Fox stood across the street from the shop, the name of which made him smile- for the first time that day.

He had woken up to a message on his answering machine from his captain, needing to speak to him and it sent him over the edge. Taking his medication, he had not called him back, but instead he went back to bed, unable to get up for most of the day.

At 4:30, he had finally called him back. They discussed his therapy and was then brought up to date regarding the progression of the trial. He had been sweaty during the entire exchange, his stomach full of bile at the thought of the trial and recounting the events that had led to the shooting and death of a fifteen year old boy.

Taking a shower, deep sobs wracking his body, he had washed the sweat and fear from his body. Dressing warmly, he had driven downtown and parked in the parking garage.

Now, he stood watching Dana as she moved about her store, Knit Knacks, and worried he would be perceived as too forward should he go inside.

"Shit…" he muttered, hating the insecure way he always seemed to feel recently. Normally, well… he was not overly confident, but he did alright when it came to at least talking to women.

"Okay, start walking. Get over there," he said quietly, but he did not move. A customer walked out and Dana walked her to the door, turning the sign to the closed side, locking the door and turning around.

Suddenly he was walking, not even aware he had started moving. A car honked and he jumped, hurrying across the street.

"Idiot! Watch where you're going!" A man yelled at him and he waved him away.

Standing on the sidewalk, his heart began to race at the stupidity of his actions. She did not want to see him. He was just a customer and he had been kidding himself that he needed to do this, as if she had been waiting to hear from him.

Go, he thought. Turn around now.

But then, she came out of the back room and saw him standing there, surprise on her face. He raised his hand and she smiled as she walked toward the door.

"Fuck," he breathed, attempting a smile and knowing he failed miserably, but she did not seem to notice or care.

"Hi," she said as she opened the door, crossing her arms at the gust of cold air that blew in.

"I… you're closed. I…"

"It's fine."

"No. I don't want to keep you."

"You're not." She smiled and he let out a breath. "Come in."

"I…"

"Come on." She held the door open and he sighed as he stepped inside, waiting for her to lock the door again. "Would you like a coffee or some tea?" She walked toward the back as he remained still.

"She liked the gift," he called out and she turned around quickly. "My… my mother. She liked the scarf."

"Good." She smiled and tilted her head as she stood, as though waiting for him to continue.

"She um… she's usually kind of hard to shop for, so I uh… I appreciate the help."

"You're more than welcome." Still she waited and he sighed, looking down at the ground, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"I owe you an apology," he said, clenching his jaw.

"Do you?" she asked softly. He looked up and stared at her, nodding his head.

"I do. I uh…"

"Can… can I stop you?" she asked quietly, stepping toward him, her hand up, chest high. He nodded, frowning slightly, and she sighed, putting her hands in the pockets of the gray cardigan sweater she wore.

"I… when you left yesterday, my sister and I were talking and she uh…" She sighed again and licked her lips. "She recognized your name from the paper and…"

"Right." He cut her off and took a hand out of his pocket, rubbing at his face and shaking his head. "Right. So, um, if you could let me out.."

"What?"

"I get it." He walked to the door and unlocked it, ready to walk away and never come back.

"No! Please don't leave!" She appeared beside him, stopping him from unlocking the next one. "That's not… please, Fox, don't…"

Her hand covered his and he paused, his breathing fast, his heart racing. Her other hand touched his back gently and he closed his eyes, his head dropping forward. They stood for a few moments, her hand rubbing in small circles as he tried to catch his breath.

"Better?" she whispered and he nodded, still keeping his eyes closed. "Please don't leave. Let me make you some tea." She moved her hand to his wrist and squeezed gently. He nodded, lifting his head and glancing at her. She smiled softly and he moved his hand from the door.

She locked it again, keeping her hand on his back the entire time. He took deep breaths as they walked through the store. She gently guided him past the register, and to a table in the back room.

"Sit down, please." She pulled out a chair and he sat, her hand running across his shoulders as she moved about the room.

He closed his eyes, listening to her making tea. He heard mugs clinking together and tins being opened. Water was poured into the mugs and a cup was placed in front of him. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the liquid in the mug.

"Do you take sugar or cream?"

"No. This is fine," he said, nodding his head at the cup.

She sat down beside him, her own mug in front of her. He saw a plate of cookies in the center of the small table and his stomach growled. She smiled and pushed the plate toward him. Taking one, he took a small bite, realizing in that moment it was the first thing he had eaten all day.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until he sighed and wiped his hands on the napkin she handed him.

"Fox," she said quietly, before he could speak. "I didn't mean to upset you, or cause any undue stress. I wanted to tell you that I knew who you were simply to let you know you don't owe me any apologies."

"I was short with you. My anger-"

"Is completely understandable." He looked at her, at this person he did not know, and saw understanding in her eyes. She smiled softly and he nodded, looking back down at his mug.

"I… I'm still sorry. That's not me. I'm not…"

"No. I rather think it's not," she agreed and he looked at her again.

"How could you possibly know that? You don't know me. You have no idea about me." It came out harsher than he intended and he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose.

"That's how I know." He opened his eyes and stared at her, finding her watching him with a nod. "If it was you, you wouldn't care how you just spoke to me. You wouldn't care about the tone and how, subconsciously, you spoke that way to push me away and to stop any further questions." He stared at her and she held his gaze.

"You sound like a shrink," he said with a deep sigh and she laughed softly.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense, seeing as I have a bachelor's in psychology." He frowned and she laughed again.

"What are you doing here then? Why didn't you pursue it? Or a field in which you could use it instead of wasting it here?" She raised her eyebrows and he exhaled, hearing what he just said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his mouth.

"Apology accepted," she said, picking up her mug and taking a drink. "You aren't the first person to ask that question and I'm sure you won't be the last." She set her mug down and folded her hands on the table. He watched her, waiting to see if she would continue. With a nod, she took a deep breath.

"When I graduated, the plan was to continue with a master's degree, but… life happens." She sighed and looked down at her hands. "My father became very ill and my mother couldn't take care of him on her own. My older brother was in the military with no hope to come home. My sister was… I don't even remember where she was and my younger brother was in college. He deserved to finish his time there."

"But not you?"

"I had. Technically." She smiled and he shook his head. "Caring for my father was more important. Helping my mother not only care for him, but to ready her and all of us for the inevitable day when he would leave us, that was where I was needed." He stared at her and she smiled again.

He had been wrong. She was not untouched by pain and sadness, as he had thought. In all honesty, what person could say they were? It was not the same, but she understood.

"So why not… after he had passed, which I'm assuming he did, why not go back to school?" She laughed and shook her head.

"When he did pass, four years ago… it was hard. We knew it was coming, but it was still tough. I became very depressed. My life had revolved around caring for him and my mother, and suddenly I had no purpose. I didn't… I was lost for a while." She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. "My brother had been in the Gulf War and when he came back, he wasn't himself. He was angry and mean. He… yelled, broke things, things my mother loved dearly. He would cry and beg for forgiveness, but… he wouldn't hear of getting any help." She shook her head and ran her finger around the rim of the cup.

"He had PTSD."

"He did. But he also was a military man." She looked at him and he nodded in understanding. "He was supposed to be tough and handle things on his own, but he couldn't. I tried to help him but, nothing I had learned would reach him. Not until he was ready to hear it. By the time he did, I was exhausted mentally and emotionally. I had been deep in the psyche of others and I… I didn't want to do it anymore. I wanted happiness and light." She smiled and looked around the room.

He did the same, truly noticing it for the first time. The room was the same teal as the logo and the wall in the shop. Shelves were full of baskets of colorful yarn, gift bags, boxes of items to replace ones when they were purchased; everything happy and light, just as she said.

"I used the money my father left me to buy this shop and it has become the happiness in my life that I wanted. That I needed." She smiled at him and he nodded with a small smile of his own. "And, I still get to help people. Just… in a different way."

"I'm sorry. I made it seem… small and silly, but I see it differently now. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."

"You didn't." She smiled and touched his arm, rubbing it before moving her hand. "I know that not everyone sees it or feels it the way I do, but this is where I'm supposed to be."

"Have you always enjoyed knitting?"

"God, no," she laughed, shaking her head. "I thought it was for old ladies. But, when my father was ill, my mother and I had a lot of empty time. She suggested we knit and I laughed it off, but when she showed me how, I discovered that when I kept my hands busy, my mind slowed down, focusing only on the task in front of me."

"Is that right?" he asked softly, an idea forming as preposterous as it seemed to him.

"It is."

He stared at her, trying to say the words he wanted to ask, but unable to get them out. She smiled and he nodded, feeling defeated.

"I know that what I went through is not the same as your experience, but… I see the same anger and frustration in you as I saw in my brother and have seen in others. Are you seeing a therapist?"

If anyone else outside of his family had asked that question he would have told them to fuck off and mind their own business. But when the question came from her, with her blue eyes searching his, and the concerned look on her face, he found he could not be angry.

"I have to. It's part of my suspension. Part of the… how I… it's ordered."

"But it's helping."

"You tell me," he huffed and she nodded, searching his face. "Sorry."

"Don't need to apologize."

"I'm not usually such an asshole."

"You have every right to feel the way you do, Fox." He looked at her as she touched his arm again, leaving her hand there this time. "It's your decision if you want to talk about it, if you even can talk about it. I read what was in the paper when my sister brought it to me. If you can't or don't want to discuss it, you don't have to. We can just have our tea."

"I don't know how much I can tell someone outside of work. I don't…"

"I understand. Would you like some more tea?"

"Please."

A half an hour later, she was walking with him to the door. He felt better than he had in ages and he wanted to tell her before he left, but his tongue felt tied, heavy in his mouth.

"Well, I'm glad you came by to tell me how your mother enjoyed her gift, it's always nice to know when a gift is appreciated, especially when you're the one who made it."

"What? You made that scarf?"

"Hmm, I did."

"I didn't know."

"No. We didn't discuss it." She smiled at him and he took a deep breath, the words he wanted to say suddenly loosened.

"You said that knitting helped you to… forget, for your mind to shut down and focus."

"Yes."

"I… I'm having that same problem. My mind runs faster than I can handle at times." She nodded with a smile and he took courage in it. "Do you… my sister suggested finding an outlet and you've done the same. I… do you think that, God, this sounds crazy, but do you think you would be willing to teach me how to knit?" He laughed and shook his head, the fact that he was asking her that question feeling like a joke, but he was serious.

"I could do you one better," she said with a smile and walked to the register, picking something up and coming back to him. "Tomorrow night, we have an… informal class. 6:30. Just be here, we provide the yarn and the lesson." She handed him a card advertising a 'night of knitting and chit chat at Knit Knacks.' He looked up at her and she nodded encouragingly.

"I… okay. I'll try to be here."

"Wonderful! I look forward to seeing you again." She touched his upper arm and squeezed, her smile wide.

"I said I'll try."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, moving her hand and walking toward the door. Unlocking and opening it, she grinned at him. "6:30. Don't be late." He put the card in his pocket and nodded, already knowing he would be there.

"I'll try," he said again, touching her upper arm and she drew in a sharp breath, her eyes holding his own.

"Try really hard," she whispered and he squeezed her arm gently. He walked out the door and turned around.

"Thank you. For letting me in and… taking care of me today. I…"

"You're welcome, Fox. See you tomorrow."

She closed the door, not waiting for him to reply either way. Her eyebrow was up, as though challenging him to say something, but he only smiled and waved goodbye as he turned around and headed to the parking garage.

He felt different, his step lighter than it had been in a very long time. Hopeful, that was what it was. And it was not the idea of finding an outlet in crafting something from needles and yarn, as he highly doubted he would be any good at it.

No, it was because of the woman who offered to help. Who literally brought him in from the cold, warmed him with cups of tea, and shared the story of her own pain.

He would be there tomorrow.

And he would not be late.