Disclaimer: I don't own any of "The Killing" or the characters and only write this for entertainment purposes

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, smoking, and sexual situations

Sarah Linden's Smile

Chapter 2 A Past High.

Holder sat in his car, white knuckled hands gripping the wheel furiously. He nibbled on the filter of his still burning cigarette, one of many that evening. He sat, waiting, watching.

He had been to this neighborhood many times before. The unkept lawns, broken windows, and misshapen fences had grown all too familiar to him in the past. In the beginning he had come to this neighborhood to bring justice, save innocents, and rid the world of scum. Later he had just come here for a fix.

Stephen glanced over at the worn red door of a house farther up the street. The temptation to go to that door, like he had so many times before and empty his wallet was painful.

He ground his cigarette in his car's cupholder- a new member to join its fallen brothers- and started another. He could barely light it over the shaking of his hands but he managed.

Stephen smiled triumphantly and patted his oversized coat's pocket. He opened the squeaky door of his car, barely able to contain his excitement. He had hardly bothered to buckle his seat belt as he pealed out of the driveway hauling ass back to his apartment, the lovely brunette woman in the passenger seat pleaded with him to hand her the baggy. Her half lidded eyes were almost as glassy as the meth in his pocket, but he made her wait. The brunette kept insisting she just wanted, needed, a "tiny little bump", and Stephen soon gave in. He'd prefer if they hit their high together but it was okay, he'd join her soon enough.

The girl graciously accepted the shards he handed her, dropping them into the glass pipe she had fished out the glove box, and putting a lighter to it. Stephen watched as he stopped at a red light, entranced as the girl thoroughly heated the instrument, inhaling all the fumes, her eyes fluttering with delight. She released a light moaning sound, making Stephen all the more desperate to join her in the blissful abyss.

Stephen ground another cigarette out as if killing thee memory with it. This was the present, no use focusing on the past, even if it did have a spunky brunette in it, he thought.

"That's it, baby, that's it," the petite girl soothed him, "breath it. All of it." he looked up at her with dull eyes, his head resting in her lap as he drew in all the smoke from the pipe she held to his mouth. He tingled all over, smiling at the girl, a euphoric sensation coursing through his veins.

She pulled the pipe from him and replaced it with her lips, drawing the pouty red skin into her mouth. Tongues entwine, and lash out, happy to have a partner. His scruffy mustache tickled her and she giggled against his occupied mouth, her slender fingers tugging at his hair, leaving it sticking out in strange directions.

Holder smiled smugly up at her. "Can't keep your damn hands off me, can you?" He flipped her over and pulled her to him, forcing her legs under his folded ones. His long hands holding hers above her head, his hips digging into hers as he gently grinded into her still clothed form. He kissed her again, locking mouths, their tongues doing battle. Holder emphasized each kiss with his hips, gliding hard into her as his tongue plunged deep into her mouth. He was met only with reassuring moans of pleasure and a tongue as desperate as his own.

"Stephen." she moaned when they broke away for air. She draws out his name in an irresistible way making his heart pound and the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans ache. The pleading green eyes meet his, the need for him visible there.

He pulls his hoodie over his head and discards it, he gives her a swet but needful kiss, his hands wandering under her thin blouse. He begins to slowly, tortuously massage her breats through her bra, but his tension builds and he ends up violently kneading them. He pulls her into a sitting position, nearly tearing her shirt as he tugs it over her head, ignoring the sounds of complaint. He shoves her back down, uncaring, the loud crack barely registering along with her whimper as he pulls at his belt, her pants button, her zipper.

"Stop." She weakly calls. His pants were around his knees now, he worked his hardest to pull hers down as well but was met with more resistance than usual. Her pants are off then, time for her panties. He reached around the soft lace surface, his fingers trailing under the elastic-

"Stop!"

-His sluggish mind doesn't comprehend he just keeps pulling and tugging and tearing at the fabric.

"Stephen!" A sharp sting on his cheek brings him back. There was a small trickle of blood running down the girl's forehead. She was cowering against the headboard only wearing her pink bra. The blood doesn't scare as much as the sheer terror on the young woman's face. Hardly more than a girl, with trust in an older man she hardly knew.

A trust he had so easily betrayed.

The pained memory is the thing that draws him back to reality, back towards sanity. He wasn't a junkie anymore, that man in his memory was not the same Stephen Holder. He wasn't here to buy drugs, but to follow up on a lead that Linden probably made up to get rid of him. He didn't need the drugs, though he made a note to go to an extra NA meeting this week.

With a cleansing breath of stale air Holder started his car and made his way back to his drug free apartment, leaving the haunted neighborhood behind.

The apartment was his home, his dojo, his sanctuary, and though it was small and becoming increasingly nasty, e absolutely loved it. He couldn't remember doing much at his place while he'd been using- not that he remembered much- but before, this place had been his everything, and that was rushing back. This apartment had meant his independence, his first place, and hed made it work. Cooking his own meals (mostly eggs), decorating (second hand furniture), and buying all kinds of kinick nacks that every home was meant to have.

He'd completely gone overboard but it had made the space his and that's how he liked it. He could invite Liz and Davey over, or call any of his friends just to hang out. Holder's place. Be there.

But he couldn't call Liz, no way in hell did she trust him. He didn't have friends anymore. No one visited Stephen's dojo, so he shamelessly undressed to his boxers and plunked down on the couch in front of an out of date television.

He slept until a knock at his door woke him up. Startled, he yanked his sweatpants on over his lanky body and shuffled to the door, tripping on the hem of his own pants.

"Hey, listen, I'm not buying any-" he said while opening the door, prepared for the usual strung out salesperson.

"Holder." Came the abrupt response from the petite auburn haired lady in the hallway.

"Linden?"