March 15th, Friday

Outside Dr. Alana's office

1945 hours

Steve reaches the lobby of the building longing for the safety of his car. The noises of the people entering and leaving and the harsh ceiling lights feel like an assault to his senses, right now. Even though he knows the Doctor never meant his words as such, the sting of their reproach makes Steve uncomfortable, because, admittedly, there is a lot of truth to them. The temptation of the 'easy way out' offered by the fact that Dr. Alana doesn't know him well suddenly annoys him; it's time to realise that whatever his strategy has been these last few years, it's not working.

Quickening his steps, he unlocks the door and gets in, leaning backwards and closing his eyes, a myriad of thoughts stirring inside him, making him restless. Suddenly, he just wants to get home and organise his thoughts and the irony of the situation makes him smile bitterly to himself: why is it that he's always yearning for change and action when he leaves the therapist's office, but eventually that will suddenly withers, to be replaced by… fear? The comfortableness of inaction? Could it be that he really doesn't love Catherine, doesn't really want her back? Just the thought makes him annoyed again. Sure, he knows he's pissed off due to her disappearance and general lack of justification, but he also knows that if he didn't want her, he would never have spent so much time discussing her to a total stranger. His manly pride is hurt, but these days, he's torn between letting his guard down and telling her he misses her, regardless of what happened, and holding on to his ever present sense of self-preservation. Suddenly, he feels tired. Tired of always choosing the same option. Tired of being alone. Tired of not admitting to himself that maybe, just maybe, his present condition is also very much his fault.

By the time he gets home, Steve decides that downing a beer and mindlessly watching TV until his eyes start to get heavy, waiting for Catherine to surface, is not an option, tonight. The memories are too vivid, the images in his brain too appealing and unwelcome, simultaneously. Half an hour later, as he lies in listless contemplation, he hears his phone ring from the coffee table and hesitates, looking at the caller ID. Now is not the time for Danny questions, or maybe… maybe Danny will offer him enough distraction to decide how best to proceed. Steve reaches for the phone, suddenly looking very much forward to the reprieve in his relentless thoughts.

"Hey buddy, what's up?"

"Nothing, just checking up on you. How was your appointment?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. I talk, he listens."

"Is that so? Is that all?"

"Danny, stop fishing," Steve says, putting on a serious voice. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to tell you what happens in there."

Danny steps right into the trap. "I never asked."

Steve barks a laugh, lightening up the mood. "Danny, I'm joking. Still not going to tell you what happens in that room, though."

Now it's Danny's turn to a jab of his own. "Oh, please, I can pretty much imagine what you're always reluctant to say, and what the man tells you."

"So, I'm an open book, am I?" Steve says, still amused.

"Kind of. A great mystery you're not," Danny retorts, amused too. "Let me give it a try. He tells you that you have to temper work time with relaxation, that you must learn to strike a balance between the two, and that you can't kill yourself at work with superman antics, because no one is irreplaceable. How am I doing, so far?"

"Great, buddy. Speaking of which, I need to step away from night calls for a week," Steve says, still amused. Danny's lack of accuracy hasn't managed to annoy him. He actually prefers it this way, the further away his mind is from Catherine, the better.

"Why? Are you taking a holiday?"

"No, Danny, I need to take a course of medication that makes me drowsy. Can't drive."

"Is this your way of telling me that I have to pick you up AND drop you off for a whole week? No, wait, is this your way of telling me that I'll get to drive my OWN car for a whole week?"

"Only at night," Steve says, matter-of-factly. "You're the one who keeps complaining that I don't sleep. So, now I'm going to sleep. Hopefully," he adds, almost unintelligibly.

"I'm not the only one who sees it. Lou and Junior do, too, you know? Junior told me that you spend half your nights awake, pacing the living room, on edge… why aren't you sleeping, Steve?"

The question is short, but Steve had hoped Danny wouldn't be so 'to the point' with it. Especially since he hasn't had the time to ponder what his answer should be, so he doesn't alarm Danny. Or disclose too much. So he lies. And the ease with which the words come out of his mouth startle him. He cringes. "You know, all this business with Alani Kealoha and all the ramifications to the bombings."

Danny is quiet for a few seconds. Steve's not sure if that's because he doesn't believe his explanation, or if he's sympathizing with his best friend. "Yes, you've been moving fast with no time to enjoy life, lately. Something's changed, you don't smile anymore, Steve. You don't socialize, you've been sad, and quiet. Did you realise that? You're lonely and miserable all the time."

Steve is surprised by Danny's answer, the kind that aims to the side, but hits the bullseye nonetheless. His natural reaction is to deflect. "It's not like that, Danny. I'm human, this stuff ends up affecting us more than we'd like, you know."

"Why don't you let me set you up on another date? Might help take your mind off things, you know?" Danny says, hoping against hope that the answer isn't what it's been for the past year or more.

Steve sighs, audibly, taking his time to formulate an answer. "Danny, you keep asking, and I keep telling you 'NO'. What makes you think I'd change my mind now?"

Disheartened, Danny sighs too. "Let me ask you something. Are you planning on being alone for the rest of your life?" he can hear Steve start to hyperventilate, so he presses on, quickly. "Seriously, Steve! You think you're going to find a girlfriend, a wife, a partner, stuck indoors? She won't come knocking on your door, you know? You have to go out and meet new people."

Steve thinks of Catherine's first visit after they'd broken up with irony, as 'knocking on his door' without him expecting it was exactly what she'd done. "No, Danny, I know I won't meet people if I don't go out. And to answer your question, I'm not 'planning' anything. I simply don't feel like going through the gruesome dating circle at this point. I'm in no mood to go out, meet girls, exchange phone numbers and be expected to ask them out on dates. My head's not at that stage, right now."

"Right now? When, then? You planning on getting to know new people when you're 60?"

"Danny, please, I'm begging you, no dates. I have no patience to make small talk to a woman I barely know, buy her dinner and then be expected to walk her home and try to kiss her. That just seems so pointless, right now, so… I don't know, childish."

Danny hesitates again, with the quick question dying on his lips. "I really can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on with you, but I promised not to pry, and I'm keeping my word. I really wish you would trust me enough to open up to me, but I'm glad that you're talking to someone, at least. But I won't lie – I am hurt. I thought we had no secrets."

Steve sighs at Danny's serious tone. Now is not the time for a serious conversation about Catherine ('will it ever be?' he wonders) and he's really not in the mood to share. Especially since he doesn't know where he stands in this whole situation and is still trying to decide what to do, in the dark about her reasons and whereabouts. Too many unknown variables to even consider. "Danny, I can't explain what I myself don't understand."

"I know. And I hope that you'll talk to me when you feel comfortable. In the meantime, please take care of yourself, OK?"

"I'm trying, Danny, I'm trying."

"OK. You have a good night, Steve. I'll see you tomorrow."

Steve tries to lighten up his voice for Danny's sake, but he feels tired. "Bright and early, buddy. Good night." He falls asleep 5 minutes later, fully clothed.

The following week turns out to be hectic and busy. Adam is taking care of some 'personal business', as he put it to Steve - though he suspects it has something to do with Kono - and Jerry is in hospital, just having gotten shot by Azra Assan, Omar Hassan's wife. There isn't much time to consider personal circumstances or think about much else than the tasks at hand, so by the time Steve gets home every night, for his mandatory pharmaceutical curfew, all he can manage is to heat up some food, take the pills and drag himself up the stairs to sleep. Really, when he considers it, Junior's been a great help with Eddie and he's hardly laid eyes on him all week. In the few moments he has to think of his personal life, though, it doesn't escape his notice that his previous call to Catherine still hasn't been reciprocated, but he promises himself he will do something about it once the hustle and bustle of their workload slows down. He also knows that he needs time to ponder what to write, exactly, if a text is what he decides to go with, next, and time is a luxury he hasn't had much of, lately.

The following week, everyone breathes a sigh of relief as Jerry leaves the hospital. Steve's sleeping pills are affording him at least 6 uninterrupted hours of sleep every night and he feels almost like a new man. If only he could solve the big problem in his personal life with a weekly course of medication, all would be perfect. However, big personal change is not something that can happen overnight or on a whim; it's a thought out process that takes time and is the result of introspection and willingness to change. For once, Steve is looking forward to his next appointment with Dr. Alana.

March 29th, Friday

Dr. Alana's office

1615 hours

"Good afternoon, Commander."

"Doc."

"Well, I have to say you look so much better. Have you been sleeping?"

"Yes, I took the pills religiously every night and slept at least 6 hours straight, I promise," he says, raising his hand as if saluting boy-scout style.

Dr. Alana chuckles at the unexpected gesture. "We'll discuss reducing your medication before you leave."

"Doesn't mean that my thoughts don't haunt me during the day, though."

"No, I shouldn't think so, Commander, that's a set of issues that no pill can solve."

Steve smiles at the joke the doctor tries to make. "You're right. Only I can do that, no help from drugs."

"Exactly. Just think how happy you'll feel when you manage to put your thoughts and feelings out in the open, if and whenever the occasion calls for it. You will have vanquished your fears, your prejudices, your preconceived notions. That is a powerful achievement, Commander. You will feel on top of the world when the rewards start coming."

"I guess you're right, Doc. May as well tell you, I called Catherine three weeks ago."

"You did?" Dr. Alana says, not very surprised. "Good. So you made two decisions, that day."

"Two?"

"Yes, of course. The fact that you wanted to call her, means you decided you want to pursue her. You decided you need to know. You decided, Commander, that you want her in your life in a more than a 'once-a-year' capacity. Or a 'whenever she decides to pop up' capacity. You made a decision and acted on it, calling her. It may seem like a small thing, to you, but it means so much more."

Steve takes a minute to think about what he's just heard. Maybe the therapist is right and his action meant a lot more than simply picking up the phone and calling a long-lost friend. "Problem was, she didn't answer. Call went straight to voicemail and she never got back to me. I haven't tried again. With my sleep cure, work and a hellish week, I haven't managed much more than just getting by. One of our consultants got shot last week."

"Yes, I heard it on the news, hope he's doing better?"

"He is, thanks, he went home a few days ago. Hopefully, there won't be any more drama this week. I'm exhausted. Even having slept through the night."

"Your body is catching up with everything that's been going on for months. It'll take a while to get back to the energy levels you had before all this happened. Are you attending your regular checkups? How's your liver been doing? And your thyroid?"

"Yes, everything is fine. No issues there, at least for now."

"So… may I ask? Are you planning on calling again?"

"I thought you'd circle round to that," Steve says, smiling, but deep down grateful for an opening where he can discuss his doubts with a neutral party. "I don't know what to do, from here. It was my second call. She didn't answer them, she didn't get back to me. Should I read anything into it? Assume that she wants to be left alone?"

"You told me Lieutenant Rollins works for the CIA, right? How easy is it for her to answer a call from a random number?"

Steve smiles, hurt. "I'm not a random caller, Doc."

"No, I meant work vs. personal life."

"But you're right, she doesn't always have the luxury of even having her phone on her, if she's deep under cover."

"So… weeks may go by that she hasn't checked her personal phone?"

"I would imagine, yes. I guess she can receive urgent messages from people who are present in her life, but…"

"Such as…?"

"Oh, you know, parents, husbands, boyfriends, children…"

…"But you're more inclined to believe that Lieutenant Rollins voluntarily chose not to answer your call?"

"Yes, I guess I am. Remember what I told you about her reaction to my showing up in D.C.? She seemed somehow angry that we got together. At least that was the feeling I got the morning after, before I was unceremoniously sent away."

"You're stuck on that morning, Commander."

"How can I NOT be? After that wonderful night, her behaviour did a 180! I was ready to tell her I loved her and she just wanted me gone. She was angry – at me AND at herself. I don't understand why and I don't understand what reason there could be for her to not want us to give this another try. If only she'd told me, I might've come to terms with her decision. As it is, how can I accept something I don't understand?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you may very well have to. You can't force Lieutenant Rollins to give you her reasons, and she may remain underground for a good while longer, so why don't you take this opportunity to organize your thoughts and decide how you'd manage to move on, if you absolutely had to? Why don't we try an exercise – think how you'd react if you had talked and she had told you that she was getting married to someone else, for example."

Steve closes his eyes, not really wanting to contemplate the scene. This is probably his biggest nightmare and when he thinks that she's been gone for three years and that, during that time, she could've met, dated and married a few men, it just makes it worse. "Honestly, Doc? I feel that our story is unfinished. I would need some serious closure. With plausible explanations. And even then… I don't know how I'd move on from her. Not now, after everything that's happened."

"OK, let's try this instead. Imagine that Lieutenant Rollins answered your last call. Where were you, when you called?"

"I was home, in my room. Peace and quiet."

"Perfect. Imagine it's, what? Ten o'clock at night?"

"Well, I've been working under the assumption that she went back to the Balkans, so let's say 12 hours ahead. Yes, it was about ten when I called."

"So you're in your bedroom, the door is closed, no one can hear you, apart from whomever you're calling. After five rings, Lieutenant Rollins answers. What do you say?"

Steve laughs nervously. This is almost as bad as the actual call. "I thought about what I wanted to say before calling. Something along the lines of asking her how she was doing…"

"Let's move past the niceties. What did you want to say, that was substantial?"

"I basically wanted to ask her why she hadn't kept in touch. If the conversation went well, ultimately why she'd reacted the way she did that morning. That would segue into telling her I wanted her back in my life. Of course, that is if she didn't surprise me with a boyfriend or a fiancé."

"But you told me you didn't think that was likely?"

"Yes, Doc, but who knows? People change, people fall into temptation, then regret their actions and go back to the person they were with before. We're only human, I guess."

"OK, bearing that possibility in mind, you'd still want to know, correct?"

"Absolutely. I'm done waiting, fearing talking, mincing words and not telling her how I feel. I've lost enough time in my life. I want to know."

"I'm happy to hear you say so, Commander, you've come a long way."

"I guess I've realised that life does not last forever and our future is now. I feel a restlessness in me, a fire, urging me to act, forcing me to think of this constantly until I get somewhere. I'm no longer happy simply waiting for the answers to come to me, eventually – I need to know now. I need to move my life forward."

"And if the answer isn't what you expect?"

"If the answer is that she simply does not want me in her life anymore, you mean? If I still don't get the answers I crave?"

"I like that word, Commander. It's strong and impulsive. It compels, urges, exacerbates - condones you to a decisive action. It's … inescapable. Yes, what, then?"

"I will at least know that I tried, I mean, I can't physically force her to talk to me. I'll know that I did my best, that I was willing to bare my soul to her and tell her everything she should've ever heard come out of my mouth, but sadly, didn't. Yeah. 'Nothing left unsaid'."

"Really? You can't keep stepping into the line halfway, you know? You have to be all in, with the soul baring! Without fear of rejection, ridiculousness, exposure or perceived weakness. You have to move past your upbringing, in that respect."

"I know. Wow," Steve says, huffing and joining his eyebrows together, surprised at himself. "It took the fear and the very distinct possibility of losing her to get me to be willing to open up. How pathetic, right?"

"Not at all. It's a beautiful thing, Commander. A grown man putting his love for a woman above his innermost fears and insecurities is no small feat. It's BIG. Just be thankful you got here, not sad that it took you so long to do so. And now, act on it. Whatever the results are, in the end. Because you don't know what's happening and assumptions are the mother of… well, you know," Dr. Alana says, smiling and catching himself before he finishes his sentence.

"All fuckups, yes. They sure are." Both men laugh conspiratorially. "Speaking of mothers…"

"Say it, Doc. Out with it."

"Your parental issues have been a hindrance, all these years. I am aware of the history between you and your mother, but you must realise that Lieutenant Rollins is not your mother. Her role in your life is a totally different one. I know you're equally afraid she'll leave you without notice, but she's never done that before, you have to grant her that."

"What do you mean?"

"Commander, it's clear that one of the reasons you hesitated so much in telling Lieutenant Rollins how you felt is because of what happened with your mother. You were afraid she would "die" on you – literally or figuratively – and you'd be left alone again, 16, miserable, sent away from your entire family. You don't want to be vulnerable like that ever again, so you don't want to get attached to any other woman and run the risk of being dumped. But you need to see that Lieutenant Rollins is NOT your mother – and praise to her, when she left, she told you she was leaving to your face, after you told her not to bother coming back if she really was leaving."

"OK…"

"Besides, Lieutenant Rollins is not your mother. I know it's unfortunate that both women work for the same employer and that you blame said employer for basically "killing off" your mother and irremediably changing your life for the worse. But there were serious reasons behind your mother's decision and you will eventually have to acknowledge them. It doesn't take away the sting and the anger, I know, but you must, at some point, see things from her point of view. You need to start forgiving your mother, too."

"That's a whole different story."

"Maybe, but she did what she did to protect you. You're her son. She was so sure your life, your sister's and your father's were in danger, she faked her own death to throw her enemies off the scent. It was a major sacrifice. Try to see things a little bit from her perspective."

"And what is Catherine's excuse, in that case?"

"I don't know – did you ever ask?" Dr. Alana looks intently at Steve, never breaking his gaze.

Steve looks down, defeated. "No."

"Exactly, Commander. My advice to you? Don't confuse the two and don't assume their actions were purely to cause you harm. Try to find out their reasons if you can. Both of them."

"I'll think about it, Doc."

"Another thing I need to ask."

"Shoot."

"Let's get back to my previous scenario. You get a hold of Lieutenant Rollins and manage to sit her down and have a serious conversation with her. During said conversation, she tells you, after you bared your soul to her, that she does not want to get back together with you – for whatever reason. Another man, work, the realisation that she no longer loves you, who knows. Put yourself in that situation and tell me how you'd react."

"It will shatter my world, Doc. Especially since that was not the vibe I got from her in D.C."

"But Commander, you were the one to send her away. You've been apart for three years, give or take, right? And in that time, you saw each other three times, always for work. You never went after her, you never told her you wanted her back, on those rare occasions you saw each other. Why is getting back together such an important thing, now?"

"Well, first of all, as you know, I dated someone else for over two years. And during that time, I was very angry at Cath, mainly because I didn't understand her decision, I think. Well, she never explained, anyway. I tried really hard to make things work with Lynn, sort of a 'stuff it' to Catherine. In the end, the joke was on me, of course. By the time we went to Montana, I guess I had almost managed to forgive her, though I still didn't understand, because again, we continued to not speak of it. Montana was an eye opener. Despite my anger, she was definitely still the one. Then I got mad that she was still planning on going back to the CIA. Then Afghanistan happened and I was never more sure that I wanted her back. And then… Washington sealed the deal. I hoped that opening up an avenue of dialogue between us would eventually lead me to telling her that I wanted us to give this another try, but…" Steve hesitates, breaking the cadence of his narration of the events. "Well, you know what, so, here we are."

"And you don't know what'll happen when you see her next, if you do see her again. Why not let her be? She clearly doesn't want to speak about it." Dr. Alana feels bad asking his patient these questions, but knows they are important, so he insists.

"I can't, Doc."

"Why, Commander? Why?"

"Because I love her!" Steve almost yells, anger burning inside him. When he looks at Dr. Alana, indignation plainly evident on his face, he realises he's been bated. The therapist is smiling. Buoyed by his anger, the flood gates of impetuousness open, he goes on. "I'll never be happy waiting for her, not knowing if she'll ever come back. And I'll never be happy moving on without her. I need her by my side to be happy."

"THAT, Commander, is your reason. Your… justification. Your driving force. That is why you need to know. Don't ever forget that, and don't forget that you've refrained from using that word for far too long, due to fear. Maybe, just maybe, you should consider using it, if and when you get Lieutenant Rollins back within reach. 'The sorrow of being told no is preferable to the regret of never having asked'. You know, Percy Shelley once said, 'without an audience, ideas remain mere words on a page'. If you never tell Lieutenant Rollins how you genuinely feel, you'll be a coward who never took a risk, and mark my words, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. So don't be afraid of being vulnerable and telling a woman you love her; it's the most beautiful act you can bestow on another human being and you should do it proudly, without fear or hesitation. It's a badge of honour, no matter what happens after that.

Steve listens intently, nodding. He smiles, knowingly. "Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate your words."

"That's what I'm here for. So, what will you do next?"

"I'm going to send her another text message."

Dr. Alana looks suspicious. "A text message?"

"Well, I have no way of contacting her and I need to get this stuff out of my chest. So whenever she gets a hold of her phone, she will read it. The words will be out there, I won't be able to take them back. And she'll eventually have to react to them, right?"

"Well, given the unusual circumstances, I guess it's an option. Normally, I'd tell you to tell it to her face, but as it is… a text is better than nothing and you have no idea when or even if you'll see her next."

"God, don't tell me that, Doc. I need her to be OK, I really do."

"I hope so too, Commander. I've been rooting for the two of you for a few weeks, now. After all this work, I need a happy ending. I need a payout," Dr. Alana says, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, smiling mischievously.

Steve smiles, mimicking the doctor's reaction. "I'll see what I can do to accommodate you, Doc."

"Just make sure you chase that woman down and put a ring on her finger, as the lady says. From everything you told me, she deserves it."

"It's a deal, Doc. I will."

He drives home in a daze, powered by his yearning for action, mixed with anguish at what he's decided to do next. Catherine's face comes to him, so vivid, he's struck by an overwhelming desire to know where she is, right now. Her silence is also telling, and the annoying voice of rejection still gnaws at the back of his mind. In one minute, he pats himself on the back for having had the courage of mentioning the word "us" to her, in Washington. In the next, he wonders how he could've done it without putting the ever present instinct for the preservation of his self-respect, first. But he now understands himself better and why he acted the way he did in the past, courtesy of Dr. Alana. He never thought he'd change so much in so little time.

With these thoughts invading his brain, Steve drops his keys on the side table and pats Eddie on the head, quickly climbing the stairs to his bedroom, in threes. He reaches for his phone quickly, taps on the gallery of photos and starts to scroll down, looking for one particular picture he had taken of her in Montana. When he finds it, he sits down and stares at it in contemplation, the memories of their life together invading him like a warm, comfortable blanket. Realising he's no longer willing to wait for her to surface again – or answer his pleas – Steve decides to try to reach Catherine one more time, before resorting to his last alternative. The last thing he wants is to alarm Elizabeth Rollins because he knows Catherine will bite his head off if he worries her mother. It's bad enough that Catherine spends ten out of twelve months of the year in parts unknown and Steve is pretty sure that although she's apparently happy and carefree, when it comes to her cub, Elizabeth Rollins is just like any other mother – deadly.

Half an hour later, he's managed to compose a text that encompasses the general thoughts revolving around in his brain. Before he can give it much more thought, or refrain from sending it, as he knows he will inevitably, Steve hits "send", hoping that, this time, she may take pity on him and at least answer him with an 'I'm OK, please go live your life'. His heart aches at the thought of that possibility, but even that would be better than the nothing that has so loudly been filling his thoughts and phone.

"Cath, I know you're trying to avoid me, but as things stand between us, I refuse to accept that. I can't wrap my head around something so important, that I truly do not understand. I guess I could respect your wishes and try to be gone from your life, but it's no use… I've tried and tried, to erase you from my mind, to remove you from my heart, to be angry at you for leaving without an explanation, for sending me away, for not answering my texts… but I can't. Washington was an eye opener for me. It made me realise what an idiot I've been all these years, never willing or able to tell you how I really felt - or show you. I've been in therapy, lately – yes, I know you'll raise your eyebrows at this – but it's done me a world of good. Made me face some truths I never wanted to face, made me want to forgive a few people, my mom and dad included, and made me finally admit to myself that I've always loved you, that I will never love anybody else. I know, I have to learn to communicate better and also strike a balance between my personal and professional lives. I was a crappy boyfriend at times, and for that, I am sorry. I failed to understand that I had you by my side and that was my greatest achievement, which I should have cherished. Instead, I was always on the go, reluctant to even admit to anyone that you had my heart. Maybe I hadn't realised this truth myself, at the time, but I now see what an idiot I was. I don't understand why you sent me away in Washington, and I certainly don't understand why you haven't kept in touch. I love you – I DO – and I believe I know you enough to feel, deep in my heart, that you still love me, too. I want to love you with all I've got till the day I die and thank God every day we managed to find ourselves again and agree on something long enough to be able to admit to each other that we belong together. I want a life with you, we are each other's endgame. I know that, now, with more clarity than I ever have before. I guess it took three years of you being away (I'm so tired of missing you, I feel like I'm suffocating) and another girlfriend, for me to know that. So, Catherine, please love me back. Love me more than you love the CIA. Or any other man you may be dating, hopefully to forget me (I know, wishful thinking, right? ;-). Please come back to me. Throw me a lifeline, give me some hope, tell me you're suffering as much as I am and that you'd like nothing better than to build a life together with me. Wherever you want – you lead, I will follow. You are my home. My family. The love of my life. There will never be anyone else like you in ten lifetimes."

Steve reads his text again, feeling raw and exposed, surprised that he managed to gather the courage to send it. He's back to being a child, fragile and scared, sure that his world has changed for good after his mother's untimely death. Needing some comfort, he leans over Eddie and wraps his arms around him, seeking solace, falling asleep in the process.