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

Spoilers: Season 3, episode 10

Author's Note: I happened to look back at my previous chapter after posting it, and I was shocked by the number of typos I found. My only explanation is that my word processing software rebelled against me, because I'm fairly neurotic about rereading my writing (over and over) before I post it. I apologize profusely, and hopefully now I've corrected all of the mistakes. If you were to read it now, I hope that it would make a lot more sense. And now, back to Linden and Holder.

Linden's phone is ringing, again. She doesn't have to look at the display to know that it's Holder, and somewhere inside she feels the tiniest bit better, knowing that if he's calling her means that he's no longer with Internal Affairs. There's no way they'd let him call her until he was out of their custody. At least there's one thing that Skinner hadn't succeeded at.

Skinner, however, is far less happy to hear Linden's phone ringing. He doesn't want the outside world to know what's going on, of course. Logically, she knows she should just answer it. After all, she's the one with the gun. But knowing that Linden will stop at nothing to find the boy, Skinner tells her that if she wants to see Adrian again, she'll turn off her phone. So she does. She may have the gun, but she doesn't have the power.

Even though fear would be the logical reaction for most people in her situation, knowing what Skinner is capable of and what he has already done, Linden doesn't feel fear for herself. She should be afraid, she's actually conscious of this, she's just far more worried about Adrian that herself. And now that she knows how dangerous Skinner is, she needs to make sure that he's never allowed to hurt anyone else again.

"We'll be there soon," Skinner tells her softly. She wonders where he's taking her, so far away from everything. Is he actually taking her to Adrian, or if this is just a trap of some kind, another lie? Her eyes continue to bore into the side of Skinner's head as he drives, acting unconcerned. She's unsettled by how calm he is. He's acting like this is a perfectly normal outing for the two of them, and as if she didn't have her gun pointed at him from only a few feet away.

It goes on for what feels like hours, Linden sitting rigidly and staring at Skinner, her gun trained on him. From somewhere outside in the gathering darkness, his words from a few short days before (has it been that long? Or was it much longer ago?) float back to her.

They'd been at her house. She can't bear to think any more about the circumstances of them being there, together. Of what they'd done, together…

"Sometimes I think that people like us, we're just supposed to be alone," he'd told her. Had he just been trying to convince her? Does he really believe it? Or is this a product of whatever sickness he has that makes him think that it's okay to kill anyone who he deems unworthy of living? Granted, whether she likes it or not, there are connections between them. They'd been partners years ago, and more than partners, then he'd been her boss after that. He still is her boss. And then there was last night… Yes, they have plenty of connections, and the thought now makes her sick.

"That's not true," she'd told him at the time. She's not sure where those words had come from, because it's hard to remember a time in her life when she didn't feel alone. But it's not something she's meant for, not something she has ever believed she was supposed to be. It's just what she is, all she knows. She doesn't know how to not be alone, how to be with someone. Not really. She can fake it for a little while, but eventually it all falls apart. Every single time. Like everything good in her life, eventually she burns it all to the ground… because she just doesn't know how to hold onto it.

But "supposed to be alone?" Maybe Skinner is supposed to be alone. She has just always been alone because she's so supremely good at fucking up her own life, even when no one else is helping her do it.

But, no, she corrects herself, not completely alone. There's one relationship I haven't fucked up, somehow. Not yet, anyway. I don't understand how, because God knows I've done enough stupid things.The one relationship that she somehow hasn't fucked up yet is the one place where she doesn't feel alone – not completely, anyway, not all the time, which for her is a big deal. She's never noticed it til now, probably because the feeling that she isn't alone is so unfamiliar to her that she hadn't even been able to identify that that's what it is.

No, there's one person who's like the lifeline when she's about to drown… though she's mostly too stubborn to grab onto it, to let him help her. Still, she knows he's there, and that's something.

She's probably never seen it before because she doesn't want to see it, doesn't want to believe that it's possible. It's safer to be alone, because she already knows that every different kind of relationship, every single one, eventually falls apart for her. There's no one who's always going to be there. In the end, everyone leaves, no matter what they promise, or how much they're just supposed to be there. She's known plenty of those people, the ones who were supposed to stay, and they always left anyway. It's only a matter of time.

She silences the voice in her head that wants to believe that she's not alone, because she knows that the more she lets herself believe in people, believe that this time will be different, the more it will eventually hurt when they leave. She's been through it enough times to know, after all. If ever there was an example, for God's sake, it's the man – no, the monster – sitting in the car with her. She knows that not everyone turns out to be a serial killer of teenage girls – that's just her majorly fucked up luck at finding one of the few out there – but it's just another reason not to trust people. Because it's just her luck that the person she has let herself get close to, who she thought she knew and could trust, is the only person she's ever met that's more fucked up than herself.

Almost simultaneously, she hears a voice in her head, calling her on what she's doing, the walls she's building. It's the voice of someone she believes she knows prettywell, and while he may have issues, she's pretty sure he's not a serial killer… not, of course, that she'd thought that of Skinner either. No, Holder may be fucked up, but she's pretty sure it's in the same way she is. She finds this oddly comforting. And because she's Sarah Linden, and because she's as fucked up as she is, of course, the fact that it's comforting terrifies her.

But how can she really be sure that she knows him? The answer, of course, is that she can't. You can't ever really know someone else. She has thought she knew people many times before, and well, look where it got her. Abandoned too many times to count, and now finally, holding a gun on one of them after hearing him confess to killing more than twenty young women – girls – just because he decided it was for the best. If ever there was a reason to never trust anyone again, this seems to her like it.

But Holder's voice is in her head just the same, despite her attempts to block it out, loud and clear. "You never stay. 'Cause if you did, then you'd want it. You'd need it. And then you could get hurt." She feels a tug at her heart at the word hurt, close to the same spot where he'd poked her with his finger as he'd said it. "And left… or not left." And she knows that he's right, and she hates it.

If she wasn't where she is right now, having all these thoughts whir behind her eyes as she stares at the psychopath she's holding a gun on, she would have closed her eyes against all of it. Maybe curled up in a ball and pulled the covers over her head, maybe gone running, maybe thrown herself into the search for Adrian in a more traditional way that let her forget how fucked up her personal life is and bury herself in work. Those are the ways she usually deals with things.

But those aren't options this time, so she pushes all of it as far back in her mind as she can, telling herself that none of it matters, like she always does when it's all just too much. She knows it's not healthy, but it's all she can do.

And then Skinner's talking again, interrupting that wild tangent that her thoughts have taken and asking her, "Why couldn't you walk away?" Of course he wishes that she and Holder had walked away from Angie Gower's body, the one that had led them to realize so many things that they hadn't seen before, that had eventually led her to Skinner.

Walk away? Really? Does he know me at all? she wonders. She doesn't do "walk away," not from work, only from people. Quite the opposite. She walks away from people in favor of her job. After all, no one can walk away from her if she's already left on her own. And the dead can't walk away… which may be what draws her to them. They're the only ones who never leave, no matter how fucked up she may be.

She scoffs at him in disbelief, and he sighs as if he's disappointed with her. "Well, I don't expect you to understand," he says patronizingly.

"Understand what?" she asks in a raised whisper, not believing her ears. It's as though he thinks there would be any way to understand what he'd done, if only she thought about it the right way. "That you murdered twenty-one girls? No, I don't understand that. How could anybody understand that?"

She pauses to collect her muddled thoughts. As long as she's asking him questions, she may as well add a few more. "How do I even know that you're taking me to Adrian? Or that he's alive?"

"You don't," he replies quickly, clicking his tongue as if, once again, he's disappointed in her. "But I told you he was."

There are now tears stinging her eyes. She's managed to keep her composure during this whole ordeal, but she has reached the breaking point. While she's breathing heavily, trying to keep it together, he remains as calm as he's been all along, which only makes her that much more frantic. It only serves to prove even further what a psychopath he is.

He sighs, then almost whispers, "You used to trust me implicitly, Sarah."

He has lost his fucking mind, she thinks in disbelief. It's not as though she doesn't already have evidence of this, of course, but now he's somehow surprised that he's lost her trust! Her head is pounding, and she's not sure how long she can play this game. Because that's what it feels like… some kind of sick game.

"This morning in your kitchen –" he begins.

She shakes her head slightly as she looks away, unable to even look at his as he utters the words, talks about the fact that they'd woken up in her bed that morning, together. "Don't do that," she whispers quickly.

But he continues, undeterred. "I.. I thought it was a beginning for us."

"Don't do that!" she insists, more harshly this time. Of everything that's happened so far, it's finally too much.

"I wanted to change for you," he tells her. "And I thought I could. 'Cause I have been alone…" he stops, shifting uncomfortably, glancing around and out the window before looking back at the road ahead, "for too long." His voice breaks. "For too long," he repeats in a whisper.

She looks down and takes a sharp breath. They do have that in common. Almost as though he's reading her thoughts, Skinner adds "And so have you." She shakes her head quickly, refusing to believe that she's like him, but a tear escapes her eye and she quickly leans down to wipe her face on her shoulder, unwilling to release either of her hands from the gun that's still pointed at Skinner. "So have you," he repeats quietly.

"You and I are nothing alike," she whispers back, looking back up at him. He watches her as though he knows better, and they continue their drive in silence for a few minutes. Skinner can't last long without talking, however, and before long he's talking about the first girl he killed, Bridgette Delahanty. He goes on to tell her exactly what happened that day.

"But you're a father…" Linden insists in disbelief. "You have Bethany, you adore her."

"Those girls were junkies, whores, burden to their families," He tells her, as if that excused killing them. "Human garbage…" he went on, "I save from the inevitability of their lives."

"You're a monster," Linden whispers.

"Maybe," Skinner replies quietly as they exit the highway.

…

The drives seems never ending, as does Skinner's need to talk to her. She knows that it's best to keep him talking, despite the toll it's taking on her emotionally.

"I don't kill children," Skinner insists, to Linden's disgust, when she asks again if he'd killed Adrian.

"They were ALL children!" she says back to him, shocked. All of those girls… she thinks, overcome by the fact that he feels totally justified in having killed them.

"There's a difference between 6 and 16," he tells her matter-of-factly.

"They were 12 year old girls!" She's yelling now. "How do you do that?"

He looks at her calmly and replies, "I don't need excuses." He's so calm about it, it makes her nauseous. After a brief pause, he continues. "What about you? What's your excuse? Why are you here?"

The question strikes her as ridiculous. What am I here? To find Adrian, of course!

"Hmm? Are you here for Adrian, or is it because you need to understand how you could've made love to me just a few hours ago?"

She's shaking her head, her face contorted in pain and disgust, before all the words are even out of his mouth. "Don't do that," she says again.

"It meant something, Sarah," he continues. "Admit it. You loved me, Sarah."

"Because I didn't know you," she whispers.

"No. But a part of you did… part of you did," he insists calmly.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, honestly baffled.

"No, you knew something. You knew something. I mean, that's why you ended up in the hospital. But you still loved me."

That's when she can't take it anymore, and begins swinging her arms, trying to punch him as he pushes back against her with his right hand, his left hand remaining on the steering wheel. "Oh, you – you bastard! You son of a bitch! Don't you make this about me!" she yells.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" he says in surprise as he tries to defend himself. He loses control of the car as she continues to swing at him, and they veer into the other lane.

"You're gonna kill us both, Sarah, stop!" he yells, as he attempts to regain control of the car. There are headlights heading right for them and they hear the blare of a horn.

"What are you gonna do?" she yells.

It's all Skinner can do to shout, "Stop! Stop!" Luckily for them, the oncoming car swerves around them, honking angrily, as Skinner stops the car on the left side of the road.

"Hit me? Cut my throat? Is that what happens?" she's still yelling at him, not knowing whether he's heard anything she's said in the past sixty seconds.

"Stop it!" he shouts again.

They're stopped now, and Linden opens the passenger side door. She needs to get out of the car, now. No matter that they're in the middle of nowhere, in the dark. It has started raining as they've been driving, but that doesn't matter either. Without closing the car door, she runs a short distance away before leaning over and braces herself on her knees so that she can throw up. She has past her breaking point.

Skinner slowly gets out of the car and walks over to where she's standing hunched over, moaning slightly. As he approaches and offers her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth, she stands up straight. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Just get away from me!" she cries, waving the gun around in his direction, though not aiming it at him. "Get back in the car."

She shifts back and forth, crying, for a short time before falling to the ground. I can't do this, she thinks. It's too much. He takes the few steps toward her slowly, closing the gap between them again, and crouches down beside her. Slowly, he puts his hand on her shoulder. She's not pointing the gun at him anymore. In fact, if he'd wanted to get it from her, it would have been easy. She's sitting almost limply, defeated.

He withdraws his hand after a moment and she says quietly, "Where is he?"

He answers in the same flat tone, "Not far," and gets back up and goes back to the car. Linden stares after him. She wipes her face with the handkerchief he'd given her, slowly, unsure whether she can go on.

But then, unexpectedly, she hears that voice in her head again. Holder's voice. He tells her to get her ass off the ground and get back to work, that he knows she doesn't want to give up now, even if she's forgotten.

She'd been thinking the opposite actually, that there was no point. Giving up had seemed like an option. After all, she's sitting in the dark, in the rain, with no idea where she is, totally defeated by what has just happened. It's all just too much. She's questioning everything she knows about herself, wondering, What if I am like Skinner?

Then suddenly, it's like hearing his voice gives her hope again, reminds her of what she knows – that she isn't like Skinner. She's fucked up, no doubt, but she isn't like him. And she isn't alone, not really.

So with just a spark of hope, she finally pulls herself off the ground, exhausted both physically and emotionally, and walks toward the car. She needs to find the strength to finish this.

…

They're still driving. It's beginning to feel like the drive will never end. Linden doesn't know what will happen when they reach their destination, and she's just barely hanging on.

"Are there more girls in the lake?" she asks him. She's no longer pointing the gun at him. Since she returned to the car she's been riding facing forward, mostly looking out the side window. She just can't look at him any longer. The will to fight seems to have drained out of her for the time being.

"And other places," he replies simply. "No one will ever find them."

This revelation is finally just too much. She's near tears as she says, "It's the loneliest thing in the world, waiting to be found." She should know, she feels like she's been doing that all her life. Waiting for someone to find her, to see her… really see her. But no one ever does. She has been hiding in plain sight.

Then suddenly, Holder's voice is in her head again… something he'd said to her on the day that Jack had been missing. "Sometimes I think you just run away just so someone'll come looking for you."

At the time he'd said it, she'd told him she had no idea what he was talking about. Except that she had, at least sort of. She'd just hated that he could see it so clearly, that he'd called her on it. They'd barely known each other then… except that he somehow knew her anyway, despite her best efforts. At the time, it had terrified her. Now… it felt different. Still terrifying, but… different somehow.

…

Linden and Skinner are standing in the dark, among the trees. First, Skinner had said that Adrian was in the trunk. Now he says that he had lied. "If there's one thing I regret, it's killing that boy."

"NO," Linden says, as if she can will it not to be true. Before either of them knows what's happening, there's a gun shot, and Skinner falls to the ground.