- Did she care about us when the whole world was going insane? - Michaela whispered to Asher's ear. - What kind of love is she talking about?
- Sh-h-h-h, - he started hissing, - I'm way more interested in why she's keeping glancing at a place near Frank. You know who it was reserved for so carefully?
- He should have come, - told Oliver seemingly to himself, but Connor heard any way.
- Who?
- Isaac, of course. Her therapist. They seemed to have everything figured out. Like... - he made a face that was speaking louder than any words. - I thought they were together now. You should've seen them the day Simon died. I felt like something in the room exploided, and I was the only one who noticed. And they were only talking on the phone, for all I know.
- It's Annalise, - Connor told with a joking smile in his lips' corner, - you never know if she actually has everything figured out. Because at any moment, even right now, the cops can come in and get us all in jail for one more murder, and she might even survive this, because for her, it will be a surprise... or not. Once again, it's...
Michaela kicked his chair under a pad.
- If you don't shut up, I will...
- Yes-yes, I know, you don't have to threaten me, mama Michelle, - Connor turned around, and his malignant face became even more malignant.
- She's not Michelle, if that matters, - Asher said strictly, and it was Oliver's turn to turn around and calm everyone down.
At the same time, the door opened, and Annalise stopped speaking. It should have been Isaac, no? Was she waiting for him? For his proud look, for his gentle, encouraging smile he always gave her?
"Why are you calling me? It's late, and you're extravagating". When you're a therapist, you should be ready for unexpectable calls any time daily and nightly, but this was a little bit too much. All of this Annalise Keating story was too much on him - and on her, probably, as well.
"I have an emergency. I need you. I need you. I NEED YOU". Her voice trembled and seemed to be ready to burst out. Tears were probably flowing down her face as he could hear that, and Isaac imagined her in a bar, with some vodka or whiskey bottles all around, and her sobriety, broken, on the floor, like a vase that broke into thousands of pieces.
"Where are you? Annalise?" No more sounds. "Where the hell are you, Annalise?!"
But it wasn't him. It was just Bonnie, Bonnie Winterbottom, and her smile was only saying "I'm sorry for being late". She's always sorry. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be Bonnie Winterbottom.
It was a high time of finishing the speech. All of it was just a mascarade, pretence, or a stupid and selfish try to kill some time before Isaac comes and she understands everything between them is fine completely. She might have called this event just to proove him that she can be okay with people, for once. That she's moving on, nothing is triggering her. And she can be happy. Of course that would be a bullshit, because smiling people are not always happy, and they can come home and drink until they forget their names.
So, maybe, that's not what she wanted to show him. Maybe, it was her own glory. Or was she looking for an answer? Did they get too far with all these discussions? Or maybe these were the way of them finally getting closer?
She didn't lose a chance with him, he doesn't hate her for triggering old memories. She can forget about it, if he needs her to. None of it matters, only Isaac does.
- I love everyone who came here today and the ones who didn't. This world took away people I loved, and I will always remember them with the same passion and care as I feel for my students. Mistakes that were made will never be repeated. And I love my job. So coming back here, in univercity, being completely sober, - "... didn't have to mention that...", - I'm really proud to see all these happy faces. I'm sure, my first year after a complete recovery from alcoholism will bring us all lots of good memories.
A round of applause rolled in the audience. Some even stood up to express their admiration. All of them were proud, and the person, whose pride she was searching for the most, was absent.
- Stand up, - Connor said, looking at Michaela over his shoulder and standing up himself. He was sure that the faces of those who mattered the most for Annalise would make their ex-professor happier. Michaela did that with a forced smile.
- I hope she remembers that I hate her, - she said. "I'm a Tegan's bitch now, not yours".
Annalise didn't even pay her attention to the kids.
She was only looking at the door - the one that was never opened by Isaac Roa, her therapist, her friend, her helper. He didn't come, although she did invite him.
Bonnie stepped closer, and Annalise put a fake smile on her face. Now she's going to behave like she has forgiven everyone, and then she'll go to Isaac's to put everything on her mind in his ears - just to get better. Strangely, it always gets better when he's around. Probably, she will be able to forgive him as well.
He will probably never be able to forgive her for the way she behaved with him lately. Unexpected calls, break-ins and the looks on her face that triggered him even more than the stories she told him. She was just like him - fighting for others, sometimes even walking on the edge for one's own safety. But if he fought for their mental health, she fought for their freedom. And they both were pushing too hard sometimes, and, eventually, got to the same cliff with only one way down. She needed to see him so often that he found himself waiting for those calls. He needed to know she was alright. He wanted her not only to be sober, but fine. And happy.
Of all people who could know where to find Annalise, where would she go if she didn't have an opportunity to go to Isaac, he could only think of Bonnie - so he phoned her, only to find out that she knew nothing. Probably, he should stay and wait for her at home, but her voice... it trembled. Trembled like she had a nervous breakdown or even had a drink. For real, where could she go? A bar? But which one? He doesn't even know her adress. He could phone to the Discipinary Board and ask for it - but it was too late, and clocks were ticking by, counting the nervous impulses in his brain.
In 30 minutes, he was ready to go away. No messages from Annalise, no signs from Bonnie. Whole, complete, swallowing silence. He opened the front door - just to see her coming right to his door step, with her face covered with raindrops and, most seemingly, tears.
- Hi, - she said and pushed herself to his body. Isaac tried to feel the smell of alcohol, but there was none. She didn't drink, but something happened, and she came over to talk to him once again. He timidly put his hand on her back, for the first time ever feeling her body against his. - It's okay. It's okay.
- Why didn't you come?
She sat in her armchair, like dozens of times before, and was still trying to accept the fact that something that happened to them not so long ago was real. How long was it? Two months? Three?
She was crying at his shoulders, feeling his arms around her. Strong, strongly holding arms. And a whisper. "It's okay. It's okay". "No, nothing is okay. Simon is dead, Laurel is probably dead too. And I am their murderer. I am the problem".
"Whatever happened, you're not".
"But you know nothing about what happened, how can you tell?"
"You're sober. You're in control of your senses. That means everything".
"Does it to you?"
- Did you really want to see me there or just want the Disciplinary Board to see us as friends after our therapy?
- Do you have some doubts now? You're the one who put me through this hell of maintaining sobriety, and now you doubt that I need you?
"This boy is dead. He's dead because I wasn't near. I couldn't save him. I did nothing to protect him". She thought Isaac would once again tell her this was not her fault, but he seemed to be so deranged, that all his therapeutic bullshit didn't work. Not even for him. Probably they both just should have get drunk and high, like they had to do a long ago. Together. And probably it's easier to fall from your sobriety when you're not the only one who's falling. All of their sessions, all of their problems would dissapear in this misty haze. Instead of that, they were standing in front of his flat, and she was crying at his shoulder. "I couldn't save the boy. I couldn't save anyone. It's all my fault".
"It's not your fault, Annalise. The boy shot himself. There was nothing you could do". How could he be that calm? Or was he playing? He's probably thinking that she's drunk and seeing hallucinations now. Fuck everything, then.
"Say my name once again".
"Annalise. Annalise. Annalise". She leaned closer to him and closed her eyes. She didn't know whom was she remembering as she felt the warmth of a man's body, but it could be Sam the first time when he called her by her name and not surname. It felt like home. Not even some bed sheets she would feel if it was Nate. No, it was Sam before she loved him and before everything went wrong.
- Annalise...
- You're scared after what happened, aren't you? After our hugs at your door step?
- You were on the edge, Annalise. And if I wasn't there, you would probably get drunk, which would be a huge loss for me. I was afraid that you could relapse, and nothing more of that. I still think we need to end our therapy, because these triggers have some bad influence on both of us. This is just too much.
- So what, do you want to hand me over to your suspicios wife?
- She's not suspicios! - gently, he raised his his voice. - What happens between Jaqueline and me shouldn't be the matter for you, and it won't be any more.
- I got involved in your life and you got involved into mine, so it does matter! - she started to lose her temper.
- And that's exactly the reason why we should stop seeing each other, - he said calmly, with his voice lowered.
- But why? - Annalise seemed to be even angrier than before. - Is it because you're scared that my story will trigger you or yours will trigger me?
"All of this... this is not your fault. That's the main thing everyone keeps telling themselves when things like this happen to people they love. That they were not near, they couldn't do anything when there was still a chance. But to drown yourself in grief, or addiction, or whatever so not to think of it is never the way out".
"And if something happened to you, would I be the reason?"
"What? No. Never".
- So you want to end this? Here? Now? - she stood up from her armchair and started going around, like this place already became her home. In many things, it really felt like one. - Does all this make no sense to you?
- What exactly are you talking about, Annalise?
- Our sessions. Our talks. - Sometimes, she knew he was clever enough to understand what she meant. She clearly saw Sam in him, which scared him a lot. But she could bet 100 000 bucks she didn't have that he liked her more than just a patient with an interesting story. Was she afraid of falling in love with him the same way she did with her dead husband? Was he afraid to answer her the same way? Were they both afraid to fall off the cliff and find something more than just some more addictions? Heroine, vodka - would they really matter, if they were holding hands and just fighting together? - We both need help, don't you see that?
"I need you", were her words, when rain started to pour and he let her go of his embrace to get into the house. "Don't deprive me of that. Our meetings. I feel a lot better every time I get back home".
"There's a lot more therapists who could help you with your problem".
"I don't need other ones. Nobody could understand me better than you do. You were through hell just like me, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You are the one who should stay with me and fight for me as I do for all of my clients".
She made a step and thought about what should happen now. Her stomach was begging her to kiss him, to dissolve in his body, like her mind already has. He would ask her what was she doing and she would answer that was something they should have done a long before. Instead of that, she stopped and sniffled.
"I need you".
He felt anger and was asking himself why did he feel it. The only answer was that she was not listening to him - and, what was even worse, she was right. They both needed each other if they wanted to get out alive.
- I got over my addiction. I don't need help. And you will eventually do the same. You've made a great progress, so...
- You're giving up on me, is that what you say?
"I need you too", he said firmly. Yes, he needed her in his life. For all the reasons that could be. He wanted to fight for her and her bravery.
That was a relief for both until he said: "But I can't allow it. What you feel... What I feel... It has only one ending. We both can end up dead after an overdose or an intoxication, if we continue to expose ourselves to this kind of feelings".
"But I need them. I need that kind of feelings". One step closer, and the next action seems inevitable. "And I need help. If I don't get it, then I'm going to relapse. You can't leave me like that, it's the straight way to intoxication".
"It's for your own safety".
"You know nothing about my safety", she exclaimed, "or about what I need. Everybody thinks they do, but never listen to what I say".
"What you need right now is a shower and a good rest. I can go over to the hospital to know how Laurel's doing, and you can come afterwards..."
"Did you tell yourself it's not your fault when your daughter did that?" she wanted to shout, but that would be too much, she knew. That would hurt him, that would make him think that she needs a new therapist, because it opens her a whole new perspective on their relationship. After all, it wasn't his fault that her kids screwed up once again.
- I'm not giving up on you, Annalise. I'm just letting you go.
- I don't need to be let go. I need no other therapist. If I'm not triggering you, there is no problem. - She made a step closer, set on the coach next to him, and the next action once again seemed inevitable. - As I said it before, I need you. And I'm not afraid anymore. - She hoped he would understand what she means and wouldn't ask further questions. But, as if he was trying to feel himself more confident, he lifted his chin and looked at her with a pride. But was he proud of her or himself, because he felt strong enough to keep going without showing her how deeply he had fallen for her, was unknown to her.
Among all the therapists there are in Philly, from all the strong women, even providing his wife was an addiction specialist too, Annalise got Isaac - the one who looked and talked exactly like Sam did.
And, somehow, she believed there was a reason for it. She didn't want to lose it. She didn't want to stay alone, after all. She needed him.
Isaac nodded.
- I'm going to ask this only once, so be careful before answering. Do you need help or do you need me?
"You are the help".
- You.
Although it was a predictable answer, Isaac was reliefed. He was finally sure they felt the same and only had to manage to come to it some day, if one of them doesn't break one's sobriety and doesn't start drinking or using. They're on the same cliff, they both need help and they hold hands - so once it gets painful, they will share the pain and the sorrow. And, probably, even more. He didn't know that for sure, but he felt that this woman was already more than just a patient or even a friend. Powerful, attractive and brave just like him. They will die happy and sober or happy and drunk - until then, he knew, some things are inevitable, and, with that kind of feelings they shared, it all had only one end.
So he smiled, gently and proudly. He felt like everything finally got into its place. Looking at him, Annalise seemed to feel the same, and a wide smile enlightened her face.