As always during the beginning of those meetings, the only sound in the room was the regular ticking of the clock. Sara's hands were secure in her jacket pocket, that way she didn't have to fiddle with them or bite her nails – a habit that she'd managed to kill in her teenage years but that for some reason Paul Kellerman was starting to bring back.

"It's been a while since you've come here, Sara." Her psychologist spoke calmly. "After our last encounter I wasn't sure I'd see you again."

"Yes, well –" The young woman interrupted herself. That was always the hardest; it was easier to come here when she told herself she only did it to keep her job, because people worried about her – it was better than to admit that she was starting to worry about herself too. She placed her hands onto the table, nervously fiddling unconsciously. "I just thought that maybe if I just get this over with then I'd finally be done with it."

"And how do you think you can get this over with, Sara?"

"I don't know, aren't you supposed to tell me that?"

"Well, maybe we should start by what you want to be over."

Instead of answering Sara realized the nervous tugging of her hands and hastily shoved them in her pockets again.

"I just…" She started, her eyes fleeing to her psychiatrist Ph.D. printed on the wall. Sometimes it was easier not to look at her. "I don't want my behavior to affect MJ." She blurted. That was one of the fears that came back most often. "In anyway, I don't – I grew up with a mother who got drunk, and I know she loved me but she always put herself first, I just… I'm all he has, I mean he won't have a father growing up and I want to be good enough to make up for that."

"What sort of behavior are we talking about, Sara?" The therapist asked quietly.

The young woman sighed again, her eyes setting on the window now.

"It's Paul."

The therapist nodded, almost knowingly.

"I just –" Sara began. She interrupted herself and the psychiatrist pursued.

"You have trouble letting him near MJ."

"No," she spoke almost defensively. "I mean yes, but it's not him, it's just – how am I even supposed to introduce him to MJ when he's older? He's not a friend – not exactly, and… He can't be MJ's father."

"So you're keeping him at distance because you're feeling like he might get to close?"

"Is that what I said?" Sara let out before chuckling nervously, running her hand through her hair. "I just keep having these dreams." It seemed to stir the therapist's interest as she straightened on her chair.

"What kind of dreams?"

"It's more – it's more of one dream, really. That I keep having."

"And?"

The young woman exhaled a soft sigh, deflecting her eyes again.

"It's just –" She chuckled lightly at the thought. "I'm in the kitchen," she began explaining, still wearing that smile for some reason, "and I'm making dinner, and then the entry door opens and – Paul comes in with a bag of grocery in his arms and it feels like he lives there."

"That's how the dream ends?"

"No." She didn't exactly want to talk about the ending but for some reason it felt wrong to lie to a therapist. She said the rest almost shamefully and hoping she wasn't blushing. "He kisses me on the lips and asks me how my day's been." She kept silence after the confession.

"And that's it?" The psychiatrist asked softly.

"No." She admitted. "He picks up MJ. And that's it." Another silence set before Sara spoke again. "I don't want it to happen."

"It'd be okay to want it, Sara."

"No, I don't want this, I – Michael's MJ's father. And he would have been an amazing father and I would have loved for MJ to meet him but Paul's not Michael. God, if Michael could even hear me saying this right now I'm pretty sure he'd claw my eyes out or send me to a madhouse." And that was always the worst; this impression that wherever she was, whatever she did Michael was right there, looking at her. It felt like he was even in her thoughts and in her sleep, and whenever she had this dream – she felt like disappointing him.

She moistened her lips shortly and pressed them together.

"It'd just feel wrong." She let out.

"Does it feel wrong in the dream?"

She looked away again; she didn't want to answer that. No, it never felt wrong, in fact it felt startlingly right, and it was the craziest. In the dream Paul lived there, at her house, with her, he loved MJ, he loved her and it felt like he was her husband and it felt entirely natural. Paul freaking Kellerman. She had no idea what on earth she was thinking; maybe she was indeed crazy, maybe she belonged in an asylum. And truth was before Michael – before Paul… She had no idea feelings could be so beautiful. Growing up, she'd watched her parents fight and argue endlessly, so bad she wished that they'd just get a divorce, it would have been simpler. Why do you even marry someone you don't love? But then she'd just assumed it was just the way love was. But in the dream, with Paul – it felt better. And that was crazy, completely crazy, because they weren't even a couple and they were already fighting every time they crossed paths… But it didn't feel like the same way her parents were fighting. Her parents didn't play, they didn't kiss – it wasn't love. She thought she knew that now.

"No." She finally spoke, finally confessed because maybe if she did then the damn therapist could fix her, could just get Paul Kellerman out of her system once and for all. "No, it doesn't feel wrong."

"Maybe it isn't." The therapist spoke calmly and the surprise on Sara's face showed. "Many women are in your situation, Sara, and it's never easy to realize that you're not betraying your husband by – feeling what you're feeling."

"Wow." She spoke in realization. "You're not supposed to do that."

"No?"

"No. You're supposed to push me the other way, that's why I came here, not so you'd tell me that it's normal, I don't care that it's normal. You're supposed to make it go away."

"The dream?"

"The dreams, the insomnia, the damn eerie tickling in my stomach when I think about it! Everything!"

"Tickling?"

"Yeah!" She said, still a little bummed. She didn't exactly believe that this was going to be a miracle meeting but still. "Weird flutter-ish tickling like I'm about to giggle or maybe throw up."

"Hum. Like butterflies?"

Her fists tightened in her pockets. She was pretty sure that was the meanest thing anyone had ever said to her; that Paul Kellerman made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Don't you dare." She was pretty sure the situation could have looked comic to anyone but she wasn't the slightest bit amused. Butterflies and Paul Kellerman were not two things that could coexist. "Do not even say it." She was a doctor, she could recognize butterflies to the stomach if she felt them, and that was not it. Even now, thinking about the dream, thinking about the loving-playful-sort-of-sexy look on Paul's face when he kissed her with one hand on her cheek and the other on her stomach – maybe because in the dream there was another baby of theirs in there. That feeling so strangely real of his hand on that stomach… And she got the weird tickling again. It did feel a little like something fluttering. "No." She spoke out loud again, so dramatic she was pretty sure the situation was turning ridiculous. "I did not come here for this, you were supposed to get me rid of it, not increase it!" And now that was all she could think about. Butterflies. Butterflies. Paul. Butterflies.

"You can't get rid of what you feel, Sara," her therapist spoke calmly. "Feelings aren't something concrete that you can just throw away."

"I know that. Don't you think I would have tried it already?"

"You seem in an awful hurry to 'get rid' of those feelings. What has rushed this? Did the dreams become more frequent?"

"No." That was a lie. In fact now she could hardly go through a single night without waking up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, still gasping from the vividness of the dream – sometimes it didn't exactly stop there either. Sometimes the kiss Paul gave her was a little bit more than a greeting kiss, sometimes it got a bit more passionate and MJ suddenly disappeared and they were suddenly in the bedroom and – No. She decided again, it had nothing to even do with Paul, maybe she was just plain horny. The last time for her had been with Michael it had been perfect and a long time ago; it had nothing to do with Paul, she just needed to wait long enough and ultimately it would pass; the dreams, the desire – it would all pass. It had nothing to do with Paul, she repeated to herself for the third time. And those were not butterflies. "All right, maybe." She admitted, a bit reluctantly now because she was starting to think that that therapist wasn't even on her side.

"It's normal to have these dreams, Sara."

"No it's not. Can everyone please stop saying that it's normal? It's anything but normal it's – wrong."

"I thought it didn't feel wrong."

"Well it does."

"When you've woken up."

Sara let out a humorless chuckle.

"What are you even insinuating? I studied psychology too, I known what everyone thinks, I know this sounds like even my unconscious is telling me to move on. I'm just – not ready, and… It can't be with Paul."

"Because Michael hated him?"

Michael hated him indeed. And there was a simple easy time back when everyone hated Kellerman and everyone was happy with it, he was just in the 'bad guys' category and there was nothing more to it. Damn it. Damn him, why did he even have to try to redeem himself anyway? Couldn't he just handle the fact that he'd been a bad person and deal with his own demons instead of actually trying to make the world a better place? Did he really have to haunt her sleep, her dreams and even her television screen?

"Didn't you tell me that he's changed, Sara?"

"He has changed."

"And that makes you angry?"

"No." She lied again. In fact she didn't even know it was a lie until she spoke it out loud; that was one other inconvenient about being a very bad liar. Not only can you not lie to people, you can't lie to yourself either. Not for very long, at least. "Why would that make me angry?" She said. "He's trying to be a good person, good for him."

"During our last session you spoke about how he'd never apologized. Do you ever wonder if that's not exactly what he's trying to do?"

She had wondered exactly that many times, in fact. She'd seen him on her television screen, with his humble face, his strange honesty – and she'd wondered… maybe. But that would be crazy, wouldn't it? In fact she really had to be selfish to even consider it, to consider that he'd move the earth upside down, that he'd show up on every TV channel and in several newspapers – just for her. Not to ask for her forgiveness. But to earn it.

"Is that what you're scared of, Sara?" Her therapist asked again. "Is that why you came here? Because you're afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

"That's a good question, I'd like you to answer it. What scares you? That you won't forgive him?" She marked a short pause. "Or that you will?"

She let out a bitter scoff that came out strangely terrified.

"I don't need to forgive him. I don't owe him anything."

"You're right. But you want to."

"That's crap."

"Is it?"

A short silence set.

"You know what?" Sara got up. "Coming here was a mistake."

She had hardly had the time to turn around when her therapist spoke behind her.

"If you're leaving then can I ask you a final question?"

Sara let out another scoff, it was strangely disappointed. As if she'd truly hoped that when she'd leave this office today she would finally be able to see clearly, that she could get Paul Kellerman out of her system so easily.

"Knock yourself out." She spoke bitterly, contrasting with her psychiatrist quiet's voice.

"Do you love him?"

The surprise outweighed the bitterness in her voice.

"What?"

"Are you in love with Paul Kellerman?"

She scoffed again, humorlessly. She would answer this, she would answer it because she was desperately convincing herself that she wasn't afraid of the answer.

"No." Even her couldn't believe herself through the obviousness of her lie. It sounded about as ridiculous as if someone had just asked her the color of the sky and she'd answered 'green'. She felt her teeth clench, suddenly furious, suddenly furious that even her goddamn therapist seemed to be sided against her. She grabbed her purse frenziedly and stormed out of the office. The expression 'careful what you wish for' crossed her mind. At least now, she could see crystal clear.

…

The day had started shitty enough and apparently was about to end, so Sara thought as she stood flipping through her stuff in her big bag, desperately trying to find her car keys.
Eleven P.M. and she was still at the hospital. Luckily she had called the sitter to let her know she'd be late.
A smile of relief lighted her face as she pulled them out, now ready to get out of there. In a blink of an eye, she didn't know if it was the sight in front of her in the hospital corridor or her own damned feelings working their effects, Sara felt out of breath at the sight of an injured being run into the E.R. without a doubt, it was a gunshot injury and the familiar face choking there paralyzed her senses…

Paul!

He was being rushed by more than three doctors and she could do nothing but stare for a whole minute. Suddenly recovering her ability to move, she hurried towards him, dropping her purse at the nearest table.
"Lady move away." One of the doctors addressed her.
In her panic she babbled a bit incomprehensively. "I'm doctor Tancredi… he's a friend – Paul, keep your eyes open, we're gonna take care of you… you hear me?"

The urgency was such she wasn't even startled by the distress in her voice. His fading eyes fell on her and his lips moved seeming to form a word but nothing came out of him. His obvious fight to keep conscious didn't go unnoticed by her as the other sergeants kept discussing his medical case and the next urgent act to be done.

Panicked by his fluttering eyes and bare breath, Sara observed his swiftly weakening bit of strength left in him. Her hand flew to press over his injury, lowering her head next to ear and murmured vulnerably "Don't you dare give up, we need you… you ought to fight for us!"

His dazed eyes looked up at her weakly though full of emotions, she smiled encouragingly at him, the blurry sight making her realize she had tears in her eyes.

Seven hours later

She couldn't go through this again, it was the only thought cursing through her mind – not again. She'd been through this, with Michael, when the company doctors had performed a brain surgery while she watched – the fading light in his eyes, she remembered how it terrorized her. She couldn't do this again, not this time, not like this, just – not again.

The silence outside that wall of glass kept every thought and worry at bay, as Sara stood watching Kristine at her brother's side, speaking to him.

Sanity and clarity had crept back onto her an hour ago, and replaying her behavior and words when she had seen Paul in that hurt state made her feel shameful now but also realizing so many things at once. For starters, she knew now she had forgiven him, that the anger she sometimes felt towards him wasn't because she hadn't, and second, that she cared enough to call herself a friend to him and third, as reluctantly as she felt to admit it, she had let those two parts of her show when she had asked him to hold on and survive.

Now she had no clue of how to face him, how to justify her acts and words. The last thing she wanted was to give the man hope. There was no way what the therapist insinuated would happen, she didn't care how many people would side with the thought or how many dreams would haunt her nights. Paul plus Sara would never exist in her real world. And MJ above all deserved to be protected from any kind of outside harm that could happen, and Paul Kellerman was one of them in her book. She might have forgiven him for what he had done to her but had no trust in him to let him be near her son or even consider the idea of him raising MJ.

The sound of the door sliding open caught her attention and she welcomed Kristine in a warm comforting hug "how is he?" she questioned kindly.

"Shaken. His speech seemed to indicate some thugs running the high streets of New York. He said he's been expecting something to happen, but not something this bad…he's asking for you, Sara."
"Oh." She muttered uncomfortably. "I think he needs his rest, I should just check up on him tomorrow?"
"Come on …he doesn't need another disappointment today. He needs to see you, for some reason."
"All right. My shift will start in a couple of hours, so I'll see you then."
She walked in stonily, confused about how she should behave. She smiled his way shyly. "Two bullets in the chest and still classy as ever." She attempted to joke.

He let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, really it doesn't feel like it." There was an awkward moment of silence before she added. "Better get comfy…you're stuck here for a week"

"Lucky me, I was brought in here. You'd take care of me. Wouldn't you?" He spoke gently, a glimmer of affection in his eyes that made her swallow hard as she quickly looked away.

"Along with Kristine and the entire hospital shaft. After all, it's not every day that Senator Kellerman needs tending to."

"All I need is you." He muttered lowly and Sara froze, a fluttery pain washing through her entire font and settling in her belly. Nervously smoothing her hair, she shifted uncomfortably, standing at the end of his hospital bed and facing him.
"Get some rest Paul, you need your strength to recover quickly." She spoke without emotion.

He called her name in a caress, causing another fluttering to occur in her stomach. "Did you mean what you said…earlier…that you need me"

She chocked on her breath, frozen in place, her eyes locked with his, unblinking. That was so like him, to be basically dying inside her hospital and to yet remember every incriminating word she said. She swallowed fast, wetting her lips and trying her hardest to sound earnest. "Sure…I meant the whole city does, if you're gone, some unworthy politician would take profit and bring down everything to the worse…then where would we be?"

Light faded from his eyes that lowered with a slight nod muttering feebly. "I thought you meant…"

"What?" She asked coldly, though knowing exactly what was on his mind.
"Nothing." He answered in a slightly vulnerable voice.

Their loneliness was interrupted by the sudden bursting entrance of the Blondie Sara had seen at the gala dinner before, running worriedly to his side. "I came as fast as I could. There was a delay of my flight…are you alright"

"I'm good Char…easy." He spoke through gritted teeth as she took her seat on his side, sliding her hand down his cheek.

A pin of jealousy stung Sara's heart and she ignored it utterly, making her way rapidly out the door, while feeling Paul's gaze on her until she was out of sight.

Arrived at destination, Sara couldn't stand up straight anymore, her legs and knees weakening as she approached his grave, her eyes taking in the engraved stone, taking her back in a flash to the times when she could barely breathe from sorrow. However hurtful it could be, today it felt far away back, she could truly sense that years had passed, years that had brought changes in her life…and in her.

A foot away from it, she let her purse drop to the floor, and crouched next to it, her face set deep with bubbling emotions. Tears blinded her sight rapidly, and she reluctantly let them come down, the image of Michael swarming her mind, she couldn't help but feel guilty…guilty for letting another man share his place, for feeling something that big towards another but Michael. He was dead but even now, the innocent familiar loving look he gave her in her mind seemed to make her feel worse, ashamed and pained beyond repair.

She knew she was doomed; she had unconsciously fallen for the one man she had thought in the past would always remain her number one enemy and the one of her husband. God knows how much she had tried to fight, to refuse letting in him in. but insanely he had broken into her heart, forcing his way through and succeeding in taking the love throne.

At the inner admission of that Sara's sobs broke out with the same words whimpered out of her. "I'm sorry Michael…I'm so sorry"

Her hand rested mournfully on the cold grey rock. Feeling the shiver run through her body, she sobbed a little more, quietly now and lowered her head in sadness. There was no way out of it now, she thought. No way out.