I sincerely apologize for the delay, my lovelies! Clearly, I didn't get this finished before the big move, but now it is finished and I'm all settled in. Remember: This update also comes with an epilogue, so keep on reading! And as a special note, there are at least three deliberate references to other Mary movies/shows. Two pretty overt, and one rather subtle. All the awards to anyone who catches all three!

The Ties That Bind

Chapter XI

Darkness on the Edge of Town

Everybody's got a secret, Sonny,

Something that they just can't face,

Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it,

They carry it with them every step that they take.

Till some day they just cut it loose

Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down,

Where no one asks any questions,

or looks too long in your face,

In the darkness on the edge of town.

"Sharon? Are you ready?"

She jumped. She had not even heard the door open. She glanced up from her chair, coming back to herself to look up at the man staring down at her. He was glancing pointedly at the magazine in Sharon's hands. Following his gaze, she reddened slightly.

It was upside down.

Resolutely setting it aside, back amongst its brethren on the end table beside her chair, she got to her feet.

"Yes, of course."

Walking through the door he held open for her, she immediately veered right upon crossing the threshold, avoiding the couch as usual and settling instead in an armchair across from his usual seat. He followed her in wordlessly, closing the door behind him and stopping briefly to pick up his leather-bound notebook and pen before seating himself across from her.

Sharon liked Doctor Brooks. She had from the moment she entered this room for the first time nearly six months ago, right after it had happened. She had had her reservations about seeing a therapist, let alone a male one. But it had helped before, when she had had that incident back in uniform. And when she walked in that first day, most of her reservations had disappeared.

He reminded her of James Earl Jones, she thought. Maybe that was what made him so easy to talk to. Not the Darth Vader James Earl Jones. More like in Claudine. Yes, the low voice was soothing and easy, but it was more about his general presence. It was welcoming and open and kind. And he just looked like him. Dark-skinned, tall and a little heavy set, he was the sort of man who seemed capable of crushing you in the palm of his enormous hand at first glance. And the fact that he didn't, that he was soft-spoken, unassuming and understanding gave him such an air of trustworthiness. He may have been easy to talk to and trustworthy, but it certainly did not mean she could really tell him anything. She was a hard nut to crack, as Jack had always said.

"So. You seem distracted."

Her fingers danced in her pockets as he spoke. Sharon drew her lips in between her teeth and willed herself to be still.

"No," she finally said. "Well, yes." She sobered under his gaze. "I don't know," she finished quietly.

Doctor Brooks heaved a sigh, leaning forward.

"Sharon. You've been here, every week, for six months. You got your badge back months ago, and your mandated therapy is long since finished. You've been sitting in that chair since June. Don't you think it's strange that in all that time, not once have we discussed her? Or anything that doesn't involve your work?" He leaned back, staring across at her beadily. "So really, Sharon. Why are we here?"

This time, it was her turn to sigh. She straightened, pulling her hands out of her jacket pockets at last and flattening them on her thighs as she leaned forward. Eventually, she began to speak.

"I'm married, you know. Today is my anniversary. Eight years today." She was looking down at her left hand, pushed tight against her thigh, the rings still glittering there. "And at least six of them were happy." Glancing back up at him, Sharon saw that his notebook was open again, pen out as he looked at her, listening intently.

"I didn't realize it until I was out in that waiting room, looking down at all those newspapers and magazines spread out on that table." Her hands finally released her thighs and twisted together tightly in her lap. "We're separated. But I never imagined it would go on this long. Over a year."

He was nodding. "And why is that, do you think? Why did you forget?"

"I didn't forget," she almost snapped at him. "He is the father of my children." And I still love him, she thought silently. "I was thinking of…other things."

"I see. You have children?" He set down his pen and glanced at her questioningly.

"Yes. Two of them. A boy and a girl."

"And you don't think it's strange that you've never mentioned them before?"

Sharon didn't flinch. "I am a private person."

She could have sworn she caught a rueful smile playing on his lips at that, but it was gone a moment later.

"What other things are you thinking about?"

Grimacing, Sharon crossed her legs slowly, finally leaning back into the chair slightly.

She had taken Emily to the doctor earlier in the week, claiming personal time for a doctor's appointment. She didn't mention to the Captain that it was for her daughter; she didn't mention her children at work if she could help it. It was not worth the look in any of their eyes when they thought of her as a mother, and she could not afford to lose ground there. Besides, she was quite sure that the Captain had completely forgotten she even had children despite the fact that she had been waddling around the squad room with the evidence protruding from her abdomen not nine months ago. At any rate, she had taken the afternoon off, omitting certain details. And the entire time that they sat in that waiting room, her blood would run cold each time the door opened, sure that it would reveal another gunman sent to punish her for her omission, her rule-breaking.

Of course, she didn't say any of that to Doctor Brooks now, still looking at her expectantly. Her daughter was not the issue here. Sharon had not kept her children from him because she wanted to withhold information; it was a protective instinct, not for herself, but for them. She refused to expose them to people and events that did not involve them. Instead, she did what she had been avoiding from the moment she sat down six months ago. She exposed herself.

"Her. Her husband came by a couple of days ago."

For reasons beyond Sharon's understanding, Jim did not blame her. Not for a moment. He had changed, of course; they both had. Tragedy does that to the people closest to it. But he never stopped bringing the kids over or inviting her over for dinner. His house was quieter now, emptier without her. He didn't chase the children around the living room roaring like a dinosaur anymore. He had turned almost entirely grey in just a few short months. Sharon had never realized how much color Laurie had brought to them both, not until it was suddenly gone.

Doctor Brooks made a wordless hum, encouraging her to continue.

"And he brought—well, he found something. And I just keep thinking about it."

She reached down into her purse on the ground at her feet, pulling out her personal notebook she always carried with her. Opening it slowly, she removed the photo that had been marking her place for the last few days. She remembered exactly when it had been taken. Laurie had dragged Sharon and Ricky out of the house on a Saturday night when she was about six months along with Emily and pushed them into her car, refusing to acknowledge any protests. They went, and had a wonderful dinner at Laurie and Jim's house. Ricky and Thomas and Lily had come over multiple times to her side of the table to feel the baby kick, and she had not even minded so much that night that she got milk instead of the shiraz Laurie and Jim were enjoying. Towards the end of the night, Ricky had climbed up on Jim's shoulders as Jim pulled out a camera and snapped photos as her son made silly faces from atop his head.

In the photo Sharon held now, Laurie had her arm around her as she let out an open-mouthed, unrestrained peal of laughter. Beside her, Sharon stared into the camera with her usual composed smile; no less joyful, but clearly not as wild.

"I just keep looking at it. And thinking about what I stole from the rest of the world."

The doctor was not writing anymore, just looking at her thoughtfully.

"May I see it?"

He held out his hand, and she slowly passed the photo over to him. Sharon watched him take it in, a little smile crossing his face as he looked down at the picture. He didn't hand it back to her yet. He laid it flat on his notebook, visible only to him, then met her eyes again.

"You know, we never really talk about her. We talked about what happened that night. We talk about how you feel about all of that now. But we've never talked about who she was." Brooks' eyes dropped down to the photo again for a brief moment, then back up to Sharon. "You two were very close. What was she like?"

Sharon sighed, uncrossing her legs, then crossing them again and rubbing her forehead lightly to buy time.

"Laurie was…color. Like you've never seen it before. Like Dorothy, opening up that door and suddenly seeing all this vibrancy in the world. You didn't know you were missing it, but suddenly it's there, and everything is better." Her hands twisted in her lap again, and she scrutinized her fingernails seriously as she continued softly, "and then you wake up, and it's suddenly gone. You look around and remember what it was like. You see the possibility of that color in the faces of everyone else, but you can't quite reach it. And somehow, you have to live with it, knowing that it exists, but that you'll never see the world like that again."

Brooks hummed quietly again, writing something down before he caught her eye again.

"I'm going to say it again, Sharon."

She dropped his gaze, a hand rubbing at her forehead as she stared intently into her lap.

"It wasn't your fault."

Her eyes snapped up at his words.

"Then whose was it?"

Sharon spoke quietly, intensely as her hands rubbed at her thighs and she leaned forward. "I ignored my better judgement. I drove her there, even when I knew better. I thought I was above the rules, that it wouldn't matter just this once. I got her killed." She looked away, toward the window to her right.

"The investigation never even considered you to be at fault. You saved that little girl and her mother."

But at what cost?

Sharon shut her eyes, holding back the words.

Brooks was talking again.

"But you already know all of that, Sharon. I think there's more to it. What is it about this photo that has you so distracted?"

He was right, of course. There was something else. There were many things.

The idea that she had traded the life of that little girl, who was not really the little girl from those dreams, for that of her best friend. The fact that sometimes she regretted it, knowing what would have happened to that family if she had not gone to that house that night. How sick she felt when she realized how selfish it was.

The way that photo seemed to pinpoint exactly who the two were in relation to each other. One wild and unrestrained, the other composed and poised. And how clearly it illustrated which the world needed more. And how heartlessly she had robbed the universe.

Those final words that kept coming back to her. "You are strong…you have to be. But Ricky and Em…Don't keep yourself from them." But Sharon did not feel strong anymore. She was so buckled up inside. She could not handle any more loss. Even she had limits. And more than that, she wasn't sure she could ever be strong enough to open up to her children. It took a different kind of strength, the kind that people like Laurie had. She made that promise to Laurie. But she did not think she would ever be able to keep it, now. Another promise shattered, a rule broken; how would she be punished this time?

Her mind landing at last on a single thought, she finally answered him.

"Christmas," she whispered. "That photo…It was taken a few days before Christmas last year. I wanted to stay home that night, and wrap Christmas presents." Sharon kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze as she spoke. "But she dragged me out of the house. And I was, well…a bitch about it."

Finally meeting his eyes again, she saw him nod at her words.

"And now that it's Christmastime again…" He trailed off, apparently thinking.

After about a minute of silence, he closed the notebook on his knees, stowing the pen in his front pocket. Leaning forward, he said softly, "Christmastime can be difficult for everyone in the throes of a loss. Particularly one as traumatic and tragic as yours. I find that diverting that grieving energy into something else can help."

Seeing her about to protest, he held up a quelling hand.

"I'm not saying go out and replace her. Maybe think of something Laurie enjoyed doing at this time of year, and make it your own, a part of the season as a productive and healthy way to acknowledge her absence without allowing it to put a dark cloud over the entire season."

Considering this for a moment, Sharon was silent, thinking about Christmas at Laurie's and Jim's.

And then she remembered.

"Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven!"

She turned to Laurie beside her as she finished counting.

"Even you have to admit that it's a little ridiculous, even for you, the queen of extravagant Christmas decorations. You have a lot of angels, Laurie."

Grinning, Laurie reached behind her and pointed out another, hiding in the windowsill behind the tree.

"You missed one, Sharon. Forty-eight. And you can never have too many angels."

Smiling to herself at the memory, she nodded over at Brooks, still across from her.

He smiled back.

"I think we'll leave it there for now." He stood up as she gathered her things and also got to her feet, leading them over to the back door.

Brooks held it open for her. "Unless you'd rather go out the front," he added. "No shame in getting a little therapy."

Sharon looked doubtfully back at the front door, then shook her head and headed out the back. She had a lot of angels to buy.