Disclaimer - I do not own it.

A/N - And I'm starting another series of short pieces. I swear I can't write a long story any more. I'm addicted to these things.

Thanks to Missi Marie for getting me into the show, prompting me to obey the plot bunnies, giving me a title and encouraging me to post this. You should go check out her amazing fic in progress, entitled 120 Seconds.

Now...to the story, which is set immediately after Samson and Delilah and ignores Automatic for the People.

"How's he holding up?" Derek asked.

"I don't know. He wouldn't really talk to me," Sarah replied, sitting down gingerly across from him and reaching for a sandwich.

"It's hard on a kid, seeing his mom kill someone."

Silence.

"And then with that…thing…trying to kill him," Derek continued, face contorting in a grimace.

"Yea, it's been hard on him," Sarah said curtly, refusing to meet Derek's eyes.

He studied her a moment, eyes narrowing.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Fine never means fine."

She looked up. "I've never said that in front of you."

"John says it, in the future."

She nodded slowly.

"So, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It's hard, when you kill for the first time. I was seventeen. This guy showed up in our tunnel, he was…crazy. Messed up. He went for Kyle and I didn't think, just grabbed my gun and shot him. There was so much blood and Kyle was screaming… He was only ten then. I couldn't stop shaking, not for hours, and I couldn't even speak to Kyle, to anyone, for days."

"Then what?"

"I got over it."

"You got over it," she repeated back dryly.

"Yep."

She took a deep breath and put her head in her hands. "He won't," she whispered.

"What?" Derek asked, moving closer to her.

"He won't get over it. I know him. "

"Wait…Sarah, did you kill Sarkissian?"

"No," she breathed, so soft he barely heard her. Derek knelt beside her and reached up, grabbing her chin and turning her to look at him.

"What happened?" he murmured, locking eyes with her.

"They bound our hands, threw us in a room upstairs and Sarkissian was beating the hell out of me. He had me pinned down…and then he was gone. I was dazed, it took me a second to get moving again and by the time I sat up…John had gotten his hands free and was on top of him. I pulled him off, but Sarkissian was dead. The look in John's eyes then…the look in them now… He won't get over it."

"John killed Sarkissian?"

"Damn it, Derek, was that not plain enough for you?" she hissed. "I didn't kill him, all right? John killed him in my place. My son killed him to protect me, when it should have been the other way around."

She shoved her chair back and stalked across the kitchen, collapsing against the countertop. Derek moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and pulling her until she was leaning against him. The man gently wrapped his arms around her middle.

"He'll be all right, he's a tough kid. He'll pull through this, and next time it'll be easier."

"Next time?" she asked, voice strangely dead.

"Next time he kills. It won't be as hard as this time."

She shoved him away and spun, her open palm catching him across the cheek and knocking him backwards a step.

"There won't be a next time!" she cried.

They both knew she was lying.