2x10 - 72 Hours
He sits. He stands. He paces. He sits again. He stands, he paces paces paces, he waits. Waiting room, where you wait. He's so fucking sick of waiting. Waiting all last night until the dawn - couldn't sleep, just drove around, drank a lot of coffee, plotted out his next moves. Waiting all day today to finally see her.
God, she was so fucked up. It scared the shit outta him.
He made a promise. He promised not to leave her there and holy everlasting fuck that's a promise he's gonna keep or die trying. He'd get her out, but to do that...if he'd known...
He didn't know Mr. Sonoma was Doctor Sonoma. He didn't know Mr. Sonoma – sorry, Dr. Sonoma – was her fucking psychiatrist. He felt sick as he dialed Dr. Sonoma's phone number, his guts twisting, an aching hollow feeling deep inside. Hard to say why – no, lots of reasons why: Maybe Sonoma wouldn't help and Sarah would be stuck in there forever and his promise be broken and the case buried and Sarah left to rot in a drugged-up stupor. Wondering what might happen if Sarah saw her ex again. Wondering if Sonoma really was an ex.
Wondering, been wondering for awhile now, if Sarah would go back to that guy once the case was through - finally fly down to California, work things out with him, get married, live happily ever after in a vineyard with the sun on her face and the breeze in her hair.
Still wondering tonight as he paces here in this waiting room if Rick will take Sarah away from him.
Not long ago (but oh so long ago), he thought she was gone, gone to get married, the case over. And that was fine, that's the way it was supposed to be since the day they met. But now...now that sorta fills him with dread and sadness and the deep achy hollow feeling. He doesn't want her to go. How quickly things change. But when someone saves your life a few times, you tend to form an attachment.
This time, he needs to save her. Even if that means losing her to the man walking through the door right now. The man who gets to kiss her and hold her. The man she trusts and fucks. A doctor. Rich and responsible and good. The man she loves.
"I'll help get her out," Dr. Sonoma tells him. "But I can't be involved any more. She's your responsibility now."
The words hit him like a ton of bricks. He can't imagine what Sarah would say to that, being fobbed off like a stray pet or an old car. But these are words not meant for her ears, these are words spoken man to man, and the other man is eyeballing him, sizing him up.
No, okay, he ain't a doctor, he ain't a psychiatrist, he ain't good, but he's up to the responsibility. He is. He promises.
But god it hurts when he sees her on the stairs - the look on her face when she sees Dr. Sonoma, the look of hope and love. It fucking burns so bad. He has to look away. He knew it'd be like this. She chooses him - Sonoma. She'll always choose him. Just a reminder she was gonna marry that guy. The jealousy new and almost too much to stomach.
And it hurts even more when she walks into the waiting room searching for Rick, the hopefulness and happiness written on her skin dissolving to sadness and disappointment when she realizes Rick's gone. Just sad resignation when she realizes it's just him, just that pathetic lonely shitty old tweaker Stephen Holder waiting for her, here for her.
But she gives him a smile anyway and he smiles back, bravely. He kept his promise. Mission accomplished. They live to fight another day. Time to get the hell outta this boobyhatch.
"Thank you, Holder," she says once they're in the car.
He shrugs a little – cuz really it was the man she loves who got her outta there. "No problem," he mumbles. She hasn't even done up her seatbelt, he notices. He reaches across and pulls it over her body, fastens it. She leans back against the seat and closes her eyes, her face so pale and drawn with exhaustion. She's asleep before he reaches the first stoplight.
That Regi lady said something today about how the last time Sarah ended up in the nuthouse, she'd not been eating, not been sleeping, neglecting herself and everything else but The Case. And he'd disagreed – "This time is different." Different - this time Sarah was being set up, framed, discredited and locked up by powerful people so The Case would go away.
What he really meant, what he couldn't say? This time is different because Sarah has him. Watching her back, watching out for her. He'll make sure she sleeps and eats and gets her son back. He'll make sure she never ends up in a place like that again. He promises.