(Doctor Gregory House and other canon characters featured in this work of fiction belong to NBC/Universal and David Shore. Original characters are my creation. I make no money from writing these stories, it's done for pure enjoyment. All literary passages, quotes and song lyrics are used without permission; I do not own them or make money from using them.)

No heartaches felt, no long and lonely

nights of waiting, finally won me

happiness that's all rolled up in you

And now with you as inspiration

I look toward a destination

sunny bright, that once before was blue . . .

March 12th

Sarah stirred and opened her eyes. It took a few moments for her to remember where she was. She lay in the soft darkness for a little while as she struggled to hang onto a desire to sleep, but at last she got up, put on her bathrobe and went down the hall to the kitchen.

Eventually she found herself out on the back porch. It was chilly, but she didn't really mind it that much. Apparently she'd gotten inured to colder temperatures at home, a thought that surprised her; so now their house in the mountains was truly home at long last. She sat down on the top step and stared out at the yard. It was simple, nondescript; Laynie's flower garden still had its protective layer of newspaper mulch, but it was possible to see tender shoots of grass.

Sarah lifted her eyes to the expanse of sky. In the soft blue a moon hung low and pale, just past half-full. It felt strange not to see mountains on the horizon but the openness was familiar too, as was the wind that tugged at her hair and nipped her toes with chill.

Have to go up to Tulsa tomorrow. The knowledge infected every thought. Laynie wanted her to wait a few days, but that would only make the dread worse. Better to rip the bandage off the wound that had never quite healed. That's what she was here for, wasn't she? She shivered and tucked her feet into her robe. Her fear meant she wasn't able to separate the past from her present, and yet it was hopeless to try. How many mornings had she done this, looked to gain a few moments of peace in households where she was neither wanted nor understood?

Tulsa meant all kinds of things, the knowledge tucked away in the room at the back of her mind, where she kept old memories under lock and key. She hadn't examined that room in quite some time; now she wasn't sure what she'd find when she opened the door. Would piles of rubbish tumble out? Would it be empty except for a few old cobwebbed boxes? She thought it might be somewhere between the two. The notion held no comfort, only a sort of grim, dreary duty. Sooner or later she would have to turn the key in the lock and enter.

After a while she rose and went into the house, and ignored sunshine as it came through the door behind her.

She found voicemail on her phone when she checked it—Jason had called before school, but another was from Gene, with no message. She stared at the ID for a long time before she hit speed dial.

"Hey," she said when he picked up. He didn't answer. She waited, but he said nothing. "Thanks for calling me back," she said at last. Silence. "How are you?"

"When are you going to Tulsa?"

Sarah closed her eyes. So he wasn't going to play nice; fine, she could be terse and cold too. "Tomorrow. I'd go tonight, but-"

"Sare, dammit." He made an angry noise, almost a growl. "You just got there and now you want to wade right in and start throwin' punches—"

"I can't sit around for days on end, Gene. I won't."

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Some," she said, unwilling to admit how much she'd tossed and turned.

"As in none," Gene snapped. He didn't speak for a moment. When he did talk again his voice was quieter, but she could hear the strain. "Take one of the sleeping pills I put in your purse. You're exhausted and you need to rest before you head up there and wade into that ongoing shit storm you got stuck with in place of a real family."

The ache of worry in his words made her eyes fill with tears. "I just want to get this over with."

"Come on, Sare! You know it doesn't work that way! If one of your patients was pullin' this stupidity you'd be all over them to stop it. But it's okay for you to get yourself beat up over and over—"

"I won't get beat up!" It was a lie, she knew it as she said it.

"Just take the damn sleeping pill," Gene said after a tense silence. "Please."

"I'll talk to you later tonight," Sarah said, and ended the call. She set the phone beside her and grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand; her eyes kept leaking, and she couldn't seem to get the lump out of her throat.

After she'd calmed down a bit she went to the kitchen. She'd just started a cup of tea when Greg entered, hair tousled, his bathrobe thrown on over tee shirt and flannel pants in a haphazard fashion. Sarah felt a swell of affection but said only "Good morning. I'll make you some coffee if you like."

"Mmph." He limped to the table and took a seat, yawned and scrubbed his face as she got out the filters and coffee grounds. "Heard you on the phone earlier. You and your boy toy had a little tiff."

She felt her cheeks grow warm. "No."

"Which is Okie-speak for 'yes'." Greg leaned back and rubbed his thigh, something she hadn't seen him do in some time. "What's the problem besides your being here?"

Sarah took the basket out of the maker and tucked a filter in place. "Nothing."

"You know, you should practice lying more often because you're really bad at it."

"Maybe you should mind your own business," Sarah said. Her hand shook as she measured grounds into the filter.

"It's too damn early in the morning for this self-indulgent nonsense, but I'll oblige you for once," Greg said. "You insisted I come on this little jaunt into your sordid past, so you can't complain about my attitude when it's what you wanted in the first place." He folded his arms and gave her an inimical stare. "Don't even start that pull-it-out-deeper game with me, Goldman. It's loads of fun in the bedroom, but it won't work here since we're both married to other people."

Sarah shoved the basket into the maker and flipped the switch. "Fine. You want to know what we were fighting about? He asked me to wait a few days before going to Tulsa. I'm supposed to take a sedative and chill out until the weekend or something." She took a mug from the collection in the dish rack, along with a spoon.

"My god, how unreasonable," Greg said with considerable sarcasm.

"Yeah, it is!" Sarah kept her voice down, but it was hard. "I have a limited amount of time here—"

"Now see, that's what I'm talking about," Greg said. "Excellent start for a great lie."

"It's the truth! I don't think I can wait around—" She stopped, her breath caught in her throat, and watched dark brew start to fill the carafe. " . . . I won't," she said at last. "I just won't."

"So you're taking the tough-medicine approach. Dump a ton of salt in the gaping wound and hope for the best." Greg shook his head. "I'm with Gunney on this one. Take a couple of days. You're not ready to face changing channels on the tv, let alone those knuckle-draggers you're stuck calling family."

"I'll go by myself if I have to."

Greg got to his feet and limped to the coffeemaker. He took the carafe out and filled his cup, oblivious to the stream of hot liquid on the hot plate, dumped in two large spoonsful of sugar and headed out of the kitchen. Sarah got up to stuff the carafe back in place and winced at the smell of burnt coffee. "Jerk," she muttered under her breath, but her heart wasn't in it. He was right, she knew he was, and so was Gene. She didn't care.

After she'd cleaned up the mess she sat at the table and called Jason. She'd expected to leave a message on voicemail, but he picked up on the second ring. "Mom? Are you okay? Are you coming home?"

Sarah gave a silent sigh. "Just wanted to return your call, sweetheart. I thought you couldn't use your phone during class."

"I'm outside, it's recess." It was so clearly a lie Sarah couldn't help but smile. "When are you coming home?"

"Jay, I'll call you later when it's okay for you to talk, all right?"

"Do you think you might get back early?"

"We discussed this before I left, love. Three weeks, sooner if I can manage it." Sarah struggled to keep her tone gentle. "I'm not going to make a promise I can't keep. I might be here that whole time, might not."

"Okay." Jason didn't sound convinced. "Miss you, Mom. Dad does too, he just doesn't want to say so because he's being a dick."

Now she did smile. "Jason, your dad is not being a dick. He's worried and scared and mad because he loves me." She drew in a breath at the knowledge as it touched her deep within. "I love him too. But thanks for letting me know he misses me."

"I love you." In the background an adult's voice could be heard, full of exasperation. "Gotta go, Mom. Talk to you later."

"You stinker," Sarah said, but Jason was already gone. She put her phone away as Laynie came into the kitchen on a huge yawn.

"Still an early riser, I see," she said, and sniffed the air. "Who burned the joe?"

It felt like old times—the good kind, to sit together over morning brew and talk. "I think you should wait," Laynie said when Sarah told her what she wanted to do. "Knowing you, that isn't gonna happen." She sipped her coffee. "You should listen to your men. They're worried about you." She set down her mug. "So am I. You know you're not ready for this yet, Sare. But that stubborn streak's kicked in and the more anyone tells you not to do something, the more determined you are to do it."

"I just want to get it over with." Sarah drank the last of her tea and got up to make another cup.

"I know you do, sweetie. It's just that you'll need all your strength to deal with those people." Laynie's expression held equal parts concern and affection. "Please consider taking a day or two to decompress and get some rest." She reached out, put her hand over Sarah's. "Sooner Tornado Research has a brand new chasing vehicle now, you know. We could go out for a spin this afternoon. You haven't seen the new setup in the office either. Anyway, I'd love to take you and the tall one out to dinner. I bet you don't get decent barbecue back east."

"You'll make the tall one happy talkin' like that." Sarah sat down and stared at the steaming cup she'd set on the table. "You . . . you really think I should try to wait?"

"Yeah, honey. Give yourself time to get used to being here. You go up there without being ready, it'll just make things worse."

[H]

"When's Mom coming home?"

Gene gave Jason a look. "You're not gonna get a different answer no matter how many times you ask, okay? She'll come home when she comes home. You got your schoolwork done?"

"Yeah, Roz helped me with it." Jason picked up his plate. "I thanked her for dinner."

"Good man." Gene got to his feet. "Let's get the dishes done and watch some tv."

He listened to the quiet while he washed and rinsed, and Jason dried and put away. It felt like any other night at home, but the vital spark that warmed the household was gone. He missed the sound of Sarah's clear, musical voice raised in harmony with the song on the radio, her soft laugh, the brush of her bright curls against his cheek. He could still make her blush just as hard as she did the first time he'd laid eyes on her, as she sat with Laynie in the dimness of the coffeehouse, her beautiful eyes full of confusion, fear and that shadow of delight he'd come to treasure.

He waited until an hour or so after Jason had gone to bed before he sat on the couch, picked up the phone and dialed Sarah's number.

"Hey," she said. She sounded a little better. "You're up late."

"What did you decide?"

She didn't answer right away. "I'll wait."

Gene let go a breath he hadn't realized he held. "Okay. Good."

"I'll . . . I'll take a sedative tonight too." She sighed. "I'm sorry, love."

"If I didn't expect grief from you, it wouldn't be a normal day," he dared to tease a little.

"Aw, shut up."

"You're already gettin' your twang back," he said. It was meant as a joke but he felt a little pang at the thought.

"Once a Sooner," she said. "How's Jay?"

"He wants you back home. Me too."

"I know." She didn't say anything for a few moments. "I love you. Get some sleep."

"Bed's too big without you," he said.

"On my side of things too. I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

When she'd gone he stared into the fire for a long time and tried not to think of her almost a continent away, alone and afraid despite her brave words, a single spark in the darkness.