**This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

Spoilers: Watch the series finale before reading this!

Sarah Linden sat straight up in bed, suddenly awake and drenched in sweat. She was afraid to remember the dream she had just had, so she focused on taking a few deep breaths instead. The clock said it was 3:14 a.m. Where the hell am I again? She looked around her run-down hotel room, looking for clues, still drowsy enough that it took a moment before she remembered what city she was in. Then she remembered. Memphis. This week she was in Memphis. The cities were really becoming a blur. All the run-down hotel rooms looked pretty much the same. She sighed loudly. I guess that's what happens when you can't stay in one place.

She pushed back the thin blanket on her bed and went to the sink for a glass of water. The hotel tap water tasted terrible, metallic, but the liquid was better than nothing. Not a lot better, but she managed to drink a few sips before she couldn't take it anymore. Gonna have to remember to buy a bottle of water tomorrow, she told herself, making a face at the aftertaste. She left the cup by the sink and walked slowly back to the bed, where she perched edge and cautiously tried to remember the dream that had jolted her awake.

Closing her eyes, she saw tall trees, like the ones by the prison. And Ray Seward, the man she had put away, the man that she had then tried so hard to save at the last second. Except she that she hadn't been able save him...

Then suddenly it came rushing back to her. In her dream, it had been the day of Seward's execution all over again, except it was all happening in slow motion. When the floor dropped out from under him and he hadn't died instantly, when he'd twisted at the end of the rope and everyone could hear him slowly choking… in real time, it had been agonizing enough, but in slow motion it seemed to go on for hours. There she sat, trapped in what felt like a cage, in the viewing area watching a man being hanged for a crime that she had put him on death row for, but one that he wasn't guilty of. If only she'd had more time, she was sure that she could have proved it.

She grasped the thin metal rail under the side of the mattress with both hands, feeling her knuckles quickly going numb from the pressure that she was exerting as she held on tight to the bed frame. She leaned forward and tried to take deep breaths, but it was if she couldn't take in air fast enough. She knew that she had to calm down, but that was something she'd never been good at. No, she did freak out a whole lot better than she did calm down. She always had.

It had been several years since the day Ray Seward had been executed, and yet, she didn't think it would ever get easier to think about it. She had been told many, many times that it wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean she believed it. On the contrary, she was convinced that it was entirely her fault, and that it was just one of the horrible things that she had to live with forever. It didn't matter that Seward had been a monster. He still hadn't deserved to die for a murder that someone else had committed.

It took a long time, but slowly, her breathing began to return to normal and her heart stopped thundering in her ears. She began to release the death grip she had on the side of the bed, and looked around the room. For a few minutes, she had forgotten where she was. Her thoughts drifted slowly back to the parts of that day that had followed the execution.

How had she gotten through that day, anyway? It was more than a little bit of a blur. And then she remembered.

Holder.

She sighed heavily and shook her head. Lately, she mostly stopped herself from thinking about him at all, but this time she gave herself permission to remember, just for a minute.

Truth be told, he had been almost as much of a mess as she had for most of the time that she'd known him. Some days, he was the bigger mess, and other days, it had been her turn. Unlike her, however, he usually seemed to know what to say, when to tell a joke… though he didn't always know when to shut up. She couldn't help smiling as she tried to imagine how many times she'd said "Shut up, Holder." But really, almost every time she'd said it, it had been with affection. She hadn't risked telling him, for fear of inflating his ego even farther, but he really had been funny sometimes. Remembering those times was bittersweet, and she smiled sadly as she waited for the feeling to pass.

The day of the execution, he had waited for her at the prison as she'd gone in and out to talk to Seward, then he'd convinced her to come back inside when she'd stormed out upon learning that Seward had lied to her… and when she'd gone in to witness the execution – the last place in the world she'd wanted to be – he'd been sitting there waiting for her when she came out. He'd sobered up by then, thankfully. She'd walked into the waiting room where he was sitting and, well, waiting, and she remembered feeling so grateful that he was there, because she couldn't even bring herself to sit down in a chair, much less figure out how to get home.

He'd walked up in front of her without a word, looked down at her intently and he'd realized without being told that she was traumatized by what she'd seen. It was to be expected, really. How could she not have been traumatized after watching a man killed right in front of her? A man who was killed because she couldn't fix her mistake. The guilt was eating her up, stopping her from even forming words... and he just knew. He didn't bother asking me if she was okay. He just knew that she wasn't.

"Linden," he'd said quietly, "let's go." He'd put his hands gently on her shoulders and turned her so that she was facing the door, and then he had turned around to stand beside her so that he could hook one arm lightly around her shoulders and steer her out of that room. His inertia had been the only thing propelling her forward as they'd walked outside and then toward his car. She only vaguely remembered it happening, as if it had been some kind of nightmare. Without him there, who knows how long she would have stood there before she'd even been able to get herself out of the waiting room.

I guess that's the nice thing about having someone to have your back, she thought sadly. Because sometimes you just need… backup. It was a big admission for her, even to admit it to herself. After all, she was the woman who so proudly told herself that she didn't need help from anyone, ever.

His words from the parking lot earlier that same afternoon rang in her ears all of a sudden. He'd been drunk at the time, but he had been right.

"We never stay, and in the end we lose everyone." Her life in a nutshell.

Maybe, just maybe, I should… NO. It's better – for him – if that door stays closed. But…

Damn.

…

Holder hadn't ever imagined himself walking around the neighborhood pushing a stroller, but here he was, pushing not just a stroller, but a PINK one! But that was fine, his manhood wasn't threatened by this pink stroller. He preferred to think of it as the chariot that his little princess deserved.

Speaking of Princess Kahlia, she had finally fallen asleep after what had felt like hours of fussing. Baby girl had been very adamant about telling him something, he had just never quite figured out what it was. She hadn't been hungry or in need or a diaper change – yes, he had checked, thank you never much – so he'd decided she just had something to say. He couldn't help but think that even when she was crying hysterically, she was the most beautiful baby he'd ever seen. The shrieks that had been coming from her stroller for the last six blocks or so hadn't bothered him. She'd just been expressing herself. The people he passed on the sidewalk, on the other hand, looked at him with a mixture of pity and confusion. They didn't understand why he looked so happy to have a crying baby.

Truth be told, he had been enjoying this trip around the block, out in the sunshine and fresh air, even before she had fallen asleep. "Trust me kid, someday you'll only wish you had time for a nap," he had told his daughter jokingly as she had fought loudly to stay awake. Now that his little girl was getting her beauty sleep, well, things were even better. Besides, he couldn't help but notice how the ladies looked at him as he pushed Kahlia in the stroller. Not that he was interested in any of them, of course. He had enough to deal with, and he really and truly didn't need anything or anyone else in his life at the moment. Still, his ego enjoyed the attention.

He had stopped at the traffic light at a busy corner and was waiting to cross the street, ever vigilantly alert to the world around him, when out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw… No, of course it wasn't her. He turned his head to see just a random red-head who otherwise looked nothing like her.

Get a grip, Holder, he told himself. Knowing Linden, she probably left Seattle a long time ago.

He noted that the momentary thought of Linden hadn't made him angry, which was progress. In fact, he actually felt a twinge of disappointment that it wasn't her. Now that was definitely a new one! And just what would he done if it had been her? He couldn't answer that question, but it didn't matter because it wasn't her.

The light ahead of him changed, and on he walked, letting out only the smallest of sighs.