AN: Thanks as always to those who took the time to review, it really means a lot. Hope everyone is doing well.
Take care.
CHAPTER 35
JIM BRASS POV
"Knock knock."
Looking up from my paperwork, my face extends to a wide smile when I see who it is standing in my doorway.
"Sara!" I greet cheerfully at the unexpected surprise, pushing my file aside as I gesture to the empty seat in front of my desk. "Come in."
She sits, hands running down the legs of her jeans nervously, eyes studying my bookshelf.
"What're you doing here?" I question, trying not to be overt in my assessment of her. "Thought you had the day off? Catherine said something about a day trip with her and Nancy…?"
"Got back early."
I nod slowly, though all it takes is one look at her to know her response, the explanation for the day off, all of it, is a cover.
And, taking in her pale features, the dark circles under troubled eyes, it's a cover for something much more sinister that had her and Catherine away from work today.
"Yeah? Well, I hope you had a good time," I state, deciding to go along with the ruse for now. "What can I do for you?"
Swallowing, Sara's fingers tap against her knee, jaw tight.
Finally, the brunette seems to come to some sort of decision and takes a deep breath.
Eyes finally meeting mine for the first time since she entered my office, she sits up slightly straighter in her chair.
"I was hoping to get a recommendation about someone…to see…about the stuff that's happened…"
Raising my brows, I quickly couch my reaction, trying not to let the surprise register on my face.
"Oh," I get out, trying to play this off like it's no big deal. When, in reality, for someone like Sara, it's a huge deal. "Yeah, there're a couple good people I can give you the contact information for."
Reaching over, I grab a pen and scrap of paper.
Jotting down two names and two accompanying numbers, I slide the paper across the desk.
"One's a therapist through the department, he's been here for a number of years. Very good. Other's a private therapist we contract out with, refer a number of our families to her."
Taking the paper, Sara glances at the names briefly before pushing the paper into her jeans pocket.
"Thanks."
"Sara," I call when it looks like she's about to flee.
Eyes meeting mine, her hazel gaze answers the question of whether she's alright before I can ask it.
"I'm proud of you," I settle on saying instead.
She glances down at her hands before returning her gaze to mine.
"Getting the numbers is easy," she says quietly. "It's finding the courage to call them that I'm worried about."
Smiling knowingly, I reach over and pull one of her hands into my own.
"A step at a time."
Watching me, Sara eventually squeezes my hand in hers before letting go and getting to her feet.
Offering me a smile that's one of the first genuine ones I've seen her give anyone in a long time, she pauses in the doorway.
"See you around, Jim."
Smiling in return, I wave her off as she disappears from sight.
Well, I'll be damned.
NANCY POV
Stepping up to the doorway, I knock lightly.
Waiting a moment, I'm about to turn back around when the front door opens quietly.
"Hey," Sara offers, voice barely above a whisper.
Stepping aside to let Mesa out, she moves out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind her.
"Sorry," she gestures back towards the house, voice closer to a normal volume. "Cath's asleep."
"Oh."
I watch as Mesa quirks his head at a squirrel staring at him from the branches of a tree.
"I can tell her you stopped by," she offers. "Or if it's important…"
"No," I cut in, waving off the offer to wake her. Catherine deserves some sleep after last night.
Sighing, I conclude that this moment couldn't be more awkward if my clothing suddenly disintegrated.
"Sara?" I question, forcing my eyes to hers.
Her gaze meets my own.
"Would you…" I pause, trying to figure out what it is I'm trying to ask. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"
Brows raising, Sara clamps down on her reaction to my words.
"Sure," she says neutrally. "Let me grab my keys."
Glancing over, I watch the wind from the open window play with Sara's hair as she studies the scenery passing by from behind her aviators.
Turning my attention back to the road, for once I don't feel the need to fill the silence, letting the noise from the road accompany us instead.
Taking another left, I glance around, making sure we're headed the right way as I accelerate, taking us further from the strip towards the older side of Vegas.
Passing a shuttered casino front, I take a right, driving us down towards an underpass, car slowing as I scan each alley as we go by.
Spotting what I'm looking for, I travel down the fourth alley until I emerge into what appears to be a deserted lot on the other side.
Crossing it, I join the few other cars parked near a brightly painted van.
Cutting the engine, Sara looks over at me curiously, raising a brow.
I don't comment, and neither does she, simply following after me as I exit the vehicle.
Walking around to the other side of the van, Sara fights a smile as she sees the words painted there.
"'Papa's Pies'?" she questions, head angled to the side.
"One bite and you'll understand."
Nodding slowly, Sara gives me the benefit of the doubt, waiting with me as the person in line finishes ordering from the vendor.
"Flynn! My God, I thought you died!"
Laughing, I step up to the window, shaking my head and taking Papa's offered hand to give it a squeeze.
"If only you were so lucky," I tell him with a smile.
"Oh nonsense!" he counters, giving my hand a light slap. "You're my favorite customer!"
"So you tell all the girls."
He smiles, sending me a wink. "Only the pretty ones."
Laughing, I shake my head, unable to help myself.
"Speaking of," he calls, gesturing to Sara standing behind me. "Who's your friend?"
"Papa, this is Sara," I offer. "Sara, Papa."
"Nice to meet you," Sara says.
"Pleasure's mine," he counters. "Any friend of Flynn's is a friend of Papa's."
"So," he states, slapping the window with excitement. "What's it gonna to be tonight?"
"Triple berry," I order without hesitation, eyes barely scanning the listed offerings.
"Perfect," he smiles widely. "And you?"
"French apple."
He nods eagerly, disappearing inside to fill our orders.
"What?" Sara questions, catching my glance.
"Fifteen flavors of pies and you choose apple?"
"French apple."
"Right."
Shaking my head, I turn in time to grab our orders from Papa, taking the offered forks.
Reaching into my pocket for my money, he shakes his head.
"Nope, it's on me tonight," he states. "You girls look like you could use some warm cooking."
"No-" I start to argue, cut short when I see the look he's sending me.
"Alright," I state, already planning to make up for it with an overly generous tip the next time I'm here.
Offering our thanks, he shoos us away, already focusing on the next group of people approaching.
"There's a spot down near the end of the lot to eat," I gesture ahead of us. "If that's alright with you."
"Sure."
Heading over, we step out from the sun into shadow as we pass under an overpass, making our way through a cement alley to come to the other side.
Gesturing to an abandoned picnic table set against a concrete wall, Sara doesn't comment as she sits along the top of it next to me.
Eyes scanning the graffiti, I spot a couple new additions amidst the old familiar works.
"How'd you find this place?" Sara asks after a few minutes, working to open her pie container with her good hand.
"Got lost, stopped and asked Papa for directions. Ended up with wonderful directions, and even better pie."
Sara raises her brows, taking a bite left handed.
Swallowing, she shakes her head.
"This is ridiculously good," she says, eyes staring at her pie in disbelief.
"I know, right?" I shrug. "I don't want to know how someone prepares nor stores pies in a conversion van, but when it tastes this good I don't think it matters."
"Agreed."
Eating in silence, we take our time, not ready for the serious nature of this visit yet to come.
When we're out of pie and excuses, however, I set my fork down.
"I didn't realize things had gotten to that point for you," I tell her, watching the concrete artwork around us.
She doesn't comment, arms resting on her knees as she also watches the world around us through her dark lenses.
"I can't ever read you, Sara," I state honestly. "Not well enough to know when things really aren't okay."
"Nancy…"
"No," I counter. "This is important, because things really aren't okay."
Taking a breath, Sara surprises me when she doesn't argue.
"I know," she admits instead. "And I'm sorry you saw what you did last night."
Swallowing, she tugs the sleeves of her black sweater down further over her hands.
"I'm ashamed that you saw me like that."
Letting out a breath, adjusting to her admissions, her honesty, I shake my head.
"It's not something for you to be ashamed about," I tell her. "But it's certainly something to be concerned about."
Running my hands down my pants, I try to keep them steady.
"You had a loaded gun in your hand," I state, voice heavy. "And you begged me to leave you alone so you could end your life with it."
Swallowing, I'm suddenly glad I have my own sunglasses on.
"When did things get to that point?" I question in disbelief. "I saw you, talked with you, many times before last night. I never suspected you were that close to something like that."
Sara is quiet for a bit, shoulders hunching in slightly against the cool breeze.
"I think part of me has been at that point ever since I was a kid, Nancy."
Eyes widening, I turn, studying her profile.
It makes sense, I suppose. Seeing the things she has, experiencing the things she has. It'd be naive to think someone who's been through such hell would never think about ending it all.
But still, it's a hard admission to hear coming from someone you care so deeply about.
"I promise it doesn't happen again," her voice cuts into my thoughts. "I'll never do to you and Catherine what my family members did to me. I'm not taking the Sidle way out."
No one speaks for awhile, the wind the only noise around us as it carries leaves and other passengers along the cement.
Reaching over, I keep my gaze ahead of me as I place my hand along her knee, holding onto her tightly.
"Keep your word."
She nods, not pulling away.
"Not that I don't trust you," I state after a moment. "But I think this isn't something to be ignored, Sara. There's so much going on with you, and I'm certain I don't even know the half of it."
"You know the important parts," she tells me.
Pausing a few moments, she seems like she's trying to collect her thoughts, trying to figure out what she wants to say next.
"I, uh, I went and saw Brass this morning," she confesses, expression betraying how difficult this particular revelation is for her to make. "He gave me the names of a couple people…to talk to…"
Brows raising, I watch the breeze move wisps of her dark hair across her pale features.
Squeezing her leg, I can't help but marvel at the person sitting before me. The person who just now showed me the personification of bravery.
"I'm proud of you, Sara."
"Yeah, well, I'll tell you what I told Jim," she says, letting out a sigh. "Getting names is one thing, calling them is another."
"You have them on you?" I question.
Looking over, she raises a brow.
"Yeah…"
Holding out my hand, she studies me for a moment, finally reaching behind her to pull a piece of paper from her back pocket.
Taking my other hand off her leg, I note the two names listed. Then, carefully, I rip the paper in half.
"Nancy?"
Placing my hands behind my back, I glance up.
"Pick one."
"Nancy…"
"Pick one, Sara."
Swallowing, she shakes her head.
"Left."
Reaching into my pocket, I keep my hold on the pieces of paper firm as I pull out my cell phone. Glancing down at the name and number that was in my left hand, I dial the digits.
Holding it to my ear, I wait until it starts to ring.
Then, I extend it out towards Sara.
Watching the phone in my hand, she slowly reaches out, taking it and staring at it a moment more before tentatively raising it to her ear.
"Yes, hi," she states, clearing her throat. "My name is Sara Sidle…I'd like to make an appointment."
NANCY POV
"Sara," I call her back after we pull into the drive.
Turning around, she furrows her brows.
"Yeah?"
"I have something for you," I tell her, trying to keep my expression neutral.
Something must tip her off though, because she suddenly looks like she's debating sneaking up the drive and into the house.
"Don't move," I caution her, stepping around the car to open the trunk.
Pulling out the intended item, Sara watches me warily as I move towards her.
Catching sight of what's in my hands, she holds out her own, stepping back.
"No way."
"Come on," I groan. "Don't make me take you by force."
Snorting, Sara shakes her head.
"Love to see you try."
Rolling my eyes, I fix her with a look.
"Sara, I had to reset your shoulder for the second time last night," I tell her seriously. "You're bordering on serious problems if you screw it up again before it's had a chance to heal."
"Nancy," she practically pleads. "Don't do this to me…try to make me feel all guilty and shit…"
I shrug.
"No need to feel guilty," I tell her. "Just thought you might want to retain the use of your right arm…you being right handed and all."
"You're an ass."
"Does that mean yes?"
She fixes me with a look.
"No."
Seeing my unwavering expression, she groans, reaching up to rub her temples with her good hand.
"Are you really serious about this?" she asks.
"Yes," I answer without hesitation, own voice dead serious. "Last night, the way it felt when I reset it… you're really going to be screwed if it dislocates again before it's healed."
Letting out a breath, she groans, shaking her head.
"Fucking hell, Nancy Flynn."
"Does that mean yes?"
Rolling her eyes, she closes them briefly in defeat.
Taking that as permission, I close the distance between us.
"Carefully, hold out your right arm."
Reluctantly, she does as I ask, eyes watching me warily as I bring the item out into full view, expression letting me know she's about as pleased about this as she would be if I told her I wanted to amputate the darn thing.
Sliding the sling over her arm, I quickly but carefully secure her arm to it using the straps inside.
Draping one of the long straps over her shoulder, I bring the other one with me as I step around behind her.
"Bend your arm at a ninety degree angle and place it against your waist."
Doing as I ask, I draw the straps tight once her arm is in position.
"Jesus," she groans as I secure them firmly along her back.
"Almost done," I tell her, reaching around her to grab the straps positioned on either side of the bottom of the sling.
Bringing them around her waist behind her, I feel her stiffen.
"What the hell…" she mutters, trying to crane her neck around to see behind her. "I thought slings just had the one strap over your shoulder?"
Securing the second set of straps behind her, I pull them tight and fix them in place.
Feeling the added restraint, her eyes take in the sight before her.
Looking over her arm strapped tightly into the sling, the sling which prevents motion vertically using the shoulder strap and horizontally using the waist strap, her eyes shoot to mine.
"Seriously?" she gets out.
Trying not to betray any sort of amusement at her expression, I shrug.
"Slings are designed a bit differently for dislocated shoulders."
"Yeah, apparently," she gets out. "And you tell me this now?"
"Oh gee," I mutter, glancing at my watch. "Got to head out…"
Reaching around behind her, she quickly finds that any attempt to free herself of the sling on her own is a lost cause.
"I'll remember this," she threatens, pointing at my retreating form with her good arm.
Getting into my car, I send her a cheerful wave as I pull off, laughing out loud as she responds with a wave of her own.
One involving a single finger.
CATHERINE POV
Leaning up against the doorframe, I watch her silently, taking in the way she moves, the way the light from the window glances off her eyes, her hair, the way she taps her fingers against the edge of the table where she sits.
Idly, I wonder how long it's been since I've watched her like this, simply observing her when she thinks no one is looking.
Smiling, I step further into the kitchen.
"I see my sister found you."
Looking up at my voice, my unexpected presence, Sara returns my smile with a nod and tentative smile of her own.
"Good," I tell her, gesturing to the sling. "About time."
Shaking her head, Sara groans.
"I take it then you're not going to help me out of this damn thing?"
"Not a chance."
Letting out a sigh, Sara looks dismayed.
Smiling, I reach over and ruffle her hair. "You're cute when you pout."
"I don't pout."
"No," I agree, assessing her. "You're more of a brooder."
Rolling her eyes, Sara looks away, trying to hide the bemused smile pulling at her lips.
I don't bother hiding my own.
It's been so long – days, weeks, months, it seems – since Sara and I shared a light moment like this. When we could simply tease and joke with one another without worrying about the weight of the world crashing in around us.
"I made you breakfast," her voice draws me from my thoughts. "Or dinner, whatever this is."
Raising a brow, I look around until I see the maple cinnamon oatmeal steaming in a bowl on the stove. In it are fresh cut bananas and strawberries.
"Blame your sister for the lack of culinary selection one can craft with one arm."
Shaking my head, I turn, stepping up to her without a word. Leaning down, I take her free hand in mine.
"It's perfect, thank you."
Her eyes fix on my own before traveling further down, her hazel gaze stopping at my mouth.
"I also made coffee…" she says, voice distracted.
I nod vaguely, my own eyes trailing down her cheekbones towards her lips.
"Thanks…"
Reaching forward, I gently trace those same lips with my thumb, watching as Sara's breathing slows to almost nothing.
"I…uh…"
Clearing my throat, I try again, shaking my head as I pull away from her.
"I should eat it while it's hot…"
Sara nods, clearing her own throat as she sends me a look of understanding. A look that lets me know she gets the reason I'm pulling away, the reason we can't, shouldn't, do what we were about to do.
Not now.
Not yet.
Not considering what happened just last night.
Taking my meal and sitting across from her, I claim her free hand in mine, keeping our fingers laced together as I eat.
We might be putting the brakes on in other areas, but I need to touch her right now, need to feel this physical connection with her.
Need to know that she's still here.
"I spoke with Brass this morning," her voice cuts in after a few minutes of silence, the tone slightly strained, but steady. "Asked him for the names of a couple people he would recommend...to talk to."
Eyebrows raising, my spoon pauses inches from my mouth.
"I have an appointment on Monday."
Eyes closing briefly at her words, I put my spoon down, tightening my grip on her hand.
"Sara…I…"
Shaking my head, I marvel at this woman whom I love. Each and every day she continues to surprise me, continues to impress me with the sheer depths of her strength, her character.
"You amaze me," I eventually settle on saying. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."
She smiles slightly.
"The numbers were burning holes in my pocket, Nancy was the one who dialed the phone."
"Doesn't matter," I tell her. "You're the one who got them from Jim, you're the one who made the appointment to go."
My eyes assess hers.
"You're the one who was strong enough to admit you needed help."
Taking a deep breath, she nods her head slowly, eyes filled with a thousand different thoughts and emotions I could never hope to sort out even if I had a thousand years.
"I would say I love you," I tell her quietly. "But it doesn't really seem adequate right now. No words I can think of seem adequate, really."
Smiling lightly, she squeezes my hand, bringing the joined appendages towards her.
Placing my hand against her chest, she holds it there. I feel the racing of her heartbeat, the thundering of the organ against her ribcage.
"No words needed," she whispers, eyes warm. "And the feeling's mutual."
AN: Thanks for reading.
