Kirsten writes a letter to Ryan from rehab, before she learns of the shooting and surrounding drama. There are things she wants to explain.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. No characters, no concept, nothing. Just borrowing, for a few pages, okay?

Time: Kirsten's second morning in rehab. Day 3 at Suriak.

>>>>>>

Kirsten rearranged herself in the over-sized chair, pressing her back more firmly into the soft down cushions. She rubbed one bare foot absently against a soft blue chenille throw as she concentrated on the laptop she held balanced on her thighs.

She chewed her lip as she re-read her final letter home. The letter she saved until last, searching for the words. The right words.

To explain. To comfort. To connect.

She envied her husband and her son, with their easy flow of language. But she was different, she who dwelt in facts and figures. For she held back her feelings.

What if she said too much, and frightened him?

Or didn't say enough, and lost him in her silence? Two satellites, forever orbiting in disconnected space...

She re-read once more.

Hesitated ... her finger poised above the touchpad...

How daunting, to expose your heart this way. To reveal yourself in words.

And yet. And yet…

He was worth the risk.

She clicked 'Send'.

>>>>>>

Dear Ryan,

They have finally given me permission to write emails to my family. It's not as good as seeing each of you in person, or even talking with you on the telephone, but I guess it's a start…

As difficult as it is to admit, I think coming here was the right thing. Even though I fought against it, I'm beginning to realize that I need the help that they can give me. I'm starting to put some of the pieces into place, with the guidance and care of the doctors and counselors.

It will not be simple, though, because I am asked to share my thoughts and feelings with strangers, and that does not come easily for me. I often think we are alike that way, you and I.

I go through my day, and am struck by how odd it is to feel alone,with people all around me. It seems there is always a group meeting, or a counseling session, or a yoga class, or massage therapy… and yet, in the midst of all that activity, I find myself missing you guys every minute.

Only at night do I actually have time to myself – time to think. Last night, I thought a lot about you, Ryan.

I am so worried that I may have hurt you, when you were trying to help me. Over the last months, I have said things – hurtful things – to so many people I love. I find myself replaying conversations I wish I could erase.

Like what I said to you the day of the intervention. I am so very sorry, Ryan.

I have no excuse for the words I used, but I want to explain to you – to the extent I can make any real sense of my thoughts – why I said the things I did.

When I realized that I was the subject of an intervention, my first reaction was instinctive. Self-preservation.

I remember looking around the kitchen. Quickly assessing the danger each of you posed to my own self-image. Dr. Woodruff. Sandy. Hailey. And you.

What I was searching for were reasons not to listen...

Dr. Woodruff was easy. I didn't know him. He meant nothing to me. I had no reason to trust him, or believe what he said. Therefore, I knew his words could not touch me.

Sandy was next. Although I love him more than life – enough to know that we'll make it through this together – you've seen us struggle over the last year. Justified or not, I knew I could draw upon our distance to defuse the impact of his truths.

With Hailey's own sobriety issues, anything she might say could be easily discounted. (Which is not to say she wasn't right -- only that in my mind I could justify not hearing her...)

The fact is, you were the one person in the room who frightened me. I think, even in my fog, I knew I would have no defense against things you could say. And I knew if you spoke, you wouldn't lie to me. Your honesty – at that moment -- was terrifying.

I knew…I know…that I have not been much of a mother this year, to you or to Seth. I remember being so afraid you'd tell me what a lousy parent I've been. I was afraid that you'd tell me that I hadn't been there when you needed me. Tell me that I had failed you, just like others have before. Because it's true.

Because of the alcohol. Because of my weakness.

I think I would have said anything at that moment to keep you quiet. But you spoke anyway.

As you stepped forward, I held my breath. In my sickness, I waited for you to condemn me, as I knew you could.

Were I thinking clearly, I would have realized how foolish my fears were. For you have always been understanding and gentle with me. Considerate of my needs. My feelings. Even at your own expense.

I know that, when my senses are not dulled.

But you have a habit of surprising me, as you did then. When, despite my hateful outburst, you asked me to get help because I'm someone you love.

For you to say that to me, in front of everyone there – what an incredible gift, Ryan. Even then, I understood that much. The enormity of your words.

You may wonder why I didn't answer you.

I think you may understand how pride and pain can conspire to build powerful walls. Like the wall of denial I had firmly in place. That started to crumble as you spoke to me.

There was nothing I could say to you that would allow me to keep my walls intact. That would not force me to recognize I had a problem. Admit that I needed help.

So I chose to address Dr. Woodruff, instead. I could still deny my addiction to him, even if I couldn't do the same with you. Just like you wouldn't lie to me, I couldn't lie to you, either.

I was still reeling from your words when I turned to see Seth. His plea, combined with your own, are why I am here.

My sons are undeniable.

Thank you, sweetheart, for caring so very much. I want you to know that it made the difference.

Communication may not always be our greatest strength, Ryan, but going forward, I don't want to leave important things unsaid between us.

And so, I ask for your forgiveness for all my failings this past year.

I also ask for your understanding and support as I go through the healing process. As I try to get my life together. This is actually a huge thing I'm asking. I'm responsible for my own life, and I accept that responsibility. But I need you guys beside me ...

Suriak is just a first step. I know the road ahead is long, and there may be bumps along the way. I'm talking counseling. Workshops. Family therapy. And plenty of Kirsten/Ryan, Kirsten/Sandy, Kirsten/Seth time going forward...

I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm asking anyway. I want us back. Our family.

Because there is nothing in this world that means more to me than our family. Sandy, Seth, and you. And my sisters, too. You are the people who complete me.

Most importantly, now and always -- I love you, Ryan…

With all my heart,

Kirsten

>>>>>>

tbc