A/N: First published on LJ and AO3. The episode tags may be read in the order given here, or read as unconnected drabbles and ficlets. They may occasionally reference names or events from the Jennifer Rowe novels (Deadline and Something Wicked).

ALIVE ('CRY WOLF')

"It could've been me."

Those words were hard to admit. She'd been fine for so long, after all. Had gotten her life back in order, gone back to work, done what she'd liked without fear of the unknown. Sleep hadn't always been easy, but at least the nightmares had stopped long ago. She'd even seen the light in the darkness; been optimistic, hopeful.

But then Gunther's attack had triggered her. In an instant, she'd been back with Mumm, with Cramer, with the whole Fairview case. No matter that she'd managed to get out of all those situations on her own — that she'd survived — that old intrusive thought had returned: it could've been her.

Tears sprung to her eyes and Tessa reined in another sob, burying her face in her hands. From beside her on the couch, a respectable three feet away, Steve's hand came to land on her back. It was large, warm, comfortable — and it grounded her, even if she hated that he was seeing her like this.

He didn't have much to say. Not in moments like this. Or, at least not in her experience so far; they'd only been partners for less than a year.

But at least he was there; she wasn't alone. She'd really hate to be alone right now.

So she cried until she stopped, then wiped her tears and breathed. One in, one out, letting the air fill her entire body. Starting in her belly and then her chest and outwards until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes. Then slowly in reverse until she felt every muscle in her body begin to loosen up.

"Sorry about your suit earlier," Tessa said eventually, offering Steve a small smile. He'd removed his hand now and left it lying in his lap as if not knowing where else to put it. "You can send me the dry cleaner's bill."

"'s all right." Steve's lips twitched a little, though his gaze remained a bit preoccupied. "Bit of snot improves the quality."

"That a secret country trick?" Tessa snorted and straightened from her slump, leaning back into the couch cushions.

She threw a glance around her apartment, to the spot on the floor where she'd once lain unconscious in a potential killer's arms. It stiffened her muscles a bit again, sobering her.

Steve, apparently, followed her gaze. "They can't hurt you anymore. You know that, right?"

"…yeah." Tessa nonetheless wrapped her arms around her torso. Wanting to play it off — to get back to the one she'd fought to be — she added with a smile, "Showed Gunther that, didn't I?"

"That you most certainly did.» Steve chuckled, even as his eyes kept their sombreness. «He won't be walking straight for a while."

Not quite sure how to respond to those mixed messages he was sending, Tessa looked away and lapsed into silence. It stretched out for a while until it felt unbearable and she needed to fill it with something.

"Thanks, by the way," Tessa said nervously.

"For what?" Steve sounded genuinely confused.

"Y'know…" She met his gaze, smiled, and looked away again. "Being there." She paused and almost held her breath before adding, "Being here."

Steve didn't respond to that. Not immediately. In the corner of her eye, she thought she could see him hesitate, even emit a silent sigh, before finally reaching out to touch her knee.

"Anytime," he said a second later, his voice all gentle and intimate in a way more common for friends than mere coworkers. And meeting his gaze, she saw it match his tone.

She nearly teared up again because of that. Instead, though, Tessa covered his hand with hers and squeezed it. Steve smiled a little in return, which made her smile too.

And perhaps, right now, that was all she needed to remember that it hadn't been her. After all, she was here. She was breathing. One in, one out. She was—

Tessa smiled as the tension left her.

I'm alive.