2010—She rolls onto her side to look at the alarm clock resting on her bedside stand. She sighs knowing that she has nowhere to be today. She sits up in bed with her back resting against the headboard. She flips on the lamp, and looks around the room. Just yesterday… her mind wanders.

Boxes filled this room. An unsettling reminder of what was. Packed suitcases in the hallway. Part of her feels that she is free of the albatross that has been hanging around her neck for so long. A partner with a mistress. She sighs, if only it were that simple. It wouldn't be such a hard pill to swallow if his mistress were another woman, she scoffs, hell, even it was a man. Damn fly boy!

She pulls the wedding bands off her finger, and gently places them next to the alarm clock. As the minutes pass it is just a reminder of all the time she has wasted. Time wasted chasing someone who was always running. The irony of it all is that the date of their divorce fell on their anniversary.

She soon finds herself in the kitchen fumbling for something in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Her hand lands on a piece of paper. She settles herself on the kitchen island. As her feet dangle over the sides she reads the note.

Sarah,

I am sorry for all of the things that I never was. I am sorry for all of the things we wanted that never came to fruition. Don't undo yourself for something out of your control.

Always Yours,

Harm

P.S. I took what you are looking for with me.

For a moment she wonders which thing he is talking about. She makes herself a cup of coffee, and heads to the spare bedroom. She hesitates outside the door, so tired of the sinking, empty feeling inside of her. She exhales, and takes a sip of coffee. She turns the knob, and pushes the door open. Instead of a room with four bare walls, and no furniture she finds desk centered against the opposite wall, and all of her credentials hanging on the wall.

Present Day-

She pulls her black SUV into her garage, closing the door behind her. The engine is off, and she sits in silence for several moments before she reaches for the door handle. Just as she reaches for the door her phone rings. She presses it to her ear.

"Don't," she insists, just above a whisper.

"How do you even know what I am going to say?"

"Let old flames die in the past," she warns.

"I miss you."

"Don't give me that, fly boy. We are divorced," she reminds him.

"You were the one who wanted that. You called it a sham of a marriage. You decided that it was never going to work, because you couldn't have what you wanted the most. You gave up. That wasn't me."

She scoffs, "It takes two people to make a marriage work, and you were never around."

He can hear the pain in her voice, "I'm an ass. What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything. I don't want to reconnect. I am glad you are doing well, but I have moved on. You should too."

"You're in bed with the CIA, and…"

She cuts him off, "You walked away, and never looked back. You don't get to judge me, or any of my life choices," she feels her voice begin to grow louder.

"Mac…"

"Save it for someone else."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Sorry, for what?"

"Every bit of it. All of the things that I never was, and never could be."

She feels as if someone is looking at her. She glances up, and finds someone standing in the doorway that leads to the house. She smiles, and hangs up the phone without another thought. She blocks the number, and climbs out of her car.

"Work?" A questioning voice asks, "I can go back inside."

"It was just someone trying to sell me something," she smiles, "And I'm not buying."

He hangs up the phone, and his mind begins to wander. How could he ever have been so stupid? Why did he let her talk him into giving up? He shakes it off, and reminds himself how he had nearly lost her, permanently.

2009—

He's walks into their home, and finds it uncharacteristically dark, and quiet. It has been three months since he's seen her. She assured him that she would be perfectly fine. The past few years had been full of ups, and downs for them. Promotions, countless rounds of failed fertility treatments. Two failed adoptions. One successful adoption ending in heartbreak.

He finds her lying in bed, despite the fact that it is nearly 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The room reeks of alcohol. He flips on the light, and finds it empty, other than empty bottles of alcohol. When he finally finds her he nearly wishes that he didn't. He pulls her back inside. He pulls her back off the ledge and begins the painful process of detox with her.

Somewhere around day three when he is watching her writhe in pain he knows that he is the problem. She stares at him, as he sits next to her.

"We can't do this anymore. It's killing me. I want a divorce."

"Okay."