Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry such a short last chapter. Hope this makes up for it. :)

Chapter Twenty One:

She laughed. "Mine can't really compare to that story… it was much less… public."

I grinned, despite myself. She had a way of making everything seem… better. "I promise, I won't make comments about how voyeuristic I've imagined you to be." I winked, feeling the tense, tight feeling that had overtaken me when I'd talked about Susan dissipate. She blushed and smiled and at that moment our food arrived, briefly interrupting our conversation.

I had a creamy seafood pasta dish… Sara had an assortment of seafood—shrimp, lobster, crab, scallops. And as I said, the plates were massive. Sara requested two extra plates and we went about splitting our meals in half without even discussing it, handing each other the spare plates. Sara leaned her forearms on the table, picking up and cracking her crab legs expertly while she spoke. "I… I lived in a foster home from the time I was ten until I was sixteen and went to college."

My head snapped up. I had not been expecting that. Needing something to do with my hands, I slid my pasta to one side and picked up the crab legs she'd given me, staring at the bowl in the center of the table as the sound of cracking surrounded us and shells fell into it. "…Okay." I said, figuring that this was vital information to her story, or else she would not have shared it. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable with the admission.

"I was sixteen and it was the summer before I was leaving to Harvard. I… had a foster brother… Well, I mean… he was my foster parent's son, not another foster child. He was… nineteen or twenty and was living at home during the summer. He was attending MIT. …He was flipping brilliant."

I cracked a leg, dipped the meat in butter, put it in my mouth, not looking at her. She was being far more forthcoming, despite it sounding like her first time might have been as… unconventional… as mine, but I could tell she was still uncomfortable.

"He… We started talking, became friends, when I was asking him about school. He wanted to blow me off at first… dumb little girl bothering him. When he found out that I was becoming emancipated in a few short months… going to Harvard… he gave me a chance. When he realized that, despite my age, I could keep up with him on the majority of topics… we became friends. I guess."

"You guess?" I asked, because I had a feeling she might not expand on that if I let it go. I worked on pulling tails off my shrimp. She sighed.

"It was a strange friendship. He… We would fool around and… I liked him… but I'm not really sure if he liked me or if he was using me or…" He took a deep breath and her hands, the only part of her I could see, trembled above the bowl. "He talked about the entire relationship as a learning experience. Preparing me for college. And even though I knew I shouldn't be okay with it… I was. I liked him and… I had a lot of problems with… low-self esteem. I was… self-destructive. It's probably why I liked the guy in the first place."

I dropped the shrimp and with them the pretension that I didn't realize how upset she was. I reached over and wrapped a hand around her small, delicate fingers. She reacted instinctively, curling them around mine and flickering her gaze up to me. I wasn't going to push her to describe the actual event, but she squeezed my hand across the table and drew in a deep breath.

"His parents went out of town for a weekend, leaving him in charge… it was us and another, really little kid. Once he went to sleep… Well, it was the perfect opportunity. And… I don't know that I actually asked myself if I was ready to have sex or even if I wanted it… I just assumed that that was where the relationship was heading and, knowing that… this was one of the few chances we'd have to not be interrupted. He… had a bigger bed, so we did it in his room… He tried his best to make it painless, but I was so nervous that I was… over thinking everything. I couldn't get caught up in being with him, because I knew what was coming and… it hurt… a lot."

I squeezed her hand again, meaning to offer comfort, but it only seemed to remind her that we were indeed still holding hands. She swallowed and pulled from my grasp, picking up a fork and digging in to the pasta I'd given her. I followed her example, starting to eat… but I didn't want to leave this gaping void following that revelation.

"So… you went to college and… Did you ever see him again?"

She smirked a little. "About a year ago, actually. He flunked out of MIT… I ran into him in the grocery store. He wanted to go out again and it took everything in me not to laugh in his face. I… politely declined."

I grinned. "I bet that made him happy…"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, really! What did he expect?" She laughed, and then smiled at me. "…Thank you."

I nodded, not needing any explanation. "…This was amazing."

She grinned. "It's one of my favorite restaurants. I've always loved seafood—my mom used to tease me that I was cracking crab legs before I was walking."

I frowned. "I… Nevermind."

To my surprise, she smiled. "You can ask about them…"

"Your parents?"

"My father was abusive. My mother, brother, and I went to the hospital countless times… in those days, men didn't even have to be careful about their hitting. There's new legislation, now, but back then… Anyway, usually it was just an ER visit—stitches, concussion, broken wrist or jaw… I mean, not good, but… My brother was hospitalized, when I was ten, for like a week… a broken rib punctured his lung and there were a lot of other complications. The next time my dad came for us, my mom lost it—she pulled out a butcher knife and killed him… and promptly proceeded to have a break from reality, leaving my brother and I to argue about whether we call the police or try to hide his body and clean up the kitchen."

I swallowed. That was… horrible. Awful. How… how could she speak about it so candidly? So openly? She shrugged. "I won. I mean… we didn't call 911 like I wanted, but our neighbors had heard the shouting and… I'm sure they knew how we'd lived. They figured they were calling to save one of us, and instead the police arrived and found a body and a woman who was positively raving, still clinging to the knife like it was her lifeline."

It took everything in me not to grab her into my arms from across the table… to slide into her side of the booth and wrap my arms around her. …I settled for taking her hand again. She blinked rapidly, looking away, fighting back the tears. I squeezed again, and she sniffled and stared at the ceiling… I ran my thumb over her hand until she'd gained control again.

And again, she pulled her hand from mine. "Thank you."

I nodded, feeling absolutely baffled as to what to say to her now. I hadn't expected her to open up to me, so much… That had to mean something, right?

"My dad died when I was nine." I said, and she glanced at me. I cleared my throat. "I mean… He wasn't murdered or anything. It… could have been a lot of things but… I think it was heat stroke. …My mom wouldn't tell me anything, at the time and later… I couldn't ask. …She never got over him, even after all this time. Her eyes still light up when she talks about him. But… she went deaf shortly after that. She'd been losing her hearing before that but… I think, without him, she was content to stop hearing anything…even me. So I… I spent most of my home life in silence. I mean, she could speak, but she…didn't. Not once I'd learned sign language."

She frowned. "…How did that happen? Going deaf, I mean? Was she hurt or…"

"Otosclerosis." I provided, not wanting to, but feeling that I needed to be as honest as she had. I just hoped the whole kids-with-me-could-be-deaf thing wouldn't be a make or break kind of thing. "It's a hereditary condition but… there're surgeries they can do, now. If my mom had started losing her hearing now, as opposed to all those years ago… she'd probably be fine." Well, I mean… maybe I was sugar-coating a little.

"…Are you…?"

I shrugged. "Dunno… I might not even carry the gene. But… it's possible."

She nodded, slowly, and then, "…Do you want children?"

"…I'm not sure. I mean… I wouldn't be opposed to it. I… haven't seriously thought about a family in a very long time. …You?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I used to think I didn't… I used to think I'd turn out like my mother, with someone like my dad. But now… Yeah, I think, someday… I would really like to be a mother."

I couldn't help it, I sighed. "I guess that means your mind is made up… again."

She frowned, and shook her head, this time sliding her hand into mine. "…A… hereditary condition… wouldn't make me choose not to be with someone." I glanced at her and she seemed to realize what she'd said. "Not… that I'm leaving Jace. I… I just meant, you know… if Jace weren't in the picture… I wouldn't… not…with you… because of that."

I swallowed and nodded and even managed a small smile, thinking I ought to feel relief and not feeling that at all. What I really felt was an overwhelming desire to pull her to my chest and wrap my arms around her tightly. I pulled my hand away, this time, though it pained me to do so.

"Did you folks save any room for desert?" The waiter asked us, but both of us had just barely finished what we'd had. We both shook our heads and he left the check, Sara taking it and once again rolling out the money she'd hustled out of me to pay the bill and gratuity.

She sighed, looking at me, and without speaking we both stood up to leave, even if we didn't want to. Time was up on this evening… time was constantly ticking away… Pretty soon, I wouldn't have her in my life at all anymore. And even if, logically, I knew that would be for the best… my heart thudded painfully in my chest at the thought. It was… unimaginable. Unendurable. …Inevitable.