She was surprised he'd shown up at the jail. Sure, she'd called him, desperately hoping he'd bring her the Seward box, but he had been cracking his first beer of the day at 6am when she was leaving to go home and change before heading to the jail. She wasn't surprised that he tried to come, so much as she was surprised that he made it. And then he stuck around. There for her, even in the height of his own grief. At one point, she'd thought he left, muttering something about needing more beer. But then, when Seward blocked her again, refusing to be honest with her, refusing to help her help him, she had lost it. She was done, leaving. He'd played her for a fool, she thought, and she felt angry and betrayed. She should have expected it, or maybe she just shouldn't have even tried.

She hadn't expected Holder, when she stormed towards her car. She'd thought he was gone. But there he was, stalling her, blocking her exit, calling her on running away, hitting her where she hurt the most.

Angry, she shoved her way past him as she hurled words at him about taking his own damned advice and practically threw herself into the car, insulating herself not just from Seward's miserable betrayal but from Holder's overly perceptive observations. But his words kept resonating through her head. "You never stay," he'd accused, "cause then you'd want it. Need it. And you could get hurt. Left. Or not left." It puzzled her. She wasn't sure which possibility scared her more - being left, or not being left. Outside the car, he was hammering away at her, his mouth never stopping, blabbering on about how she missed her chance at kissing him. She actually wondered what would have happened if she had let him, last night. And she couldn't help but laugh. At him for jostling her out of her hurt and anger, and at herself for even considering kissing him. He was always there for her, and she wasn't about to ruin that by letting him kiss her. No way.

And then the stay of execution was denied, and after a horrible few final hours, Seward was dead. She had turned away, but not before the image of his spasming, dangling body was etched into her memory forever. She had failed. And nobody gave a fuck. Nobody except Holder, who was still there when she walked out of the police station, deliberately forcing one foot to move in front of the other, step by step.

"C'mon," he said, touching her elbow with one finger. "I'll drive you home."

"You still drinking?"

"Not for hours."

She couldn't do it, drive herself. And she couldn't argue. So she extended her keys to him on one finger, and climbed wearily into the passenger seat. For once, Holder didn't speak - he didn't ask her about the things she couldn't talk about, and he didn't fill the silence with senseless chatter. For once, she almost wished he would.

She wasn't aware of the drive, she just knew when he was pulling into her driveway.

"You smell like a distillery," she told him when they were crowded into her little entryway. "There's a spare towel in the bathroom." She hoped he'd take her up on the unspoken offer to stick around. She didn't think she could be alone just yet. Holder raised one eyebrow at her, and nodded. "Thanks, Linden."

She could hear the water running as she sank down into a chair at the table, dropping the Seward case file on the table. It was done. Over. She'd failed. She opened the file and slowly flipped through the pages, skimming the investigation reports again, looking for anything that might point her to where she had gone so wrong.

"What the hell?" Holder's voice in her ear made her jump out of her skin as his arm snaked around from behind her and snatched the file way, snapping it shut. She twisted in her chair and reached for it, a snarl on her lips, but he cut her off before she could get any words out. "Seward's gone, Linden. It's done. OVER. It's time to quit torturing yourself with this file."

She could only look at him, unable to speak, her mouth moving but no words coming out. She hoped the raw stab of pain she felt wasn't as visible as she was scared it was. Her eyes burned.

"You gotta move forward, Sarah," he said, his voice softening. "Quit dwelling on it. Or it'll destroy you."

"I...It..." She couldn't manage to form any words.

"You did your best. It's not your fault." He knelt down, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against hers. "It's time to move on. Don't let it destroy you. You don't want to die." he repeated her words from the night before.

His lips were so close, she thought. And she thought he'd let her take comfort where she could. And she was tempted. So very tempted to lose herself in this man who was standing by her so solidly. But he deserved better, she reminded herself. Don't ruin it by kissing him, she repeated her earlier thought like a mantra. She leaned harder against his forehead for a moment, or maybe an hour. She wasn't sure how long he knelt there with her before she finally pulled back. "Take it," she told him. "Take the file. Take it away. Please."

"You got it, mamacita." His hand reached out, squeezed her shoulder. "I'll see you manana, yes?"

She shrugged. She didn't know what was next. All she knew was that she needed some time. To process. To make peace with it. If there was even any peace to be had.

She couldn't sleep. She couldn't breathe. So she ran. She ran until she was winded, and then she ran some more. She didn't stop until she was almost on the verge of collapse. She found herself standing by a single tree, standing strong and alone in the centre of the meadow. Like herself. Solitary. Strong. She was strong, she reminded herself.

She walked home, each step that brought her close to home also bringing her closer to the future. She had to move forward from here, she reminded herself. It was, like Holder said the night before, over. Now, she just had to accept that, be at peace with it. It was a new day, a new beginning. It was time to let it go.

And there was Jimmy, sitting on her steps. At first his presence felt like an intrusion, but as she offered him coffee and he talked about how maybe they were meant to be alone, she realized that maybe his presence was one more step towards that new beginning. Seward was dead, the case no longer hanging over her head. Jen had left him - his marriage no longer impeding them either. Maybe things didn't work out before because the timing was wrong, because they needed resolution for it to ever work. Maybe now it was finally their time. She stepped forward and pressed her lips to his. Smiled into his eyes. Leaned in to kiss him again. He deepened the kiss, his arms coming around her. And just like that, she was home. This was where she belonged. Everything would be ok, now, because now they could finally move forward. Together. She stepped back from the kiss, smiled into his questioning eyes before taking his hand and leading him to the stairs, and up.

Once they were in the sanctuary of her room, she slipped her sweater off before stepping forward into him and sliding her hands under his t-shirt, splaying them across the small of his back. She stepped up, reaching towards his mouth once again.

"Are you sure about this, Sarah?" he whispered, a hair's breadth away from kissing her.

She nodded, breathed him in. "You smell smokey," she commented, as she touched her lips to his.

"I had a fire at the lake house, last night," he volunteered. "Just had to get away until..." Yeah, she thought. Until. She didn't want to talk about that, so she pressed her lips to hers and kissed him for real, urgently, tugging at his shirt. He lifted her then, and her legs wrapped around his waist as if they were meant to be there. And then he was carrying her to the bed, setting her down on the blankets, and following her down with his body. As he worshipped her with his hands, with his mouth, it felt like the last four years had never happened.

The next morning she untangled herself from his sleeping body and made her way downstairs. She'd clean up, make coffee, let him sleep a bit longer. Everything was finally going to be ok. She'd stay on with the department. Partner with Holder. She'd get to spend her days working with her best friend, and her nights with the man she had loved for so many years. Because he was wrong, about them being meant to be alone. They could be different. Together. And now it was their turn.

She lived in a euphoric high all the next day. For the first time in a longer time than she could remember, she felt the warmth of the sun. Holder's joy when he found out she was sticking around, and the happiness that wrapped around her knowing that Jimmy was finally, finally hers.

She even let Holder grill her about him. Hell, she even enjoyed Holder's grilling her. She teased back, asking if he was jealous, making him laugh. It wouldn't cross her mind until later that there may have been a tinge of actual jealousy in his response. And as she got back to work while he drove, she thought that nothing could be more perfect. Her best friend accepted her relationship, unconventional though it was. And he'd protect her, and her relationship, if he needed to. She could count on him to help her keep it relatively concealed, at least until Jimmy's divorce was well underway.

The euphoria didn't fade until Jimmy was criticizing her, and then huffing about a bad day - how could a day that started in bed with her be bad? She was back on unsteady footing and suddenly unsure... and then Jen and Bethany came in and it was horrible. Like being a voyeur to someone else's pain. She waited, uncomfortable, as he hugged Bethany. And then she saw the ring. Kallie's ring.

Her memory of the rest of the day's events would never really be clear. She wasn't sure she was even fully aware as things were happening. It wasn't an excuse, or a justification. It just was. All she could see on the drive to the lake house was all of the blood on Jimmy's hands. And on hers. All of the girls. Young, vibrant, beautiful souls with a whole future ahead them. Slaughtered. By him. She loved a monster. She loved a monster and she didn't even realize he was one. How could she not have realized? She needed Adrian. Focus on Adrian, she reminded herself. Find Adrian. Holder couldn't save her, couldn't save Adrian. Skinner had made sure of that. She just had herself, no one to rely on. And Jimmy's story kept changing, and he kept taunting her. Reminding her that she loved him. Telling her that she didn't want to know that he was a monster.

By the time they got to the lake house she could barely focus on Adrian. It was reflex, the first shot. An automatic reaction when Jimmy told her Adrian was in the trunk. She thought he would try to overpower her if she tried to open it. And she was scared to open it. Scared to see. She couldn't bear to see that poor boy's body. No. This couldn't be happening. The case had wrapped it's tentacles around her and, thanks to the monster she had adored, would never let her go.

She just stood there, her gun still aimed. Skinner was clutching the wound, staring at her with an expression that looked oddly like...approval? And then Holder's voice filtered into the periphery. Warning her not to shoot Jimmy. He was right, she thought - and as his voice penetrated her mind calmed. Slowly, she lowered the gun. Holder was right - don't give Jimmy what he wants. He would pay in a court of law. It would be more painful than death.

"It has to be you, Sarah," Jimmy spoke up again, "you loved me."

Horror at the truth of that statement transcended the grounding quality of Holder's voice and all she saw was red. She had to shut Jimmy up. Jimmy had to shut up. Now. The monster had to die. She fired the second shot.

Time stopped. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It felt good. Justice. It felt really good. Until it didn't anymore. Slowly, her gaze travelled from Skinner's inert form to the gun in her hand. She ejected the clip and peered inside. It wasn't empty. Good, she thought, slamming the clip back into place. There was only one option left for her, now.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Holder slam on the brakes, as if startled out of his pacing and moaning by the sound of the magazine reseating into the gun. The sudden change in her peripheral vision surprised her - she'd forgotten he was even there. He stalked towards her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snarled.

"You need to go," she told him flatly. "You need to leave. Now."

"What? No," he argued.

"You need to not be here, Holder. Go. Drive away. Call it in. Then go back to Seattle and make sure Adrian is okay." She reached out with her free hand and gently touched his cheek with two fingers, the only thanks she could offer. "Go," she whispered. She couldn't finish this with him here. There wasn't a damned thing she cared about left in her immediate world, except Holder. And she'd just changed the course of his life by making him bear witness to her actions. She wouldn't let him witness the rest, too.

He looked at her a long moment, and reared back. "Holy fuck. NO. That is NOT how this is going to end," he snapped, reaching out and grabbing her arm before she could react. His fingers dug into her wrist, making her wince as he used his other hand to pry her fingers off the gun. It fell with an anticlimactic thud and he kicked it away, still snarling. "He is not going to destroy you too. You are not going to give him that power."

Except Skinner already had. Destroyed her. "Arrest me, then," she said slowly, her voice void of any inflection.

"I'm not arresting you. Jack needs his mother, you stupid fool. Out of jail. And ALIVE." She should yell at him for calling her stupid, she thought. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She wasn't sure when he'd changed positions but now he had her by both shoulders and he was shaking her none too gently. "Jesus Fuck Linden," he muttered darkly.

She ducked her head, unable to bear the sight of his horrified expression any longer. "You need to go, Holder. You can't go down for this."

He stopped shaking her. "I'm not going down for this. You either." One of his arms came around her and pulled her up against his chest. She wanted to fight it, but she could hear his heart beating under her ear - rapid fire, and she could feel his body trembling. It kick-started a reaction in her and she started to shake uncontrollably. "I got you," he mumbled, and then his other hand was at her waist. "You shot him with his own gun?"

She shook her head. No, that was hers.

"Which gun is Skinner's? The one I just pulled out of the gun belt?" She nodded, and felt his body move as he tossed the gun away. Towards the body, she thought.

"You need to go, Holder," she repeated, but she didn't pull away from him or try to get out of his one-armed embrace. The sound of his heart beating against her ear was starting to ground her, and she needed that, right now.

"I'm not leaving you."

"You can't go down for this," she thought she remembered saying that before.

"Nobody's going down for this." Yeah, she thought - she did say that already. Because she remembered hearing this same answer. "We just have to figure this out. Just...give me a minute," he muttered. She could feel his one arm moving, maybe as if he wanted to keep pacing. But he didn't pull away, just stayed with his arm locked around her, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

"Alright," he said a moment later, pulling away and setting her back from him, peering into her face. "This is what we're gonna do."

"You should have left," she whispered later, when they were about halfway back to the city. "We shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah? And what would you have done?" At her silence, he continued. "I know what you were gearin' up to do, Linden. That man done enough damage. I wasn't gonna let him destroy you too."

But it was already too late.

It was as if she had a photographic memory of the weeks that followed, remembering every single detail in painful clarity. But at the same time, it was all a blur. She was wrecked, at the beginning she could barely function. She knew what she had to do - get rid of the gun, of the shells. But she couldn't do it. Couldn't lose that last tangible evidence that Jimmy was gone. It was Holder who held her together, at first. Anytime she was with him, he kept her from falling apart, put her back together when she did. He was always there, shoving food in her face, making her go home and sleep, reassuring her when she panicked and berating her when he found out she was procrastinating on getting rid of the gun.

She was alone for her worst moments, though. Making sure she wasn't carrying the child of a monster. Bethany pounding on her door, crying for her dad. Frantic hunts for the missing shell casing. She was used to being alone, usually relished in having her own space, but now, the solitude was oppressive. Every time she was alone, she felt herself fracture even more. And each day, Holder would do his level best to piece her back together.

She remembered the day she was really losing it, and he cornered her in their office to try and explain that he knew it was harder for her, that it was personal... and she knew that if he mentioned the fact that she had loved a monster she would lose it completely and never be put back together. (Even though she did. Even though at the same time as she railed at herself for loving a monster, she railed at herself for killing the man she loved.) So she snapped at him to shut up and left, to lose it in private. And yet despite her awful treatment of him, he was still there the next day, handing her food, grounding her. Always there. Until he wasn't.

Her memory of him telling her Caroline was pregnant was etched in her mind as if it was yesterday. The awe that filtered in, despite everything, when he told her he was going to be a daddy. And then, little by little, Holder started to fracture. Suddenly he had stake in life, something more important than himself, and the true repercussions of what she did, of what she drug him into, began to break him. She watched it happen, helpless to stop him from using again. Helpless to stop him from storming out of the car and away when she called him on it.

The next day he had been a wreck, coming down off of it. Craving the next hit. She watched him play with something in his pocket while she drove. Finally, she pulled over and held out her hand. "Give it to me."

"Don't got nothing," he mumbled, shifting his gaze to the passenger window.

"Bullshit, Holder. Give it to me," she demanded.

He ducked his head. "Everyone thinks i'm just a piece of shit tweak-head. But you seem to think I'm something better." His voice was desolate, mournful. As if he'd lost that. And maybe he had, but it was her fault and she didn't delude herself by pretending it wasn't. And he was hundreds of times better than some tweaker. He was everything.

"Yeah. You're 1-900-Rockstar." She'd smiled at him, letting him see the truth of it in her eyes. He huffed out a breath and quirked his lips. He was silent for a minute, before reaching into his pocket again and pulling out a small baggie. He handed it to her and as she took it from him, he closed her fingers around it, his hand engulfing hers.

"I don't know how to move forward anymore," he admitted, defeated, his confession a cracked whisper.

"Me either, Holder. But we have to. One foot at a time, I guess. I got rid of the gun. And the one shell casing. I still can't find the other."

"It's all falling apart at the seams."

"I know," she whispered. "I know. I'm drowning all the time. I can't breathe. But you're going to be a dad. We have to find a way out. Your baby deserves her father."

"His. His father, Linden." Holder's fingers twitched against her hand, as if he was poking at her.

"God, I hope it's a girl," she teased, before turning serious again. "We'll find a way out, Holder." For him, at least.

"Get rid of this. Don't keep it around." He squeezed her fis tightly, before finally letting go of her hand.

"Yep." She agreed, as the police radio beeped and their day continued.

That was the last real conversation they would have that wasn't ending with them screaming at each other to go fuck themself, or with her cocking a loaded gun and pointing it at his head. Everything he had done for her was reduced to nothing with one action, and nine words. I should have known you would leave me too. He never looked her in the eye again. He never spoke to her again.

The only apology she could offer was to absolve him of his involvement in Skinner's death. And she did that. And then she was defeated by Richmond and her belief in any goodness in the world crashed in the wake of their corruption. So she left her badge, and Seattle, with hardly a backwards glance. Maybe there'd be a life out there somewhere for her, but it wouldn't be here. And she couldn't face Holder, not now. She drove away from the Island one sunny Seattle morning, the damnable shell casing in her pocket. She left without ever apologizing, without ever thanking him, without ever saying goodbye.

There were many things that, if she could turn back time and do over, she would have done differently, or maybe not have done at all. But there were three things that, if she could have a do over, she absolutely unequivocally would NOT have done.

She would not have killed Skinner - she would have listened to Holder and put the gun down, letting Holder take the lead and arrest him. Mills wouldn't have taken the rap for crimes he didn't commit, and Holder... Holder would have never had to compromise his integrity, his morality, for her.

She would not have pulled her gun on him, or accused him of leaving her too. It was ludicrous, to think that a man who did everything - EVERYTHING - to protect her would turn on her like that. The only way she could have betrayed him more was if she had actually pulled the trigger.

And she would have never left Seattle without seeing him again, without saying a proper goodbye.

Her greatest regrets, even greater than loving Skinner, were all centered around what she did to Holder, how she'd compromised the very core of his morality, how she destroyed their friendship, how she'd hurt the truest friend she'd ever had. She thought long and hard on this over the years, until one sunny fall day she found herself driving towards the centre where she was told Holder ran his NA classes. She wasn't sure what kind of reception she would get - she wouldn't blame him if he shut her down completely. But she owed him this. He deserved an apology. It was time to make things right. It had taken her 3 years to recognize it and two years to bring herself to face him, but it was time. It had to be done.

She was firm in that conviction until the moment when she was faced with him, standing right in front of her. Suddenly had no idea what to say. How to say it. So she traded jokes, let him take the lead, and didn't even try to work up the nerve to say what she'd come to say until he'd looked down at her, his eyes soft and kind, and asked her why she was standing there, for real. He'd always managed to see through her, and apparently he hadn't lost that ability, even after all of this time. His piercing gaze left her no way out. So she told him. He was home.

"I'm sorry," she continued, her voice breaking and her emphasized words feeling foreign to her ears. But she owes him this apology, despite the vow she'd made so many years ago with Greg.

His lips quirked into the smallest smile, and he shook his head ever so slightly. Like it was no big deal, like she didn't need to apologize.

"Why don't you stay?" he asked, as if it was the simplest, easiest thing in the world. His voice, soft and yearning, floated over her like a caress, and that scared her more than the actual words. So she bolted, but not before letting him call her back, before being wrapped in his arms in the tightest hug. A hug she wished could go on forever. She'd never felt safer, more protected, more at peace than she did in those moments she stood in his arms. This was what home felt like, she thought, running a hand down his neck, forcing herself to pull away. She couldn't talk around the lump in her throat, so she just turned and walked away - quickly - before she changed her mind. But she couldn't stop replaying their words in her mind. Was it just perspective? Could she live in this city again, with Holder at her side? Was that enough? Would the dead still haunt her?

Without realizing it, she found herself pulling over, and getting out of her car to stare at the cityscape. She remembered it as a cloud and fog shrouded skyline, no clarity to be found. But today? Today the skyline was clear, crisp. It wasn't shrouded in the ghosts of the dead. It was open, welcoming even. And she knew. She wanted to stay. She wanted Holder. The city scared her, the fear that she would be forever haunted by her past here was real. But she would rather face that fear with Holder by her side than be safe and snug in another city, alone. She was tired of being adrift. She wanted Home.

And that was how she found herself waiting for Holder for the second time that day. She'd never forget the look on his face when he saw her. Surprise, confusion, and then finally, something that she thought might be hope. She'd never felt this kind of fear. The kind that said this was the first day of the rest of her life, and it could only go one of two ways. Her breath caught in her throat as he stopped in front of her and peered down at her, his gaze probing. And then he gave her the biggest smile. It lit up his face, the air, her whole world. Oh, she loved him. It was effortless, to smile back, her heart in her eyes, his staring back at her.

He wasn't saying anything, but he didn't have to. They just stood there, smiling at each other, for a long moment.

"You came back." He worded it as a statement, but there was a hint of a question in the softly spoken words.

She took a shaky breath, and admitted, "I've spent the last fifteen minutes forcing myself to not drive away."

"I'm glad you didn't," he told her gently, smiling down at her.

"I don't make it easy for people to stay," she warned softly, letting him hear the worry in her voice. Letting herself be vulnerable even though it sent cold shards of fear down her spine to do it.

"Nope, Y'don't," he agreed. "You're a piece of work, alright, Linden." His words rocked her back and she immediately realized that she had probably misread things. Maybe she should have listened to the voice that suggested driving away before he saw her. She blinked back sudden tears and went to turn away when she was stopped by Holder's hand on her shoulder. Gently, he turned her back and then reached out to touch her cheek, sliding his finger across it to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "Worth it, though. One hundred percent. Maybe one hundred and ten."

He waited, still touching her face. Her mind spun as she tried to figure out what he meant; how she was supposed to respond. She blinked and one of the tears hovering in her eyes let go. Holder's thumb shifted and brushed it away. Her stomach jumped and she realized she was a bundle of nerves, waiting, scared this wouldn't end the way she wanted it to. Save me, Holder, she thought. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"Why'd you come back?" he eventually asked, repeating his earlier question.

"Because..." she took a breath, forced herself to tell him the truth. "Because when I'm with you... I don't feel so broken." Or maybe, she thought, it was just that it didn't matter to him that she was. He accepted her, broken parts and all.

He smiled at her, his hand coming up to caress her cheek. His eyes shone. With what, she wasn't sure. He leaned closer into her for a moment, then stepped back and he sighed. "I can't kiss you, Linden."

That was the last thing she expected. "Why not?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts to stay steady. Maybe she shouldn't have told him. Shouldn't have reminded him that she was broken.

"Cause I promised I wouldn't try to kiss you again. And I always keep my promises. ALWAYS, Linden."

Her eyes narrowed as she thought fast to figure out what he was talking about. And then she remembered. "You were drunk. That one doesn't count. You can break it."

"Promises always count, Linden. Else they mean nothing."

She decided that she must have read it all wrong and he might just want something platonic. Friendship. She looked down, confusion and disappointment melding with anger at herself for misreading the situation so badly. It hurt. More than Greg, more than Rick, more than Skinner. Because she had thought that Holder, the one who always stayed, was maybe the right person. Her person. And suddenly it seemed likely maybe he wasn't.

She felt his thumb trace around her jaw, and then press slightly upwards to bring her eyes back to his. "Hey," He started, his voice soft, his expression gentle and kind. "I never promised I wouldn't let you kiss me, y'know. I never promised not to kiss you back if you did."

"Oh," she breathed. Her stomach jumped around and she swallowed convulsively in attempt to stop it. She'd never initiated the first kiss before.

"It's on you, Linden," his eyes crinkled as his lips quirked up slightly. Then he just stood there, watching her, waiting. Just do it, she told herself. It's fine. She debated a minute, leaned into him, then a sharp jab of fear made her retreat. Her eyes burned, she couldn't even blink as she stared at him, trying to find the nerve. Be brave, she told herself, just be goddamned brave for once. Finally she managed to take another breath and rushed in, practically throwing herself at him in haste and fear and nerves. She pressed her lips quickly to his before bolting back two steps. It took every bit of willpower she had to not run away. Her heart hammered in her chest. She didn't know why this was so hard - it shouldn't have been. But it was. Maybe because it mattered. It really mattered.

And Holder, damn him, chuckled. "You gotta stay long enough for me to kiss you back, hmmm?" He was grinning at her like her struggle was the most entertainment he'd had in years.

"This is embarrassing, Holder," she told him shortly.

"C'mon," he wheedled, "Just do it already. Quit thinking and do it. DO IT."

"I did." She pointed out, huffing a sigh at his raised eyebrow. She exhaled again, then forced herself to lean in closer, stayed there. "You always stayed," she whispered.

"Course I did." He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips before withdrawing his hand again. "Always will, too." Then he just stood there, expectant. Waiting.

She moved in, more tentatively his time, and reached up. Her hand caressed the back of his neck as she stepped up on her toes to press her lips to his. This time, she stayed there. He was still waiting, the maddening man, so she moved her lips cautiously against his, worried about whether or not it was the right response. Just as she was going to give up, pull away - run away - his lips moved. And then he was kissing her back. Tenderly. Carefully. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him as his tongue moved along the contours of her lips. So many emotions were flooding her that she didn't know how to process it all as she whimpered and opened to him, letting him in. It wasn't fireworks or desperate desire that invaded her senses. It was more of a soft heat, a comfort, like coming home. Home. The warmth wrapped around her body like tendrils, protective, as if they were extensions of his arms. And when he finally stepped back and looked down at her with all of the adoration in the world shining in his eyes, she realized that she couldn't wait for the next kiss, the next hug. It didn't have to be fireworks. It just had to be him. Holder. She couldn't wait for the love and comfort that enveloped her when she was with him.

"I love you, Sarah Linden." He cupped her cheek and locked eyes with her. She could feel his gaze searing straight to the depth of her soul. "Come home, Sarah," his voice was a low whisper, as if he was scared to even ask. "Everything will be ok."

The words were different, somehow, this time. Maybe because it was Holder, who never broke a promise. For the first time ever, the words held the weight of a promise she felt she could believe in. The smile that split her face was the only answer she needed to give.