The ticking clock of the psychologist's office weighted heavily on Sara, the only sound breaking the uncomfortable silence finally made the lady sitting opposite her react. "So, how long will we continue not talking?"
"Honestly, Doctor, you know what brings me here every time. This is a waste of time as far as I'm concerned."
"I know little of you, Sara, but if you were forced into this then it's for a good reason, I'm sure."
"Yeah… O.k." Sara mumbled, lying back on the sofa, observing the papered walls, and the rare paintings that seemed emblematic of peacefulness and relaxation.
The doctor's sigh made Sara look back at her, a little alarmed by her expression, "I hate to come to this but I see no other alternative than handing a report to the department."
Sara snapped suddenly, "You're gonna have them take away my job?!"
"It's been a month Sara. I can't help you if you won't let me," the woman answered her calmly which only graded Sara's anger. Upset, she ran her hand through her long hair nervously.
"You have agreed to go into therapy and yet you haven't said a word to me yet. I read your file. I know every event that happened in your life. I can't wrap my mind around the reasons you're keeping it all in."
"With all due respect Doctor, you might know everything I went through but you have no idea what it was like."
"You're right. I don't, but I'd really like you to tell me," Sara stared back at her silently. Her light green eyes, piercing into her like a blade, unmasking her controlled pain that she had covered with ice cold emotions long ago.
It had been a year since she got her life back. A whole year it took her to make up her mind and decided to be a doctor again. She crushed her ego and accepted to see a shrink. The minute she sat down on that settee four weeks ago, she figured she couldn't let anything out about her life.
"The truth is, things got better for me. If I'm here it's for being able to do my job. I don't need help," she leisurely camouflaged her feelings with an empty stare.
"You really believe it gets better with time…or do you just bury it deeper?" Doctor Jensen straightforwardly questioned.
Sara looked away, silent and thoughtful but didn't get the chance to answer before she was bombarded with another revelatory question "tell me: what's the source of your long-termed bottled up anger? Is something causing this? Or someone?" Sara's slightly agitated behavior caught the doctor's attention and she cast a look at Sara's fidgety hands, grabbing at the ends of her sleeves.
"I'm uh… actually angry with myself. Letting people in before even knowing it, was stupid. You realize eventually it's not safe to count on anyone for help."
"You were freed by your friends, weren't you? You don't feel safe around them anymore." The more she asked the more vulnerable Sara appeared to be, her façade ultimately crumbling to leave her issues bared.
"I know Congressman Kellerman risked a lot to get you where you are."
The moment that name was in the air, the icy glare of Sara chilled the atmosphere as she eyed her fixedly for a long minute before she spat out, "Kellerman is no friend of mine. He tried to fix what he did to me and thought that made us even. "
"It didn't?" Sara didn't answer, looking away furiously. Her mind went back to his last visit six months ago…
Flash back
As simple as it could seem, playing with her child was a thrill she could never get fed up with. It took nearly all of her time to take care of her child, spending the time left in doing the house chores. Their quality time got suddenly interrupted by the doorbell.
Taking M.J to his playroom, she sat him in his cradle and went to answer the door. The surprise of seeing the person who stood there left her speechless and frozen in place for quite a long moment.
"Hi, Sara," Paul Kellerman said, standing in front of her, in a dress suit, his hand dangling a pair of sun glasses which he pocketed slowly.
"Paul." Was all she could utter, feeling a little self conscious at the unexpected visit from him, observing her ragged looking dress stained with baby vegetables puree. She hadn't seen the man since that unhappy day when she burst into his office and now there he was, choosing this exact date.
"You gonna let me in?" She did not answer but moved aside for him to enter. He took a look around at the neatly, tended to apartment. "My sister was right, nice place you've got." He addressed her.
She crossed her arms, unconsciously on the defensive. She followed him to the Sofa where he sat and did the same the furthest away from him, "How's life?"
"Just fine," she replied shortly. "You finally decided to drop by?" She commented.
"I've been really busy with the campaign," he justified.
"From what I've heard, everything is going swell for you, am I right?" She asked innocently, it was a relief to see her case didn't ruin his career after all.
"Can't complain," his piercing blue eyes held hers, catching her attention. This felt oddly familiar, to have him at her place again. Just the mere thought of it in the past was terrifying, but today everything is different. Amazingly, she held no grudge against him now, ever since her giving birth, there was a drastic change in her feelings towards him: no more pain, hatred or rage yet only resentment left at his non kept promise to stick around indefinitely.
"Where is the little one?" his voice breaking the intensity of their stares, brought her mind back to the present.
"M.J is in his room, you'd be baffled to see how much he grew up," a hint of a smile lighted her face and saw him share a similar one.
"You mind if I go see him?" it was hard to imagine Paul taking into children, let alone wishing to spend any time with one.
"Uh, not all." She stood up leading him to the room, "this way…" the awkward sight of Kellerman talking to her child gently and lifting him up was almost too much for one day so she retreated to the kitchen, busying herself with making coffee.
A quarter later she sensed a presence with her and turned to find him at the door, braced with his shoulder on the doorframe, watching her intensely. She handed him a coffee and smiled a bit at his conclusion "is that peace offering?"
"It could be," she began "if you're not here collecting for the favor you did me."
His face turned jokily offended, "ever so polite," he spoke ironically. "But you're right. I am here for something. Kristine let me know you still set on staying home rather than work."
"The last thing I want is to see a shrink, Paul." She straightforwardly spat out, "look I know it took you a great deal of efforts to get me back my license. I just can't accept the terms."
He moved, stepping closer towards her, getting her a little uncomfortable. She stared away, turning her head as he spoke, "how hard can it be to handle an hour or two talking to someone who's there to listen…get out there, save lives!"
She faced him hesitatingly, a little amazed how things changed between them through the last months, they could not only stand each other but almost feel enough comfortable to seem like friends.

End of flash back.

"Well?"

Sara didn't answer right away. How was she supposed to know if they were even? How can you even get even in this sort of situation? Would he owe her until she tortured him with frozen water and an iron or until he undid all the wrong he had caused? Which he had, and then some, he couldn't erase what he did, and he hadn't, but he had given her her life back, he had freed her, gotten her the possibility to work as a doctor again, and held her hand while she gave birth. She wasn't sure how that really defined their relationship, she wasn't sure whether they were friends or enemies, or somewhere in a tricky in between, but she did know one thing. The half hour left with that psychologist sure wasn't going to be long enough to sum it up.

Apparently the woman had noticed her hesitation, she went on, lucky her for finding that sensitive spot right away.

"So that congress man, Kellerman," she pursued, "if he's not your friend, then how would you describe your relationship with him?"

"Well – it would be long to explain."

"Surely it would make time pass faster rather than sitting here, not saying anything. If you want to practice your job again, Sara, you're gonna have to let me do mine."

The young woman let go of the lace, exceeding her jacket, and that she had been fiddling with for the past minute.

"All right," she uttered, "so – he makes me uncomfortable."

"What sort of uncomfortable?"

"How many sort can there be?" She sighed, "He just… He makes me…"

There was a short silence before the psychologist talked.

"Nervous?" She attempted.

"Hey, I see where you're going with this."

"Sara, your husband has been dead in a year."

"Michael has nothing to do in this conversation." Don't you dare bring him up, was added more forcefully, but in her mind only, and unintentionally, by an unaware part of her subconscious.

"It's very common for you to feel like you might be betraying him, but you're not, Sara, the vows you exchanged were until death parts you." She waited a few seconds, before adding, "This Congress man, he's been very present for you, hasn't he?"

"Yes, whenever he decides to be, before he disappears without a phone call, or – anything."

"And that upsets you?"

"Well yes! How should he be allowed to just drop by when he has the time, or when he's feeling guilty or insecure or whatever it is he feels when he suddenly shows up on my doorstep."

"Maybe he wants to give you space."

"Yeah, or maybe this isn't even about me," she was almost bitter as she spoke, even though she had trouble believing herself for some reason, "maybe he's just seeking redemption and I'm bugging his bloody new conscience! He's just – he's just working out of his mind to make it up to me, always doing these impossible things to redeem himself, but it's like – did it never occur to him to simply say 'I'm sorry'?"

A short silence set before the psychologist spoke.

"You defined your relationship with him as complicated, would you care to explain why?"

"Well, I'm sure the newspapers explained it just fine when he applied he candidacy last year."

"I'd like to hear it from you."

"I can see that, maybe that's why I've been ignoring you during our last sessions. Look," Sara went on after a short silence, "it's just – it's not even all on him, I just feel like… like everyone I meet wants to use me for something, and it's been that way my whole life for, and –" she exhaled, hesitating, slightly biting her lip, before pursuing, "do you know how many people have apologized to me? Many, so many and – it just never felt like enough, apologies just don't cut it sometimes, and then Paul does all this, and with him it's different, it's like he's not apologizing, he's acting, doing all these things to help me, and –" the hesitation was longer this time, before she could go on, "every apology I've ever gotten only made me angrier, only increased that feeling that these people have hurt me and there's nothing they can do about it, but – it feels different with Paul." She was aware how she used to hate that word, she used to hate how it sounded, and that taste it left inside her mouth. It was different now, not unnoticeable, she'd never be able to say this word and have it leave her cold, but – different. She went on, "it's like maybe with him – I don't know, like maybe if he apologized, it… it'd be different than all the times before."

"It'd be worthy?"

Sara lifted her eyes to her psychologist, only realizing then that she had been staring her feet the whole time she was talking.

"He tied me up, plunged me in cold water and left me to drown." There was no hate in her tone, not even anger, she realized, "I'm not sure anything he'd say could be worthy of that." No rage, or bitterness, mere facts that were nagging, and always present in her mind, that haunting, mocking voice in her mind like a torturing nail scratching through the surface of her brain, bringing back to her the memory of that boy she liked when she was a freshmen in high school, and remembered how crazy her father got, that loud, stern voice, the argument she could say nothing against: "good girls aren't for bad boys." And that unstoppable thought, of wondering what would Frank Tancredi say against Paul Kellerman? He would be spoiled for choice, probably be pulling his hair out of his head. A part of her was so fond of the idea, she felt a surge of guiltiness dwell within her when she realized she had probably never missed her father more. That was how much she would have wanted his opinion on Paul, maybe because then, with her father pushing her the other way, she would have finally pulled the nerves to do something. The idea of her father's tremendous rage made her inwardly smile, hence the guilty shameful self resent. Still inwardly smiling, because damn, she really liked that boy in freshmen year.

"I think our time's up." It was Sara who broke the silence. She still didn't feel like crying and pouring her heart out, but she wanted her job back. That was all it was, she convinced herself.

"You know, my next patient's not scheduled until fifteen minutes, if you want to –"

"I'm good," Sara interrupted.

She rose from her chair, hands in her jeans pocket, so she didn't have to fiddle with them, as she turned around.

"And Sara?"

She turned to face the woman sitting at the wooden desk, with that stack of files, and somewhere in it was hers, that therapist only needed to sign her agreement for Sara to go back to work, which was why she held back any comment, and simply forced a polite smile when the woman uttered, "I'll see you next week."

…

"How did it go?" Sara asked her friend quietly from across the table.
"Girl's stable, her body responded just fine to the new kidney," Kristine smilingly said, playing with her food. She always disliked eating after surgery. It had a way of cutting her appetite. Sara had the luck of dealing with patients only, for the moment. One or two surgeries a week at best could really bring some ease and peace of mind.
There was a step Kristine could never take though it was a must when it came to being a surgeon, killing her emotions and womanly sensitivity. She could never get over the anguish after losing a patient, it happened more than once during her career and every bit of it piled up over the rest until it left a part of her numb. Rationality and objectivity as well as a little heartlessness were grandly needed by anyone doing what they did.
Yet, all this had an upside, when she managed to save a life, nothing could mess her mood, it brightened her day fully.
"That's great," Sara mumbled, drawing back Kristine's attention.
"Let's not talk patients now, please," Kristine demanded with a long exhale "did I tell you what a relief it is to see you back, doing what you love again?"
Sara smiled, "It better be, since I'm obliged to drag myself to a shrink's office every two days."
"You still nagged by that?" Kristine teased and watched Sara amusedly shake her head while chewing. "Oh I get it; you think it's a waste of time, time you would like to spend with M.J."
"Absolutely, instead I'm leaving him in the care of some random nanny I barely trust." Sara confided than looked up at Kristine "don't get me wrong, I don't regret coming back to work, and I really appreciate you taking over watching M.J in your free time, you can't imagine the worry it takes off my chest, but… I just need more time to adapt is all, I mean – I did spend the first year of his life being always around, and don't think I didn't miss being a doctor, I did, and it's nice to get back few of what I've lost in the past few years, but…" She hardly even needed to finish.
"I know." Kristine muttered reassuringly, deciding to swallow her juice instead of eating.
Sara lifted her head to look at the woman coming towards them, a friendly nurse they both knew.
"Sara. Hi Kristine," Evelyn cheerfully greeted them, shifting her stare to Kristine for a moment while saying, "Congratulations in advance to your brother. Would you tell Paul I voted for him? I'm confident he'll come out winner."

Kristine forced a smile, her eyes suddenly scrutinizing Sara with a tiny bit of concern at the mention of her brother's name next to her, "Thanks Eve, I'm sure he appreciates it." The woman left as quickly as she came, leaving behind her an awkward silence to linger.
Kristine was aware that Paul hadn't been around much despite his promise made to both of them, but she couldn't blame him. He was beyond busy and tried to visit as often as he could, but of course was more hesitant with the idea of visiting Sara. So consequently, Kristine saw more of him than her friend did. And of course, there was that thing that made everything more complicated whenever it came to Paul and Sara, and Kristine wondered if thanks to that thing she really hated to name, things would ever be simple between them. Probably not.
No matter how often he avoided talking about it with his sister, Kristine knew he had uncertainties ever since M.J came to life, unsure whether to visit and ease himself into their lives or respect her initiating despising feelings towards him and not try to change them, although the deed was halfway done.
She heard her friend clear her throat, "Paul's been here often?" she asked a little ashamedly.
"Sometimes, most of the time sitting right where you are now."

Sara shifted uncomfortably for a second, avoiding eye contact but nodded silently.
For just a split second Kristine thought of changing the subject but decided against it. She thought of giving Sara a push to speak to Paul again and the best way was to talk of him for a while, the real him, the brother Kristine knew since childhood, the caring, suffer-in-silence protective man that he was.
"I can simply say I'm proud of him and the way he changed his life around," she declared, causing Sara to look her dead in the eye now "Paul did so many horrible things that can't be undone and most people know only that side of him and the good path he had chosen afterwards."
Sara shot her a curious look as though she was about to hear something new about the man that became so famous around here.
"I think it's fair to let you know what led him to that path." The low voice with which her fellow doctor started increased Sara's interest, although a part of her was scared to know, afraid it would influence her view about him after that, " Paul and I grew up with parents that…let's say we didn't portray the model family. They were everything but loving parents. Being a little girl got me off the hook but Paul…"
"What happened?" Sara couldn't help herself ask, unable to bring her friend's story to a stop.
"Paul had to work, to pay for the food put on the table; he barely had time to rest. He spent hours after school outside trying to sell those damn watches Dad made at home, and if he dared come home without selling them all or after eight in the evening, they let him sleep outside the house."
Flabbergasted, Sara gulped, fighting not to let her deep reaction appear on her face. "I used to sneak out a quilt and pillow for him out the window so he'd be able to sleep."
Sara tried to speak, almost choking on her first words "didn't your mother do anything about that?"
Kristine laughed dryly, lowering her head, "making sleep in the streets was her idea, Dad agreed instantly. Every time I tried to stand up to them, to try and convince them to let him be they threatened to throw me out too."
"God…I am sorry"
"It's all in the past now… Paul swore everyday he'd leave when he'd be old enough."
"And he did," Sara said half questioningly.
"On my tenth birthday, at dinner time, Dad suggested I start 'paying' too." She inhaled with a vague stare, lost in her memories "I've never seen Paul get more furious then that day. He stood up to them and our mother hit him hard. The next day he was gone, after being kicked out for calling Mom a heartless witch"
A long silence fell between the two women, Kristine still going through her painful past flashes and Sara trying to calm her shock and digest the heavy information her friend loaded on her. "Paul was of age, so he never looked back, but I've forgiven him for leaving. I know he would have come back for me sooner or later and he did, one day he just showed up. A few weeks after…" After that thing that happened between you, was added, but in her mind only.

A short silence set before Sara asked.
"Why are you telling me this K?" She spoke, gravely, her voice giving away how affected she got.
"Because I wanted you to know him truly, every part of his life that made him what he is today." Kristine hesitated a moment than added, "he deserves a second chance, Sara. It would mean to him if you granted him your forgiveness."

It wasn't long until Kristine headed back to work, but Sara stayed put a little longer. First she wasn't sure what to think before she suddenly and very vividly started to wish she had never even heard those words come out of Kristine's mouth, she wished she'd plugged her ears with her fingers and ignored the sound, because she suddenly hated that Paul had a story, that he wasn't just a bored man who'd watched too many films or played too many video games and decided to get a job where he'd get to shoot people. She didn't want him to have a sad story, a mere excuse, anything that could make people understand the things he had done. That could make her understand.

She figured he'd lived out on the street for a while, before he joined the army, which actually fit in the version she was given of the story, and then what – someone showed up and asked him if maybe he wanted to save the world, and he had been caught in the gearing with no way out, before he could even realize he fought for reasons he no longer believed him? That doing wrong when you believe in right reasons is still wrong?

That she had made him understand that, she almost begrudgingly recognized. She didn't want this story, she didn't like it at all, she didn't want him to be able to explain, or even justify. She had told her therapist that she wanted his apology, that she wanted an explanation, but truth was, she started out with the idea that nothing he could say to her, no great purpose he thought he was fighting for could justify the means. But then, it was different now, because turns out he wasn't fighting for a greater cause. He was just trying to survive.

Oh damn this, she closed her eyes thinking, damn him. Damn the damn Paul Kellerman, with his great speeches and his damn thing with people that made everyone adore him despite everything they knew he had done. And that's what had kept her holding on to that hate this whole time, it was the thought that people loved him, voted for him, but they didn't understand. No one understood, and even if he were to talk to her, to explain her, she wouldn't understand either, because nothing he would say to her could make her forgive him. Could it?