AN: 3.8

Companion

The darkness is a comfort. They'd become so well acquainted to it: the dreary grey of Seattle's constant downpour, the late nights at the office, the breaking into places they shouldn't be breaking into (also late at night) and the observation area of the interrogation room where they can see everything from their discreet vantage point.

When Linden uses Holder's spare key to get into his apartment, she sees only his silhouette, a dark shadow against the faintest bit of evening light. Thick cigarette smoke fills the room and she almost feels suffocated by it, despite being a regular smoker herself.

She finds her place beside him and he hands her the near-empty box. She thinks 'what the heck' and takes one. For a while, it's clear that they don't know what to say.

And that's where they fall into their other source of comfort: the case, or rather, any case they happen to be working on. Since day one, work had been their life as well as their lifeline. In a kind of twisted irony, it'd always been there to pull them out of uncomfortable situations.

Holder asks about Adrian and it's obvious that he's trying hard to keep the convo afloat. He struggles to sustain the energy to care and they fall into silence again.

"I should have picked up."

Linden seizes the chance to be a friend to him. "Don't do that."

But the dam has already broken and his guilt pours out. The burden is so heavy that she can almost feel it pressing down on her. The guilt is immense, as well as the shame, regret and myriad of 'what ifs.' If Linden doesn't stop him now, doesn't mend the bleeding wound, he'd drown in it and she wouldn't be able to pull him out.

"It's not your fault."

"You want to sit here and die?"

"It's not your fault."

"It's not your fault!"

But she's gotten too close because, at that moment, she sees him bear it all. He's completely vulnerable and trusting and perfectly broken in that moment and he seeks an intimacy she cannot give.

Linden has to be the one to set the boundary. It's painful but she knows it's the right thing to do. They, Linden and Holder, had gotten where they are through some kind of awkward dance and this is just the next clumsy step – at least that's how she reasons it.

But then Holder can't take it any longer and he's sobbing. Linden is at a loss because she's rusty on her soft skills and she all but freezes. She reaches to pat his shoulder but thinks twice about the skin-on-skin contact. Instead, she offers a friendly pat on his knee before withdrawing her touch.

And she leans back on the couch, repeating that mantra over and over again as if to reassure herself that her own personal failure isn't the end of everything.

"It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."

Maybe her words will get through to him and maybe they won't. But Holder needs this emotional release and she would stick by him, whether it'd be through uncomfortable silences, pointless lines, as a nicotine companion or someone to warm the seat beside him. She will be there so that when he pulls himself out of it, he'll see that he's not alone in this, that his pain is not unique to him and that she'd been there in the darkness with him all along.

-End-

AN: I had to remind myself that the "constant downpour" is, indeed, in Seattle and not Vancouver where it's actually shot. There is, in fact, a lot of rain in Vancouver and a typical week in spring yields one rainy day for every 2 sunny ones. Sidenote: they were filming Season 4 two blocks from my workplace and, despite all my efforts to stalk, I failed to catch even a glimpse of either of them.