As they walk to her car though the hospital parking lot, Alicia thinks back to a month ago, when they'd walked the exact same route in very different circumstances. It feels like another world.

The woman walking beside her today looks just as she's always looked, and walks with the same quick stride and confidence. The Kalinda of a month ago had been rendered slow from her injuries, forced to rely on others just to make it through the day, and that had put her in the foulest mood that Alicia had ever seen.

She had hated the dependence, hated the fussing, hated asking for help just to get to the bathroom, and her passion was intensified by her constant pain. Will had come to visit her in the hospital, and Cary, and Diane, and they had all been treated to displays of such fierce anger and frustration that they'd made their excuses and left.

Alicia had stayed. Because she couldn't bear to be anywhere else, but also because Kalinda had treated her differently. There was still the odd flash of anger, no doubt about it, but there was also a kind of reluctant acceptance, as if she knew that she had to rely on someone and Alicia was the best of a bad situation. It had annoyed Alicia to begin with, because Kalinda had still seemed so resentful of her presence, but then she had seen how the others were treated, and that had opened her eyes.

Even so, asking Kalinda to come home with her had been difficult to say the least. The doctors had been clear that their patient wouldn't be released without the appropriate care in place, and so Alicia had beaten around the bush for a few days, getting no response whatsoever, and then just outright asked Kalinda to come and stay with her. She refused.

So Alicia offered to call whoever Kalinda would like to stay with instead, which earned her a death glare, and so she promised she wouldn't fuss, which was met with silence, and so she promised to be respectful of her privacy and leave her alone as much as she could, and more silence, and so she started saying please, and it was only when she was on the edge of tears that Kalinda finally gave in.

So she came home with her. A long, painful walk across the car park (Alicia had suggested a wheelchair, of course, and then immediately wished she hadn't), a silent ride home, and then a small, wounded woman in her apartment, unfamiliar in her baggy, comfortable clothes, loose hair and bare face.

Neither of them had known what to do. Alicia's instincts told her to fuss, to treat her like a child. Kalinda's instincts told her to rebel.

But they'd been OK. They'd worked it out. Slowly, gradually, they'd established a rhythm. Alicia woke her up in the morning with a cup of coffee by her bedside and left her to get up when she pleased. They had breakfast together while reading the papers, and then Kalinda washed the parts of her body that she could reach without pain, and Alicia helped with the rest. (In silence, after the first time, because she'd tried small talk just once and found that she was talking complete and utter nonsense.)

For the rest of the day she left Kalinda entirely to her own devices. For the first week she disappeared into her room for most of the day, and Alicia sat in the lounge working on her laptop and making deals with herself – if she doesn't come out for three hours, you can go and check on her. If she doesn't eat her lunch, you can ask about the pain.

They only had one crisis. In the early hours of the morning Alicia was fast asleep and woken by a soft voice calling her name. A quick panic, a racing heart, and her friend explaining in the quietest voice in the world that she needed a new dressing and couldn't do it.

She'd changed the dressing right there in her bedroom, Kalinda sitting on the edge of her bed and Alicia kneeling on the floor. Kalinda had said, "Thanks" and Alicia had smiled at her and, in her half-conscious state, asked her to sleep in her bed so she could keep an eye on her. Kalinda had hesitated for a good five seconds before saying that she was fine.

It had felt like a crisis when she was first woken up, but by the time she fell asleep again, it felt differently. She'd thought about what it had cost Kalinda to come to her. She'd thought about the five second delay. It was only when she emptied the bathroom bin the following morning that she found a clump of fresh dressings inside a veritable mess of tape. She'd tried over and over to avoid asking for help.

But she had asked for help, in the end. And it had changed things. She began to emerge from her room and live with Alicia in the lounge. Sometimes reading, or watching TV, or just lying on the couch. She'd listen in to Alicia's conference calls and they'd talk about the clients.

One week turned into two, and two to three. Alicia learned to pick her battles; pain medication matters, late nights don't. They learned to compromise without Kalinda getting annoyed or Alicia getting upset. Kalinda learned to watch Alicia's favorite TV show without pointing out that every other plot was insane.

Alicia started to tease her about the thousands of cases she was expecting her to solve to pay for her bed and board. Kalinda started fake sulking whenever she failed to get her way, saying, "But I've been shot!" in a wide-eyed innocent voice that Alicia found almost impossible to resist.

Kalinda gradually got stronger as her wound healed and her pain faded. She started taking showers by herself in the mornings, and on the Monday of week four she came in to breakfast with her hair up. Alicia didn't comment. The leather jackets took a few more days, and by the time they were ready for her final hospital check-up she was the old Kalinda again, skirt and make-up and boots and all.

Will came to visit her and he was thrilled to see her looking so well; just like her old self again, he said, good as new. He was so obviously pleased for her that Alicia tried to figure out why she wasn't quite as pleased herself. It didn't take her long.

And now, they're sat in her car again. A clean bill of health, the doctor said. Or at least, a reassurance that Miss Sharma would be able to live on her own again, and would be fully healed in time.

Wonderful news. Wonderful news.

Alicia puts the key in the ignition but doesn't turn it. She looks out at the other cars, the people going about their business, visiting relatives, visiting friends. All of that sickness, all of that pain. She was so lucky. She'd been so lucky.

She sighs and looks over at Kalinda, who returns the look with a muted smile.

"So."

"So."

"I'll take you to my place first, we can pick up all your stuff."

"OK."

She doesn't start the car.

"You'll be OK? You know you can call me any time."

"I'll be fine. And I know. Thanks."

They share another weak smile.

"Alicia?"

"Yes?"

"I really...I really appreciate everything you've done."

"It's been a pleasure. I mean, not a pleasure that you were hurt, I mean-"

"Alicia. I know what you mean."

A real smile this time, and Alicia's transfixed. She reaches up to Kalinda's cheek and gently strokes her face. Kalinda's smile fades but she doesn't look away.

"I'll miss you," Alicia says.

"You'll see me at work every day."

Alicia looks at her friend, in her tight leather jacket and high-heeled boots, her perfect make-up and perfect hair. She leans in and gently places a kiss on Kalinda's forehead.

"No I won't," she whispers.