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

Spoilers: Season 3, episode 7

Sirens wail in the distance. Pastor Mike is sitting down beside Linden on the pier. He has already thrown his gun in the water, it will only be a matter of minutes before he's arrested. The sirens close in, and Linden takes deep breaths. It's over. I'm safe. Officers approach from behind them. Fog has suddenly rolled in and everything is obscured, making the water in front of them all but invisible. Many, many officers close in on them, yelling for him to put his hands up.

Linden starts getting up slowly, her hands raised partway, as Pastor Mike remains sitting on his knees a few seconds longer. She stands upright fully, turning to face her fellow officers, as he begins getting up. She turns around to look at him. "Get your hands out of your pockets," she tells him.

Holder is now standing front and center with the officers that have their guns trained on Pastor Mike. He looks scared, she notices.

"Get your hands out of your pockets!" one of the many officers yells.

"Get your hands out or they'll shoot you!" Linden whispers harshly to him.

Pastor Mike is still facing the water, standing but with his hands in his pockets. Linden spreads her arms, stepping in front of him to block any shots they're thinking of taking. "He doesn't have a gun! Don't shoot him! He doesn't have a gun!" Linden yells to the others

"Take your hands out of your pockets!" This time it's Holder. He can't relax until this maniac is in custody.

Linden turns to Pastor Mike, still standing in front of him. "You make these men shoot you, they'll carry it all their lives," she pleads.

"Get out of the way, Sarah." Holder never calls her Sarah. EVER. She couldn't remember him doing it even once. Did that mean something?

Linden's still standing in front of him, her hands in the air. "He doesn't have a gun."

Pastor Mike slowly takes his hands out of his pockets, as if in slow motion, and raises them in the air. As soon as he does, Linden steps quickly to the side and officers descend on him. Holder pushes him to the ground and pulls his hands behind his back, handcuffing him. "Check that he's secure," an officer orders.

Linden is standing off to the side, breathing hard, watching the scene unfold. Reddick and another officer pull Pastor Mike up off the ground and lead him away.

"Let's go," Reddick tells him gruffly as they walk away.

As if only now fully grasping that the ordeal is over, Linden suddenly begins shaking and crumples to the ground, leaning an elbow on her knee and resting her head against the palm of her hand. Holder walks over slowly but purposefully to sit beside her. He just watches her for a minute, trying to decide what to do.

She's sitting beside him, shaking. Normally he wouldn't get anywhere near her – he knows better – but this isn't normally. Finally, still sitting far enough away that there's space between them, he reaches across her back and puts his hand on her far shoulder, squeezing gently, rubbing it slightly, then squeezing it again.

"You ok?" he asks her gently.

Linden just nods her head. She will be.

Linden

Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. It's over. You're safe. It's okay, just like you knew it would be. Holder did it, he found you. He came through. He's still right there, right next to you. Don't push him away like you do to everyone in your life. He cares about you – you know he does, even if you don't want to admit it. You don't have to push him away, like you do to everyone else.

I'm talking to myself as if I'm two separate people. Who does that? I'm giving myself advice? This is just weird. It doesn't even sound like something I'd SAY…

Maybe not, but it's something you need to hear, so shut up and listen.

Okay, whatever… Holder called me Sarah. No one who actually knows me calls me Sarah, except Regi. What did it mean that he called me Sarah that time? Something? Nothing? It's so confusing…

…

"Hey Linden, come crash at my place tonight." They were sitting in the car outside the station, the two of them, but Holder hadn't made a move to leave. He'd offered her a cigarette, but she'd turned it down without even a second glance. She was just staring out the window. He couldn't tell if she was lost in thought or just plain traumatized. Maybe it was some of both. He was relieved that they'd gotten to her in time, but he was still worried about her. There was no way to gauge what a normal reaction would be in this situation, but she just seemed too… calm. Distant. It was scaring him a little bit. He'd feel better if he could at least keep an eye on her…

"No thanks, Holder, I just wanna go home," she'd insisted without looking at him. Still staring out that damn window.

"Seriously, Linden. I promise I'm not hitting on you or nothing. Scout's honor." That made her turn and glance at him, a hint of a smile creeping slowly across her face. Taking that as a cue, he pushed a little farther. "I mean come on, I got a girlfriend. Besides, far as I remember you're the one who showed up at my door last time."

She rolled her eyes at him then, shaking her head. "Shut up Holder," she replied, looking at him for the first time in the last ten minutes. He grinned, happy to see a flash of the same old Linden. "When did you become a boy scout, anyway?" she added.

"I could be a Boy Scout, you dunno," Holder insisted, pretending to be insulted. Linden chuckled, and Holder joined in. "Okay, so it's a stretch…"

Linden returned her gaze out the window, her smile fading. Holder started the car and put it into reverse, then eased out of the parking lot and onto the streets of Seattle.

"So, just drop me off at my car, okay?" She paused, thinking about the fact that she had driven her car, with Pastor Mike in it, to the pier. He saw the look of panic on her face for just half a second before she turned to look out the window again.

"No dice, Linden. I'm sure they're gonna be processin' it for evidence for a while. I'm drivin' you home," he said in no uncertain terms. On that he wasn't taking no for an answer.

She sighed, glancing out the window, then back at Holder. She wanted to be annoyed, and yet… at the same time she was glad. "Fine, but only because I have no choice," she said. Her words said she was annoyed, but her tone was warm. He just shook his head at her, keeping his attention on the road ahead. She really was a piece of work.

They didn't exchange much more in the way of small talk during the rest of the drive to Linden's house. They were both pretty exhausted, and they were comfortable enough around each other that they didn't feel like they needed to chat constantly. Holder pulled up in front of Linden's house and if he didn't know better, he'd say he thought he saw her tense slightly. He still didn't like the idea of leaving her here alone, but this was her house, and she was an adult. There wasn't much else he could do.

"You need anything?" he asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Nope, I'm good." She paused, then took a breath and said "Thanks Holder. For… you know… everything." Her smile then would have been considered slight for most people, but for Linden it counted as a big smile. She glanced down, then up at him again, and he could tell she wasn't just talking about the ride home. He knew it was a "big thank you," even though he knew she didn't want him to make a big deal out of it. He decided to play it off as normal.

"No problemo, Linden. You know I got your back," he gave her the same little boy grin as usual. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as usual, but she was looking tenser and tenser to him. His gut was telling him that she wasn't okay, no matter how hard she was trying to pretend that she was. Suddenly he had an idea that would both allow him to drop her off now, but also check on her later, so he felt a little better about leaving her there.

Linden got out of the car, closing the door and smiling at Holder through the window. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and walked slowly up to the door. She could feel him watching her, and she tried as hard as she could to pretend that she didn't feel as tense as she did about being home alone right now.

I'm better alone, she repeated to herself as she had a million other times in her life. I'm better alone, she repeated as she walked up to her door, as she unlocked the door, as she closed the door behind her. I'm better alone, she repeated as she took off her jacket and set it on a chair, as she sat down on the couch. I'm better alone, she repeated as she stood up again almost immediately and walked cautiously from one room to the next, as if her house was a crime scene that she was attempting to "clear."

I'm better alone, she repeated to herself as she ended up back in the living room, turning on the tv just to have some noise in the background. I'm better alone, she repeated to herself as she tried not to jump at every creak and squeak that she heard in her quiet house, as she tried to drown out the voice in her head that told her she didn't want to be alone. I'm better alone, she repeated to herself as she chewed on her bottom lip and tried desperately to believe it.

But she didn't.

She was still fighting this battle with herself an hour later, when there was a knock on the door.