A/N: Hello again...well, I deserted this for a while, but now I'm (hopefully) able to bring myself to continue it. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, too.

Sarah x


"I've never seen you lose control like that," Steve commented, his tone both frustrated and worried.

"I have, and I don't like it," Gerry said, reminding her of that day she went berserk at Jack over the truth about her father's death. It was the one and only time her control had slipped so violently before today. It was the only time her self-discipline had evaporated in a fit of wounded rage. She shouted often, yes, but always over idiocy and professional disagreements, and very rarely about anything personal. No, she had done that only once, and it had shocked her boys just as much as it did last time.

Brian sighed and sat down on the arm or the chair. "Look, Sandra," he began, but she didn't want to hear it. She went to stand up but Gerry, clearly having had enough of her antics, pushed her down gently yet with a firmness not to be argued with. "Whatever you're feeling, whatever's going on with you, taking it out on us, your office and yourself won't make it any better. Believe me."

"And you know what I'm thinking...how, exactly?" she demanded. She was suddenly calm, no longer wishing to destroy her possessions and everyone and anyone stupid enough to stand in her way. "Precisely. You don't have a clue. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going out."

She stood up, and Gerry's back promptly straightened in an effort to stand up to her, but she stood just as tall as him, keeping her stance square and threatening. She was the dominant one and all three men knew it; she left Gerry little choice but to stand aside. She probably would have slapped him if he had refused. Not to hurt him, but just to get away from the three of them. She would end up saying something she would quickly regret, and make herself look like a lunatic.

She went to her office – it now resembled a bomb site – and stepped over the broken picture frames and various debris she had created in her temper to get to her keys, bag and coat. Where she was going, she was yet to determine, and she knew full well she couldn't run from them forever, but for now it was the only real plan she could devise to escape her friends.

She didn't even get out of the main office before all hell broke loose.

"Sandra, don't do this!" Gerry pleaded with her, making her see her attitude from his point of view. All he saw was that something was getting to her and she lost her temper rather than talk to her friends. All he saw was her throwing her toys out the pram – quite literally – and refusing to justify it.

Just as he said it, Robert Strickland walked in. "Don't do what, exactly?" he asked, though he looked like he really didn't want to know and, looking back on past experience, she couldn't really blame him for his caution. "Sandra?"

"Sir?" she sarcastically retorted. He walked past her and she started to panic when he saw the mess she made of her office. She trashed it so badly that there was no point in even attempting to close the door.

"What happened?!" Strickland demanded as he surveyed the mess she had made.

"I...tripped," she invented feebly, knowing there was no lying so badly to Strickland. Both he and Gerry had known her too long and too well to believe such a crap lie. "It's fine, sir," she sighed, chucking her belongings onto an unoccupied chair. "I'll clean it up myself. Boys, just go home and take the day off. We'll start over in the morning."

She watched Gerry exchange a dark glance with Steve while Strickland and Brian tried to make sense of the madness before them. "Go on, before I change my mind," she ordered them. She could tell straight off that Strickland wanted to say something but she also knew he wouldn't, because his suspicions could not be proved; she knew her team well enough to know that they would never rat her out to the boss when it came to her personal frame of mind.

She wandered over and knelt down, picking up the broken pieces of glass one by one. The men left one at a time until only one remained, though she didn't know which of them it was. She did not look up. If she looked up, she just knew she would let her façade slip again, and the last things she needed was that.

Suddenly a hand passed her a plastic bag to put the glass in; she looked up and there stood Gerry. Groaning slightly, he knelt down beside her and started helping her to pick up the pieces. She ignored him, just mechanically and methodically binning the mess she made. It went on for another five minutes until Gerry said, "Sandra, stop. Just stop."

She raised her head and finally met his gaze. See, this was why Gerry had always confused her. He always gave her cheek and pointed out her flaws but when she needed him, and regardless of whether she knew she needed him, he was just there.

He took her hands and helped her to her feet, discarding the mess on the floor for the meantime. For whatever reason, he obviously thought she was more important. "Why can't you just talk to me?" he asked her. She looked away from him, unable to speak. "What is so awful that you can't even talk to me about it?"

"Why do you always have to be so good to me?" she sighed. "You make it impossible for me to stay pissed off with you for long."

He just gave a laugh and carefully put his arms around her. Leaning her head against his neck, her face buried in his shoulder, she had to curb the tears before they fell. "Whatever this is, Sandra, you can tell me. I won't shout at you. I won't judge you." At this, she wrapped her arms around his body, trying to draw some warmth and happiness into her own.

How could she tell him? How could she tell him that she didn't want to live anymore? How could she tell him she had been within an inch of committing suicide just yesterday? How could she even begin to tell him the depth to which she hated herself?

To do that would require more courage and strength than she had left to her.

"I can't," she whispered. "You don't understand. You have no idea how difficult it is even to think like I do."

"And how do you think?" he replied. "How can I understand if you don't try and explain?"

It was a fair point and she couldn't bring herself to deny it. But still she found it impossible. She pulled back from him, deciding she was being weak and selfish in taking comfort when she could not do the one thing he asked of her.

"Sandra," he persisted almost silently. He reached up and touched her face lightly, almost like he was trying to shock it out of her. But the only thing capable of shocking her these days was her own appalling behaviour. "I'm not going to get anywhere with you, am I?" he sighed, his palm now resting flat on her cheek.

Reluctantly she shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him. She was sure half the burden would have been lifted if she did let him into this land of nightmares she lived in. But she couldn't tell him. What if he wasn't as understanding as he claimed? What if he hated her for the simple reason that she was off her head?

"Well, let me just try and get one last thing through that stubborn thick skull of yours," he smiled. "You are an intelligent, funny, beautiful and strong woman. There is nothing you can't beat. Whatever battles you're fighting, you can win. Sandra Pullman doesn't lie down waving a white flag."

His little speech touched her and to know he thought so highly of her almost made her cry.

She could only walk away back to the mess she was clearing up. The shards of glass kept nicking her skin as she started to rush when Gerry was next to her again. He must have noticed because he warned her, "Careful."

She picked up a photograph of her parents, no frame left to protect it, and realised that even if her current pain was their fault, it was never intentional. It was only product of single-minded selfishness. Blood smeared onto her father's face. "Shit," she whispered, wiping it quickly off on her jeans before it could stain.

Once the frames and glass were picked up and the photos themselves left in a neat pile, she fell back and leaned against the open door, expecting Gerry to leave her to feel sorry for herself now there was no chance of her accidentally hurting herself on shattered glass. Only he didn't. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

She let her head drop onto his shoulder, giving up on being strong for today. She took the photos into her hands and flicked through them, not really looking but just staring into them. They held no answers. And yet she stared.

Her parents never wanted her to turn out like this. They didn't help matters, definitely, but neither her mother nor her late father would ever have intentionally created a head case of a daughter. She blamed them still, to an extent, but she understood they never realised what they were doing. They had just been too self-absorbed to see what their behaviour was turning Sandra into.

She felt Gerry's fingers in her hair and wondered what his motives were. Could she even trust him?

That question in itself proved that there was something wrong. Not in many years had she mistrusted Gerry. Not on a personal level. As a copper he was probably the world's greatest idiot, but he'd been her silent and enduring rock, only breaching the peace to tell her right from wrong, for long enough to know that his motives were pure.

She didn't know how long they sat there, but she knew she didn't feel like she was dying when she was alone like this with him. It felt like he was keeping her breathing. This was what it was to truly need someone, she realised.

She had finally stopped denying it now. She needed Gerry.


Hope this is OK!
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!
Sarah x