Hi everyone! First and foremost Happy new year 2010 and best wishes. :D Then thank you all very much for your reviews, you guys rock!

I'm sorry it took so long but I was unable to write for a long time and when I had a chance I had a good old writer block. But here's the chap…

Enjoy,

So ;)

Ps: I'd like to thanks Max, Freddie, Immi and Scuby, for putting up with me for yet another year and giving me their opinions and ideas when I struggle like do. You're the best ;)

Chapter 21

Catherine's POV

"Ms. Willows?" the mention of my name brings my attention to focus. The Principal of Lindsey's High school, Mr. Finley is looking at me expectantly.

I hate being here, it reminds me of my own high school days. I feel like I'm the one in trouble, the principal's office is just as unpleasant as it was back then, at the only exception that no matter what happen I won't be getting out of here with detention or any kind of punishment.

"Yes," I blink. "I'm…" I clear my throat. "I'm sorry."

"I do not feel that you are taking interest in this meeting, no offence," he says with a haughty tone. I've never been a big fan of him. On the very few occasions I had to talk to him he always despised me, even though I don't remember being ever disrespectful or giving him such a ground to have that kind of behaviour with me.

"I am taking interest in this meeting," I reply firmly not taking his insinuation keenly "I'm just no sure to understand the actual problem. From what I read and what you told me, I don't think my daughter is at fault in any way."

"She wrote an article in the school paper that was belligerent and disrupted her literature class several times, starting a little 'riot'."

"I do not approve of her disrupting her class, but all she did was to express herself."

"She contradicted her teacher, not only that, she repeatedly said he was wrong and didn't understand half of the books they read! And this article of hers… she basically call her literature teacher incompetent, this is inadmissible, do you realize that because of her the other kids make it impossible for the teacher to do his work now? She created a situation that is damaging for everyone in this school."

"I'm sorry, but I believed it's a good thing that she expressed a constructive opinion."

"Students are to listen to their teacher not fight with them, how do you expect them to learn otherwise?"

"Isn't the purpose of school to forge young minds to learn to be individuals and able to form thoughts of their own, reflect on the knowledge they receive; don't you think that forcing them to agree with their teachers defeat that whole purpose? I mean this is a school, not a sheep factory, right?" I joke.

"Her attitude was inappropriate and I wish you'd grasp the gravity of the situation," he seems upset that I actually back my daughter up.

I'm not supporting Lindsey just because she's my daughter. If she does something wrong I'll be the first to reprimand her. Now, I can't blame my kid for thinking for herself and expressing a very methodically argued point of view.

"You make it sound like someone was dead, it's not the case," I state.

"Ms. Willows…"

"Listen, I will talk to her about not disrupting her class again and be more diplomat when it comes to express herself if that can quell your worry."

"I'll appreciate it. Now you'll understand that the consequence of her action is a week exclusion from school."

"I personally find that sanction disproportional but, you're better judge of what's appropriate," I let out instead of imploding onto his face. "Is there anything else?" I ask

"We are done, Ms Willows."

I stand up and Mr. Finley does the same. He extends his hand and I shake it politely before turning around to exit the room.

"Maybe if you spent more time with your daughter and less time going out and thinking about your social agenda, you'd find time to teach some discipline to your daughter," he adds with a sneer.

He shouldn't have.

I stop in mid stride and turn around, and will myself not to bite his head off, but when I see the proud smile on his face I want to punch him. I'm wondering if Ecklie has a brother he never mentioned, cause I think I just met him. I bite my lips and force myself to keep my temper in check.

"May it be said that not only that was highly inappropriate but this is the first and last time you ever speak to me like that. I am not your friend or someone you can stomp on just for a little ego trip. I've just pull out two shifts trying to find out who raped and killed a 17 years old before dumping her body like trash; I had to faced two families and tell them that their loved ones are now deceased after a stupid bar fight; and I had to hold a seven years old boy's hand while he testified of how he was repeatedly abused by his relatives; so right now I don't have it in me to support any sexist and screwed up comment from a little man who think that having an individual opinion is a crime!"

I don't think he had expected me to come back, even less being so furious, but he has the decency to look sorry as the colors drain from his face.

"My job and everybody else's is as much important as yours. Your position doesn't give you the right to belittle, judge or make assumption about anybody. This is not a threat but a sound advice, do not speak to me like that again, ever," I tell him firmly.

He clears his throat. "I was out of line…I'm sorry."

I just tighten my jaw not to say anything more and exit his office, being careful not to slam his door too hard. I'm fuming right now and it's a good thing I let my service weapon in my locker before coming because this is one of those time I'd gladly shoot somebody's ass.

Lindsey is waiting for me in the hall, looking apprehensive.

"Do you have all your belongings?" I ask her in a tone that let her know that now isn't a good time to be argumentative or give me attitude, so she just nods. "Let's go home then."

We cross the corridors of her school silently, I'm walking fast because I'm boiling, that guy just put me in a very bad mood. I just can't believe his nerve! I open the car from the distance when we reach the parking lot and Lindsey climbs in without a word and a few seconds later I'm driving us both home.

"You're mad," Lindsey states more than she asks when we stop at a traffic light.

"Yes I am, I'm mad at that pompous prick who currently is your principal," I let out with a growl, then my brain catches up with my mouth and I close my eyes with a sigh. "Please pretend I didn't say the word 'prick' even though that's exactly what I think," I plead her. "And please do not use it."

She chuckles but I give her a serious look and she stops immediately, and doesn't say anything else for the rest of the drive. We enter home and she goes to her room while I go to the kitchen, pour myself some water and lean against the countertop, rubbing my forehead with a hand.

"Are you mad at me?" Lindsey's voice

I sigh deeply. "You've been expelled for the next week, I can't exactly say that I'm overjoyed at this moment," I tell her honestly. "I mean, you are intelligent and smart, that essay and article you wrote prove that much. There are so many ways to protest and create something powerful and positive at the same time. You have to be more organized and less belligerent, sometimes being blunt is the way to go, but other time you have to be more diplomatic in order to change the things. You know an organised 'revolution' can have as much impact as a violent one."

She's looking at me with her eyes as wide as saucer plates. "So…you're not mad at me because of what I did but because I got punished for it?" she asks cautiously.

"Hell yeah!" I reply. "And because that pompous… because your principal was unfair with his sentence," I manage not to slip again with my tongue. "Sweetie I'll never be mad at you for standing up for your opinion and fighting for it, I can never be mad at you for doing something right."

"Thanks…for supporting me," she smiles.

"I know, you may think that I don't care about things like that but I do. And you can always come to me at anytime, I'd be more than happy to help or give you advice or just listen."

"Cool."

"You never, ever bother me, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I'm your priority, I know," she rolls her eyes.

"It's true Linds. I'm proud of you and I feel lucky to have you.'

She approaches me silently and hugs me tightly. "I love you, mom."

Warmth spreads inside me, no words can express that particular feeling of love I feel right now. I know Linds is growing up and she tends to be less demonstrative of her love and be more guarded from me even though we have an open relationship. It's normal, she's building her little secret garden and all, we all have one; if it's hard for me to let go sometimes, I understand. In return, every little display and touch of love and affection becomes even more precious.

"I love you too, baby," I kiss her head. "Now, do me a favour, say I went ballistic about you being expelled for a week. That will keep your principal off my back, because I don't think that congratulate you was what he had in mind when he told me I had to do something. I really don't want to go back into that…man's office or I might be violent with him," I pout.

Lindsey's laugh reverberates itself against my chest. "Deal."

"Are you hungry?" I ask her as I pull away.

"Nope."

"Alright, do you mind if I take a nap? I'm exhausted."

"Do you mind if I take it with you?" she replies and I can only smile at that. I put an arm around her shoulders and guide us to my bed.

"Sweetie, I'll never do," I beam.

xxxxx

I hear a car being parked in the driveway, so I get up from the couch where I was reading and go put my used mug in the kitchen sink, before going to the door. I open it and my smile fades away as I don't see Warrick exiting the car but Sara.

We haven't had a chance to see each other since I left her apartment – well chance has nothing to with it, really, it was more about me being good at avoidance, but who cares? And then I decided to make the best of Lindsey's suspension, so I took days off to spend them with her, all in all Sara and I haven't spoken to one another in four days.

I know avoiding the matter is childish, but facing it isn't exactly appealing. I don't think I'm ready to handle the situation. I'm hurt, if I'm honest, more hurt than angry, and I only have myself to blame.

I step on my front porch and close the door softly behind me; the fact that I have no intention to invite her in is my silence statement of how things are as far as I'm concerned. She comes closer and sits down on my front steps. I stay up and lean against one of the wooden beams of the porch, not too far from Sara.

She's twisting her hands nervously, looking at them with great interest. "Warrick said he was meeting you…" she starts after a long silence. "It took a lot of effort but I convinced him not to tell you that I was coming instead."

I could be mad at Warrick for not giving me the heads up but knowing Sara, she'd have found another way if that one had failed.

"I know you're busy being mad at me, so I figured that it was up to me to re-establish the contact between us."

She turns to me for the first time, when she understands that I have no intention to speak, she focuses on her hands again.

"I've waited for a sign from you that you were ready for us to talk, but at this rate the next time we'd have been talking to one another would have been in session, provided you'd have come to it," she rambles. "Anyway, here I am…"

I sigh loudly to let her know that my patience is running off.

"It's funny, because it's only now that I realise how little we talked before. When I think about it, it seems so absurd, I mean I know I've told bit and pieces of information about myself…but apparently never to you. I know I can be guarded, but I didn't notice how guarded I was from you during those past six years."

I'm about to tell her that I don't see the point she's trying to make.

"The other day…" she trails off. "You know, I'm not that socially inept… a part of me was aware of what you were feeling and thinking, but that part was smothered by the one that was preoccupied about what my sister was thinking and feeling after catching me with someone…a woman at that…" she says looking at the distance.

It takes some time for her words to actually register in my brain.

"Your sister…" I repeat softly, I'm still not anymore convinced than when she told me this on that fateful day.

"Yeah, my sister," she reaffirms with sigh.

"The blonde, young woman…"

"In my apartment that day was my little sister, Hazel," she persists.

I feel my legs being very weak all the sudden, so I seat on the stairs as well. "This is not a joke, is it?"

"I tried to tell you," she protests a bit.

Oh yeah, now it's my fault.

"I…" she sighs. She turns her head to look at me, she locks her gaze with mine. "I know in the past things were rough but they have been changing now and I…I care about you Catherine, and… I'd never do anything to hurt you…maybe I just wanted you to trust me, to trust that I would never hurt you…"

I avert my eyes feeling suddenly very vulnerable.

"You know…I came here thinking, that I didn't have to apologize, but I do. I'm sorry, I didn't handle the situation well."

I nod, glancing at her quickly, before looking away. I don't know how I feel right now, I'm lost and confused.

I hear her sighs. "This… it makes me think and…I think it's better if we stop…"

My head snaps in her direction in the second, I wait for her to elaborate with a thundering heart.

"This fuck buddy thing we have going on…"

"Fuck buddy…" I repeat in a whisper. What is this acute stinging sensation burning a hole in my heart?

"Yeah… this way we have to seek physical release with one another when we are emotionally distressed…"

"Fuck buddy," I mouth again, like my brain had just bugged and refused to process any more information.

"I want…I want us to be friends Cath… not friends who occasionally fuck one another…" she trails off and looks away. "And I don't think we can build that friendship properly if we keep crossing that line."

I hear what she's saying and I agree, I just don't get why it hurts so much.

Right… who am I kidding?

It hurts because for a split moment there, it felt like much more than 'fuck buddies', it felt real, it was real. It's because it was so real and intense that it hurts so much right now.

I look at her, and from her apprehensive expression I conclude that she's expecting something from me, a reaction of some kind.

I just nod. She managed to make a deep cut into my heart with barely anything, so I guess she has a point. At least if we stay in the 'friendly correct' zone, I won't be fooled into believing that there was, is, something between us.

I wonder though, does it mean that for her, whatever happens when she came back from California was the same than when I came to her after being held at gunpoint? I mean, I don't think I made up anything, I don't think I imagine her feeling this… connection between us.

I found myself trying to hold back tears, so I avert her eyes. "Guess, I should have trusted you," I mumble. Maybe then things wouldn't have changed that way, I add to myself.

"You want to know what's ironic about all this? I had planned for you to be the first to officially meet another Sidle. Of course it would have been around a lunch or a dinner. So much for my plan…" she snorts lightly.

For the first time since I don't know when, we share an awkward silence. We're looking at each other, she seems so far to me at this very moment. Right now, it feels like something was broken between us. We're still at this stage of the relationship where everything is fragile and uncertain so every decision we make can be a set back. We are not a solid 'us', so to speak, maybe one day we will, if we manage to go pass this little episode.

"You…want to come in?" I finally ask without great enthusiasm.

"Thanks…but I promised Hazel I'd take her out today," she replies, probably sensing that even though the air has now been cleared up, a little distance will be appreciated.

"Alright," I nod.

"We're… we're okay, right?" she asks shyly before looking at me with pleading eyes.

"Sure," I manage a small grin.

"Okay, then, I better get going", she says after a few seconds.

She stands up and I mimic her, crossing my arms over my chest. She faces me for a moment and then eventually starts to walk away.

"Do you still want it?" I ask suddenly non sequitur.

It's true what they say about getting back on your horse after a fall, the longer your wait, the longer you let fear grow, up to the point where you're too scared to ever try to ride again. I know I'll need time to wrap my mind around everything before putting it to rest, but that's something I have to do on my own. Now, I know that Sara and I just took a step back, that doesn't mean we have to stop moving forward.

"Want what?"

"Want me to meet your sister," I elaborate.

Sara's face lights up a bit and a grin starts to tug at the corner of her lips. "Of course. What about lunch at my place tomorrow?" she immediately proposes as though she was afraid I'd change my mind.

"Is it okay if I bring Lindsey along?"

"Sure, the more the merrier," her voice holds the warm tone of cheerfulness. "I'll call you later to give you details."

I simply nod in response, we keep staring at each other, then she finally starts to close the distance to the driver's door, so I retreat to my house.

"Cath…" her voice stops me just as I'm about to cross my threshold. I look at her expectantly and for the first time she looks like a child, fragile and uncertain, somewhere her expression breaks my heart. "We are okay…right?" she repeats her previous question.

It's as if the fate of the world was held in her question and in my answer. It is when you think about it, the fate of the world that we've spent the last nine months to create is now dangling from my hands, I'm the one to decide if I drop it for good or keep holding it.

I sigh and grin genuinely. "Yes, we are."

A nervous smile is now on her lips and eventually she breaks the eye contact and climbs into her car. I enter my house again and lean against the close door before sighing heavily.

That's what happens when you break your own golden rules. You get burnt badly. There are reasons for rules to exist, that'll teach me right… yet again.

One of my cardinal rules is: never let your guard down.

I really stuck to that one good this time… obviously.

I let my guard down and what happened? I took a mean punch, straight in the stomach, it cut my air supplies and knocked me out good. Serves me well, I knew better. Go with your feelings is one thing, but you got to use your head in every case, cause self preservation is an intellectual exercise, and the heart needs to be preserved…

I bang my head softly against the door and go to the kitchen, I sit down on one of the chairs, put my elbows on the table and bury my head in my hands.

Fuck buddies… of course, what did I think? It's just like she said, it was always an enjoyable solution to emotional distress…

Yeah but…

No, let's not go there. Fuck buddies was all that it was about, period. Let's not add insult to the injury.

I groan and sigh deeply, now it's time to pull myself together.

xxxxx

"Linds, can I come in?" I ask to my daughter's bedroom door.

"Sure thing."

"Sweetie, I need to…"

"Go to work?" she offers. "But I thought you were off?"

"I am, I need to…"

I have spent the past few hours between cursing myself and banging my head against the kitchen table. I'm restless to only say this. I need to get it out, to get whatever's bothering me out of my system. Of course I can't go to Sara so that only leaves me one more viable option. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd say those words but, to desperate times, desperate measures…

I need to speak to Adam.

Now, I haven't told Lindsey that I was in therapy with Sara. I'm not going to work which means that saying I'm going to work now, would be a lie. But then again, can't I consider therapy as an extension of work? After all I'm working on my relationship with Sara for the benefit of our professional lives… right so it's not a lie…just the unelaborated truth.

"Yeah, but I won't be long. Three or four hours top."

I doubt I will stay in Adam's presence that long, but I'd rather make a wide estimation rather than a short one, less room for disappointment.

"Okay, see you later then," Lindsey shrugs before returning her attention to her book.

I frown and stay on her threshold, waiting for her to focus on me again.

"Is there something else?" she asks after a minute.

"Yes, I'm taking you to your aunt's, so get ready," I snort.

"Aww… mom," she whines.

"Linds, I'm not leaving you alone in the house."

"I'm thirteen!"

"Almost and even if you actually were, I'd still wouldn't let you alone in this house."

"You know one day you'll have to trust me," she sighs putting some item in her backpack nonetheless.

"Baby, I do trust you…I don't trust the rest of the world, that's different," I point out seriously.

She rolls her eyes, knowing that even if we argued on that point for hours she won't win. I know she's growing up and I trust her not to set the house on fire or to open the door to strangers, however my job showed me that the danger is always at the door. And I almost lost my daughter once, which was more than enough, so I'd rather ease my worry with the knowledge that she's in company of responsible adults that I trust.

Nancy, doesn't ask any question when I drop Lindsey off, I promise I'll be back soon before driving away to Adam's office. I spend fifteen minutes in my car outside of Adam's office, trying to recreate the reasoning that led me to think that this was my only viable option.

Hating being wrong or the idea of having had a lapse of judgment I exited my car anyway, now I'm waiting in front of a closed door, and it doesn't sound like it will be opened anytime soon. I sigh, ready to walk away, maybe it's not such a bad thing that I'm unlucky.

I'm startled by the door opening itself suddenly, revealing a dishevelled Adam, wearing white heavy cotton shorts which arrive to his knees and a black Wayne's World t-shirt proclaiming 'You're magically babelicious'. I snort and purse my lips tightly not to laugh out loud and immediately look away before looking down. I can't help shaking with my smothered laugh and I feel tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. I take a deep breath and compose myself to look at him again. He's impassive but I can see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"I had the feeling you were coming, so I dressed up for the occasion," he deadpans, forcing me to smother another laugh.

"I'm flattered, as long as you don't tell me that I tested high on your stroke-ability scale or call me Baberaham Lincoln," I come back and for the very first time I see a full blown smile on his lips, he lets escape a throaty laugh for a second before composing himself again, but keeps on grinning.

"Can I be frank?" I ask as seriously as I can.

"Ok, can I still be Adam?" he gives me what I wanted and we both chuckle.

I shake my head a bit to be serious again. "It didn't occur to me that you would be sleeping. I'm sorry, I should have called before coming," I state seriously.

"It's alright."

"I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm going to let you go back to sleep."

"It's okay Catherine, my office is open any day at any time, don't worry."

"I'll come back another time…"

"I'm awake, and you're here, we might as well make the best of the situation," he says honestly, with his calm and deep voice. He steps aside, silently inviting me in.

I hear him close the door before passing me by. "I can change if my attire makes you uncomfortable," he offers.

"Nah, don't bother, I won't stay long anyway," I wave my hand, as I take my usual spot on the couch.

It's weird to see him, to see Adam the human being and not Adam the shrink. For the first time I study him; his hair has grown a bit longer ever since we have started the therapy, now it's full of small black curls, I notice how his dark chestnut hair made his green and golden eye stand out; his casual clothes, his bare feet, his slightly puffy eyes, his facial feature still full of sleep, his stubble; to witness all those little details is unsettling but at the same time oddly intimate. For a moment I feel like he and I were long time friends. Truth to be told I think that if he wasn't my shrink we could be good friends on the outside.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you I'm fine."

He goes to sit on his huge chair, adopting an Indian style position on it. I guess that since he's in casual clothes, he might as well be comfortable. He takes a long gulp out of a big glass of milk then wipes his upper lip with his thumb and puts the glass on the little table next to him; then he grabs the book resting on it.

I've always wondered if it was a natural thing for him or he was putting an extra effort to appear like we weren't in the room, like this wasn't a therapy. He always seems to find something to do with himself until we decide to speak. Maybe he's so use to this that it's a routine for him.

Like right now for instance, he's reading a comic book – Calvin & Hobbes no less, giving me time to sort out my thoughts. I can speak if I want to or decide that after all I don't want to speak and leave. He laughs silently – the small movement of his head and shoulders let me know that much, at Calvin's antics and turns the page.

I've never felt offended by his casual attitude though, on the contrary, he never makes me feel oppressed by the situation, I can still hold on the knowledge that I have a little control in his office, even though he's the master in command as he called himself.

"My father…" I start but trail off. The second my voice resounds he gives me his undivided attention, closing his book immediately. "Alistair Flynn, well, I've learned three years ago that he wasn't genetically my father but that's irrelevant, he's my father as far as I'm concerned. Anyway, before he could get his own company, my dad used to build houses and buildings. Sometimes the building sites were far from home so he would be gone for a whole week before coming home for the week end. Sometimes it was weeks before we could see him.

Don't get me wrong, he was there as much as he could, and there were times when he was home every evening. I mean he was as present as he could, I know he has refused a few jobs to stay home when he thought it was the best for the family. And when he was away there wouldn't be a day without him calling home to speak to everyone. He was always sad to leave us, but he always said that he was lucky to do something he loved, that allowed him to put food on the table and give his family the life he wanted."

"Wise man."

"That he is," I nod and smile with pride. "I remember, once he was gone away for a job. It had been almost three weeks that we hadn't seen him. So my mother decided to surprise him, and we went on the construction site. You should have seen the way his face lit up when he saw us. He hugged us and kept saying that it was good to be home. I didn't understand why, because we were outdoors and far from home for all I knew."

I stop the telling of my memory, letting my gaze wander around in the office. I frown as I feel that something striking me as different but can't put my finger on what. I focus again and try to remind myself why I was talking specifically about that day to Adam.

"I asked him, why he was saying that it was good to be home. I remember him sitting me on his knees and saying 'pumpkin, four walls and a roof make a house, not a home. Home, for me is where my family is at my side; where I can see my children playing together and hear them laugh; where I can watch my wife and see her smile; where I can hold each one of you in my arms. It doesn't matter where it is. When I'm home, I feel strong, I feel warm with radiating love, I feel safe, I feel happy and complete. Home is a feeling pumpkin'," I mimic my father's voice with a small smile.

"And he told me that it was easy to feel it with your family, but that when I grow up I'll find that they are many ways to get this feeling. Home is different for everybody, the only thing that doesn't change is the fact that it's a feeling," I finish my memory.

"Home is a feeling…" I repeat pensively with the sigh.

"Do you agree?" Adam finally speaks once he knows I'm done.

"I think he's right. It took me time to understand what he meant by that, but yeah, I agree," I nod. "I mean, I know I feel home where my daughter is," I add. "I think in the end that's what people are looking for, to be able to recreate this feeling with the people sharing their lives. My father's right, it's easy to feel home with your family, well most of the time it is. It's complicated to do it with the rest of the world though," I point out. "The thing is that the feeling is so…strong, that even if you feel it for a split second, when it's taken away from you it hurts…"

"Who took this feeling away from you?" Adam asks after a moment.

I turn my head when I finally put the finger on what was bothering me earlier. I guess you could call that a professional hazard, since I'm forced to visually photograph scenes, out of habit I photograph every room I ever walk in. The last time I came here, Adam's books were resting on the floor. "It's new," I state out of the blue.

"What is?"

"The bookshelf, it's new."

"Yes."

I stand up and move closer to the new furniture. I brush it with my fingers after a long observation, I whistle in appreciation. "The subtlety of the carving, the shape… it's truly magnificent. Where did you get it?"

"It's a gift."

I turn to Adam, and make an impressed pout with a nod. "The least you can say is that you have friends with good taste," I smile, Adam makes a tilting movement with his head but doesn't say anything.

"You avoided my question," he states after a long silence.

I chuckle. "Nobody avoids question, what they avoid are the answers, you should know better," I tease him.

"It's a matter of point of view," he shrugs. I snort and shake my head lightly before sitting down again. "Who took this feeling away from you?" he repeats.

"No one," I reply after a moment. Adam just stares at me impassively with a penetrating gaze. "No one!" I repeat forcefully.

"You don't need to convince me Catherine," he simply replies.

"Then stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…" I huff and shake my head "No one took that feeling away from me… it wasn't…it wasn't it…" I shrug as I explain. I sigh and calm myself again realizing that my behaviour makes me look like I was trying to convince him. I take a deep breath and settle down.

"You know how sometime you want something so hard…you yearn for it so much that you convince yourself that you got it the first occasion you get, just because you're tired of waiting…" I shrug.

"So you play make belief?" he ventures.

"I guess you can say that."

"Then how do you know when this is what you want?" he asks tilting his head. "How do you know you're not actually convincing yourself that it wasn't that feeling?"

I stare at him blankly not having any answer. "You got me…"

"We all have desires, we all yearn for something. Somehow though, in order to get what we want we have to tame our desire and temper it; because as paradoxical as it sounds it's only when our mind is cleared of passions – and here understand 'passions' as feelings in general – that we can fulfil our desire."

"Tame and temper my desire… easy," I snort with sarcasm.

For him to tell me that feelings cloud my judgement is nothing new and I can absolutely apply it when I work. Now, when it comes to life and my relationship with people, even though I'm wiser as time go by, I just can't be that detached and clear minded.

"Shame there's not a switch somewhere that turns off feelings when I need to be clear minded, life would be so much easier…" I add after a moment.

I sigh and cover my face with my hands. This isn't exactly what I was looking for, however I do feel a bit better now that I've talk to someone, well… calmer at least. I think that I still need to adjust to therapy. I'm still under the impression that somehow Adam knows the answers to everything and that after seeing him everything will be fine. That , of course, is completely wrong.

I have this image in my head, I'm lost in an unknown and dark forest, completely panicked. Adam, who's by my side doesn't tell me the exact way out even if he knows where it is. Instead he gives me a flashlight, says some words and wishes me good luck. That's not exactly the help I need but it's help nonetheless. What makes things even more interesting is that the flashlight is like a puzzle, I need to figure out how to turn it on, and I can only do that if I understand the meaning of Adam's words…which can take a while because sometimes I think that gibberish is Adam's first language.

I sigh again. "So much for the flashlight," I mutter.

"Excuse me?" he asks genuinely intrigue.

I chuckles. "Never mind. I better go, I promised my daughter I wouldn't be long," I announce as I stand up. "Thank you very much for receiving me."

"Again, my door is open at any time any day."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I put my vest back on and make my way around the couch. I look at him again and he is opening his Calvin & Hobbes comic book. "We have a session next week, right?"

"Yup, party time," he smirks.

"Excellent," I make horns with my hand – the international 'Rock on' sign, and giggle a bit. I turn to leave but I found myself burning to ask him something. "Since I know you won't release the information willingly, I'm going to ask."

He scrutinizes me silently then a subtle grin appears on his lips. "The first one is way better, you just can't beat the classic," he says seemingly out of the blue but I'm a bit taken aback by the fact that he answered my question without me asking it.

"How did you…?"

"I took a wild guess," he snorts. "Plus the fact that you stared at my shirt gave me a clue."

I smirk, I guess he's better than me at deciphering body language. "I agree, the second one is fun, but not as good," I shake my head and walk to the door.

My hand is on the doorknob and the door half opened when he speaks again. "To thine own self be true…"

I stop on my track and look at him puzzled. "What?"

He looks up from his book and look at me innocently. "Sorry?"

"What did you just say?"

He pretends to think about it for a second and to finally understand what I mean. "I was just thinking out loud," he replies with a wave of his hand.

Right.

If there's one thing I've understood fairly quickly since we've started this therapy, it's that Adam doesn't say much, but none of his words are spoken in vain. Each word, each question is deliberate. There's no such thing as him thinking out loud, if his words weren't directly addressed to me.

I wait a bit, in case he would expend on why he was 'thinking out loud' and why those words, but he doesn't, I guess that's one more clue on how to turn on the flashlight.

"I'll see you next week," I say and wait for him to nod before leaving his office.

xxxxx

Against all odds, I have a great moment at Sara's. I thought things would be a bit awkward but they weren't. Lindsey and I went to her apartment to have lunch and meet her sister, if Lindsey wasn't overjoyed at the prospect, she had a good time.

Hazel is much different from Sara, first physically – I saw a picture of the Sidle clan, parents included and I must say that Hazel is a carbon copy of her mother. Sara and her are almost polar opposite yet they are like two peas in a pod. It was good to see Sara and her banter and tease one another, and even if I knew Sara could be goofy, I never knew how much until today. Seeing them being so happy with one another and to listen to them talking about their antics with their brothers was really entertaining. It made me think about the fact that sometimes I do wish Eddie and I had had another child, not that I'm not happy with Lindsey, I am more than happy with her in fact. It's just that I wish she had a brother or a sister to share things with, like Sara shares with her siblings or like I do with mine. When things go well between brothers and sisters there's nothing like it. I know that as much as my brothers, Nancy and I can disagree with one another sometimes, we are always there for the other and it was good growing up to have someone to turn to when we were in our 'parents can't understand' phase.

We stayed at Sara's late enough to share dinner with them. Lindsey didn't want to leave, Hazel and her really connected, and not only because Hazel propose to have her come visit her in California as soon as possible. As a proof Hazel and Sara took Linds out today they went hunting for books or so was the original plan, I'll wait for them to come back to know what they did.

As for myself I've been on the couch for the past forty minutes, trying to muster the courage to place a call. I've been thinking about my conversation with Adam; the situation with Sara and all that. I came to the conclusion that I had to take things in hand, to stop waiting for things to happen. If I'm honest with myself I want someone to make me feel home, not just fool myself into thinking that it's happening. Which is why I'm now dialling the number Nancy had stuck under one of the magnets of the fridge a little more than a month ago.

I hold myself from hanging up as soon as I dial the number.

"Hello?" a warm voice answers.

Damn… just my luck they had to answer after two rings only, I wish I had had the answering machine.

"Hello?"

Right… should I speak or hang up?

"Hello?"

"Hi…" I reply quickly with a strangled voice. I clear my throat and compose myself. "Hi, I… I'd like to speak to Julianne…"

"Speaking."

"Hi, I'm Catherine…Willows, Nancy Flynn's sister," I announce. There's not reply on the other end, which makes me think that this was probably the worse idea I ever had. "Hello?" I call after almost two whole minutes of silence.

"Yeah…sorry…I… I wasn't expecting that call anymore to say the least… I was even starting to think that you were a figment of Nancy's imagination," she jokes.

"Yeah… I work night and it's hard to find the appropriate time to call people…that and well life and work…"

"It's okay."

Another silence ensues, but then she chuckles.

"Alright, we both know what it's about so might as well get it out of the way, as awkward as it is."

"Yeah, so, the question is to know if you're still up for a drink with me."

"Let me think about it… no, not really," she answers seriously.

"Oh…okay, well…" at least she went straight to the point.

"I was joking, I'd like to," she adds.

I chuckle and relax. "Great," I smile.

It wasn't such a bad idea after all.

I know, I know some of you will be mad at me for this but like I said I have a plan.

The references Adam and Catherine make are from Wayne's World 1 & 2.

'[…] To thine own self be true […]' is a quote from William Shakespeare's Hamlet. I voluntarily do not put the quote in its entirety because the verse will come back fully later on. But for the curious ones who can't place it, the reference is Act I, scene 3, lines 78 to 80.

Exams are approaching on my sides so it may take a little while before the next chap, but I'm working on it.

Thanks for reading.

"Your sister…" I repeat softly, I'm still not anymore convinced than when she told me this on that fateful day.

"Yeah, my sister," she reaffirms with sigh.

"The blonde, young woman…"

"In my apartment that day was my little sister, Hazel," she persists.

I feel my legs being very weak all the sudden, so I seat on the stairs as well. "This is not a joke, is it?"

"I tried to tell you," she protests a bit.