I'm sorry for the lack of update on this – my new job keeps me very busy! Thank you SO much for the reviews and comments, I want you to know that I read every one and that they mean a lot to me.

A massive thank you to Sunny for helping me – without her, this chapter would have sucked!

I hope you like my version of the abortion storyline!

Kirsten approached her next counselling session with as much confidence as she could gather. As she walked the familiar corridor towards Dr Halliwell's office, she tried to push the memory of the group counselling session from her mind and concentrate on the determination she had felt at the end of the day. Her sleep had been unsettled and she covered her mouth as she yawned, pausing outside the door. She sighed, wearily, leaning against the wall and breathing in deeply. Time passed so slowly at rehab, but her counselling sessions came around so quickly; a constant weight on her shoulders. She knew they were important, but she still found them difficult. She compared herself to Sandy – he was always the talker, always willing to express how he really felt. It didn't work like that for Kirsten. She needed to trust someone first and the only person she had ever trusted enough to be able to tell everything to was Sandy; but he wasn't here. It was just her, surrounded by strangers.

She was learning to trust Dr Halliwell but it wasn't easy for her. She was starting to make a friend in Mark, but there was still so much she didn't know about him – and even more that he didn't know about her. Kirsten needed time, and time was all she had at rehab.

She took another deep breath and knocked. Dr Halliwell's voice invited her inside and Kirsten went inside. Dr Halliwell greeted her warmly.

"Hello Kirsten, how are you today?"

Kirsten nodded resiliently as she answered, "ok".

"How are you feeling about yesterday?"

Kirsten shrugged, dropping her eyes to stare at a pen at the table; avoiding the doctor's eyes. "Stupid, embarrassed, annoyed, disappointed…"

"Kirsten, believe me, you weren't the first person to have trouble speaking for the first time in a group session," Dr Halliwell comforted her.

"I know," Kirsten accepted. "But I wanted to do it. I wanted to prove that I was getting better."

"You are getting better," Dr Halliwell encouraged.

"I don't know," Kirsten sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm actually beating this thing, and then something happens and it just hits me how hard all this is. And I know it's not supposed to be easy, but it's just so hard, all the time; and every time I feel like I've taken a step forwards, it's followed by two steps back and it's just so…"

"Frustrating?"

Kirsten nodded. "I need to know when it's going to be over."

"I can't answer that," Dr Halliwell said softly.

"I know."

And this was the truth that was the hardest for Kirsten to hear. If she could see the end, if she had something to focus on…if she knew when she could go home and be with her family, to lead a normal life again, it would make each day easier to get through. Instead, she was left with the knowledge that she was here indefinitely; that leaving rehab was dependent solely on her.

"Kirsten, are you ready?" Dr Halliwell's voice interrupted her daydream.

With a slow nod, Kirsten settled comfortably in the chair.

"The last time we met, we spoke about your sister, Hailey, and Jimmy. I want to move away from talking about other people and talk about you. You've already mentioned that you chose to study Art History at Berkeley, which your parents weren't happy about. Was that part of the reason you made the choices you did?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No. I never based my decision on what my parents wanted. I mean, I knew that what they wanted wasn't what I wanted, so they were never going to be happy with what I chose to do."

"So why did you choose Art History?"

"Because I loved it," Kirsten answered immediately. "I guess that was one of the good things about growing up in the environment I did – holidays to Paris and Italy, getting to see so much of the world. I would love it when my parents would take me to an art gallery, the pictures just fascinated me."

Kirsten's eyes flared with passion as she spoke. "I mean, out of all the paintings in the world, the greatest ones aren't always the ones that look the best or the prettiest; they're the ones that have the most feeling behind them. And it's amazing how a person can cause such a reaction just by putting a paintbrush to a piece of paper."

Kirsten looked up and saw Dr Halliwell smiling at her. She blushed. "I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away, aren't I?"

Dr Halliwell shook her head. "No, not at all." She hadn't seen Kirsten talk so passionately about anything since she had arrived, except at the mention of her husband or sons. "Do you paint yourself?"

"I used to…a little," Kirsten said. "I don't really have the time any more."

"You know, we have art classes here?"

Kirsten smiled. "I know. I've been thinking about going, but I'm not sure. I don't think I'm very good any more."

"Kirsten, you don't have to be good to go to the classes. The participation is the most important part," Dr Halliwell said.

Kirsten nodded. "I'll think about it."

"So, where do you get your creative side from: your father or your mother?"

Kirsten tilted her head to one side as she thought. "I guess it comes from my grandma – my dad's mom. My dad wasn't creative himself, but his mom was an artist. My grandpa had his own shop, he used to sell building materials. My grandma had a little room at the back where she would sell her paintings from. I remember my grandpa telling me once that people would travel from all over the state to buy her work," Kirsten smiled at the memory. "I think maybe he was exaggerating, but she was good. I have some of her paintings at home."

"So painting runs in the family?"

"I guess. My grandma used to say that artists were people who took control of their own lives – people who would draw their own paths in life, paint their own futures."

"Did you believe her?"

"Not when I was little. But looking back, I can understand what she was saying. I mean, maybe I chose art because I wanted to get away from someone else dictating my life towards a career I didn't want?" Kirsten pondered out loud.

"Your father?"

Kirsten nodded. "He wanted me to be academic, he wanted me to study business and follow in his footsteps; I wanted to be free from that, I didn't want to be the perfect girl with the expensive clothes and the manicured nails. I just wanted to be me for once, I wanted to get my hands dirty and not be afraid of breaking a nail. It sounds dumb…"

"No, it doesn't. Everybody has their reasons for making decisions, they're personal. No-one else has to understand them but you."

Kirsten smiled gratefully.

"So, you chose to study art history. Why at Berkeley?"

"Because it wasn't home," Kirsten answered. "I think part of it reminded me of home – the sun, the beach. But the people were different. They didn't judge you the way people do in Newport. I mean, they didn't even know me and I liked that."

"Did you hide your background from people?"

"Sometimes. I suppose I didn't offer the information unless people asked, and even when they did ask where I came from, I wouldn't tell them everything. I didn't want to be 'Caleb Nichol's daughter' at college. That's what I was trying to escape from," Kirsten justified.

"Were you ashamed of your background?"

Kirsten frowned. "No, not ashamed. I guess I was a little embarrassed. I thought that if people knew where I came from, they would see me differently. And there's more to me than being a Newpsie. I was scared that if I told people the truth, they wouldn't be able to see past that."

"So do you think you were able to be yourself at college?"

Kirsten nodded. "Eventually. I think, at first, I experimented a lot. I don't think I knew myself who the 'real me' was. I spent a lot of time trying to fit myself into a certain category – the bohemian, the student, the party girl – until I was happy just being me."

"What kind of experimenting did you do at college? Drugs?"

"No, never. I had friends who tried them, but I was never interested," Kirsten said. "It was just never something I wanted to try."

"But you drank?"

"I was just like any other college student. There were parties and there was beer," Kirsten said.

"Did you have the same reasons for drinking when you were at college as you did when you were younger? Wanting to forget about life for a while?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No, I was happy at college. It wasn't about that. I drank because it's what college students do."

"Were there any other reasons?"

Kirsten paused, thinking about the question. "I think…sometimes I think I drank because it made me feel free. I could leave all my inhibitions behind and just enjoy myself."

"The alcohol helped you to relax?"

"Yes, I suppose it did. You know, you go to college and there's such an eclectic group of people there. You spend so much time trying to fit in and you find yourself competing with people; not academically, but you meet so many intriguing people and you want to be intriguing yourself. Kids put too much importance on being different…special."

"You didn't feel special when you weren't drinking?"

Kirsten shook her head, amused at the way Dr Halliwell could always twist her words. "It was just easier after a couple of beers," Kirsten admitted.

"What about guys? Did you have many boyfriends at college?"

"No, not until I met Sandy in my third year," Kirsten said. "I went on dates, but there was no-one serious. I loved my course and I suppose I spent a lot of time studying to get good grades. People always called me an over-achiever; I always put too much pressure on myself to do well."

Dr Halliwell looked up, a hint of surprise in her face. "What about your abortion?"

Kirsten looked shocked at the mention of something she had kept hidden for so long. "How did you know about that?"

"I have a copy of your medical records," Dr Halliwell explained. "It says you had an abortion when you were 19 years old?"

Kirsten dropped her head, a frown creasing her forehead. She had never known that it was kept on her medical record. She fell silent as her mind spun uncontrollably. She knew she was going to have to tell the doctor about what happened and it wasn't a story she had ever told before – not even to Sandy. It was a memory that still haunted her sometimes; one that she had tried hard to forget but one that was always there at the back of her mind.

"Kirsten?"

Kirsten looked up at Dr Halliwell slowly.

"Can we talk about it please?"

"It was a mistake," Kirsten said coldly.

"What happened?"

Kirsten was silent again.

"Kirsten, this is important."

Kirsten inhaled deeply before she spoke, wringing her hands in her lap.

"I was at a party with my friends. They'd all been telling me that I was too uptight, that I should enjoy myself more. What they really meant was that I should find a guy to hook up with. They all used to hook up with guys all the time, and that was fine – it's not like I was a prude. But it just wasn't something I wanted to do. Maybe I was just naïve or inexperienced, I don't know, but sleeping with someone meant more to me than just a one-night stand," Kirsten started to explaining, finding that that the words fell from her mouth easier than she expected. "So we went to this party, and I got drunk, and there was this guy…my friends just kept pushing and pushing me. And he was nice, you know? He took the time to ask about me and my life; but we both knew what he wanted. We went back to his dorm room and we were fooling around, and it happened. I shouldn't have let it happen, but it did. It was a mistake."

"How much had you had to drink?"

Kirsten fought away the tears that started to form. "I don't know. We'd been drinking cocktails before the party and I probably had some beer while I was there. I remember him pulling out a bottle of tequila when we were back in his room, but it's all too much of a mess in my mind. I don't know."

"Do you remember having sex with him?"

Kirsten winced slightly in her chair. Her eyes were closed as she nodded her head.

"Did you want it to happen?"

Dr Halliwell could see her physically shrinking as she asked these questions.

"I just wanted my friends to shut up," Kirsten admitted.

"Kirsten, did you say no? It's really important that you tell me."

Tears started to spill down her cheeks, but her arms were firmly wrapped tightly around her body. She shook her head. "It wasn't like that. He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't force himself on me."

"Did you say no?"

Dr Halliwell needed to hear her answer.

Kirsten buried her face in her hands. "Only in my head."

"Why didn't you tell him to stop?"

"I don't know," Kirsten cried. "I just wanted to feel special. There hadn't been anyone since Jimmy and I missed that feeling."

"And how did it feel, sleeping with this guy? Did he make you feel special?"

Kirsten shook her head again. "I felt dirty and ashamed. I couldn't even remember his name."

Dr Halliwell waited patiently until she was calm again before continuing her questions. "Did you see him again afterwards?"

"No. I could have tracked him down if I wanted to, but I didn't. I didn't want to ever see him again," Kirsten said.

"How did you feel when you found out you were pregnant?"

"I was scared; I was horrified. I was 19 and at college and pregnant. That wasn't what I wanted, that wasn't how I wanted life to turn out," Kirsten said, clearly rattled.

"So you chose to have an abortion?"

Kirsten nodded. "I wasn't ready to have a child and be a mother. It's not I wanted," she repeated. "I wanted to be a student; I wanted to be at college, learning about art and enjoying myself."

"How did you feel about the abortion?"

"It wasn't exactly my proudest moment. I was disgusted with myself that I'd got myself into that situation," Kirsten answered. "I still remember every minute in that waiting room. I felt like everyone was staring at me and judging me, and I deserved it because I'd got myself into such a mess."

"You went alone to the clinic?"

Kirsten nodded, yes. "I couldn't tell my family; and I didn't want to tell my friends. I was too ashamed, too embarrassed."

"Did you drink more after the abortion?"

"I did for a while. I wanted to forget about it, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I felt guilty for a long time, but when I drank, it made me forget," Kirsten admitted. She was starting to see a pattern in her drinking; the way the alcohol pushed out all the bad things from her mind and lulled her into a world that didn't really exist – but a world where she was more at ease.

"How long did that last?"

"Until I met Sandy," Kirsten smiled slightly at the mention of her husband.

"Did you tell him what had happened?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No. I couldn't. I didn't want to," she said plainly. "When I met Sandy, I wanted to put it behind me. What was the point in dragging it up again? I wanted to move on from that mistake."

"Have you ever spoken about it since?"

"Only once, last year. Ryan got a girl pregnant – or at least we thought he did. Teresa was younger than I was, only 17, and she made the decision to have an abortion without having anyone around her for support. It reminded me of what I went through and I shared with her that I'd been through something similar. I wanted her to know that she had options."

"Did you tell her what happened?"

"No, it didn't feel important. It wasn't about me and what I'd been through; it was about Teresa and Ryan, and trying to help them make the best decision for themselves," Kirsten said.

"And what did she decide to do?"

"She decided to keep the baby, and we almost lost Ryan because of it," Kirsten said.

"What do you mean?"

"When Teresa decided to keep the baby, Ryan went back to Chino with her. He felt like he had to stand by her. Losing Ryan almost tore our family apart," Kirsten said.

"But he came home eventually?"

"Teresa lost the baby and Ryan came home," Kirsten said simply.

"Is Teresa the only person you've ever told?"

Kirsten nodded. "I choose not to talk about it, because I don't need to," she justified.

"Do you still think about it?"

"Sometimes, I guess. Only if something reminds me of it. I remember being sat in the waiting room at the clinic and the radio was on, and they were playing Pink Floyd's 'Another Brick In The Wall' – Seth has the CD and when I hear the song, I remember."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Sad. I feel sad," Kirsten admitted.

"Do you find yourself still reaching for a bottle when you think about it?"

Kirsten pondered the question for a moment. "No, I don't think so. It happened a long time ago and I've learnt do cope with how I feel about it. When I drink – when I used to drink – I was trying to escape. When I think about the abortion…I've already escaped from that."

"How do you know you've escaped from it?"

"I just know. When I think about it, I don't feel guilty any more," Kirsten answered. "Just sad."

"You don't have any regrets?"

Kirsten looked her directly in the eye. "I regret that it happened, that I had to do what I did; but no, I don't regret the abortion. How can I? I wouldn't have the life I have now if I'd kept the child – there'd be no Sandy, no Seth, no Ryan. You can't expect me to regret that."

"I don't. But it's important to know how you feel. This was a huge thing to happen to you, and a huge thing to keep to yourself for so long."

Kirsten shrugged her shoulders. "I can't hold on to the past like that. Isn't that what you want me to do with my dad?"

"Yes, it is – and you're right, it is important for you to let the past go. But I need to make sure that it's what you've done; I need to make sure that you're not just suppressing your feelings about the abortion."

"So, how do you know?" Kirsten asked.

Dr Halliwell smiled. "Because you just told me; and I believe you."

Kirsten frowned curiously at her. Sometimes, she just couldn't figure Dr Halliwell out. "So that's it?"

"Is there anything else to say?"

Kirsten shook her head. Dr Halliwell saw her confusion.

"Kirsten, what happened to you was horrible, and a part of me was worried that you hadn't really come to terms with what happened. But I've heard you talk today and I can see that you've already dealt with that night, and the consequences of it. You've already done my job."

Kirsten dropped back in her chair, thinking about the doctor's words. She fell silent.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking…" she paused for a moment, searching for the words to explain. "I'm wondering why I changed. I mean, I dealt with this huge thing all by myself when I was 19 years old and I survived. Twenty years later, and something bad happens, and I hide away behind a bottle. I don't understand."

"Well, from what Sandy told me and from what we've discussed, your drinking problem can't be blamed on one event. Yes, your father's death brought you to your worst, but I believe it's a culmination of a lot of things that made you rely on alcohol and the feeling it gave you," Dr Halliwell said. "By talking about all this, we're going to figure it out. And the fact that you can be honest with me with your answer, that's the reason I say you're getting better."

Dr Halliwell smiled gently at Kirsten.

"I think we're done talking today," Dr Halliwell announced, satisfied with Kirsten's progress during the session. "We'll continue talking on Friday. It's a big weekend for you, with your family coming to visit."

Kirsten nodded half-heartedly.

"I can see you're still questioning whether to see them?"

"I just don't know if I can," Kirsten admitted. "I've let them down enough already, I don't want to keep doing that."

"Kirsten, for the next few days, I want you to do something for me. I want you to imagine that your roles are reversed. What if it was Sandy sat in that chair? I want you to go away and think about how you would feel; about what you want for yourself and for your sons; and, more importantly, what you would want for Sandy. And on Friday, I want us to talk about that, ok?"

Kirsten nodded at her instructions. "Ok," she agreed. She lifted herself to her feet and left the room, leaving Dr Halliwell alone.

Sitting back in her chair, Dr Halliwell picked up her dictaphone, her usual practice after every counselling session she had with her patients. She would repeat the progress they had made, or hadn't made, voicing her opinions and concerns. Before she had chance to click the record button, her telephone began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Dr Halliwell?" a deep voice greeted her. "This is Sandy Cohen."

Dr Halliwell couldn't help but smile. How did he know?

"Sandy, how are you?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"I'm ok," Sandy brushed aside his own feelings. "How's Kirsten?"

"She's doing ok," Dr Halliwell said.

On the other end of the phone, Sandy was well aware of the importance of doctor-patient confidentiality, but it frustrated him. One phone call from Kirsten was all he'd had since she had been in rehab – and he hadn't even been there to talk to her. He had replayed the message so many times, just to hear her voice; trying to read her tone.

Was she ok? Was she looking after herself? Was she getting better?

Did she hate him for what he had done?

He was desperate to see her: to hold her; to smell the scent of her hair; to feel her lips pressed against his. He had been counting the hours – the minutes – until he knew he could see her. Six days.

"Is she getting better?" Sandy was straight to the point. He wanted her home.

"These things take time. Kirsten's got a big struggle ahead of her and we've only just begun," Dr Halliwell said gently.

"I know," Sandy said. "I know that, I just…did I do the right thing, bringing her to you?"

"What do you think?"

She heard Sandy sigh down the phone. For once, he didn't have the answer. He needed to hear it from someone else. "I don't know."

"Sandy, I think you did the right thing," Dr Halliwell told him. "I can't tell you what we've discussed, but I can tell you that Kirsten is making progress. She's got a lot of demons to fight, but she is fighting them. She's trying really hard and it's because of you and your sons. You give her a lot of strength."

Sandy felt relief wash through him at the doctor's words. "What about Sunday? Has she talked about us coming to visit?"

Dr Halliwell pursed her lips. She couldn't share with him Kirsten's concerns about the weekend, but she didn't want to get his hopes up.

"A little," she answered, purposely vague. "Are you coming?"

"Of course," Sandy answered immediately. "We'll all be here."

"That's good. I'll make sure she knows that," Dr Halliwell smiled at his enthusiasm.

She heard a voice call out to him from his end of the phone.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Sandy said, a little rushed. "Please, tell her we're coming on Sunday; that we can't wait to see her. And tell her…tell her I love her?"

"I will," Dr Halliwell said. "Take care, Sandy."

She dropped the telephone back in its cradle and paused to stare at it for a moment. She hoped that, with Sandy's words of encouragement, Kirsten would be persuaded to see them on Sunday. She made a note to remind Kirsten of the conversation in their next session.

Unfortunately, the next counselling session never came. Kirsten woke on Friday morning to a chorus of drunken singing from outside her window as one of her fellow patients fell off the wagon with an almighty bump.

"Jeremiah was a bullfrog…was a good friend of mine…"

The out-of-tune singer, who paused every now and again to take another swig of whiskey from the bottle he waved in his hands, kept Dr Halliwell busy all day.

When Sunday arrived, she didn't know what Kirsten was thinking.

A/N – it was pointed out to me by Sunny that the abortion probably wouldn't have been on Kirsten's medical records – mostly because she probably would have paid in cash to avoid it! But I kept it the way it is because I wanted it to play out the way it did. Call it artistic license! ;)

The next chapter will focus on Sandy, Seth and Ryan (finally!) – I'll try and update quicker but I make no promises. Thanks for reading…I'd love to hear what you think!