Sam sighed as he hung up the phone. He couldn't get the sound of her voice, her tears out of his head. He only wanted her to be happy.

He walked upstairs and knocked on the guest room door. "It's open," she said quietly, with a small catch in her voice.

The room was dark save for the light coming in through the window. She stood facing the window, and he made a point of making a little noise as he walked toward her.

"Hey you," he said softly as he put his hands on her shoulders, "feeling any better?"

"A little," she sighed. He could hear the sadness and the resignation in her voice. "Sam, why does it have to hurt like this? I always try to be good, but it seems like it never really means very much. I just want a little happiness. Just once in my life, I want to feel what it's like." He heard her voice catch as she shrugged and said, "I guess I'm just not supposed to be happy."

He exhaled heavily when he heard that. He began to run his hands up and down her arms. "I refuse to believe that, Kate. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"I never thought about that."

"What do you mean, you 'never thought about that'?"

"I was too busy trying to stay out of everyone's way and not draw attention to myself."

She had turned to face him by now, and he studied her face. The depth of the sorrow in her eyes was chilling. It was as if she had given up any hope of being happy and wouldn't allow herself wishes or dreams.

"Why don't we go downstairs and eat? The pizza's probably cold by now, but we can warm it up in the oven. If you want to, we could talk more down there." She nodded and gave a little smile. He smiled back and put his arm around her waist as they walked downstairs. The best part of all was that she hadn't flinched when he did.

After they'd eaten, they went back to the living room to relax. He'd put some quiet CD's into the changer for background noise. He sat on the couch and tried to work on the speech while she paced the room. She looked distracted, restless. Almost like she was looking for something or someone to help her feel useful, needed, because she sure as hell didn't feel that way right now. As she continued to pace, he saw her hands begin to twitch and flex in a flat grasping motion and immediately recognized it. This was what Abbey had been talking about.

He walked to her and gently took her hands in his. "It's OK," he whispered as he brought her hands up and kissed them. He touched her hair lightly. "You look tired. Why don't you go to bed and get some rest?"

She didn't know what to make of his kindness towards her. She swallowed before she spoke. "I-I'm afraid to."

"Why? Is there anything I can do to make it easier? Would you like me to stay with you until you're asleep?" Looking into his eyes, she knew he was sincere, but she didn't know what to think.

"Ac-actually, I wanted you to hold me, Sam." She looked down as she spoke. She felt horrible as soon as she asked, stepping back slightly almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She knew deep inside that he'd say no; she'd been told 'no' so many times for so many things. She prayed that he wouldn't ask her for reasons.

"If you don't mind my asking," he said quietly, while her heart dropped when she heard that phrase, "why?"

She took a deep breath before she answered. Looking him straight in the eye, she said, "So I don't have the nightmares I do at times like this. So that when I wake up in the morning, I'm not alone and don't have the deep ache that always shows up. So that while I'm falling asleep, I don't feel that my emotions are inconsequential and my tears meaningless."

He pulled her close and rested his head on hers to keep her from seeing the tears in his eyes. He had seen so many things in her eyes while she spoke. He could see the terrified, neglected little girl needing love and attention but too afraid to ask for even for the least little bit of it, and the beautiful woman he'd fallen in love with 10 years ago. The one who was so smart she gave people whiplash but so unbelievably considerate that she put so many others before herself, without so much as a thought about her own needs. And yet, the child and the woman came together in their fear of doing the least thing wrong, either actual or perceived. Both feared retribution, either physical or emotional, to the point that it nearly paralyzed the person they made up.

The worst part was seeing her heart again. The beautiful blown glass treasure that he saw so long ago was nearly obliterated. Very little of it hadn't been damaged, and now it was at the point where there was almost nothing left. It was there he saw her sadness. Her heart was barely there now and the space that it had once occupied was now filled with the shards of her fragile emotions and the deep blackness of her sorrow.