Erin stands on the porch of her childhood home. She hasn't been back in two years and to be on the front steps, staring at the white, oak door brought back a rush of nostalgic memories. She has a large suitcase positioned on her right, a medium sized suitcase to her left and a smaller duffel bag sitting in front of her. She was back in Chicago for good. She was back in the city that has shaped her and groomed her to be the confident, successful woman that she is today. She feels hesitant to knock, knowing that she's unexpectedly shown up on her parents' porch at such a late hour but when she hears the huff and the impatient grunt coming from Milo, her eleven month old German shepherd, she blinks out of her reverie, out of her worries. He sat in front of his owner, facing her and released a concerned whine when he noticed her unmoving body, frozen to the spot as she tried to think of what to say when her parents answered the door.

"You're back," the front door swings open and she's met with the eyes of her mother, "Hank, come quick, look Erin is here," she steps outside into the cold night. And the white sweater she's wearing, Erin had gotten it for her birthday last year, and she looked absolutely amazing in it. Her mother, the woman who adopted her, pulled her into an embrace that she didn't realize she needed. There's nothing like the love and comfort from a mother's arms, "I'm so happy you're back," she whispered, hands rubbing up and down the back of her black, leather jacket, "I've missed you so much. Are you here for good? Let me look at you," she pulls away, arms grasping Erin's biceps as she gives her a once over, "You're too thin. Have you been eating?"

"Camille, let her come inside first before you start hounding her with questions."

Milo slips through their legs and runs into the house, exploring the up and downstairs to ensure that it was safe for his person. He was such a protective dog, so loyal and comforting. He's been the one at her side when she was down and out; it was after the end of her relationship and it was after Justin's death, she had been alone and found an abandoned puppy, who had to be around three or four weeks old, that she took under her wing by taking him to the veterinarian to get all of his shots, she took him to the groomers to get a bath, a deep shampoo and a haircut and then she carried him with her to the pet store to buy an endless supply of toys, a doggy bed and different brands of dog food to see which one he preferred. She took a chance and showered him with love and for that, he supplied her with a love like no other and loyalty that never wavers.

Her dad stepped outside to grab the two larger suitcases to bring them inside before Erin grabbed the smallest one, "I have two more bags in the car." She took one step into the warm home, the bottom of her black boots being cushioned by the welcome mat in the doorway. It felt good to be back. She's always wanted to come back home but she's never gotten around to it. In the last two years, her parents had always found the time to visit her in New York but she never had enough days off to fly to Chicago to see them. Since Justin's death, she had buried herself in work and a toxic relationship and now it was time for a new start. It's been two years since her brother was killed in the line of duty. It's been two years since she ended the toxic relationship with her ex and decided to be single, to enjoy her life as a single woman with her dog as her best friend.

"How are you kiddo?" Voight approaches her. His hand rises to cup her cheek, angling her head so he can look into her eyes to see what her words have not said, "Two more bags? Is that all you got? Are you shipping the rest of your things over?"

"I sold all my furniture. I just kept my car and packed up all my clothes and personal items."

Camille reached for her hand, lifting it to check out the small scar, "You drove all the way here from New York? I could have sent you a plane ticket."

"I could have just picked you up," her dad says because the thought of her driving twelve hours unnerves him, which is why she said nothing. She didn't want them to worry.

"It's fine. I was a safe driver. I abided all traffic laws. You would be proud."

"Are you hungry?" Camille's eyes remain focused on the scar spanning across her daughter's wrist, "I've made a pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy and asparagus, -your father's favorite," she brushed her finger along the scar and struggles to smile through her frown, "I can go to the store in the morning and make your favorite for dinner tomorrow."

"That sounds great mom, thanks. And you've hit the nail on the head, I'm actually starving right now," Erin tugs her hand away and holds it behind her back. She watches as her father grabs her bags –somehow managing to hold all three- and carry them up the stairs. Milo is at his feet, following along to see where he's going to put his owner's possessions.

"Come with me, I'll make you a plate," Camille takes her daughter's other hand and leads her into the dining room, "your father is taking everything up to your old room."

When Erin walks into the dining room, she notices that her parents' unfinished plates were still on the table. She must have interrupted them during dinnertime. She shimmies out of her leather jacket and takes a seat in her chair, the seat that's been hers since they fostered her at nine and adopted her at ten. It felt comfortable. It felt safe. She looked across at the empty seat that belonged to her brother, "If you want more, you can always get seconds."

"Thanks ma," the plate is sat in front of her and like the angel she was, she bows her head to pray. Camille smiles and leans over to peck the top of her head.

"So tell me Erin," her mother takes her designated seat and resumes eating, "any new men in your life? You know your father and I aren't getting any younger. I would love a little grandbaby soon, preferably before I'm too old to chase the little babe around."

Erin blushes. She smirks down at her plate as she scoops some mashed potatoes and gravy into her mouth. She couldn't picture herself as a mother. She's temporarily living with her parents; she's single and her work transfer that she filed to join the Chicago branch of her job was accepted. She's not ready for a kid; she actually doesn't think she'll ever be ready for a kid. Society should thank her. She's not mother material.

"It's just me." She clears her throat, "…and Milo."

"I'm so glad you're back. How long are you here for? You sold all your furniture. You packed a lot of bags."

Erin clears her throat, "I'm moving back actually. I found a job, something I've been doing part-time in New York; I applied and put in a transfer for the full-time position here. And I've missed this city which reminds me, can I uh…can I stay with you and dad until I find a new place? I start my job tomorrow and I'll start looking for a place this weekend. I have some money saved up and when I sold my other possessions in New York, it left me with enough to put down on a nice place. Hopefully, I can find something in a decent neighborhood."

"You know there's no rush," Camille assures, stretching her hand across the table to rub against her daughter's palm, "Stay as long as you need." Yeah, that's not going to happen. The last thing she needs is for her mom to hover over her, treating her as if she was a baby.

"All your things are in your old room," Voight announced, walking into the dining room; he takes his seat and resumes eating, "Kid, I just want you to know how proud of you I am. A social worker, it's been your dream job, and you've accomplished it."

"I know," Erin says; she felt proud of herself too, she felt so damn proud. She worked hard for this.

Camille looked between her husband and daughter, "A full-time social worker, wow, sweetie. I am so proud of you. If there's anyone that deserves this opportunity, it's you."

Her parents never questioned her sudden move or her sudden desire to find a place in Chicago. Neither of them questioned the end of her last relationship or the fact that she distanced herself from them, or at least tried to but they wouldn't let her, after Justin died. She blamed herself just like Voight blamed himself. It was so much blame being internalized and reserved for them that they didn't even think to blame the person responsible, the person still out there somewhere. Erin had her secrets; she lived her life in private and her parents respected that.

"I'm going to get Milo's food and water bowl together," Erin rose from the table, "thanks mom for dinner. There's nothing like a home-cooked meal." She gathers her empty plate but Camille reaches out to stop her, "I got that. You go feed your pup and then get some sleep."

And Erin does just that, or at least, only part of it. She smiles as she watches Milo eat the food out of his bowl before licking up water from the water dish. She yawns, covering her mouth as she turns on her heel. She'll just leave her door open for him to join her when he finishes but when the doorbell rings and her mother calls out for her to get it, she realizes those plans will have to be put on pause for the moment. Erin walks over to the door, barefoot and filled with such joy that being home awards her and when she glances out the side window to see who was here, that joy was amplified by the millions. She threw the door open, "KIM!"

"I'm so glad you're back," her best friend had thrown her arms around her and squeezed her tight, "your dad called me! I thought you weren't coming back into town until tomorrow." Kim was the only person to know about her move.

"I start work tomorrow."

That was true, Kim thinks to herself. The two of them would be working together with their desks side by side and it would be like old times.

"It's chilly outside," Camille's voice fills their ears, "the two of you can hug inside. Come on in the both of you," Kim released Erin from her embrace as Camille ushered them into her home. Her father shuts and locks the door behind them and Milo runs up to the two of them, choosing to ignore his food in order to see who had been at the door, -priorities. He recognizes Kim, she visits New York quite often, and his excitement shows that because he's running circles around her feet, going a bit too fast that it's hard for her to watch him without getting dizzy.

"…Milo," Kim chuckles, stooping down to pat him. He stops, but the big ball of energy is hopping up onto his hind legs and licking her best friend's face.

Erin pats her thigh to get her puppy's attention, "Alright Milo, that's enough," her dog stops and she waves for Kim to follow her up the stairs. The two of them have been best friends since high school, they were roommates in college and now that Erin is back they'll soon be coworkers.

Kim knows where to go; she's been here plenty of times over the years so when Erin stops briefly in front of Justin's old room, Kim continues walking down the hall to wait for her friend inside of her bedroom. Erin doesn't go inside though. The door is closed and the last time she's been inside was two years ago. She doesn't have the courage to open it; not right now though, not when it's so late and she's so tired. Her hand brushes against the knob and she tells herself one day because she knows that's the truth, one day she'll go inside. Today isn't that day.

Erin continues on towards her room and the second she walks inside, she realizes that nothing has changed about it. Her parents had left it completely untouched. She sees Kim sitting at her desk, staring at a framed photo of them at homecoming so many years ago, "I remember this day like it was yesterday," she flashes the picture in Erin's direction to show her, "ugh, this was the worst day. My first boyfriend broke up with me a few seconds after he took this photo of us."

"…he was a jackass," Erin retorted. She's always been protective of the people she loves.

"Yeah he was," Kim sighed, leaning back in the desk chair as she sat the photo back down, "I ran into him a few months ago. Mr. Jackass has been in and out of prison on drug charges."

"…you dodged a bullet there," Erin chuckled. She kicks off her shoes and climbed onto her bed.

"Oh, yeah definitely…" Kim laughed, "I dodged a huge bullet."

She sits with her back to the headboard and her legs crisscrossed, "Any tips on work? Is there anything I should know? How's the staff?"

"Everyone is cool. I've been bragging about you so the whole team is looking forward to meeting you. Your cubicle is right next to mine so you better get used to seeing my lovely face." Kim crosses the room to sit on the bed.

The two of them comfortably sit cross-legged on Erin's queen-sized bed. The two of them laugh when it's reminiscent of their high school years, the both of them sitting on the same side, in the same spot that they've always relaxed in years ago. Erin has truly missed this. She missed her friend. The people she met in New York, none of them were ever close friends, just acquaintances and coworkers; she would occasionally go out for drinks with them but that was pretty much it. She was glad to be home. She was glad to be back.

"I've missed you girl," Kim leans forward to squeeze Erin's elbow.

"I've missed you too."

Her eyes fell down, noticing the small scar, and outlining it with her gaze, "What happened?" Kim has regularly visited Erin in New York and her friend has always wore long-sleeved sweaters and shirts, hiding it, so now that she's wearing a short-sleeved shirt, she feels like Erin would be comfortable enough to talk about it.

"…just something that happened in New York," Erin tries to brush it off, tucking her hand beneath her thigh to hide the scar crossing her wrist, "it's honestly a long story and I don't feel like getting into it, but I'm fine, it's fine. It actually looks better now."

"Maybe another day then…"

"Yeah," Erin nods as her door is pushed open by her exhausted dog, "another day." Milo jumps onto Erin's bed, walking in circles around the bottom before flopping down, "Hey buddy."

"What made you get a dog?" Kim has always wanted to know. She's just never asked.

Erin doesn't answer right away; she tries to frame the truth in a way that doesn't require Kim to probe for more information. She crawls to the end of her bed, lying down on her back with her head resting near her dog's paw. Milo, adorable dog that he is, raises his paw and sets it on her chest, "I uh…I got him…for my anxiety. He provides emotional support, comfort and he really helps when I used to have panic attacks."

"Can I pet him?" When Erin nods her head, Kim crawls down to the end of the bed. She gently pats the top of Milo's head, whispering how good of a boy he's being.

"You've never asked to pet him before. He loves you; you don't have to ask now."

"...I just wanted to make sure I didn't overstep," Kim continues to slowly run her fingers over the top of his head.

"He's an angel."

Kim kisses Milo's cheek, "Are you bringing him to work?"

"Oh," Erin chuckles dryly, "…no. I just need him in special circumstances, um," she raises her wrist, "after I got this and," she leans over to grab the bottom of her shirt, she lifts it, "and this," it's another scar, it's on her waist and it's smaller than the first, "I really needed…something and someone from group counseling recommended getting a dog." She gave a little more information than she wanted, and she could tell based on the look on Kim's face, that she wanted to ask questions.

"What does he do for you?"

"He comforts me when I'm sad, angry or anxious. I don't know how he knows, but he knows. He walks inside my home or homes in general first, just to uh," Erin scratches the top of her head, "just to make sure the coast is clear, you know? Make sure it's safe..."

No, Kim doesn't know. She doesn't know anything about Erin's life in New York because when she moved away, their communication started to suffer. Yeah, she visited her but it wasn't as often as she wanted to visit and when she did, Erin barely talked about her life. The time zone difference wasn't too drastic but with their different work schedules, it made it hard to keep in contact when they weren't in the same state. Kim has no idea about what happened in New York, and based on how her parents were acting, if they knew, they didn't know all of the details.

"I rescued him and he kind of rescued me. Milo, calms me," Erin turns her head to face her dog's head, "it's like he knows the signs of when I'm about to get upset. He can't go many places, more so, because he's not a service dog, but that's okay because I needed him for home. I uh, I needed him the most as a young woman living alone in the city. I'm going to need him here because of that too." Silently, the two of them continue to pat the top of Milo's head as he falls asleep, sighing in appreciation of all the attention he's receiving.