"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn." – Harriet Beecher Stowe


Twelve Steps to You
Step Nine


Sango was having a terrible morning.

She'd had another night of bad sleep, woke up late, raced to the metro (her car was in the shop), discovered that the metro stop nearest her home was closed for repairs, just managed to get to the next stop in time, but couldn't wait for the connecting bus, so she ran the rest of the way to work while hauling her her work and gym bags, all while it was raining like crazy.

She could only be kindly described as a hot mess as she raced to the side entrance at work, just as Miroku ambled up with his gym bag over his shoulder, and a drink carrier with two hot teas.

"Looks like you need this more than I do," he handed her one of the drinks as they stepped inside. "And here I bought these as penance for running late this morning."

"You're not the only one," she grimaced, fumbling for her badge and keys to get them through various security checkpoints. Her phone began to ring, and she growled in frustration.

"For the love of - !"

"Here," Miroku calmly reached for her tea and bags, freeing up her hands.

She gave him a quick 'thank you' glance, before answering "Dr. Taijiya speaking."

Her frustrated posture shifted immediately as she stood taller, eyes darting around. "What? When?! Where are you – did-"

She turned wide, horror-struck eyes to Miroku, and every fiber of his being was on instant alert.

"I'm coming right now. Hang up and call 911. Don't touch anything. If the paramedics get there first, do whatever they tell you, and tell them everything you know. No, it won't get her in trouble, and if you don't tell them what they need to know she can die. Do you understand me?"

She gave a terse nod.

"I'll be there as fast as I can."

She hung up and began to pat her pockets for her keys.

"I am sorry – I have to go – one of my patients overdosed, and-"

"Let's go," he headed for the doors. "I'll drive you."

"What? No you can't I-"

"Have no car, and no way to get there without me and this is an emergency," he met her eyes sternly. "So, let's go."

Together they darted back through the rain into his subtly expensive SUV.

"Wow," she looked at the black leather interior and high-tech dash. "I think I'm in the wrong line of work."

They arrived before the ambulance – but the sirens indicated it wasn't far away. Miroku followed as Sango bypassed the broken elevator and raced up the stairs of the aging building to her patient's apartment. The door was already open, and a young man was pacing the small apartment living area.

"She's in here," he motioned the grimly. "I found her on the floor next to her bed. I put her in her bed, but…"

His words stuck in his throat, and Sango immediately began checking the girl's pulse.

"She's been doing so well," he blurted defensively. "Something must've happened if she relapsed."

Miroku looked the young man over.

"What's your name?"

"Shippou," he jammed his hands pockets. "And that's Satsuki. You're Dr. Taijiya, right?"

"That's her," Miroku answered smoothly. "How do you know Satsuki?"

"We work together. I live just a few floors down. I came up to give her a ride to work, but she didn't answer when I knocked, or when I called her phone. I..." he flicked a glance at him and swallowed. "She gave me a key. In case she... in case something..." he let the implication hang in the air between them before clearing his throat to continue. "When she didn't answer, I let myself in. I found her on on the floor. Moved her up there," he motioned to the unconscious girl on the bed.

"And have you moved anything?" Miroku looked around the room, his eyes landing on the spilled bottle of pills, and empty pill bottles on the floor.

Shippou followed his gaze and guessed his line of thought.

"That's where I found her."

"And... the pill bottles?"

"They were there."

"And the green bowl?" he nodded to the overturned bowl on the carpet.

"I nearly stepped on a needle; couldn't see it on the carpet. I didn't want to touch it so I put the bowl over top."

He fisted his hands at his sides.

"Look, I know what it looks like but there has to be a mistake," he blurted. "Satsuki told me about what happened to her, and her brother being a POW-MIA, and the drugs, and I don't believe she would relapse – not when she's come so far. Not when there's been news that he might actually have been found."

"We have to see what the tox screens say," Sango finally turned around. "But I hope you are right, Shippou."

"Is she going to be okay?" his voice strained with worry as the sounds of arriving paramedics echoed up the stairwell.

"We're going to do everything we can to make sure she is," she put a hand on his arm. "And for us, that means telling the paramedics everything we know."

Shippo clenched his jaw, but nodded.


They were on their way to the hospital, following behind the ambulance.

"You don't have to stay," Sango said, watching the rain-drenched world outside of her window. "You've already done so much."

Miroku hesitated.

"Is it alright if I stay?"

"I suppose," she gave a half shrug.

There was no more conversation on the way to the hospital. Sango changed in the women's restroom, hiding a breaking heart behind a professional veneer. When she emerged dressed for work, Miroku met her in the waiting room, also changed and dry. He left to bring their things to the car, returning with her laptop bag and two steaming to-go cups.

"Here," he handed her a fresh cup of tea. "You never got to drink the first one."

"Thanks," she offered a small smile.

Miroku was quiet for a moment.

"I don't think she OD'd," he finally offered.

"No?"

"No," he shook his head. "I think she knocked over those pills – I checked the date on the bottle, and it was dated five days ago. As near as I could tell, only five of them were missing. The other bottles were much older, but for the same prescription. And there was a sharps disposal box under her kitchen sink, and very little food in her refrigerator. I'm betting she went into a diabetic coma."

"That is my guess, or, more accurately, my hope," Sango admitted. "But she's had concerns lately. There have been reports of her brother being found before – this latest one is a patient with a recovering memory. It could be a trick, or it could be a mistake –"

"But it could be true," Miroku offered.

"Either way, she was under a lot of stress, and frightened of relapsing," Sango sighed. "I can't rule out the possibility of an overdose. Not yet."

"You've done all you can, Sango," he offered quietly. "Now it's up to her and the doctors."

"I know," Sango nodded leaning back on the chair with a sigh. Suddenly weary beyond all belief, she couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

They fell silently and in rapid succession.

Miroku quietly took her tea and put it on the table at his elbow. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders still shaking silently.

He draped his coat around her shoulders.

"It's alright, Sango," he murmured. "It's alright to cry."

A sob escaped her then, and she felt her composure crack.

Miroku put an arm around her shoulder and held her close, letting her sob into the handful of tissues she'd pulled from somewhere.

She didn't know how long she cried, and she didn't want to know what she looked like once everything slowed to a messy drip. With a few shuddering, heaving breaths, she dried her eyes, dimly registering the weight of an arm around her shoulders.

The same arm shifted across the back of her chair as she leaned back, exhausted and blinking up at the ceiling. She turned her head and regarded him wearily.

"Think we can reschedule today's session?"

He gave a small chuckle and held up his phone.

"The secretary already sent me a text, and changed the appointment."

"Thank you," her smile was wan but sincere, tears still beaded on her long lashes. "I don't know what I would've done without your help today."

"I'm glad I was here," he admitted. "Satsuki sounds like someone that deserves a solid second chance."

"She is," Sango nodded once. "I just hope she gets it."

"She's lucky to have you," he handed her back her tea. "I guess... we all are."

He held her gaze then, the tug of a new and tenuous gravity drawing him closer to her.

But before he could succumb to physics the nurse arrived and asked for Dr. Taijiya.

She cleared her throat and stood, trepidation clear in every stroke of her being.

"That's me," she clutched at the coat around her shoulders.

"The patient would like to see you."

"She...is she..."

The nurse smiled, and stepped to the side.

"Come see."

Sango began to follow, but stopped to slip Miroku's jacket off of her shoulders, and hand it back to him, something tenuous on her lips, and fragile hope in her eyes.

"I'll mind the things," he took his coat, and gave her an encouraging slip of a smile. "Go on."

He watched as she bricked her resolve into place, and followed after the nurse.

Miroku raked a hand down his face.

"You're a helluva woman, Dr. Taijiya," he shook his head. "Too good for anyone I know."


Shippou was sitting at Satsuki's bedside, her hand in his.

"Dr. Taijiya," she smiled weakly, trying to sit up.

"No, don't" Sango hurried to sit by her side. "How are you feeling, Satsuki?"

"I didn't OD," Satsuki was quick to assure her. "I… I didn't eat, and I was trying to get to my insulin, and then I passed out, and-

"And you went into a diabetic coma," Sango finished. "This might be the only time I've ever been relieved to hear that kind of news."

"Yeah," Satsuki chuckled. "That makes two of us. Good thing I've talked to Shippou about you," she turned eyes full of admiration on the young man sitting next to her. "He knew just who to call."

He shrugged, cheeks flushed.

"Well, it was either her or Ghostbusters, and I didn't see their number in your phone."

Satsuki grinned at him warmly.

"I can't thank you – either of you enough," she put a hand on Sango's arm. "And knowing that you both believed in me – well. That says so much to me."

"I am so proud of you," Sango squeezed her hand. "When you get out of here, I want you to call me so we can discuss some other options. You can't neglect your other health concerns, Satsuki."

"She won't," Shippou promised. "Her lease was up anyway. She's moving into my place for a while, and I always have food in the fridge."

Sango felt a strange tightening in her chest as the young woman stared up at her friend with a special sort of admiration.

"Then you can both come," Sango stood. "Let's make today the last time we meet like this, alright?"

"I second that," Shippou snorted.

Satsuki just nodded, her eyes and throat full of grateful tears.

Sango stepped back to the waiting room where Miroku waited for her. She caught him up on the situation.

"Company policy; Appointments cancelled for 24 hours following a patient incident, but I am on call. They said my car will be ready today; you can just drop me at the shop."

"I don't know about you," he eyed the time, "but I am starving. What do you say to something to eat and a quasi-therapy session?"

"Not sure that is ethical," she gave a small laugh.

"How about a date?"

"Definitely not ethical."

"So, just lunch it is," he shrugged. "All conversation will be light and impersonal."

"Just light," Sango grinned at his teasing. "Doesn't have to be impersonal."

It turned out they had a favorite restaurant in common, and Miroku knew for a fact that his would-be stalker didn't ever go there.

They were almost at the end of the meal when the call came through that her car was ready.

"Thanks again for everything," Sango smiled gently as he held the umbrella and walked her to the door. "I'm pretty sure we pushed every boundary of propriety ever, but you really came through for all of us today."

"Oh, I'd say there are a fair few boundaries we didn't even glimpse," Miroku's lips curled into a teasing grin, "but I am glad to have been here just the same."

"All this good behavior, and you won't need me, soon," Sango beamed.

"I'm a desperate man, Dr. Taijiya. I could slip at any moment."

"You have my number."

"I do," he watched her flush crimson.

"You know what I meant," she pouted. "Don't be weird."

"Now, now," he chided. "We don't call our addiction driven predilections 'weird.' We recognize them, isolate them, and try to modify our behavior."

"Well at least you listen in our sessions," she muttered.

"I'm fairly certain I've heard everything you've ever had to say Dr. Taijiya."

She looked up, something in his tone snagging her. When he met her eyes, there was something there – something different in his gentle smile, and easy manner. Something like …admiration, maybe.

"If something happens and you need a ride," he handed her the umbrella. "Let me know."

"Thanks," she ignored the warmth of his hand on hers, noting he didn't prolong it. "I appreciate it. I'll see you at your next appointment. Day after tomorrow."

"Until then," he nodded. "Take care, Sango."

She considered him for a long moment before replying

"Take care…Miroku."

His wave was small as he stepped back into the rain, and drove away. She watched until his taillights were gone from sight, and the sound of her heart no longer roared in her ears.