A few weeks ago I struggled to look at Sara; I was hurting so much, for so many reasons, over the loss of Eddie, over the loss of Lindsey's Father. I was harsh with her, and if it wasn't for work perhaps it would have taken me longer to start speaking to her again.

Now I can't take my eyes off her.

We've both had a bad time of it lately; both of us have been hurt.

I never saw Eddie's death coming, but I think something inside of me must have known whatever was going on between Sara and Hank would end badly.

I only met him on a handful of occasions, all but one of them to do with work. With Hanks job as a Paramedic, we did see him at the odd scene or two.

I was there for Hank and Sara's first date, in a way. That was a pretty bad night. I didn't see Lindsey in her play, Sara got served a severed finger, and I spent my night on a wild goose chase.

Still, something must have sparked between them, something must have happened, because now here we are, months after that whole debacle, and Sara is staring into the bottom of yet another beer bottle.

I feel for her. It never got any easier for me with each of Eddie's new flings. I stopped counting, stopped caring, after a while.

All that time and Sara never knew she was 'the other women' she really had no idea about Eileen.

It's seeing Sara here, like this, looking lost and vulnerable, that has made me realise I have been too hard on her lately.

She, just like me, like everyone else, is only human after all.

I guess, for a moment, I forgot.

Sara has always been so headstrong, so focused. Outside of work, I never really thoughts of Sara having a life. There was the odd meal together with the rest of grave shift – she likes sea bass – and I knew her coffee order – strong, black, lots of sugar – but other than snatched snippets of conversation I realised I didn't really know Sara at all.

How could I.

She works hard, too hard. There is rarely a case that Sara let's drop. The few times we don't get fresh cases; Sara is double checking evidence or writing reports for court. She is going through her unsolved cases. She checks cold cases.

I've never had the time to do that. Being a single mom, a single working mom, doesn't leave me with much spare time.

Now though, looking at Sara, I can see that she is tired.

She is tired for so many reasons, but I think being deceived by people, by Hank, has just pushed her over the edge.

Whilst Sara has been staring at her bottle, I have been staring at Sara. I don't know if she has noticed or not. Even when tired Sara still seems focused .That or she has drifted off into a world of her own.

I don't mind though. I can observe her. I can see now that Sara's eyelashes have a natural curl to them. That her hair has natural highlights. I'm noticing her breathing pattern, and then I notice that my body is now breathing in time with her rhythm.

I want to say something, but other than asking for her drinks order, Sara hasn't said a word.

Is she waiting for me to say something, I don't know. Small talk won't to it. I don't want to talk about work. I don't know how to comfort her. I don't know if she wants comforting.

I drop my eyes down to the table, and I hear a faint noise.

Sara. She makes the noise again, a timid giggle.

She lifts her head, a genuine smile on her face, though I don't know why.

She says thank you, takes a long sip of her beer, puts the now empty bottle down, and reaches across the table.

Sara's fingers lightly brush the back of my hand, and before I've even thought it through, I twist my fingers into hers.

From there our night gets better. We start talking, still lightly holding hands across the table.

We talk about bands we've seen, random facts we know, books we've read – Sara loves Moby Dick – and several hours pass.

We must have stopped holding hands on occasion, but they seem to keep finding each other. We've also both naturally moved onto other drinks. Instead of the table being full of empty beer bottles and wine glasses, there are empty tea mugs.

It's only when I stretch out my aching back and shoulders that I realise how long we have been here.

Sometimes I can be a terrible mother, forever loosing track of time. It's a good job it's a school day I guess.

Sara too, notices the time. She gestures for the bartender to call her a cab.

But somehow, I'm not ready for that yet.

I insist it's ok for me to drive her home. Although I'm sure she lives on the other side of town to me, and it's out of my way, and I desperately need sleep before we have to go back to work.

Sara knows this too, but I see her eyes light up, just a little, at the suggestion of a bit more time together.

I falter a little, remembering, the last time I saw Sara glow like this.

The carnival case. Probably one of the worst cases I've worked.

Sara had looked so hopeful at the thought of having lunch with me, and I'd dismissed her. Then I dismissed her again, for Lindsey's sake I'd said, only to end up with Paul.

I should have stayed with Sara.

Perhaps a whole lot of heartache could have been avoided if back then I had said yes.

Sara can have her yes now.

She can have what she has quietly wanted, if she still wants it.