Her first morning after receiving Michael's present had been the same as always - jolting awake from her nightmares. Her whole body was damp with sweat, her heart racing as she struggled to breathe. She sat up, her head in her hands as she sobbed.

All of a sudden she was angry. She was more than angry, she was furious. She threw her bear forcefully across the room, hearing a dull thump as it hit the wall and then fell to the floor. She clutched at her hair, yanking on it as though trying to pull the anger out of her. She jumped out of bed, throwing the duvet to the floor, the pillows following right after. She stomped down the stairs and through the house, looking for something to take her anger out on. She ripped magazines, throwing their remains into the air. Going to the bookshelf, she threw a bunch of them against the living room wall, leaving a dent above the couch.

Nothing made her feel any better. She needed to get out. As she grabbed her keys from a hook in front of the door, her finger scraped against the hook, cutting her finger. Ignoring the sting, she slammed the door and headed for her car with a clear destination in mind.

Slamming her purse against the counter, she took a seat on a stool, gesturing towards the bartender. He nodded, finishing up with another customer before going over to her.

"What can I get you, doll?" he asked, smiling creepily at her.

Sara slammed some cash onto the counter, startling him from checking out her body. His eyes met hers and she stared angrily at him. Her voice was even when she said, "Bourbon neat."

"You don't mess around," the bartender observed, smirking at her. He had a tooth missing from his yellow set.

"Just pour," she said, matching his stare, unwaveringly.

He stared at her a few beats longer and then turned around to do as she said. A moment later, he handed her the amber liquid, leaning against the counter in front of her. Ignoring him, Sara looked around the dim bar, seeing a group of men playing pool, some folks off to the right laughing loudly, clearly intoxicated. She looked back down into the glass, swishing the ice cubes around a few times before raising it to her lips.

Michael was deep in conversation with one of his colleagues, helping him with one of his designs. They had been poring over the blueprints for the past hour, trying to finalize the details when his phone rang. Taking a quick look at the caller I.D., Michael excused himself.

"Hey, you," he greeted, smiling.

"Michael?" his smile immediately vanished as his senses picked up the hoarseness in her voice and the loud music and yelling in the background.

"Sara, what's wrong? Where are you?"

He heard her sob on the other end. "Can you come get me, please?"

Her voice was just above a whisper but Michael understood. He quickly grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for the door. "Of course, where are you?"

He stopped in his tracks when she responded. "A...a bar?"

"I'm so sorry," she replied, sobbing hard.

"I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?" Michael replied, practically running through the parking lot.

"Okay," she replied.

When he pulled up to the bar, Michael immediately spotted Sara sitting on the curb, her head in her hands. Having heard his car, she looked up and met his blue-eyed gaze before returning them to the ground. She stood up and got into the passenger seat, putting her seat belt on with shaking hands and then putting her hands in her lap, her eyes glued to the glove box.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, watching her closely.

She was silent for a moment. Then, her shoulders started to shake and she turned her head to look out the window, taking a deep breath to calm herself. When that didn't stop her tears, she buried her head in her hands, starting to sob.

"Sara," his heart broke at the sight before him and he quickly gathered her into his arms - at least, as best as he could over the gap between their seats. He pulled her against him, stroking her back, murmuring in her ear that it was okay, that he was here now.

"Can you please get me out of here?" she sobbed, clutching his shirt.

"Of course," he replied, starting the car. She shifted back into her seat, granting him space so he could drive. He tried to focus his attention on the road,but he kept looking at her whenever he could. Her right hand was holding his left but she wouldn't meet his eyes as he drove the familiar route to their home. Her sniffles had stopped about halfway home and it was completely silent until she abruptly spoke.

"I didn't drink."

Michael suppressed his sigh of relief. He turned quickly to look at her, a small smile on his face. "I'm proud of you. You're stronger than you know, Sara."

Sara scoffed. "I was so close to doing it Michael. I ordered and was so close to ruining everything I'd worked so hard to accomplish. I almost ruined four years of sobriety."

"But you didn't. That's what's important."

"Right."

"I'm serious. You had the drink right in front of you and you resisted. That's what's important. You didn't ruin anything - in fact, you proved that you're strong enough to resist temptation."

She didn't say anything. He squeezed her hand and they continued in silence until they reached their home.

As soon as they stepped inside, Michael turned around and pulled Sara into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her head in his neck, her tears spilling out once more. This time, Sara didn't fight them. She was just too tired. Michael held onto her, letting her cry until her sobs were reduced to sniffles and then he pulled back, looking into her face. He raised a hand to wipe her tears and push her hair out of her face.

"What happened today?" he asked. She looked away but he placed his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "Sara, please don't shut me out."

"I'm tired. I'm just so tired," she replied, her eyes watering.

"The nightmares haven't stopped," he said. It wasn't a question.

She shook her head. "I don't...I don't know how to make them go away. They just keep getting worse."

"What do you see? In your dreams?"

She shook her head, letting go of him, going to sit on the couch. "I can't."

"Sara," Michael said firmly. "What do you see?"

"Please," she sobbed. "I can't."

"Sara, look at me," Michael said. He had been terrified of pushing her too hard but enough was enough. He needed to know what was causing her so much pain. He needed to make it go away. "Sara, you need to talk about it. You're a doctor; you know that what your behaviour is destructive. Please, let me help you."

Sara sobbed harder than before, burying her head in her hands. "I-I see you. You're lying there, in the warehouse, with blood all around you. And I can't help you. Sometimes Kellerman is there, or Gretchen, or T-Bag. They keep holding me back and they're making me watch you die. And..."

He stopped himself from pulling her into his arms again as she sobbed, not even letting himself get up to get her some water. He needed her to tell him everything and he couldn't risk her shutting down again. So he forced her to continue. "And what?"

"Sometimes...sometimes they're not there. Sometimes it's just me watching you die. But I still can't move. They're not holding me back, I don't know what is. I just...I can't move."

"Oh, Sara," this time he didn't resist. He pulled her against him and she latched onto him, squeezing him so tight that it hurt, but he didn't stop her. He held her close, practically pulling her into his lap as she sobbed, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath.

"I don't want to lose you," she sobbed.

His heart broke for her, not even able to imagine how she'd kept that bottled up for so long. God knows, he'd go crazy if anything happened to her."It's okay, Sara. I'm okay, and we're not in the warehouse anymore. No one's going to hurt either of us, okay? I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," she sniffled, her hold on him tightening even more.

He stroked her hair and kissed the crown of her head. "I love you too. And I'm always going to be right here, okay? No one is going to take me away from you. Not Kellerman, not Gretchen, not T-Bag, not anyone."

He held onto her, rocking her back and forth, murmuring that everything was okay over and over until her sobs finally subsided and she fell asleep against him. He didn't dare move, afraid that he'd wake her from her much-needed slumber. Instead, he shifted slightly so he was more comfortable and joined her.

Over the next few weeks, they were both happier to see that Sara's nightmares, although not completely gone, had reduced significantly. And, hopefully, over time, they would go away altogether.

This originally started out as a one-shot, but then I realized, there's no way something like that can be resolved by something as simple as a stuffed bear. Sure, it was a nice gesture, but that can't erase the heavy emotional damage from the events of the past. So hopefully this is more believable.