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

Spoilers: Season 4, episode 1

When the uni leaves, Linden puts her head in her hands at her desk. Holder gets up and closes the door, then stands and leans against the wall just beside the door, staring at her in disbelief. She looks back up at her computer, avoiding his eyes. She knows he's going to be pissed.

"You asked for a photo of Skinner's car?" Holder can't keep the anger out of his voice, though he's trying.

"I didn't know it was his car," Linden replies defensively. That had been back before… all of it. Before they'd realized who they were looking for. It seems like a million years ago now.

"Is there anything else? Anything else that could fuck us up?" His tone is cold. It's not that he wants to be an asshole, but goddammit it's the details that could bring them down… something like this… If anyone else is paying close enough attention… No, he can't think about it.

"No, but maybe you need to check your coat again," she spits back at him, equally coldly. She's not used to feeling like this with him. Defensive. Isolated. She's been the target of a lot of indifference, anger and hostility over the years, but it stings the most coming from him. This feeling, along with the rejection that always went with it, was the reason she'd always built the walls around herself.

The ones she doesn't have with him. She hopes it's not showing on her face.

Holder pushes himself off the wall and walks across the office towards the desks. "We need to keep our shit tight here, alright?" His voice has lost a little bit of its angry tone, and he now just sounds serious.

She looks up at him but doesn't respond as he sits back down in his chair, looks at the file on his desk, then up at her. He's not trying to be nasty to her, though he knows it's probably coming across that way, but she needs to know the reality of what they're dealing with. He's trying to clean up after her… again. He's doing it for their own good – both of them.

"Is there anything else? Think," he insists.

"No, there's nothing," she whispers.

He leans in a little towards her, not really wanting to say what he's about to say. Still, he feels like it should be said. "Look. Look, I know how… how personal this is to you," he begins, not knowing exactly how to proceed, knowing that there's a good chance that she's going to react badly. He's not afraid of her, of course, though he definitely prefers not to piss her off when he can avoid it. Really, he wants to remind her that he's there for her. But from the confused look on her face, she has no idea what he's talking about.

"What?" she asks shortly.

"I mean…" he begins unsurely, then thinks Oh the hell with it, just spit it out already. So he continues, "…with you and Skinner… being together…"

Linden's eyes widen and her face fills with panic. "Shut up!" she yells, but in a whisper.

Fuck, Holder thinks. That went over about as well as I expected it to. He decides to change his tactic. "I'm…"

But she doesn't let him finish. "You shut up," she hisses, still whispering. She looks completely disgusted, and suddenly jumps out of her chair. He continues to stare in the same general direction as the space she just left, not even looking up as she walks past him and out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Holder stares at Linden's desk, sighing heavily, and feeling defeated. What else can I do? He wonders. Shit is so far beyond messed up. So far.

You can't help her if she's determined not to let you, the voice in his head says.

He closes his eyes and sighs again, letting his head hang down. It's true, and he knows it, and that's the frustrating part. He wants to help her. Yet he knows that she'll block him out, telling herself that she's better off alone… but he knows that she's not. After all this time, he can't understand why she can't see that. Why she can't accept that even one person wants to be there for her. He understands the reasons behind it, yes… he just can't believe that after everything he's done to prove it, she still doesn't seem to trust him.

He's never taken it personally that she shuts him out, not since he got to know her anyway, and he's not insulted now. But what he is is exhausted. He's trying to hold them both together, and Linden's walking around seeming like she's gonna give it all away any second. He knows that she wouldn't do it on purpose, but she's so goddamn transparent right now, who knows what's gonna be the thing that breaks her.

She doesn't want him to – what'd she accuse him of at the hospital? – to "handle" her, to hover. She doesn't want to be treated with kid gloves. What the fuck does she want? Does she want him to let her screw both of them over by getting caught? Cause that's not happening, not if he can help it. Does she want him to just let her run away and hide, again? Does she want him not to care about her at all? No, he doubts at least that last one, though it seems like the idea that someone cares about her is about as hard for her to believe in as it is for some people to believe in life on Mars, or reincarnation.

He sighs again, opens his eyes and stands up. Suddenly he just has to get out of the station. Without even deciding where he's going, he walks briskly to his car, barely hearing or responding to the greetings from other cops on his way.

It's raining outside, as usual, but it doesn't bother him. On the contrary, it feels very appropriate to his current mood.

Please, he tells the sky, wash it all away.

…

Linden's standing on one of the interior decks on the ferry, staring out the window. She's trying to make her mind blank, to stop the racing thoughts. Having to take this damn ferry is frustrating now that she's working at SPD again. It was all so simple when she'd moved to the island… she'd made it simple, on purpose. No dead people. No cases. No intrusions from the outside world if she didn't want them. She'd told herself that she was happy. She'd wanted to be happy that way. She had a home and a job, nothing messy, no complications… even a younger boyfriend who seemed head over heels in love with her. Her. Sarah Linden, world's most fucked up adult. It was the life that she'd wanted. The life that she'd thought she'd wanted, anyway.

But she'd been lying to herself, she just hadn't seen it then… she hadn't wanted to see it. Then there was that day that Holder had come out to see her, and that was when she'd known. She'd told herself at that time that it was nice to have him visit, and that that was enough. It had been nice to see him, to talk to him. He'd cleaned himself up, finally. He'd seemed more confident, less like a rookie fresh off narcotics undercover, which was what he had been when they'd started working together.

Yes, she had actually been glad that he'd come out to see her. She'd even admitted to herself that she missed working with him, spending all that time with him, even if what they'd been doing for all those hours had been bleak and depressing. It had been comforting having a partner, someone who had her back. She had missed that part of it, she realized.

So why had she cut him off along with everything else? She had simply needed distance from all of it after the Rosie Larsen case. She'd needed to step back. She'd lost herself in the case again, which she'd told herself that she wouldn't do again after the Seward case, and it had scared her. At that time, she had needed to start over, the way she had meant to do in Sonoma. Holder had been a casualty of that, through no fault of his own. Luckily, he didn't seem to blame her for cutting him out of her life.

But she realized when he showed up at her house, when he left that file there for his new case – yes, she had known right away that he'd done it on purpose – the case that seemed so much like her old Seward case, that she had been lying to herself for quite a while. This quiet life she'd built for herself? It wasn't her. She'd thought that she wanted it, but it was all a lie.

She needed her life as a cop. She didn't want to, but deep down, that was what she was. She was good at her job. Really, it was the only think she was good at. It wasn't "safe" like her life on the island, but it was her.

Maybe that was the part that scared her, that she needed it. Throughout her life, she'd only been burned by needing people. She liked to think she didn't need anything or anyone, and she'd almost convinced herself that she didn't. Almost.

She leans her forehead against the glass of the window, overlooking the water, and closes her eyes. The surface of the glass is cool against her skin, and a fleeting sense of peace spreads through her. It only lasts a few seconds, however, before reality intrudes again. She wonders how she got here, to such a fucked up place in her life. It's as though every time she asks herself that question, she somehow finds a way to fuck her life up even more spectacularly. She shudders at the thought, unsure of how exactly she can top where she is now in terms of fucking up her life again. The thought is terrifying.

She almost laughs out loud at the absurdity of it all, but stifles the sound in her throat. Breathing in deeply, she tries to exhale slowly and dispel the sudden rising panic that she feels. She can't answer any of her own questions. She wishes that she could push herself away the same way that she can do it to others, wishes that she could leave herself behind and just walk away somewhere, where no one knows her and it doesn't matter who she is or what she has done. Somewhere where she can lose herself in a crowd, or in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't matter which one. She just wants to disappear.

And yet, she has never wanted more urgently in her life to scream at the top of her lungs. For someone to hear her, for someone to see her. To really see her. She opens her eyes and removes her forehead from the glass of the window, looking out once again at the water. The sky is overcast, and the water seems to go on forever... or maybe it's just that she's trying not to see the land on the other side. There must be a metaphor for my life in that, she think, shaking her head slowly. She takes another deep breath and clears her mind, pushing all of it aside. It doesn't matter, she tells herself. It doesn't matter.

And it also doesn't matter that she doesn't believe her own words. She'll keep repeating them until she does believe them. Because more than anything, she wants to believe them.

…

Holder uses his key and goes into Caroline's apartment. He'd expected her to be home, but he doesn't hear noise anywhere in the apartment. No one responds when he calls "Hello?" from the door, but there are a few lights on, which is usually a sign that she's home. For a second he panics, wondering if something has happened to her. His police training kicks in, and he walks slowly further into the apartment, suddenly anxious, alert for anything that looks out of place.

He finds her in the bedroom, just standing there staring into space. He feels relief when he sees her there, safe, but the look on her face has him concerned. He's definitely not prepared for what she tells him.

She's pregnant.

He tries to retain his composure, but he snaps at her a little before managing to calm himself down. On top of everything else, all the things that he can't talk to her about… it's all just too much. He manages to get ahold of himself, and realizes that they're both a little freaked out about this development. He wants to do the right thing, just like he always wants to… he tries to, anyway.

But oh my God, this is something I could fuck up so spectacularly it would put all my other fuck ups to shame, he thinks as he walks around the corner to pick up the Thai food that they agreed on. He passes the Thai restaurant and keeps on walking for several blocks, before cutting over and winding between buildings. He's not even conscious of where he's going, he just knows he needs to walk, to move, to do something. The feeling that he's quickly losing control of his life, one aspect of it at a time, overwhelms him.

Eventually he winds his way back to the restaurant and orders the food. While they're preparing it, he walks a few more blocks to pass the time, suddenly unable to be still. I'm going to be a father. This was not part of the plan. He's managed to fuck himself up enough, and now he'll be responsible for not fucking up a kid? The thought is terrifying.

A little more than an hour after he left Caroline's apartment, he returns with the food. She looks at him curiously, but doesn't ask any questions. He figures she probably understands that he needed a little space to process the news, so he doesn't offer an explanation. He tries to act natural as they eat and relax, but it's not easy.

Later, they're sitting with empty plates on the coffee table in front of them, watching something on the Discovery Channel that neither one of them has really been able to focus on. He turns and looks at her, not speaking, just watches her intently for a full minute as if he's looking for something. Finally, she looks away from the TV towards him, getting slightly uncomfortable.

"Stephen, are you okay?" she asks worriedly.

He tries to force the corners of his mouth into a smile, or something that passes for one, but he's not entirely sure he manages it. He nods his head slightly, still looking at her intently. She reaches out to take his hand, assuming that the news of her pregnancy is what has him behaving so strangely. For most guys, that would be enough to throw them off their game, after all.

"I just…" he starts, but doesn't know how to finish the sentence. She can't remember the last time she saw him at a loss for words, and she smiles sympathetically.

"I know. It's a lot to take in," she says soothingly. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out."

He nods his head again, slightly more confidently. "Yeah," he whispers. He wants to believe it.

She looks down at her watch, then back up at him. "You and Sarah are meeting up early tomorrow, right?" He can't do anything but nod. He doesn't want to be reminded of Linden just then, of the shit going on in what feels like every part of his life that exists outside of her orderly apartment. And now, inside it as well.

"Yeah, but I'll stay if you want me to," he says quietly, finally finding his voice. She leans into him and he slips his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"You know I love having you around anytime you want to be here," she tells him, snuggling against him. "But I know you have to be out there early. It's okay if you don't stay." She leans back so she can look in his eyes.

He looks at her searchingly, trying to figure out if he should take her words at face value, or if this is one of those things that women say that he's not supposed to believe. She's not usually like that, though. He likes that about her. Maybe because of her job, but she generally means what she says.

He considers his options. As much as he enjoys the cocooned, safe from the shit in the rest of his life, calming feeling he has – or had, until today – in her apartment, he doesn't think he can handle it tonight. He's torn though, because she's just told him that she's pregnant. What's the right thing to do?

He sees her watching him, and knows that he has to come up with an answer. He decides to take a chance and take her words at face value. Still, he wants to be sure she's not just saying it. "You sure you're good either way? I mean, you just…" Again, the words are failing him, much to his frustration.

Shaking her head, she smiles at him. He's so cute when he's overwhelmed, she thinks. "It's no different from any other night when you have an early day in the morning," she reassures him.

Looking slightly nervous, he replies, "Okay… well if you're sure… I think I'm gonna go back to my place and crash for a little bit. You're right, Linden and I are meeting up early, so…" he trails off, unable to think of anything else to add. They both stand up, and she walks with him to the door of her apartment. He stands there unsurely, looking like he wants to say something, but remaining silent, like he wants to run, but he stands and shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

She puts her hands on his chest and stands on her toes to kiss him on the lips, feeling him relax slightly. "Good night," she says as he puts his arms around her. "Call me tomorrow?"

"You know it," he replies with a smile, convincing himself that he can fake normalcy for the five seconds that it'll take him to get out of her apartment.

Outside the apartment, he tries to walk calmly until he's around the corner, out of the line of sight from her door. There, he leans against a wall and has to resist the temptation to sink down the wall to the floor. He remains standing there for a few minutes, suddenly trying to catch his breath. He hadn't even realized he wasn't breathing normally, and wonders nervously when that had started.

It's too much, he thinks to himself. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear his mind a little. No, keep it together, Holder. You got this. It's all kinds of fucked up, but you got this.

He keeps repeating these words over and over as he makes his way back to his apartment, thinking only of a shower and a few hours' sleep before going out to the island to check on Linden. God knows what he kind of a state he'll find her in.

Those words – "You got this" – become a mantra, the one single thing that he can find to hold on to. It seems impossible that there can be so much shit going on and he can even think of staying calm, but what are his options? Easy, there aren't any others.

If he keeps his shit together, he keeps himself and Linden out of jail. He can't talk to Caroline about any of it. Not the shit with Skinner, for obvious reasons, and not even how fucking terrified he is about having a baby. That's not exactly the kind of thing you say to your girlfriend who just found out she's pregnant. He's not really on great terms with his sister, not that he could tell her anything about the shit he and Linden are in if he was. And realistically, she's probably not gonna be in favor of him being a dad, considering how she feels about him being an uncle.

No, the only one he could safely talk to is Linden, but she's practically off the deep end herself already. If anything, he needs to avoid freaking her out and keep her calm, so he doesn't really wanna talk to her about any of it.

So there's no other choice but to keep himself going. You got this, he tells himself over and over as he lays in bed, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. He's watching his life spin completely out of control and it seems absurd to think that he's in control of any of it. Still, he repeats the words to himself, again and again.

Because more than anything, he wants to believe them.