Family Law
by Alli Capri

Summary: Extra Kevin and Sarah scene in 2.05 Domestic Issues.

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable does not belong to me.

This is why he hates family law.

He's trying to reassure his sister that it's not over, but she clearly feels it is. Tonight when she says goodbye to her children it won't be for the night, the weekend, or even a few days. It will be two whole weeks before she has them again.

Joe and his lawyer are gone and the judge is not unsympathetic, but it is still his office they are in and he has other things to be getting to today.

"Come on, Sarah," he urges, taking her elbow and standing with her. She isn't crying. That will come later, he knows, but now she's dazed, trying to process. She walks as if in a fog, allowing herself to be led as he guides her every few steps with a hand on her arm or her back.

She is silent in the car as he drives her to his building. He wants to say something, to make her feel better about the hearing, and if he's completely honest, to make himself feel better about failing her, but he can't think of anything to say that isn't a meaningless platitude. Up in his office she goes straight for the window ledge, her favorite seat, and stares at her hands trembling in her lap.

He stands in front of her, feeling awkward and terrible and useless, and tries again to counsel her. "It's a temporary arrangement only. The final hearing—"

She looks up, her eyes bright with unshed tears, cutting him off as effectively as if she had spoken. And then she does speak. "Let's not talk about hearings right now," she says, and he can hear how hard she's trying not to cry.

"Okay." He sits beside her on the ledge. As her lawyer there's nothing he can do now, but as her brother…. She takes his hand, lacing her fingers through his and holding on tightly. With his other hand he covers hers and they just sit. She's shaking and squeezing his hand so hard it hurts, and he aches for her, wishing he could put an arm around her but knowing that doing so would break the fragile hold she has on her emotions.

As they sit he thinks about his favorite picture of them, the black and white picture of her, barely six, holding him, a newborn. Their mother loved it so much she put it in a place of prominence on the staircase wall and still tells anyone who will listen, the pride obvious in her voice, how carefully little Sarah held tiny Kevin, staring adoringly at his newborn face and then promising that she would always, always take care of him.

Now he wishes he could promise Sarah the same thing, but he knows he can't, as much as he hates to admit it. Instead he sits beside her in silence and holds her hand, and slowly she stops shaking, and her grip eases, and finally she takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes. "I should get going. The kids will be out of school soon." She releases his hand and stands.

He gets to his feet as well. "I can drive you."

She shakes her head with a sad, resolute smile. "No, but thanks for the offer. I just want to make everything as normal as possible for them."

Her resolve seems to crumble then, and he pulls her close and hugs her. "I love you."

She holds tight for a moment, drawing needed strength before pulling away. "I love you too."

He escorts her to the door and watches her go, and then sinks heavily into his desk chair. He can't take care of her now, as her lawyer or her brother.

But he knows who can.

He hits speed dial and counts the rings, not surprised when it only takes two, not on this day. "Mom, it's Kevin."