Disclaimer: I own nothing.

– – –

Denise had dressed and prepared coffee before the young detective woke up, and she greeted her with a smile when she sat up, stretching. She peered at Denise with mild confusion then seemed to recall yesterdays events and flushed. She shot up and hastily apologized for falling asleep on her, and Denise laughed.

"It's okay. Believe it or not, you're not the first person to fall asleep on me." She offered her the coffee. "I don't usually eat breakfast at home, but there's some oatmeal in the cabinet. Maybe some yogurt in the fridge."

"I'm not hungry." She curled her freezing fingers around the warm mug. "Thank you for letting me crash on your couch."

"You're welcome."

She drank from her cup to give her time to think of an out, but she honestly couldn't. The thoughts that haunted her last night weren't with her now, and she didn't want to summon them back by talking about it. She knew she had to. Rosita wouldn't lay off her until she went through with at least one session, and there was no time like the present. Or so they said. Whoever "they" were.

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking?"

Tara swallowed hard. "Uh, sure."

"In the years I've known Rosita and Sasha, I can't believe we were never introduced." Her smile was casual with no hint of work. "I've been to their homes for holiday meals and birthdays, but not once have I ever met you."

"We're mostly work friends," she admitted. "I stick close to my family, and I only know my partner Noah outside work. Uh, Williams too."

"That explains it." She set her cup down. "How long have you known Sasha and Noah?

She thought on it and pursed her lips. "God, ten years? No, no, it's been eleven years. We all entered the academy together, but we met as juniors in high school. Noah had the same chemistry class as me, and we hit it off. I love him as much as my sister. Possibly more. He doesn't lecture me to clean up my apartment."

"And Sasha?"

"We had gym together. She was the only one I could talk to, because everyone else was a freshmen. They still thought everything they did in high school mattered." She shrugged a shoulder. "We kept each other company and became good friends. I'm still closer to Noah, because Sasha's like a second sister. She lectures me to pay my bills and how coffee filters were only meant for the kitchen."

"You two are just friends? You and Noah?"

"What else would we be?"

"Something more, maybe?" she suggested, wondering if the root of the problem lied in possible feelings of affection toward Noah and disdain that was now guilt toward the child who shot him.

Tara grinned at that and shook her head. "Noah's awesome, but he doesn't... Well, let's just say I'm not a fan of...wood. Plus, he's married and has a kid."

"Oh." Denise looked a bit embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume—"

"Nah, it's okay. I'm used to it. The world assumes everyone is straight, and honestly I enjoy revealing how not straight I am. It's hilarious." She smirked in memory of telling some of her previous coworkers before she made it to homicide. "I thought about sewing a rainbow heart on my clothes, but I hate sewing, and I can't make a heart. I also have the motivation level of a sloth."

She chuckled. "Not when it comes to cases, I hope."

"When I'm on a case, I give it my all." She tucked loose hair behind her ear. "I barely sleep if the case calls for it."

"What do you mean, calls for it?"

"If I know this person will strike again soon, I work through the night to try and put myself in his or her head, so I can find the specific area where he or she may hunt based off the information we currently have on them. People have a type, and so murderers do too."

"Do you think murderers aren't human?"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that." She bit her bottom lip. "I only meant everyone has a type, and sometimes I can use that against them."

"You're dedicated."

"I am." She took another drink of coffee. "My dad was a cop."

"Was he?"

"He taught me everything I know. He wasn't the best or anything, but I learned a lot. His teachings have helped me more than I thought they would. He was dedicated to being a cop too." She placed the half-empty cup on the table in front of her. "However he wasn't happy when I told him I was enrolling in the academy."

"Why not?"

"He didn't want that life for me. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers—he didn't want them to be on my mind constantly. He didn't want me in danger. I'm the baby of the family." She waved her hands before gripping her knees. "He was proud when I made detective, told me my mom would be proud of me as well."

"Your mom passed on?"

"When I was five." She sniffed and picked up the cup for another drink. "I don't remember her much, but Lilly—my older sister—does. She says I look like her, but there aren't many good pictures, so I only have her word for it."

"That could be why your father didn't want you to be a cop. You remind him of his late wife."

"Maybe." She picked at the design on her cup with her thumbnail. "It's uh, too late to ask now."

"I'm sorry for your loss," was all she said.

"Thanks." She threaded a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. "Can we not do this? Please?"

"I didn't mean to hit a nerve. I thought idle talk would be easier than just cutting to the chase. I didn't mean to upset you."

"My partner was shot five days ago," Tara remarked, not saying anything to Denise's apology. "We were in pursuit of a suspect. We had received a tip that the killer we were looking for would be in the area, and we saw her lurking—with a gun. We called to her, and she took off down the street."

"What happened then?"

"Noah is the faster of the two of us. He caught up to her before I could, identified himself and commanded she drop the gun, and I stopped running, because I thought she would listen. Instead as I walked over to them, she shot him in the shoulder and tried to kill him. I rounded the corner and shot her. In between the eyes." Tara's eyes had widened during the course of her story, the tears that had clouded her eyes last night didn't show themselves now, but her hands were trembling on her coffee cup. "I did what I had to do to keep me and my partner alive, okay? That's it. That's the entire story."

Denise saw there was more to it behind those agonized eyes, but she didn't push. "I'd like you to come to my office next week on Tuesday around one, just to follow up, okay? If you want to talk more, that's fine. We can do that. And if you don't want to talk, that's fine too. Whatever you need."

"I need to not be stuck behind my desk, pushing papers." She stood up and set the cup on the table. "I became a cop to put away murders and the like, but hey, if there are any tape thieves within our department, I'm on the job."

"I don't have any say over that."

"Yeah, I know." She shrugged and strolled over to the door. "I'll see you next week, Doc."

"Tara, you don't have to leave now."

"I do. I have to prove I'm not going to fall apart to my boss, and that's a challenge if I'm here with you analyzing my every word to see how screwed up I after killing a kid." She jerked open the door and walked out.

Denise blew out a sigh and rubbed her thumbs over the top of her coffee mug. She had been asked to call after their first session, and this wasn't it. Tara might consider it to be one, but nothing new was learned. Tara was short and obviously anguished. Next time she needed to be better, to try and at least find the source of Tara's pain to attempt to ease it. She hated the idea of mental/internal anguish, and Tara's was building up. Soon it'd be suffocate her. Denise hoped to cease it before then.

––

"What's going on?" Tara met the Captain's eyes. "Why do you want to talk to me?"

"I received a phone call from Denise just a little while ago."

"Yeah? Did she tell you we talked? I'm okay, Rosita. I don't need to be babied. I just need to get back to work."

"Tara, you're not making my job any easier." Rosita walked around her desk. "I want you to take speaking with Denise seriously. If you don't, I've already warned you about the consequences. This is how things work. You're not in trouble, but I do need to make sure you're stable. You aren't showing me stable right now; you're being distant and using sarcasm as a shield. Stop fighting it so much, and it'll be over before you know it."

She scoffed. "Yes, ma'am."

"You have your psych evaluation today."

"I know."

She leaned on the edge of her desk. "I know it's hard to discuss, but you need to talk to her. She can help you. Remember that. Go on now, please."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the office.

Sasha watched the entire display from her desk and cringed when Tara stormed out, and she checked in on Rosita. "I take it that went poorly?"

She dropped in her chair. "Define poorly. It may have been a level shittier than that."

She sighed. "It had to be done. It's not easy killing someone, and to have that someone be a child? I can't imagine what that feels like, how much it would weigh on me." She leaned on the door frame. "And for it to be Tara? God."

"I know."

"I don't know why she's fighting help so hard. It's eating away at her—we all can tell. So why not talk to someone? If she doesn't want us to see her as weak or a killer then why not talk to a stranger like Denise? When their sessions are over, Denise can be lifted out of her life. She won't have to see her every day and feel ashamed."

"Tara's struggling to accept to her actions," Rosita replied. "Killing a child, no matter how brutal and unfeeling that child was, is not something she can handle. She blames herself for not aiming for her arm or leg. She keeps trying to change the facts, but they're facts. The sooner she realizes that that outcome was for the best and as many people as possible were saved, the better."

"The girl was a ticking time bomb," Dawn stated, having passed by and heard the conversation. "She escalated from animals to people within days, and it would have only gotten worse from there. For her potential victims, I'm glad it was sooner rather than later."

"I understand and accept that some people are wired differently." Sasha shifted her weight. "Lizzie Samuels was one of those people, and now she gets to rest. She doesn't get to hurt anyone else. I wish Tara hadn't been the one to take that shot, but it would have happened eventually, like Lerner said. But that doesn't make what happened any better. The longer she avoids this, the bigger it'll become."

"Yeah," Dawn nodded, "I don't want to wake up and found out she ate a bullet."

Rosita shook her head at that last comment. "I've known Tara a long time, and I know she's tough. She couldn't hurt her family like that either. She's led by her heart, and that's why she can't cope with the events of the shooting. It doesn't matter how much we push, she'll always push back. So we need to be here for her, because the cracks will begin to show just before her entire world comes crashing down."

"We'll be here," Sasha vowed. "I'll be here." She wouldn't let Tara walk that road alone. They were like family. Tara had been with Sasha every step of the way through her first difficult shoot, and Sasha fully intended to return the favor. She wasn't as a good as Denise, but she would do her best. Tara deserved that much. They were friends, coworkers, and Sasha respected Tara greatly. She wanted to be here for her, and she wanted to see Tara smile and mean it again. Tara was the one who usually did the cheering up, but Sasha would have to manage. Until Tara was back on her feet and Noah was released from the hospital, nothing would feel the same around here.

Dawn nodded in agreement with Sasha. "I'm sure O'Donnell and Grimes will agree."

"That's what I was hoping for." Rosita smiled.

––

Tara flashed a grin to her partner and sat beside him. "Hey, you're awake."

He returned her grin. "It's good to see you."

"I brought you some balloons." She tugged one down to show him. "I didn't bring a gift the first time, and I was going to get flowers, but unless you're opening a shop, I don't think you need anymore."

He chuckled. "Yeah, my folks came by."

"That must've been nice." She slouched. "They tell you to quit?"

"Every day." She laughed. "I think one of my brothers bribed me to quit. The other wanted to see my wound. Mom shooed him off."

"You'll have a gnarly scar," Tara commented. "You can show them that."

"Why don't you show him yours?"

"Because if Lilly knew I had gotten shot, though it was more of a graze, I would never hear the end of it. She'd guilt me off the force, and you know how strong her guilt game is." She rested her chin in her palm. "Besides mine is in a more private place than yours."

"That's true." He rolled his head to the side. "How's work? You haven't said."

"I'm on desk duty. I passed my psych, but Rosita wants me to see this therapist—Denise." She rolled her eyes. "She seems all right, but I don't see the point."

"Tara, she was fourteen."

"She was also a murderer. She shot you. She would have killed you." Her tone was harsh, very unlike her, and she averted her eyes. "It won't change anything to talk about it. She's still dead, and we're not. Why do I have to rehash all of it just to return to the same conclusion?"

He licked his lips. "You might feel differently, or you might see it differently. Maybe it'll be better."

"Better? How will it be better?" Her eyes burned. "A child is still dead. There is no better way to kill a fourteen-year-old!"

He met her eyes. "And you don't think you need to talk about it?"

She snuffled. "What do you know? You're doped up right now."

"Yeah, but even I know you should to talk to someone. It won't get better from here. Remember what happened with Sasha?"

"I'm not Sasha. We all cope differently, and I'd like to just forget about this."

"It's not that simple, Tara."

"Yes, it is." She rose. "I have to go, but I'll be back to check on you."

"Lilly says hi," he told her.

Tara tensed. "She—she came by to see you?"

"She said you've been avoiding her."

"Of course she did." She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Just get some rest and get better. That's an order, partner."

"I will worry about it."

"Leave the worry to your wife and kid, okay?"

"He's three. There's not much for him to worry about."

"I think Daddy getting shot is something for him to worry about."

He smirked. "That's true, but Mommy has it covered."

"I don't doubt it."

"Be safe out there."

She departed his room and bit her lip. She needed to talk to Lilly, but she knew what Lilly would say, and she didn't want to hear that. She knew her sister well and could envision the talk she wanted to have. Lilly acted more like her mother than her sister sometimes, and it drove her up the wall. She loved her sister, but she needed a sister and not a mother. She didn't know when Lilly would realize that but any year would be great. A sister talking to her and giving her advise was what she wanted, not a mother to chastise and scold her.

That, and to be able sleep without having nightmares, without seeing that little girl's body every time she closed her eyes. She knew her body by memory alone, her eyes. God. When she was standing there in the alley with her gun raised about to finish Noah off, those eyes were dark and hollow. When Tara fired and checked to see if the girl had survived, her eyes were wide and scared and still hollow but for an entirely different reason. In that moment she was another little girl, only instead of dolls and homework, she was dead, bleeding out on dirty asphalt. Christ, the blood stained her long, blonde hair. Tara remembered when they were cleaning her up so her family could ID her and how the water looked with all that blood gushing down the drain.

She sank her teeth in deeper and ducked out of the hospital, yanking the hood of her jacket up and lowering her head. Why did everyone think talking about it would make it better? It would just keep that night alive, and she couldn't handle it as it was, so why make it worse? What did they expect Denise to do? Heal her mind? Erase the shooting entirely? Because words weren't as powerful as image. And the image of that girl lying there in her own blood on grungy asphalt was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. There was no peace. There was no returning from that. Anyone who said or thought otherwise were wrong.

Meghan was the same age as her, same long, blonde hair, same eyes, same pale skin. Tara joined the force to keep her niece and sister and everyone else safe. She took an oath and dedicated her life to this, to doing it right. So how could doing everything right end up with such horribly wrong results? She knew what the girl was, and the lab confirmed it was her gun that was used for the other murders, but she was still a kid, still someone who needed to be protected. And yeah, others needed to be protected from her, but that didn't matter anymore, did it? She was dead, buried in the plot by her mother, with white roses placed there with a stuffed rabbit. She wouldn't get the help she needed. She wouldn't be able one day to lead a normal life. She wouldn't graduate from high school or watch her little sister grow up or make her father proud. Her life ended five days ago at Tara's hands. A gun was just a gun, but when thrown into someone's hands only then did it become a weapon. She supposed that went for both of them, but she was still alive and Lizzie wasn't.