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CHAPTER 30

"All doors remain closed until we're ready to open them. But where does the greater evil lie - in the unexplored potential should they remain forever closed, or in the disasters that may be unleashed should we find the courage to toss them open?"


NANCY POV

"This is bullshit," I call out, drawing to a stop and placing my hands on my head. "Absolute bullshit."

Raising a brow, Sara turns to face me, amusement lighting her eyes.

"There's no way this is right," I shake my head.

"Want to borrow mine?" Sara questions, trying gallantly to keep a straight face.

"No," I tell her. "I'd rather think my watch is broken than admit it just took me forty minutes to run three miles."

I place my hands on my knees, still trying to catch my breath.

"Why the hell do you put up with me?" I ask Sara, who hasn't even broken a sweat. Even Mesa looks like he has barely has a piece of fur out of place. "I just slow you down."

"I like to watch your meltdowns."

Tossing my towel at her, I pull out my water and take a couple sips when I feel confident enough that I won't aspirate the liquid straight into my lungs.

"Go ahead and finish your run," I tell her. "I'm going to walk the rest of the way back."

Shaking her head, Sara glances down at Mesa, giving him some water.

"I think I'd rather walk back with you," she says. "If that's alright."

Studying her, I nod slowly.

"More than alright."

Straightening up, we both start walking the last couple miles back towards my house.

"Your leg okay?" I ask her, trying to determine if that's the reason she's electing not to finish her run.

"Yeah," she answers with a shrug. "Just rather spend the time with you since we haven't gotten to see each other in awhile."

"Okay," I tell her, deciding to take her answer at face value, whether or not it's the truth.

We spend the next couple minutes talking about basic things, like work. After a bit, I note a change in Sara's demeanor, her body language growing hesitant.

We walk in silence, both of us deep in our own thoughts.

"Nancy, can I ask you something?" she eventually questions.

"Of course."

"I don't want to pry," she hedges. "And you don't have to tell me anything. But, how are you doing with everything regarding Chris?"

I answer her without hesitation, never feeling the need to hide anything from Sara.

"Better," I tell her honestly. "Some days are still hard, but definitely doing better."

Reading my face, Sara turns her attention back to the road.

"You're sleeping okay?"

"Yes," I answer. "I still see my therapist, and putting it all out in the open with him really helps. Not much left unsaid to haunt my nights."

Nodding, Sara watches Mesa.

"Why?" I ask.

Looking over at me, Sara doesn't say anything for a bit, eyes unreadable. Then, I can almost see her come to some sort of internal decision.

"I haven't been around to check in with you as much as I would have liked," she tells me, voice quiet. "Wanted to be sure you were doing okay."

She doesn't say anything more for a bit, and the unspoken words hang between us. Particularly the unspoken part about why she hasn't been around as much. The infidelity that turned out not to be infidelity, the drug use that actually turned out to be drug use, her brother's suicide. It all hangs heavily between us.

"I, uh," she starts, clearing her throat. "I wanted to make sure, especially now with Catherine moving back in with me."

Furrowing my brows, she sees my confusion.

"It seemed like you were doing better with her around those past weeks," she explains. "I hate feeling like I'm taking her away from you."

"Sara," I shake my head. "I love my sister, don't get me wrong. But she belongs at home with you, not me."

Smiling, I send her a look.

"I would've kicked your scrawny ass if you didn't offer for her to move back in with you," I confess.

Smiling slightly as well, Sara shakes her head.

"You're really doing okay?" she questions seriously.

I meet her eyes squarely with my own.

"I promise."

Studying me, I let Sara see the honesty in my statement.

Finally, she nods, looking relieved.

Turning, I hear her clear her throat, trying hard to keep a smile from her face.

"What?" I ask, quirking a brow, wiping at the sweat still trickling down my face.

"Just wondering if now is a good time to tell you we passed your house about two blocks ago."


NANCY POV

"My God," I mutter, shoving another forkful into my mouth. "How are you not five hundred pounds by now?"

"Excuse me?" Catherine questions with bemusement, head in the refrigerator.

"This lasagna is ridiculous," I elaborate. "I'd have eaten the whole pan of it."

"I don't doubt that," my sister tells me, closing the fridge to place a bottle of wine on the counter.

Pouring us both a glass, she hands mine over.

"Thanks," I tell her.

"Speaking of your woman's amazing lasagna," I state. "Where is she?"

Rolling her eyes at my phrasing, Catherine sips her own wine.

"'My woman' as you like to say, got called into work," she tells me. "But she should be back in a couple hours."

"She going to be mad I ate all the leftover lasagna?" I question.

"Nope," Catherine answers with a smile. "Especially because that's the portion she dropped on the floor."

Shrugging, I don't even slow down as I continue to shove forkfuls into my mouth. I'm fairly confident she's joking, but even if she's not, this lasagna is too damn good to give a shit about whether it came from the stove, the floor, or the bathtub.

Yes, it's that good.

Reaching the last bite, I physically push my plate away to stop any thoughts about licking it clean.

Taking a couple sips of wine, I watch Catherine, noting her expression that's markedly more peaceful than I've seen it in a long time.

"You guys okay?" I ask her gently, not wanting to intrude or wreck her peaceful thoughts.

"Yeah," she says, letting out a small smile. "I think we will be."

"You talked?"

Her expression falls slightly, "Not exactly."

Staying silent, I let her work through her thoughts and what she wants to share or not share.

Letting out a breath, she brings her eyes to mine.

"She told me she still loved me."

Eyebrows raising, I put down my glass.

"Yeah?" I question. "That's great, Catherine."

I pause for a moment.

"That is great, right?" I hesitate.

Smiling, she nods, sending me a look.

"Of course it is."

Growing quiet again, Catherine swirls the wine in her glass.

"It tells me she's still interested in me," she says. "Perhaps still interested in us."

"Are you interested?" I ask her seriously.

"Yes," she tells me without pause.

Eyes on mine, she shakes her head.

"I miss her so much, Nancy."

Reaching out, I place my hand over hers, running my thumb along her knuckles.

"Talk to her," I encourage. "You guys can't keep living like this. You're both suffering whether you want to admit it or not."

"It's complicated," she tells me, eyes conflicted. "We haven't even discussed much of anything, not even those pictures."

I watch her, reading between the lines.

"You mean you haven't talked with her about the drugs."

She lets out a breath.

"Yes."

"Cath," I call gently, squeezing her hand. "Just talk to her. You need to get this stuff off your chest."

"But what about her?" she counters. "With all she's going through, I'm supposed to just dump this on her now too?"

"There's never going to be a 'good time', Catherine," I tell her. "It's always going to be hard for you both to talk about. And yeah, she has a lot going on, but she's going to have a lot going on for awhile. You guys need to get this out in the open," I state. "Cause you're both going to stay stuck in this same spot until you do."

Watching me, Catherine takes in my words, her free hand gripping the counter.

Finally looking away, she shakes her head.

"When did you become so smart?" she asks, expression softening. "What happened to my baby sister who used to speak Klingon to the neighborhood squirrels?"

Smiling, I shrug.

"She had a great role model," I answer. "And she learned that squirrels actually speak Romulan."


CATHERINE POV

Tapping my fingers anxiously against the glass in my hands, I watch the street, both hoping and dreading the headlights I know will be coming any minute.

Sure enough, a set of headlights cut through the dark, momentarily blinding me as they cut across the yard as the Tahoe pulls into the drive.

Engine shutting off, I down the rest of the wine in my glass, trying to force a calm expression onto my face.

Making her way up the steps, Sara spots me sitting in the dark, furrowing her brows slightly as she steps up against the porch railing.

"Hey," she offers quietly.

"Hey."

Searching my eyes, she pushes her keys into her pocket.

"You okay?" she asks, voice concerned.

"I need to talk to you," I state, needing to stop the torture of anticipation and cut to the point.

"Okay," she tells me, turning to lean her hip against the rail.

"You're going to want to sit for this," I warn her.

Raising a brow, Sara continues to watch me for a moment before nodding slowly and pulling over one of the empty chairs.

Sitting, she waits silently for me to voice my thoughts.

"Wine?" I ask her, gesturing to the open bottle and extra glass I brought out for her.

"No thanks," she tells me, eyes not leaving mine.

"I want to talk about us," I blurt out. "About what you want, including whether you want there to be an us."

She takes in my words, eyes hard to read.

"I also want to talk about those pictures, Sara," I tell her. "About the drugs."

Her eyes leave mine briefly before she forces them back.

"Okay."

"Why did you start?" I question, cutting right to the chase. The need for answers almost overwhelming me now that I've opened the floodgates.

She shakes her head, "Because I was an idiot, and chose the worst possible way to deal with what I was feeling at the time."

"What were you feeling?"

Her eyes darken slightly.

"Anger," she admits quietly. "A whole lot of anger."

I take this in, not expecting that answer.

"Anger at whom?"

She shakes her head, "Everything, everyone."

"You should have come to me," I tell her seriously, my own expression stern. "You should have told me."

"I know."

"No, Sara," I counter. "I don't think you do."

Fixing her with a look, I shake my head. "When I saw those pictures, when I saw what you were doing in those pictures. You sitting there so vacant, so hollow, so pale…"

Swallowing, I try to clamp down on my emotions.

"I'm sorry," she offers in a whisper. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm so sorry, Catherine."

"Never again," I grind out, eyes burning into hers, knowing in the end I really don't have anything more important to say about the matter than that. "Never again."

"You have my word," she promises me, gaze remaining locked with mine.

Taking a breath, I try to calm myself, try to soften my gaze.

"You've changed," I tell her.

Eyes narrowing slightly in confusion, she remains silent.

"The alcohol for one thing," I tell her, gesturing to the bottle next to me. "You haven't had a single drink since everything happened."

Eyes looking away, she shrugs, looking out into the dark night.

"Figured it was probably the last thing I needed in light of recent events."

"I'm proud of you," I tell her, my words drawing her eyes back to mine in surprise. "I really am, Sara. I know how hard you're trying to work through everything, and you've been so remarkably strong and positive about it all."

I reach forward, taking a chance as I reach for her hand.

Allowing the contact, her eyes move down to the joined limbs.

"But I need you to be honest with me, Sara," I struggle to get out past the emotions collecting in my throat. "Are you really okay?"

Silent and still, Sara doesn't respond, eyes remaining fixed on our hands.

"I don't know," she finally responds, words so quiet I barely hear her.

Eyes lifting to at last meet mine, she swallows hard against her own emotions. "I don't know, Catherine."

Studying her, I lace our fingers together, giving her hand a light squeeze.

"Okay," I tell her quietly, sincerely. "Thank you for being honest."

Nodding slightly, she turns her head back out towards the night,no doubt trying to cope with the weight of her admission.

"I, uh," she starts, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I don't know about your other question, either."

"What?" I ask, not sure what she's referencing.

"About wanting an us," she clarifies, voice heavy.

"Oh," I state, body tensing.

Hand gripping mine tightly before I can pull away, Sara returns her gaze to mine.

"I want to be with you, Catherine," she tells me, eyes thick with emotion. "God, I want to be with you more than anything."

She shakes her head. "But I don't know if I can justify possibly dragging you down to God knows where if I'm not ready. If I'm not okay…if I'm somehow screwed up from all this…"

"Shh," I call out, reaching forward with my free hand to take hold of the side of her face and keep her gaze on mine. "I'm not pressuring you, honey. I'm willing to wait, however long you need."

Sara clenches her jaw, her eyes filling with moisture as she looks away.

"What if I'm never ready," she gets out. "What if I can't…"

She trails off, body so tense she is literally shaking beneath my fingers.

"Look at me," I tell her.

"Sara, look at me."

Finally, her eyes raise to mine.

"I'm going to wait for you, whether there ever becomes an us again or not, I'm going to keep waiting for you."

"But-"

"There's no one else," I state, cutting off her protests before they can start. "In this entire world, there's no one else for me."

Removing my hand from hers, I use both mine to hold her face.

"It's you, Sar," I whisper. "It's you or no one."

Smiling at her through my tears, I shake my head.

"And, sweetheart, you're beyond worth it to me. God, you're worth waiting for, regardless of whatever happens."

Before I know what's happening, I feel Sara's lips against mine, her own hands finding their way to my hair.

The kiss deepens, our tongues reuniting and our hands clinging to each other as though our very lives depend on it.

Finally breaking away, Sara rests her forehead against mine before pulling slightly back.

"I don't deserve you," she tells me, words whispered into the night air.

Eyes raising to mine, she keeps her hands holding my face.

"I love you," she tells me, eyes glistening with tears she's struggling not to let fall. "And you have my word that I'll do everything in my power to find my way back to you."


AN: Thanks for reading.