Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Life has been busy, my other story has consumed me, and it was kinda tough to follow that previous chapter, which I was so happy with. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!
Spoilers: Season 3, episode 8
Linden's eyes blinked open slowly, and she saw right away that she wasn't in her own bedroom. She tried to remember where she was. Early morning sunlight was filtering through a window across the room, and she knew the place was familiar. Her mind was working a million miles an hour to process what she saw, but it hadn't quite caught up. There was a moment of panic, because how was it possible for her to wake up not knowing where she was? And yet… at the same time, the place felt calming and she knew that she wasn't in danger.
She stopped and tried to remember the previous night, and then it all came flooding back to her: all of the events of the entire previous day. The storage unit. Bullet. Holder. Missing the ferry. Fighting with herself about laying down. Her eyes focused on the space immediately in front of her. She could tell from the fact that she was still facing the side of the bed where Holder had been laying that she hadn't moved while she'd slept. This was something of a miracle for her, and a sign that she had slept far more soundly than she usually did in her own house. Most mornings she woke up with the covers twisted around herself, or sometimes even having thrown them to the floor in her sleep, a product of her nightmares. Somehow the demons in her head always waited to descend upon her when she slept... but somehow, they hadn't found her at Holder's place. She smiled at the thought despite her best efforts to stop herself.
She was staring at the space where Holder had been laying the night before, now empty. He was already up, obviously. How long had he actually slept? she wondered. She was conscious of the soft pillow under her head and contemplated how much she would like to just close her eyes and go back to sleep. It was rare that she slept this well, and it wouldn't be hard at all. But then she realized how much there was to do, how short Ray Seward's time was, and she knew that it was time to get up. She shifted reluctantly and pulled the covers off of herself. It was ironic, she thought, how long it took me to convince myself to lie down there last night, and now I have to convince myself to get back up.
Walking quietly down the hall without making a sound, she found Holder in the kitchen. He was moving slowly, but moving nonetheless. Today, that counted as a victory. He didn't see her at first, and she leaned her shoulder and her head against the door frame sleepily, watching him making coffee. He looked tired, not just physically, but in every way a person can be tired. Just like she felt. She supposed that she looked that way too, if she had to guess.
He looked up at her then and tried to smile weakly, but it came out as more of a grimace. She knew that feeling all too well, except that his weak attempt to disguise it was still better than any of hers had ever been. Her first thought when he looked at her was that he still looked so lost, just as he had the night before. He looked like he needed a hug. Unfortunately, she didn't really do hugs. Instead, she smiled at him with what she hoped was more warmth than sadness. She knew it wasn't much, but for her it was a lot. Not just anyone got a smile from Sarah Linden. No, Holder actually seemed to get most of them.
"Morning. Coffee's almost ready," he told her quietly.
She nodded slowly. "Thanks." Pausing, she considered exactly what to say. As usual, she couldn't come up with anything, so she settled for something generic.
"You okay?" She decided it was better than nothing, anyway.
Holder shrugged, looking back at the coffee pot and exhaling slowly. "Yeah." It came out as almost a whisper, an afterthought, as though he'd suddenly realized that he was supposed to answer.
She kept her eyes trained on him, knowing that he was looking away from her on purpose. She continued to watch him, once again wishing there was something that she could do or say that would help. They stood this way for another minute or two, until the noise from the coffee pot increased, signaling that it had finished brewing the pot that Holder had set up. He took a mug from where he'd set it on the counter and filled it, turning slowly and then handing it to her, finally meeting her eyes again. She leaned forward to take it, then returned to her position on the doorframe.
"Thanks," she said simply.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and stood, sipping it and staring absently into space. "I have to go to the morgue," he said, still not looking at her. "They called me to ID her… and to get her… personal effects." Linden just nodded, then looked down at the floor. Though he was talking to her, suddenly she almost felt like she was invading his privacy by being there.
"She would be glad that it was you who was doing it," she said softly, looking back up at him, then watched as he winced slightly at her words. Still, he nodded just the same.
"You want me to come along?" she asked after a pause. She was completely serious. Despite how much she had to do that day, she hoped that he'd say yes. He was still staring at nothing, but he shook his head slowly.
"No. I'll be fine," he said, still not looking at her. Of course, she knew a lie when she heard one, especially that one. How many times had she told people that she was fine, when on the inside she was anything but? She'd basically spent her entire life doing that. Hell, she'd been telling herself she was fine for as long as she could remember, while knowing, on some level, that she was anything but fine. Sometimes it was easier not to admit that you weren't fine. The longer she watched him, the worse she felt for him. While she routinely did what he was doing – insisting that he was fine – out of necessity to deal with her emotions, she knew how much he had to be hurting to get to that point. That just wasn't Holder.
She tried to think of something to say, something that would help. "Holder," she said, louder this time, trying to get his attention. He moved as if he was stuck in slow motion, his reaction time slowed by the grief that consumed him. When he finally looked at her, she nearly wished she hadn't gotten his attention after all, because the sadness in his eyes was almost too much for her. This was why she didn't do emotions. She just didn't have it in her to handle them when everything fell apart.
If there was one thing she'd learned, it was that it always fell apart eventually.
No matter how good it was, no matter what anyone might promise. In the end, it didn't matter. It was better not to let yourself believe in the first place.
"You don't have to go there alone. You don't have anything to prove to anyone. I mean…" she stumbled over her words, unable to think of what to say next. She wanted to tell him that she was there for him, but didn't know the best way to say it. Fuck! she thought. She wished she was better at this.
He almost smiled then. It didn't quite reach his face, but she could see it in his eyes, and she knew that what she'd said had been enough. "I know, Linden… You're my ride." He exhaled sharply and took another drink of his coffee. The bags under his eyes seemed to have grown as they'd stood there, if that was even possible.
I should know by now, she thought. He knows. Still, she was glad that she'd made the effort, and she could see that he appreciated it.
"You want something to eat?" Holder asked.
Ever the gentleman, she thought. "No, thanks," she said. "I should get to the station. Seward doesn't have much time left. I have to figure something out, whatever it is I'm missing…" She felt her anxiety level increase just thinking about Ray Seward. It must have shown on her face, because Holder, who'd been watching her, suddenly looked at her with concern of his own.
"You can't fix it all, Linden," he said quietly. She looked at him for what felt like a long time, and suddenly he felt like their roles had been reversed as they'd stood there. It was as though he was suddenly strong, and that she was now the one who was suffering from her thoughts.
"I can't fix anything," she whispered. "We don't fix things. They're always dead when we get there." She paused, looking as though she was physically in pain. He wondered how she could stand to do it to herself, case after case, to take on the pain of strangers when she so clearly denied her own. He wondered if maybe that was how she could do it. "If Ray Seward is innocent, he deserves our help. I helped put him where he is. It's my fault," she lamented miserably.
Holder smiled sadly then, shaking his head and chuckling softly. Linden looked up at him, confused. "What'd you say to me last night, Linden? I wasn't that drunk, I remember exactly what happened. I believe it was a very emphatic 'It's not your fault,' wasn't it?"
Recognition dawned on her and she made a face at him, rolling her eyes and pursing her lips. "Followed by me making a damn fool of myself," he added, trying to lighten the air between them. He wanted to apologize to her again for trying to kiss her. He groaned inwardly every time he thought about it. What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? But this moment had become about her, not him what would make him feel better.
"It's completely different," she insisted, then added, "and you didn't make a fool of yourself. I told you, it didn't matter. It doesn't."
Holder knew that Linden wasn't one to beat around the bush or say things she didn't mean. If she said it didn't matter to her, then it didn't matter. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was that he hadn't ruined their friendship with his actions the night before. He couldn't even tell her how relieved he was over this. Bullet's death had been devastating, but losing Linden as a friend right now would have destroyed him.
"It ain't different," he said emphatically. "Shit happens. That's life and it happens to everyone. Only difference is how you deal with it. You do your best and shit happens anyway. If it's true for me then it's true for you, too." He held her gaze until she finally looked away again, drinking her coffee and staring at the floor.
She knew she wasn't going to win. Not against Holder. They were evenly matched in the stubbornness department, that was for sure, and she didn't have the energy to fight him just then.
She looked back up at him, and found that he was still watching her. She wanted to look away again, but he held her gaze firmly. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "Whether he did it or he didn't, you did the best you could with the information that you had. Like you always do. You won't let yourself feel your own emotions, but you take on your cases as obsessions. It makes you incredible at your job, but it means you get way too involved. To the point where you sacrifice everything in your life to try to make things right."
He was getting wound up now, he could feel it, and he tried to calm himself down and focus on the issue at hand. "There are some things you can't make right." He paused, looking at her intently, trying to convey with his eyes how sincerely he meant all of this. "It's not your fault," he repeated finally.
Shaking her head, she finally looked away. It was hard to hear him say all this, but she knew it was the truth. Somehow, he saw her just as clearly as she saw him, no matter how much it scared her.
"Shut up, Holder," she grumbled, hating that he understood her so well, hating that she found that she liked the feeling of being understood. It was what she wanted to avoid, because it would make her too vulnerable.
He watched the wheels turning and knew that she was fighting it, but he could see the change in her expression and knew that he'd gotten through. His mission accomplished, he let it go.
"You want more coffee?" he asked, holding up the pot to show that there was plenty.
"No, thanks. I gotta get going," she replied, draining the rest of what was in her mug and setting it on the counter. "You need a ride?"
Holder thought for a second. "I guess I do," he replied, realizing that a uni had dropped him off at home the day before and that his car was at the station. He finished his coffee and set his mug in the sink. "You ready?"
"Ready when you are," she replied. She'd just rolled out of bed, dressed in yesterday's clothes, but she had a toothbrush stashed at the station for the times when she worked through the night, which wasn't especially rare. Beyond that, well, Linden didn't care too much about how she looked. She'd go home and take a shower… eventually.
"Alright then, let's roll," Holder said. On their way out, Linden grabbed the spare key that she'd taken from Holder's hiding place under the green flower pot in the hallway. As he locked the door after them, she returned it to its place.
"Gotta make sure it's there for next time," she said as she stood up. He chuckled at her.
"Next time, huh?" he asked. "You plannin' to make a habit of comin' into my place unannounced?" It was impossible to miss the smirk on his face.
She just shrugged. "Something tells me that with us, there'll always be a next time." At that, he chuckled softly again and just shook his head.
I hope so, he thought.
…
Linden
I almost wonder what would happen if Holder and I were ever to fall apart at the same time… sometimes it seems like we switch off almost moment to moment. I mean, I was over there to comfort him, so how did he end up giving me the pep talk? I don't even know how it happened… oh wait, I do. I got myself worked up about Ray Seward, like I always do. There's more to that case, I know it. Maybe I can't "fix everything," or whatever Holder was saying, but I have to find out the truth before it's too late. I have to.
For some reason, I feel like it's the only way to save myself.
Holder
I don't know how Linden does it. Blocks out the pain. Most of the time I feel bad for her, but right now… I'm jealous. I wish I could block it all out. Not let myself feel it. More than anything, right now, I wish I didn't feel any of it… the "what ifs," the "if onlys," the "I should'ves…" none of it.
But then, I know that's not me. That's no way to live. I wish I could make her see that, too. Of course, if I'd seen everything she's seen – and I've seen my share – I'd probably block it all out too. It's funny how our minds work, how we can take so much and then presto, no more. I wish I could make her see that she's not alone. It's like she knows, and yet… she doesn't. Like she wants to believe in someone, but she can't let herself.
She says Bullet's not my fault the same way I tell her that Ray Seward's not hers. Funny how it's always easier to think that someone else should forgive themselves, but when it's you, it feels impossible. All I can do now – all we can do now – is get this guy.
We have to.
…
Holder is so angry he can't see straight. He'd been at the morgue and been told that Reddick had logged the calls from Bullet on the night she'd been killed. When he hadn't answered his phone. When she'd called and called the station for him, apparently, but no one had told him. I could have saved her. The thought tears through his mind like a flaming arrow, over and over, until he can see nothing but red. He is angry, mostly with himself but also with Reddick. In a flash of poor judgement, he hops in his car, blind with rage, and before he even knows what he'd doing, he pulls up in front of Reddick's house.
He doesn't know what he'll accomplish by being there, but he's there. Reddick opens the front door and greets Holder, who proceeds to punch him in the face. Never mind that they're officially partners. Never mind that they're both police officers – that they're both adults. Never mind what the consequences of assaulting his partner will be. Holder doesn't stop to consider any of it. He barely hears Reddick's wife and teenage daughter screaming as he continues to take out his anger on his partner.
Suddenly, belatedly, Holder realizes that he needs to stop. This isn't helping. If anything, it's going to come back and bite him in the ass. What he needs is to get himself out of there, now. Just as suddenly as he arrived, he leaves, knowing that what he has just done hasn't solved anything.
Get ahold of yourself, Holder, he tells himself. Just get the hell out of there.
