudden jolt of fear that he may have pushed it too far. He could never quite tell, with her. Just as he was going to retract his question, she let out a breath. "Not yet, not really. But I'm...better. It's better."
"At's good, Linden. At's real good." He grinned at her and got a real smile in response. And he couldn't help but think about all the things he wanted to do to that smile.
"I don't want to talk about the bathroom though," she added a moment later, averting her gaze.
He'd let her have that one, for now. "Whatever you want, boss. You ready to go?"
She nodded, followed him out the door, and slid into the driver's seat before he could swipe her keys. As they drove down the island roads, Holder kept up a steady stream of inane chatter, intent on keeping her amused and distracted so that she couldn't think too much. It didn't take long before they'd made it to the docks. She rolled slowly to a stop, just short of the lineup to get onto the next ferry, and then she turned towards him and touched his arm to stop his spiel.
"I don't think I can do this, Holder. Not today. I just..." She paused, breathed, "I think I just need some time."
He understood that, absolutely. It was why he was at home drowning his sorrows over Bullet in a bottle yesterday. She was the only person who had the power to pull him out of that apartment. He only left because she needed him. So he thought he could give her that reprieve. He could work without her today, and maybe giving her that time would help her. So he played it cool. "Alright, Linden. I can call for a car when I get across the sound. You go home. But I'm gonna call and check on you and you better answer, or I'll be back." He undid his seatbelt and opened the door before turning back towards her. "Just keep working on finding serenity," he added before he slid from the car and walked off towards the ferry.
"Hey, Holder," she called, and he turned back, wondering if maybe she'd changed her mind. Maybe she was coming with after all. Or maybe she wanted him to stay with her. He'd totally do that, if she wanted.
As usual, she surprised him. "Bullet..." she started, and his heart sank into the bottom of his stomach. "She said she'd draw the north star on me."
"Why the north star?" Why'd she have to go and bring this up now? He wished she'd waited until the pain wasn't so fresh.
"She said it was because it's how you find your way home, when you're on the ocean."
His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. It fit Linden so perfectly, but it stunned him that Bullet had seen it too. "I don't really feel like a homing beacon," she continued. "More like the person who leaves people lost, broken. Like someone too lost to ever...I don't know..."
"Nah, Linden. She was right. You may not see it, but you are." She was certainly his north star. He gave in to the urge to reach into the car and touch her cheek gently with the back of one finger. Her skin twitched under his touch but she didn't pull away. The ferry horn went off, and he knew he had minutes to get on it. He let the finger trail down her cheek before breaking contact. "I better jet. You sure you're ok on your own?"
She nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Holder. And Holder?"
"Gonna miss the boat, Linden, and you'll be stuck with me allll day," he drawled. He kind of liked that idea, though, so he slowed and waited. Missing the boat and spending the day with Linden, snug and cozy in her house, would be the bomb. And he thought she might be considering the idea.
But she just gave her head a small shake. "Go. Just... Thank you. For...last night."
"You're my BFF Linden, You know how we do." He lifted his hand and hurried to the ferry, getting on just as they were getting ready to pull out. Yeah, it was no thing at all, he thought as he watched her still-parked car get smaller as the ferry crossed the sound. And it would be an amazing thing in a few days, when he was gonna talk her into more. Or kiss her into it. He wasn't sure which, but he was gonna give her just enough time to be ok again, and then he was gonna make sure she knew exactly how much he felt about her. And then, they'd find it together. Serenity.