Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

Spoilers: Season 2, episode 13

Author's Note: I reversed the way I have structured most of the previous chapters this time, and skipped the middle section, so this chapter's a little shorter… I just really wanted to end with that particular scene from the season 2 finale, and it just felt finished, despite the length. I know the updates on this story have slowed down a little - I've been busy lately, and I've also started a Walking Dead (my newest obsession) fanfic, but I have every intention of seeing this one through the end of season 4. Thank you all for sticking with me.

DAY 26

Holder got up and walked quickly to catch up with Linden as she left their darkened office and disappeared around the corner, Rosie Larsen's home movie in hand.

"Yo, Linden. Where're you going? You gonna watch Rosie's video? Now?" he called after her.

Linden stopped mid-way down the hall and turned around to watch him as he caught up with her. She just bobbed her head in response, the same grim, pursed lipped expression on her face that'd been there as they'd sat in their darkened office. She'd barely said a word except to ask him for a cigarette. "Might as well, I guess. Not that it matters now," she finally answered flatly.

Linden was almost always serious about work, but this was different. Something was off. She remained where she was, just stood and looked at Holder, as if by stopping mid-way to her destination, she'd suddenly lost the desire to go there at all, or to go anywhere else. She looked exhausted in every way a person can be exhausted. It was like that last little bit of hallway was just too much.

It was another one of those moments where Holder just… knew. He couldn't explain how, and he couldn't even put into words what he knew.

"C'mon," he said as he walked the last few steps to where she stood, "You're right, we might as well." He took a step past her, but she didn't move. She seemed to be rooted to the spot where she stood. His own exhausted expression softened a little then. "C'mon, Linden. Walk with me." She did move then, and they walked side by side the rest of the way to the room at the end of the hall with the film equipment. There was no need to say anything else.

…

Linden and Holder are sitting in that same stupid car as usual, parked in an alley. Finally, after what had felt like a million twists and turns, the Rosie Larsen case is closed. Solved. Finished, for sure this time. Linden knows she should feel relief. Closure. And maybe in some ways she does.

Holders phone rings, and he answers, hoping it's not anything urgent. "Hey, Holder. What? You gotta be kidding me. Yeah, yeah, whatever, we'll be there." He hangs up in disgust. He doesn't even want to tell Linden the news, because he knows she's not going to like it. She'd been even quieter than usual all day. She hadn't even objected to his wanting to drive, which tells him not for the first time that day that something is up. "They found a body down near Seatack. Lou says we're first up."

Linden stares at him with a frown, then gazes out the front window into the distance. Without a word, or even a change in her expression, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car, shutting the car door behind her. Holder can't even claim to be surprised. He hadn't known exactly what he was expecting her to do, but he had known that whatever it was, it would happen soon.

"Linden," he calls. She leans down to the open window, half smiling at him then, the first time that day. He knows from the look on her face that she isn't coming with him, no matter what. Something tells him that she's just had enough, and he wants to say something to her before she disappears. "We got the bad guy."

"Yeah? Who's that?" He can't answer that question.

"Hey, keep in touch. You're my ride, ya know?"

Once upon a time – only twenty-six days ago, and yet several lifetimes ago to him – he had uttered these words to her as a complaint, back when it was clear that they couldn't stand each other. Now, less than a month later, those same words are the strongest endearment he can think of, and the only thing he can think to say to her before she bolts. Because he knows that she's going to. He doesn't try to stop her, because he knows her well enough by now to know that she needs to go. It's hard to watch your best friend walk away, but he's come a long way in making peace with his demons, and he knows that she needs to do the same.

He starts the car and drives away, hoping that he'll see her again, eventually.

She stands still for a minute in the spot that had been beside the car a moment before, then walks a few steps before she stops to stare at the Larsens' moving and storage sign and the van with the same logo that's parked below it. She takes it all in for the last time. She doesn't know exactly how she feels, but the best way she can describe it is drained, both physically and emotionally. More than drained. Empty. She knows that she did it to herself, again. She saw it coming, she told herself she wouldn't let it happen, but in the end, she couldn't stop herself.

She knows what she has to do. She has to get away this time, now while she has the chance, before she gets sucked in again. Not sure of her actual destination, she turns and walks down the street, away from all of this. Unsure of what she's running from, only sure that it's time to go.