AN: Thanks again for all those who have stuck with this story and lended your support. You guys kept the chapters and the inspiration coming.

It is with mixed feelings I announce this is the second to last chapter of this story. Hope you guys have enjoyed the journey - it's been an honor to take another one with you all. See you all at the final chapter - Chapter 38.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 37

"While I looked, my inner self moved; my spirit shook its always-fettered wings half loose; I had a sudden feeling as if I, who never yet truly lived, were at last about to taste life."

― Charlotte Brontë, Villette

DR. MAY POV

"Take a seat."

Grabbing the coffee pot from the side counter, I pour two steaming cups, neither one of which I bother diluting with cream or sugar.

Turning, I set one on the table in front of the brunette, watching her as she watches me.

Finally breaking her gaze, Sara's eyes take in the room around her, sending me one final glance before taking a seat.

It doesn't escape my notice that she chooses a seat a good two seats away from my own.

"Thought you'd appreciate a less…intimate…setting for our first session," I offer in explanation of our presence in my building's conference room. "Most people here leave around four thirty. It's absolutely vacant at this late hour."

Sara nods, lifting her coffee to take a tentative sip.

"How's the arm?" I ask, gesturing to the black sling standing out against her grey t-shirt.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to sue you."

There's a slight glint to Sara's eyes that lets me know she's pulling my leg, and I take it to be her way of extending the proverbial olive branch, of wiping the slate clean of our previous encounters to focus on moving forward.

"Good, because the fruits of that labor would surely disappoint."

Sara smiles slightly before her expression shifts and she sets her coffee down, wiping her hand anxiously across her jeans.

"So how does this work?"

"We talk," I tell her, cradling my own coffee in my hands.

"Simple as that, right?"

"Not at all," I counter. "Talking about things, opening up about your life, your emotions, that's one of the hardest things for the body, the mind to try to do."

Sara doesn't comment, hazel eyes simply watching me, not giving anything away, clearly letting me take the lead.

"I thought I'd start by explaining my earlier approach towards you, if that's alright."

I wait until Sara nods, giving her accent to this particular topic.

"It's called the trench approach," I say. "You basically confront someone, upset them, and then learn about their support system based on who in their life they tell about the experience and what they tell them. Who they allow into the 'trenches' with them so to speak."

Sara raises a brow.

"Really?" she questions. "Seems like a good way to lose your clients."

I nod, "You do run the risk of people storming out and not coming back, but that's also a bit of a test in and of itself, who comes back and who doesn't," I answer. "And we're pretty good at tracking people down."

Sara shakes her head, not commenting further, but her expression telling me she's willing to see where this all goes for now.

"So," I prompt. "Would you mind if we start there? Try to make my ill inspired tactic of some value?"

Taking a swallow of coffee, Sara eventually shrugs with her good shoulder. "Alright."

"Alright," I let out a breath, picking up my pen. "Who in your life knows that you're seeing a therapist?"

"Catherine," she answers. "And Nancy."

"That's it?" I ask, noting the names from the questionnaire Sara, and all my patients, are offered the opportunity to fill out prior to their first session about the major people and events in their life. Offering people the opportunity to write about some of their buried secrets so the idea of having to confess them in person isn't a barrier to getting them in the door.

"Brass probably suspects since he recommended you, but I haven't officially told him I'm going."

"Okay," I state, noting the information in Sara's file. "So, we'll focus on Catherine and Nancy. Have you talked with either of them about our first session?"

Sara nods. "They both asked how it went."

"And?" I prompt, noting that Sara is not exactly the type of person to volunteer anything other than what you directly ask her. "What did you say?"

Sara takes a breath, her expression letting me know she's not thrilled about giving this particular answer. From my brief dealings with her, I can already pretty much guess what it will be.

"I told them it went well."

I smile, raising a brow as I note this down. "Oh?" I comment. "Good, I thought it went well, too."

Sara lets out a smile of her own, shaking her head. "Yeah, perhaps not the most honest of answers I suppose."

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?"

The brunette takes a moment to collect her response before she picks up her coffee again.

"I didn't, don't, want them to worry about me," she answers, voice quiet. "They've been through enough lately."

"Because of you?"

"Yes."

"So you feel guilty, and want them to have the reassurance that you're okay. That everything's back to being fine?"

"Yes."

"Do you think they believed you?" I question.

Sara hesitates a moment.

"Yes."

I write her answer down, tapping my pen on my knee when I look back up.

"Do you normally tell them the truth? Admit when things in your life, when you aren't okay?"

Again, Sara hesitates.

"Not always," she admits reluctantly.

I quirk my head.

"Not always? Or never?"

"I've been trying to be more honest, more open with them," she gets out, voice slightly tight. "Even telling them I needed help, was coming to see you. That's not something I would have done before."

"But did you tell them that for your sake, or theirs?" I question. "Did you tell them because you knew the admission was what they were waiting for, what they needed to hear from you?"

Sara looks away, the action answer enough.

"The point I'm making here, Sara, is that your support system in your life isn't a support system unless you're actually using it."

She doesn't give me eye contact.

"You're the one supporting your support system."

"They support me," Sara cuts in, eyes moving back to mine. "They've been through hell because of me, and they're still there by my side. It's more than anyone could ask from the people in their life."

"Would you have done the same for them?"

"Of course," she responds, eyes furrowed.

"Then maybe they're doing what any good friend or partner would do."

"No," Sara disagrees, eyes darkening.

"Why not?" I ask. "Seems like a shitty friend that would leave someone when they need them the most."

"I held a gun to Nancy's head, a loaded gun with my finger on the trigger," Sara grinds out, hand tightening to a fist by her side. "I used to wish Catherine goodnight and then go swallow a bunch of narcotics in our bathroom. "

She shakes her head, body tense.

"The stuff I put them through…" her voice tightens. "It's not the type of stuff anyone should be expected to stick around after."

"Would you have left them?" I ask.

Sara's jaw tightens, her head angling away.

"Did you leave them?" I question her. "Did you leave Nancy when she nearly killed you with the stun gun? Did you leave Catherine when she ignored your concerns about Chris? When she chose him over you?"

"Nancy had no choice," Sara responds lowly. "And Catherine made a mistake. We all did."

"My point is that you've all made sacrifices for each other," I tell her, trying to get her eyes to meet my own. "That it's not something to feel guilty about or indebted over. You've sacrificed for them as well."

She still averts her gaze, eyes focused on the conference room table.

"It's not something you keep tallies on. Keep score about. Sacrificing is something you simply do for those you love."

I look her up and down, voice softening.

"And, to be completely honest, Sara," I tell her. "You look like someone who's spent most her lifetime sacrificing for others, protecting the people in her life."

I send a pointed look towards her shoulder, to the healing gash near her eyebrow.

Sara's head lowers slightly, the tension in her body slowly shifting to what appears to be a deep exhaustion. I bone deep weariness that I suspect runs deeper than I could even guess.

"Do you love them?" I ask her quietly.

She's silent a few moments, taking in one slow, deep breath after another.

"Yes."

Finally, her eyes are on mine.

"Good," I tell her softly. "Now, Sara, let's work on getting you to a point where you let them love you."

NANCY POV

"How'd it go?" I question the brunette as she approaches, pulling myself to a stand.

Shutting her car door, she pushes her keys into her jeans pocket.

"Good, I'm cured."

"Clearly not," I tell her with a smile. "You're still a smartass."

Sara smiles back slightly, her smile brightening when she sees the coffee I'm holding out towards her.

"Thanks," she says, taking a long drink. "And thanks for agreeing to push our walk back a couple hours."

"Of course," I tell her, not having hesitated a second when she asked if we could postpone our walk until after her session with Dr. May.

"Brought you something else."

Sara raises a brow, moving slightly away from me as we start down the gravel path of our favorite park.

"The last gift you brought me was more pleasurable than I can express," she tells me darkly, eyes shifting to her sling. "I couldn't possibly feel right accepting another treasure from you."

"I'd smack you if it didn't feel so wrong to do to you after you just got back from a therapy session."

Sara snorts, shaking her head as she swallows some of her coffee.

"No," I tell her, waggling my brows at her. "This one I think you'll like."

Quirking her own brow, Sara still looks like she's waiting for me to pull a switchblade from my pants.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull the item out, extending it to Sara.

Her steps pausing, she studies the item in my open palm, her eyes shifting to mine.

"Tell me you know what this is," I state, looking at her questioning expression.

"Of course I do," she answers quietly, but makes no move to accept the item, her eyes still moving between it and my own.

"My patient made two of these for me today," I explain, watching her carefully to be sure she isn't about to enter into some sort of catatonic state, her expression starting to freak me out a bit. "She's six, she loves crafts and this is something she can do to distract her when she's getting her chemo."

I take a breath, trying to keep my own thoughts on the present and away from my patient who we still aren't sure is going to pull through this time around.

"She told me to wear one and give the other to my best friend."

I hesitate, looking at Sara's expression, the brunette's gaze now locked on the item in my hands, body completely frozen.

"That's…uh, well, that's you…of course…so…"

I trail off, furrowing my brows uncertainly, "But it's okay if you don't want it…I mean friendship bracelets aren't exactly common fashion for people outside of middle school…so-"

"No, it's perfect," Sara cuts me off, voice a whisper, eyes taking in the red and purple threads carefully knotted and woven together intricately.

Carefully, she takes the bracelet from my hand, balancing her coffee against her body with her slinged arm.

Running the bracelet between her fingers, she clears her throat, eyes moving towards mine.

"Thank you."

I nod, finding it suddenly hard to form words in this moment, this moment that I now realize extends beyond a bracelet to something much deeper that it represents.

Clearing my own throat, I tuck my coffee into the crook of my elbow with a nod.

"Here," I offer, gesturing for her to hand it to me.

She does so, allowing me to turn her free, left hand over and tie the bracelet carefully to her wrist.

Eyes unable to help themselves, my gaze travels further up her arm as my fingers keep their gentle hold on her wrist, taking in the deep scar etched into her forearm, the 'L' that my eyes are allowed to truly take in for the first time.

Moving of its own accord, my hand travels slowly up her arm, fingers tracing the angry mark.

Eyes closing, I fight against the emotions pulling and clenching into a tight mass in my chest. I fight against the emotions I want to express, the words I want to scream out.

None of them will be helpful, none of them will take back the scar, take back the events that led to it.

Opening my eyes back up, I study Sara, her own gaze hard to read as her eyes focus slightly off to my left.

"I…"

I clear my throat, shaking my head.

"Sara…I…"

Swallowing, Sara nods, eyes finally shifting to mine.

"I know."

I let a long breath escape my lips, my head shaking at my inability to express what I want to say to her.

"I know, Nancy," she whispers.

Studying her gaze, I finally nod, removing my hand from her arm to place it gently against her chest instead.

A moment or two passes before I take a steadying breath, removing my hands from her and taking a slight step away.

Slowly, we both resume our steps, continuing on our walk as we try to settle our respective thoughts.

Deciding to refocus our thoughts, our moods, I take a sip of my coffee before deciding to broach the topic I've been impressively keeping to myself so far this evening.

"So how was your night last night after I left?" I ask casually. "Watch anything good? Read anything good?"

Sara sends me a hesitant look, knowing me well enough not to trust there isn't some hidden agenda behind this particularly odd line of questioning.

"Not really," she says.

"No?" I question innocently. "Didn't do anything exciting?"

Sara shrugs slowly, eyeing me warily.

"Not really…"

"Oh," I shrug myself, waiting until Sara puts her coffee cup to her mouth. "I thought sleeping with my sister would have at least qualified as a little bit exciting…"

Perfectly on cue, Sara has coffee coming out both nostrils.

"Damn it, Nancy!" she gets out between coughs.

Smiling, I casually sip my own coffee, keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn't actually aspirate or anything, but unable to help the chuckle that escapes my mouth at her expression when she finally gets her breathing back under control.

"You should really stop trying to asphyxiate me with my beverages."

"You should really change the locks on your doors," I offer as my own suggestion. "My eyes got a lot more out of a trip to return Catherine's crock pot this morning than they bargained for."

"Good Lord," Sara groans.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about," I tell her, patting her on the back. "Thrilled beyond belief to see you guys finally happy in that way again together."

I send her a look.

"Perhaps just not so literally next time."

CATHERINE POV

Glancing up from the form I'm signing, I do a double take when I see the figure standing by the doorway.

Gesturing her in, I glance up at Sofia as I hand her back the case file.

"There you go."

"Thanks," Sofia says, offering Sara a surprised and pleasant nod when she turns to see her now standing by the bookshelf.

"Sorry to interrupt," Sara states, glancing between Sofia and I.

"Not at all," Sofia answers before I can. "I was just leaving. Nice to see you, Sara."

"You too," the brunette says, offering Sofia a genuine smile as the detective makes her way out.

Stepping slightly further into my office, Sara glances at the paperwork on my desk.

"Sorry to bother you, just wanted to stop by and see if you needed anything before I head over to work on some stuff."

"Never a bother," I immediately correct her. "Sorry I got called in – you don't have to stick around for me if you want to head home."

"Nope, too much to do."

"None of which can wait, I'm sure."

Sara sends me a look, to which I wink and gesture for her to close my office door.

Raising a brow, Sara does so, returning back to stand near my desk.

"How'd your session go this evening?"

Sara smiles slightly at my question, placing her free hand in her pocket.

"Making progress."

Nodding, I reach over and give her good shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Looking down, I take hold of Sara's arm, gently pulling her hand from her pocket.

"This is beautiful," I tell her, running my fingers over the bracelet on her wrist.

"Complements of your sister."

I look up, gaze meeting with Sara's and expression morphing into a smile.

"Yeah?" I question, running my thumb over her wrist one last time before giving her her hand back.

"Yeah," Sara affirms, expression lost in thought for a moment before she clears her throat. "Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Taking a deep breath, I nod, having figured Sara and I would need to address this particular topic at some point.

"I'm guessing you want to talk about last night?"

Sara nods, eyes searching mine.

Gesturing to the chairs by my desk, we take a seat, rearranging ourselves so we're facing one another.

Trying to read Sara's expression, I nervously attempt to find something to do with my hands.

"You think we're going too fast?" I ask, worried she's regretting our actions from the night before.

"I think last night was beautiful," she says softly. "Amazing."

"But…too soon?"

"I don't know," she says honestly. "I think that depends."

Furrowing my brows, I nervously shake my head.

"On what?"

"On what we are," she answers, her expression calm and gentle despite the emotions I know are stirring beneath the surface for the brunette. "On where we're headed."

"Sara?" I whisper. "What're you trying to say?"

Letting out a breath, Sara reaches over, taking one of my hands in hers.

"I think I'm ready."

I watch her, again desperately trying to read this woman that is so darn unreadable.

"Ready?"

"Dr. May today referred to you as my partner."

The comment throws me off, leaving me even more confused.

"She called you my partner," Sara says. "And I didn't correct her."

Tightening my grip on her hand, I lock my gaze with Sara's, her comments slowly starting to take shape and make sense of this conversation.

Immediately, my heart begins racing nervously in my chest, my brain struggling to believe what's happening.

"Are you saying…"

"I'm saying I want to stop wasting time," she says, voice thick. "I'm saying it's probably selfish and illogical but I want to be with the person that I love."

Her fingers lace their way through mine.

"I'm saying I want to never have to correct Dr. May, Catherine," her eyes are heavy with emotion, her gaze faltering slightly. "I'm saying I still have no clue what the hell lies ahead, but I want to face this ridiculously insane life with you. Together."

Her voice lowers to a near whisper.

"If you'll still have me."

Ignoring the tears running down my face or the fact that my office blinds are open, I lean forward, taking Sara's face in my hands.

"Look at me, Sara."

Doing as I ask, Sara's heavy gaze meets with mine.

"I'm yours," I tell her, trying to keep my voice from breaking. "And I'll always be humbled and honored to call you mine for as long as you let me."

Searching my eyes, Sara slowly nods, fighting against the emotions and the tears welling in her own.

Reaching forward, she pulls me into her embrace with her available arm, holding me closely.

Completing the gesture, I clench tightly to her back, head pressed firmly against her neck.

"I love you."

I'm honestly not sure which one of us said it, but it doesn't matter, the words professed between us might as well have been spoken as one.

AN: Thanks for reading. See you all at the next and final chapter.