I think we all know that on the show our angels are indestructible, never a hair out of place. This is my attempt of a story to make them a little more human, showing what could lie beneath all of that invulnerability. It's set by the end of 'Magic Fire' after Sabrina has been saved from the fire, and it's also told from her POV.

Oh, and I feel obliged to tell you: This story actually started off as a femslash story, but as I started writing the story changed and the femslash-part of it diminished immensely. That was why I for a long time thought of changing the story to a complete non-slash story (or writing two versions) since I've gotten the feeling there's not too many CA femslash fans out there, and maybe especially for Sabrina/Kelly pairing. 'Cuz not much at all really would have to change to the story.

But inspired by the International Day of Femslash the other day, I really felt I had to keep the story somewhat true to my original plan. It's still not very slashy at all, but it's still there. I think. At least if you want to see it. If you don't want to see it, you don't really have to. It's all up to you, really.

So I hope at least someone will appreciate it.

PS. I don't know if it's usually done but I might be willing to write that other version of the story. So let me know if you think I should.

Giving In

They had convinced me to take me to the hospital.

Reluctantly I had agreed. I hated hospital.

Not that the oxygen the doctor had given me hadn't felt amazingly good, but still I had rather not gone. Because I was ok. The incident in the burning office was serious - I don't deny that one bit - but I had escaped the fire before I had suffered any serious damage. I didn't need any medical treatments. Still the doctor had carried on with I don't know how many examinations and it had been hours until I finally had been released.

And then Kris had been quite firm that she, Kelly and Bosley absolutely had to join me to my place so that we could all call Charlie and inform him about the case and so that we could set up a meeting. That we could have called from the car or the hospital had simply been disregarded. Kelly or Bosley hadn't objected the slightest to her idea either.

So here we were, all four of us, on the way up to my apartment. I looked forward to when they finally would have to give up their fuss and leave me be.

I turned my attention back to my friends when I heard how they again were going on with their fret.

"Listen, I'm fine!" I said and forced another convincing smile. "Don't worry."

I really started to sound like a broken record. But, I was just replying on their similarly repetitious questions of how I was feeling.

"We are just concerned for you Bri. I mean, you did take in a lot of smoke," Kris replied considerately. "And besides-," she then added with a sweet smile and put a hand between my shoulder blades as we came to a halt in front of the door to my apartment, "there's no harm to be on the safe side."

I would have answered directly if I hadn't felt a brief moment of confusion when I noticed Kelly pulling up her own key from her purse to unlock my apartment door. But immediately I realized the probable reason.

My key had probably not been worth saving.

It was probably still lying in the burnt office, sooty and burnt, trapped within the remains of my bag. Unable to stop it my mind flickered back to the office and to the burnt objects, either scorched permanently at their edges or completely turned into ashes; to the black flames of soot still climbing the wall, forever branding the office of the flames.

Distracted by the image I forced it away, before turning back to Kris.

"No, but come on- this isn't worse than anything else," I tried patiently. "I mean, these stuff happens to us every other day. It's nothing."

I heard how badly it sounded, but I couldn't stop myself. I know our banter wasn't very serious anyway.

"That doesn't mean we should ignore it," Bosley countered patiently.

I sighed heavily. They really were persistent, more than usually.

"But c'mon, you're smothering me here! You don't think setting a room on fire with me in it is enough?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but instantly I regretted my words when I noticed Kris freezing stiff in her movement.

"That's not funny Bri," she deadpanned, looking way too solemn for her cheerful self. The quick glance at Bosley told me he hadn't appreciated the joke as I intended it either. Almost automatically my eyes went to Kelly, and although relieved to see her already inside the apartment and her back towards us, I bit my lip troubled. If anyone, she would most certainly not have appreciated my dense effort to light up the atmosphere.

"I'm sorry. Bad joke," I said sincerely and turned back to Kris and Bosley, putting up my hands in the air in defeat. Seeing as if they accepted my apology, I went on, this time more calmly, "But seriously, I'm fine. The doctor told me I'm fine."

"We know," Bosley nodded and lead me inside. "But she also said someone should keep an eye on you for the next 24 hours. Symptoms from smoke inhalation can come later."

I opened my mouth to reply, but Kris was quicker, continuing on Bosley's statement. "And that's why you will have the pleasure of having houseguests for the night." She looked at me with, as far as I was concerned, a way too satisfied grin.

I glanced over at Bosley, only to find a much similar irritating grin plastered on his face. I strained a smile, forcing myself not to act on my irritation. I guess we all knew that without the firm words from the doctor there would be no way in hell I would let them fuss around me like this.

Irritatingly enough they seemed to get a lot more satisfaction from that than I did.

Again I opened my mouth to reply but this time Kelly, who had barely said a word since we left the hospital, interrupted our banter.

"Why don't you go take a shower Bri?" she said softly without raising her eyes as she put down her purse on the hall bureau. "We can call Charlie in the meantime."

I was just about to argue against her when she lifted her eyes, automatically locking them with mine. Taken aback when I saw something that almost looked like sadness in her eyes, I was completely thrown off track on what I was about to say.

"Uhm- yeah. Sure," I instead heard myself say, and before really getting the time to reflect, and even less time to really react on what I saw in her eyes, she looked away.

She turned around and walked in the apartment, leaving me standing still and puzzled. I felt an urge to follow her, but was stopped when Kris suddenly put a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry-," she said facetiously, and confused by hearing her tone of voice I turned to look at her. "We'll fill you in on what he said later," she then continued, and I quickly realized she was unaware of my reason of apparent immobility and was talking about something else.

She gave me a slight push towards the bathroom. "Now go," she ordered.

Mechanically I offered her a plastered smile before obliging. I guess I had to deal with Kelly later. Somewhat distantly I stumbled towards the bathroom, but not without throwing a quick glance in Kelly's direction before involuntarily letting it go.

As I closed the bathroom behind me I instead let myself treasure the longed-for peacefulness of the silent bathroom.

I exhaled heavily and in that sole action I felt my previous built-up energy completely rush off of me. Without the slightest signs of my previous energy I very jadedly started pulling off my shoes, but was suddenly interrupted when I caught my moving reflection in the mirror. Instead I froze stiff, my eyes unable to move from the reflection.

Maybe my friends' on-going concern of how I was wasn't that strange after all.

I looked tired. Worn and haggard. My eyes were red and there were streaks of grey and black dust across my face. At first I didn't even realize what it was, but it then finally dawned on me.

Soot.

Remnants of the fire.

I glanced down my hands, down my body.

My heart started hammering painfully inside my chest.

I was completely covered with the black dust. White pieces of ash were spotted across like tiny white islands. On my hands, my jacket, my jeans. On everything.

It was so tiny and fine it was almost invisible, but yet it had my heart quickening its pace.

Without really thinking I quickly pulled off my jeans, tore off my sweater and jacket in one hurried motion. I almost ripped my necklace in the process. But I wanted out from it; away from the sooty clothes and the reeking of smoke.

The first spray of water from the shower that a moment later hit my face, forcing the soot and ashes down the drain, was like liberation from imprisonment. I closed my eyes, trying to savour the feeling.

But I could still smell the smoke.

And it wasn't from my clothes, still lying in a heap on the bathroom floor, or how it seemed to have infiltrated the inside of my nostrils; I could still feel how the smoke inhaled through my nose, how it filled my lungs. I could still hear the crackling of paper and wood swallowed by hungry flames, the fizzle of fabric as the fire tried to get to my clothes. Despite the soft water now running over me, I could still feel the stinging heat of the blazes on my skin, in my hair; how it hungrily tried to reach and burn.

My eyes fluttered open and the image of the rising flames around me were erased by the water washing over me.

I exhaled heavily, surprised, and very much irritated, that the day's incident seemed to get to me.

Determined to shake it off of me, I reached for the soap, hoping to push any thoughts of the fire away.

But as I did, I suddenly froze stiff when I noticed the burns around my wrists; the red sore bands encircling like bracelets and the dried blood slowly dissolving by the water.

I swallowed hard, gripping my one wrist with my other hand. Somehow I was unable to divert my own gaze and roughly my thumbs started rubbing the cuts clean under the water.

It stung, badly. But I tried ignoring it, and instead just kept rubbing, removing the traces.

But then, suddenly, I could again feel the flames around me.

I could feel how I again was lying on the floor, my arms frantically wrenching and twisting to get freed; the cord digging deeper into my wrists and ankles, cutting through the skin. In my mind I could again see how the fire claimed the objects around me; how it spread to the table, to the sofa. To the chair I a second ago had been tied to. Without remorse the blazes swallowed the papers on the floor, turning them into ashes in an instant. The heat burned on my skin. The smoke stung in my eyes.

I wanted to scream. For help. In fear. But the sound was muffled by the tape over my mouth before it even passed my lips.

It was getting harder to breath.

The smoke was getting heavier.

Desperately I wanted to keep my breath, preventing the smoke to reach my lungs. But without power to stop it, my own breathing uninhabited kept forcing the smoke in, through my nostrils, down to my lungs.

It started burning painfully in my throat. My head was spinning.

The unfamiliar sensation spoke volumes.

The flames, reaching higher, getting closer, they weren't the threat anymore. They weren't what would kill me.

The insight made my panicked breathing to my horror quickening, sucking more of the deadly smoke down my bronchus, deeper down my lungs.

My breathing quickened even more. My heart was beating like never before. My limbs were getting tired, lifeless, despite the blood rushing through my veins. My burning eyes watered.

This was it.

I gasped for air.

To my surprise it was water that filled my mouth. It was water that now tried to reach my lungs, choking me.

I spluttered, coughing violently to be able to breath. Still with my mind in the burning building I again panicked over the air lacking my lungs. My heart started pounding rapidly inside my chest, and I felt the energy draining from my muscles.

My hands fumbled at the wall, desperately reaching for something to hang on to and I felt a sudden comfort as one of my hands found the shower bar. Gripping it tightly, I leaned my head towards the wall, away from the water, while trying to catch my breath; forcing myself to take even, steady, breaths. But just when I felt that I was finally getting around, the overwhelming feeling of defeat was washing over me again. I closed my eyes firmly shut when I felt the burning sensation of unwanted tears in my eyes. I clenched my free hand against the wet tile, firmly setting my jaws; forcing the signs of weakness away.

Determined to succeed, I kept taking deep breaths, kept resisting whatever it was that my mind wanted to play out. To my relief I sensed my reason finally getting the upper hand.

I exhaled heavily.

But still I couldn't help to reflect over today's experience.

I know Kelly, Kris and Bosley had probably saved my life. If they hadn't come when they did, I don't think I would have made it.

Because I had done everything I could, hadn't I?

I had released myself from the chair, given my fingers better access on working on the knot behind my back. I had kicked out that bowl of water to stall the fire from spreading. And I had tried removing the tape plastered over my mouth. I had hoped that if I managed to coax the edge of the tape against the floor, I would be able to tear it off. I would be able to breathe somewhat more freely and I would be able to focus on getting away. Or I would at least be able to scream for help.

But it hadn't budged.

The goddamn tape hadn't budged one bit.

I swallowed hard; the unfamiliar feeling of defeat creeping up on me yet again.

I had been helpless.

Unable to move. Unable to breath. Unable to escape.

I hadn't even been able to scream for help.

Pitiful and lonely lying on the floor, incapable of doing a thing. Not even capable of removing a damn little piece of tape.

God- I was piteous.

Detested by my weakness I released the grip around the shower bar, straightening my back. My tired muscles protested but I ignored it. Instead I took a deep breath to boost myself with strength.

I wiped my hands against my face under the water. My fingers were tense from the tight gripping, and my fingertips wrinkled from the water.

I must have been longer than I thought. And I hadn't even managed to actually shower. I felt a sting of annoyance at myself and quickly I turned my determined attention back to finish my shower.

A short while later I got out, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me. Not surprisingly the bathroom air was humid and thick from the apparently long shower, and it did nothing for my already shaking nerves and worn muscles. Feeling slightly dizzy and dozy from the heat as well, I let myself sink down on the toilet seat.

Maybe I could give myself a short moment to relax. For a short while. Just letting myself be. Soon I would have to go out and face the others that were still waiting outside. I needed this moment.

Didn't I?

Where there were no demands, no obligations; no need of keeping a façade of being strong.

Somewhat absent-mindedly I heard my friends' voices creating a soft murmur from outside the door. I found a strange relief in hearing their voices, and even if I didn't really listen to what they said it was a welcomed interruption.

But then their voices died out and for a moment I wondered what was going on. When Kris' voice then broke through the silence, I couldn't help but listen.

"I still can't believe we called and started that fire," she said disheartened, surprising me by bringing up the very thing I wanted to forget.

"God, what if we hadn't realized it in time?" she continued, a genuine tone of fear distinguished in her voice.

I could almost picture her worried and innocent face, and the image brought me an instinctive feeling of concern for our youngest and newest member. Kris was still rather new to all of this and not at all used to it like the rest of us. She was still trying to adapt. Sometimes it felt like she had been with us from the start – she was so skilled and in tune with the rest of us – but she hadn't. She was still the rookie, and like times before I now felt that sisterly responsibility towards her that I had when she first joined just a couple of months ago.

But unable of doing much from where I was sitting, I was glad when I heard Bosley trying to reassure her.

"Ah, you're treading on thin ice Kris," he said. "You know what if's can't exist in our vocabulary."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "But it's just scary you know. It's like you know that these things can happen, but you don't really think they will." She went silent for a moment, but without really giving room for the others to reply she continued, "I mean, I know we're in a dangerous business and all, and that things always can go wrong, but when stuff like this happens it just feels so much real, you know? And- I don't know, it just makes you really realize our own vulnerability, how easy it is to actually get hurt or even killed-" She paused for a second. "And I guess it just makes me wonder if our luck is gonna run out someday. Or can we really go on with this kind of life and never really expect to be hurt sometime? Can we always expect to go on unharmed, while we successfully go on stopping the bad guys? I mean, is that even possible?"

She went quiet, probably giving the other two the possibility to reply, and unbeknownst to her, also giving me a moment to absorb her words.

Although I knew she was still trying to adapt, I was a bit surprised to hear her obvious doubts. But again I was reminded that she was still rather new, that even if she had bonded with the rest of us, I still didn't know her too well; I couldn't read her like I could with Kelly or I had with Jill. We pretty much knew each other inside and out, and even though I was certain Kris would get there as well, she was still not quite there.

But still her doubts now weren't that strange. I think she had been particularly conscious of our lifestyle lately. It was just the other week when she first had to shot someone, and I think that experience lingered on. I think it had dawned at her then that we weren't indestructible. We could get shot and killed, just as easily as we had to shoot and kill.

I sighed, remembering when I first came to that insight. That sure felt like a long time ago.

Now I just went on, like I knew also Kelly and Bosley did. Shrugging things off like it was nothing, as if just because we were used to it we could handle it. But somewhere in the back of my mind I knew we never really could adapt to it, even if in my naivety sometimes felt like if I tried.

Jadedly I turned my attention back to what was going on on the other side of the bathroom door. I had heard how they'd talked, how Kelly and Bosley had reassure Kris from her doubts, but engaged in my own thoughts I hadn't listened. And now, they seemed to have turned silent.

The silence was deafening and freeing at the same time.

Of some reason I was relieved when I then heard Bosley, even if it was only the sound of a loud yawn.

"Boy, being a magician sure is tiring."

"Oh, Bos," Kris complained playfully, sounding completely different from her previous soberness, "we didn't even have a big act today."

I heard Bosley trying to say something again, but muffled by loud yawning it was impossible to make out what it was. But either way his yawning must have been contagious as suddenly I heard Kris trying to suppress her own yawning.

"Bosley," Kris complained between her yawns, "you gotta stop that. You're bringing me with you."

"Why don't you two go on home?" Kelly then said, and I felt a sudden comfort in just hearing her voice that had been silent in previous discussions. "I can stay with her."

"No that's ok," Bosley replied. "We can all stay."

"There's no need all of us are staying," Kelly replied practically.

I think I heard Bosley replying something, but drowned by the sudden rattling of China and cutlery I was unable to make out what it was.

"Are you sure?" I then heard Kris say as the rattling ceased. "You don't want me to stay with you?"

"No, that's alright. You know she's probably gonna be impossible with just one of us hanging around anyway." Kelly replied with a facetious, yet at the same time serious, tone of voice.

I frowned troubled, almost feeling a bit hurt. I really hoped she didn't believe that herself, that she only said it to reassure Kris.

Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I missed their reply. But in my mind I could hear how they agreed with Kelly. I had acted out pretty strong. I always did.

I sighed. Even when I didn't really want to, I did.

Whenever I got scared or felt weak, I covered it up. Acting ok. Acting tough. And then I broke apart when they weren't there.

I frowned troubled. Why couldn't I ever just let someone take care of me? Why couldn't I just appreciate my friends' support when they so willingly offered?

Why did I always have to act so goddamn tough?

But this was how we did it, I tried convincing myself. We couldn't break down for every little thing. We had each others backs and knew we were there for each other if we really needed support, but there was no need to dwell. There was no need to show the occasional signs of weakness.

Although boosted by my words, I still couldn't shake off that feeling of guilt that crept up on me. For shutting them out. For stubbornly making them believe I was fine when I obviously wasn't.

In a way I wanted to go out there. To let them offer their support or tell them I at least appreciated their concern. Or by the very least just show them that I indeed I was ok. But I didn't, and instead I just shameful and tired sat silently, half-heartedly listening as their footsteps passed outside the bathroom door.

I heard Kris' voice again, but muffled by something, or my absent-mindedness, I didn't really heard what she said. But when she spoke again, it was clear as crystal.

"I still don't get how you guys can take these things so easily," she said with a hopeless sigh.

"I mean, she was almost killed today."

"Oh don't be fooled by Miss Duncan over there. She has a tendency to act like she's made out of steel," Bosley said with a distinct humorous tone. But even if I knew he said it as a joke I felt a lump in my throat.

I was relieved when Kelly spoke, giving me the chance to push the uncomfortable sensation away.

"And trust me Kris," she said. "None of us take these things easily."

Her voice sounded surprisingly light, but even though I only heard her through the door and couldn't see her, I still sensed the underlying seriousness in her voice.

"It's just that we have different ways of dealing with it," she the continued, suddenly sounding very tired. "Some of us seek support from others, and some of us deal with it on our own."

Much to my distress I again felt how her last comment was aimed at me, but this time I knew she was talking about herself just as much as she did me. We were both shutting people out, dealing with things in our own miserable solitude rather than share it with others. I guess we had our own reasons, but we were both just as hopeless. And I think we at times both envied the Munroe sisters, and even Bosley to some extent, who were strong enough to share.

"Well, I think you're going about it all the wrong way," Kris then replied with a sigh, yet again bringing me out from my own thoughts. I couldn't help not snorting sarcastically at her comment. I wonder if she knew how right she actually was.

I couldn't really hear what the others replied; if they replied at all.

Drained from energy and my usual confidence, I listened half-heartedly at their now much muffled voices as they said their goodbyes. Despite my previous guilt, I also felt quite thankful that they would leave.

Before I really knew it the front door shut close and the apartment went silent.

Silent and lonely.

At least Kelly stayed.

A faint smile escaped my lips knowing that she although was out there, waiting for me.

I sat silent for yet another couple of moments – how long I didn't know – but sooner or later I pulled on a robe and got out.

The apartment was indeed silent, but the darkness puzzled me, and for a moment I wondered if Kelly had left as well.

I felt a sting of abandonment of the thought, but before I could spin further on the thought I heard footsteps behind me.

"Bri?"

I turned around, and I felt a feeling of comfort washing over me when I saw her standing some feet away, looking straight at me with those green, concerned eyes. Somehow I seemed to feel more at ease just by seeing her.

"Are you ok?" she asked, her voice hinting of worry. "You took quite awhile in there."

I was silent for awhile before answering, having an inner debate with myself of what to say. "Yeah, I'm alright," I then finally said and I was surprised to find my voice alert and confident. I don't think she fell for it though, because she didn't seem the slightest reassured.

But of some reason she didn't question me.

"I sent Kris and Bos home," she instead said, her voice now more of her usual softness.

I nodded, again feeling that slight of guilt creeping up on me. But still I was relieved. I wouldn't have the strength to talk to them now, and I think she knew it. I could thank them for their concern when we meet at work.

"Thanks," I said, hoping she realized how much I appreciated it.

"I'm glad you stayed though," I then added with a vague smile.

She gazed back at me with an unreadable look, and for a second I wondered if she appreciated me saying it, or if she had misinterpret me and thinking I thought she wouldn't.

"You know I would."

I smiled vaguely, her words only somewhat easing my previous doubt.

"Did you talk to Charlie?" I then, of some reason, asked.

For a second she almost looked troubled by my question, before she nodded. "Yeah. We decided to wait until tomorrow afternoon to meet up at the office."

I nodded mechanically as she went on. "We thought that you-," she stopped, before correcting herself. "We thought that we could all need some rest."

I just nodded mechanically, not really caring to comment.

A silence prevailed between us for a moment, before she then again spoke.

"Sabrina-"

The concern hinting in her soft voice was impossible to miss, and I found myself swallow.

"Yeah?" Again I was startled at how strong my voice sounded, but still I could almost feel how I held my breath, waiting for her to go on. I looked back up at her, seeing that honest worry again in her face. I know what she wanted, and in a way I wanted her to, but still I hoped she would wait. I wasn't up for talking.

I think she could see it because I could literally see how she let it go.

I was relieved.

Although not very surprised. She had always been able to read me like no one else, knowing when I was up to talk.

"Why don't you go to bed?" she instead said, a vague considerate smile appearing in her face. "You must be tired."

I offered her a smile of gratitude, thanking her for not bringing it up, before I turned around and walked over to the bedroom.

I must have drifted off, because I didn't notice when she walked in the room. It was not until she sat down on the bed next to me, making the mattress slightly sway, that I noticed her there. But too tired, I didn't move or open my eyes. Instead I lay there silently, feeling the gentle touch of her fingers as she brushed away a string of hair from my face; just appreciating her presence.

But then all of a sudden, she sighed. A heavy, sad sigh, and immediately my eyes opened.

She was sitting just inches away from me. Her shoulders were heavy and her eyes, glistening in the dark, was reflecting that open vulnerability I rarely ever saw.

But she didn't notice my gaze, maybe my eyes weren't fully open, maybe she was too absorbed in thoughts, but I know she wasn't aware of my eyes. Then her otherwise firm guard would be up, her unreadable exterior intact, like it normally was. But now the scars of a troubled past were there, stripped naked of their shell that I knew she so desperately wanted to maintain.

Suddenly feeling as a dishonest intruder I blinked it away, complying with her desire of keeping her inner ghosts hidden.

"Hi," I instead said, letting her know I was awake, and pulled myself up slightly to rest against the headboard.

I must have started her, because her hand suddenly stopped her movement, her eyes blinking away her previous gaze, abruptly closing the solid doors to her interior.

But only a fraction of a second later she gazed back at me with now unreadable eyes, her hand gently giving my hair a final stroke before dropping to her lap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said quietly, a vague wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

"You didn't," I croaked and managed a vague smile. I wasn't actually sure if I had been fast asleep or not, but either way I hated to see her looking so sorry, almost guilty, for thinking she'd woken me. She often did, feel guilty for things she had no really reason to - all because of that unneeded urge to please and do right she was plagued by. And I felt bad every time.

She smiled vaguely, probably knowing what I was thinking, but she was unable to reassure me one bit.

I frowned troubled when she diverted her eyes, and for a moment I just held my gaze, studying her as her eyes fixated on something beside her lap. I was surprised when I then could see how her façade again was fading, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was aware of it herself. If she was aware that she – involuntarily or not – was slowly letting me in.

I frowned sadly, feeling both pained I had to wonder and for knowing she still felt the need to keep up her firm walls.

But bringing my mind back at hand I instead followed her gaze. Startled I noticed she was watching the burn marks on my wrists. Automatically I swallowed, now feeling guilty myself, before looking up at her again. Her face looked painfully troubled.

"Are you ok?"

The words passed my lips even before I could think them, and although my voice sounded small and pitiful, I looked at her with nothing but concern.

She laughed softly, a slight sarcastic laugh, and looked back up at me, her guard slowly regaining its previously shattered pieces. "Isn't it I who is supposed to ask you that?"

"You don't seem to be ok," I said, ignoring her question and her effort to keep focus off of herself.

But she didn't answer. Just looked at me, and as much as I wanted to, I could no longer read her expression.

"Why do you always have to act like this Bri?"

Her direct words in the silent room startled me, but before I even got the chance to absorb them she spoke again. "You might try to convince everyone that you're indestructible, but you're not."

"I- I know," I said, fumbling with my words. "I- I don't really try to."

Almost as if she hadn't listened, she went on, looking straight at me.

"You can't deal with everything on your own," she said and even thought it was vague, I could still hear the agitation in her voice. "You don't even have to."

"I know-." My voice was unconvincing even to my own ears. I swallowed. "But Kell, you know I can't- that I-".

"Yeah I know," she interrupted me with a sigh, shaking her head resignedly as if recognizing the hopelessness at her own request.

I bit my lip, disliking the silence that came over us; my own silence.

"I'm sorry," I then finally said, and even though I meant it, and was pretty sure she knew I did, the vague smile she offered me in return didn't quite reach me. And yet again I let silence fall upon us.

When she then, several moments later, broke the silence, her voice was weak and almost inaudible and I could tell she was deep in thoughts.

"We should have realized-"

I looked at her confused.

She didn't look back at up at me, but still she continued. "We should have realized right away that something was wrong when you didn't answer." Her voice was now stronger, but still the regret that was brimming in her voice was painful to my ears. "We shouldn't have called in the first place. I can't believe we didn't realize-"

"Kelly- You know I don't blame you guys for calling and setting the fire," I said, surprised and troubled she could even think I would. "It was an easy mistake."

She looked at me, and I was almost startled of her sharp eyes.

"We're not allowed to make mistakes, Bri," she said, slightly raising her voice, but then her voice cracked and she turned her glassy eyes away, again fixating firmly on my wrists.

I had always been impressed by Kelly's strength. I know her delicate exterior often fooled people, but I know she was strong as iron inside. That was why the sight of her now, looking small and vulnerable, was completely heart-wrecking. I reached out and placed my hand on hers, lying in her lap.

"Kelly, are you ok?"

She looked at me, a distant gleam in her eyes, and I know I would have done anything to know what was passing through her head at that exact moment, what was the reason to that distance and that distress that was so clearly there.

She wasn't aware of my wish - or maybe she was - but either way she shrugged.

"I am." She then finally said. "I just get worried."

I offered her as a reassuring smile as I could.

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. This is all apart of the job; you know that as much as I do."

I didn't reply, knowing there was really nothing I could say.

Yes, I knew it was all part of the job. But that didn't stop me for feeling bad about it, for feeling bad that she, and the others, had to worry about me. I know it was never just about the one getting hurt when something like this happened – it was just as much about the rest of us, worrying, wondering if there could have been something differently we could have done, fearing what would have happened if the bullet had hit a few inches closer, if the car had crashed or exploded one second earlier. We all worried. Even if we tried to shield ourselves from the constant worry we were never free from it. And I really didn't know which was worse – being the one subject to the bullet, the grip of an uncompassionate criminal, a hungry fire, or being the one standing on the side, worrying.

I looked at her, now seeing only a hint of that troubled, sad, scared face I had seen before.

This wasn't just about worrying to Kelly, was it? It was something else. She hated worrying. Even if she always worried, about me, the others, she hated it. She hated feeling helpless; feared feeling dependent on something, or someone else.

Didn't I know she hated it? That it scared her, made her feel vulnerable.

I know it wasn't easy for her to give herself to someone. I had learnt that the hard way, and so had Jill, Kris and Bosley. Before us, she had never really had anyone else. Only sadistic matrons, selfish foster parents and the occasional shallow friend she had lost as soon as she was tossed over to another set of temporary parents. Because of it she had guarded herself from feeling, causing her to fear commitment and becoming unreachable.

But she had opened up, given a part of herself to me and the others. She had exposed herself. Facing the prospect of loosing us couldn't be easy.

I looked at her again, studying her, feeling distressed and sad at seeing that delicate but troubled face, and I couldn't help but feel utterly helpless. She caught my gaze, and of some reason she offered me a vague smile. I didn't really know why, but somehow the smile gave me hope.

She leaned over, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

I nodded somewhat reluctantly. "Uh hum," I mumbled silently, almost inaudible.

The spot beside me already felt cold and empty when she rose. But still I closed my eyes as she turned around and left.

I listened as she went about the room behind me. She was quiet as a mouse, not to disturb me no doubt. For a minute I thought she had left.

The soft creak of the bed a moment later, the slight sway of the mattress, indicated that she hadn't.

I shivered slightly as a cool breeze ran along my back when she slipped under the covers.

I was just about to turn around and face her when she gently nuzzled up behind me instead, moulding her body with mine in a perfect match. She slid her one arm around me, her hand urgently searching mine. I found an almost overwhelming feeling of comfort when she found it, when she intertwined her fingers with mine.

I know we both had our issues.

I know we both fought desperately to keep up facades, of being strong and indestructible in our own ways; that we both despised feeling exposed and weak. But somewhere in the shadows of those charades I think we both knew we were just as vulnerable and dependable as any. And maybe needing someone else, feeling needed in return, didn't have to be such a bad thing.

Soothed of just having her there I pulled our joined hands closer to my chest, increasing the embrace.

As I did I could feel how her muscles relaxed, how she let go of her struggles and gave in. Maybe it was just temporarily, but I think she at that moment felt just a little bit more at ease.

I smiled into the dark. Because with her arm securely wrapped around me, giving me the support I obviously needed, I know I could as well.

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