Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sarah Gunning was the only doctor on Crockett Island - a damn good one at that. As one of the few people on the island who didn't participate in church services, she was a bit of an outcast. She would get up at around 6 in the morning to take care of her mother, whose mind was ravaged by dementia. She loved her mother, Mildred, but when it was Mildred's time to go, a small part of her was relieved. She hated seeing her mother in a state of decay, whether it be physical or mental. Mildred had left a small journal written as an autobiography to Sarah, and it explained so many things about her mother's life, her father's life, and her actual father's life.

Sarah had found out that the local priest was her real father but decided to keep that knowledge to herself for the time being. She saw that the elderly priest, Monsignor Pruitt, was slowly falling into the grips of dementia as well, and she thought it best not to burden the last of his mind with the fact that he was her father. Hell, he had picked out her name. Sarah had heard talks about the priest's health - about how he had to be practically 'steered around the altar,' as the altar boys put it. When she ran into him, she could see it in his eyes. The fog was creeping into him just like it did to her mother. It almost made her shudder - the thought of someone having to take care of him how she took care of Mildred.

Sarah pondered if she should feel guilty for not feeling incredible sorrow at the death of her mother, but her tiredness got the best of her, and she drifted off to sleep. Now, she set her alarm for 9 am, got up leisurely, and had breakfast and coffee in silence. A simple pancake, some strawberries, and a couple of eggs would suffice. She knew that despite the grief of losing her mother, she had to keep moving - living.

"Living, what an odd word," she muttered to herself.

She didn't feel as if she was living. Going through the motions, maybe, but truly living? She knew that by a technical stance, she was alive. Her heart was beating, her lungs were filling, oxygen was saturating, blood was pumping, and her mind was running; her mind knew, however, that she didn't feel alive. She had nothing to do until Tuesday, and it was Saturday, so maybe she would do some stretches to help out her back, which had had problems since she turned 18. She had the mind and joints of a woman who had lived a much more adventurous life than she had.

She was a quiet child who mainly stuck to her books. She realized that, at least in the quiet aspect, she was much like her mother. Her mother was the silent, strong type, though she often softened herself at the sight of her kid. She wouldn't take no for an answer, but she had always treated Sarah well. Of course, they had the typical mother-daughter disputes, but never anything serious. The few times Mildred had upset her only daughter, she was sure to comfort her, apologize, and explain her viewpoint so that Sarah could better understand where she was coming from. Sarah's father, George (or who she grew up with as a father), was much like Mildred, but he was more charismatic - always chatting it up with the store employees or the dock workers. When he died an early death from liver failure, it was as if a shockwave ran through the whole community. Sarah was barely 18 when it happened. It started as mild pain in his abdomen, then mild confusion, then itchiness, then the pain worsened. They finally took him to the mainland when he began to vomit blood, but it was too late.

This and Sarah's chronic, yet undiagnosed, pain was what pushed her into becoming a doctor. She studied on the mainland for a while, and her mother occasionally visited her. Mildred would ask Sarah every time they saw each other for the years she was studying when she was going to come home. Sarah didn't care much for the island. A small, pious community wasn't the company she would usually choose to keep, especially since she found her girlfriend. Sarah kept it from her mother for a bit, introducing her significant other as a friend, but inevitably caved and told on herself. She felt a pang of guilt and anxiety when she let her mother know, thinking that she was as devout as she seemed. Surprisingly enough to Sarah, her mother was very accepting, telling her daughter she had 'figured as much' when she chose to never have a boyfriend throughout her entire time living on the island. They both laughed and felt closer than ever.

Eventually, Sarah moved back to Crockett. 'The Crock Pot,' as the locals put it. A mixing bowl of all different types of people and cultures, but not in religion. She lived with her mom until recently, of course. Sarah and her girlfriend broke up a while before Mildred passed, and she was left completely alone.

Sarah realized that she had reread the same paragraph of her book for about 5 minutes. She wasn't a huge horror fan but found herself reading Bram Stoker's Dracula. It was interesting, and she enjoyed catching onto things that were going to happen later in the book with all the foreshadowing he used. She practically had the plot down after the first chapter. It doesn't help that Dracula was one of the baselines for most modern vampire movies, so she didn't have to try super hard to pick out where the tropes came from. She wasn't a horror fan. She found herself caving into the darker things in life after the death of her mother. She almost found beauty in the sorrow and fear.

"Dammit," she quietly said to herself.

She was still on that paragraph. She started to get frustrated at reading, so she simply put the book down and went about her morning. She went to her closet, picking out the first matching thing she could find - a sage green polo and a pair of deep brown khakis. Denim was more her style, but she had bought the outfit a while back and still hadn't worn it. Over time, it made its way to the front of the closet rotation, and she was too lazy to dig any deeper for something else to wear. All she had to do today was run to the store for some eggs, but frankly, she would rather do anything else than make a public appearance only a month after the passing of her mom. Despite her social anxiety making an all too common appearance, she combed her pixie cut into place and made her way out the door.

Sarah took a few deep breaths, hoping the anxiety would subside. The sky was gray and dull. They hadn't gotten any rain yet, but she was sure they would. It rained nearly every day anymore, or she felt like it did at the very least. The gravel crunched under her boot with every step as if the very soil and rocks of the island were screaming out, 'She's alive! She's outside!' This did not help her anxiety. People glanced at her as she walked down the street, careful not to linger too long but obviously studying her expression. After a heart-pounding ten-minute walk, she was finally at the store. The cashier, a younger man most likely in his teens or early twenties, greeted her as she walked in. Sarah wrenched her face into a small smile. The very muscles of her face felt like they were cracking as she smiled, chipping away at the dust and dirt that had settled over them. She grabbed a couple dozen eggs and headed for the counter, accidentally bumping into someone as she turned around. She was barely able to balance the eggs and herself so that they didn't both break as she reeled back from the bump.

"Sorry, sorry," Sarah said as she was still looking down at the eggs, steadying them.

"It's okay!" A gentle voice spoke.

Sarah glanced up at who was in front of her.

"Oh, hi Erin, sorry again, I wasn't paying attention," Sarah let out a dry chuckle.

"No, honestly, I was not watching where I was going; it's my bad, Dr. Gunning," Erin smiled at her warmly.

"You don't have to call me that y'know? I just go by Sarah anymore," she smiled back at her, almost feeling genuine compassion in Erin's smile and not the pity she's gotten from everyone else.

They exchanged some small talk before going about their day. Sarah found herself sincerely contributing to the conversation and not trying to find a way out. She hadn't really been out of the house much since everything happened, but it was becoming clear she needed interaction with people. She was a plant whose owner had forgotten to water it the prior week; with every little drop of human interaction, she slowly rejoiced and grew livelier. Although she craved the usual talk of the town, she couldn't blame anyone for looking at her with sadness as they thought of Mildred. Sarah understood that she was not the only one grieving but couldn't help but feel selfish in her mourning. She wished it would all just go away and the island would return back to normal.

Sarah tried to ignore the glances on her way back through town and to her home. She got to her front door without thinking too deeply about the people looking at her. She fumbled with her keys until the right one emerged. As she stepped into her house, she breathed a sigh of relief. The kitchen was still a bit messy from breakfast, but she didn't mind. She set the eggs on the countertop and trudged back up the stairs to her room. With every step, she felt the weight of silence bear down on her; the quiet stillness of the house was almost too much. Once in her room, she pulled out the record player she bought for herself back when they were getting popular again. She didn't have very many records - just a few she cherished. Her music taste varied, but she did enjoy a good classical song every now and then. The Victrola record player she had doubled as a Bluetooth speaker, so she decided to just hook up her phone and play the songs she wanted to hear. She landed on Vivaldi's Winter. It was the perfect amount of drama to lift her out of her solemn headspace, but it wasn't upbeat by any means.

With music flowing through the house as Sarah read her book in the comfort of her bedroom, it almost felt like nothing was wrong in the world. That was far from true, however. Her mind began to wander again; she thought about how she had never felt quite as alone as she does now. She didn't really have any friends on the island, and she didn't even have many patients these days. She thought about running away to the mainland and starting over somewhere new. The prospect of leaving Crockett was both deeply intriguing and somewhat terrifying. It wasn't scary because she hadn't left before; she studied medicine in Washington. It was daunting because she would be leaving permanently and without the support of anyone. Everyone who would've been in her corner has either died or drifted away.

"Shit." She huffed to herself.

She had been on a paragraph for a little while now. She kept getting lost in her head instead of her book. It's not that she wasn't enjoying the book - it's just that getting lost in thought is more appealing than anything tangible right now. Sarah put down her book and checked the time: 4 pm.

"Seriously?" She pouted out loud.

She couldn't believe that it wasn't even dinner time yet, and her stomach was beginning to grumble since she had skipped lunch. She wasn't any less analytical when she was by herself, but she was whinier. She grumbled and made little noises to herself, cursing her lack of preparation or motivation.

Sarah settled on having an early dinner. She went into the kitchen and made a couple of ham, mayo, and cheese sandwiches - plain but still filling. She grabbed her phone and turned off the music still playing upstairs before she went to the fridge. She took out a small package of blueberries and decided to watch some TV before bed - a habit she knew was detrimental to fulfilling sleep but one she couldn't break.

The night passed without incident, and she undressed and laid down, carefully positioning her robe and slippers next to her bed. She drifted peacefully off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days slowly went by until Tuesday morning rolled around. Sarah's routine hardly changed anymore - wake up, dress, brush her teeth, eat, try to read, sleep, and repeat. She was mildly nervous about having to see someone today. She couldn't recall who had an appointment with her, but she knew she had an appointment at 4 pm. She remembered the time of the appointment, and it clicked in her head. Erin Greene was coming in after teaching to have her bi-monthly prenatal care done. Erin was at the beginning of her second trimester; this visit marks the 13th week of pregnancy and the start of bi-monthly check-ups instead of just monthly.

Sarah felt a sense of relief at her patient of the day being Erin. Erin was always polite, and she didn't give her all of the bull about her mom every time they met. Sarah wondered if Erin felt the same way about her; Sarah never talked about Erin's mom to her, but she remembered Erin vaguely mentioning something about feeling like people wanted her to walk in her mother's shoes. From what Sarah could gather, Erin and her mom weren't on good terms at the time of her passing, but it seemed like everybody saw Peggy as this saint of a teacher. Peggy was seen as someone totally different than she was, and that reminded Sarah of all the secrets Mildred had kept. Of course, Mildred was still a good person at the end of the day, but the same could not be said about Peggy.

Sarah had gone her whole day only thinking about Erin. Which was strange considering she didn't usually get invested in the lives of her patients. Sarah could tell Erin had been through hell and back. The first touch of every visit, Erin flinches. Erin had scarcely mentioned the man who got her pregnant, but when asked about a paternity test, she declined. It's clear she knows who the father is but doesn't want him involved in any way. Sarah never pushed Erin to tell her about her past, but Sarah was always sure to let her know if she needed anything, she would try to help.

Yet here Sarah was, analyzing Erin's behavior to the molecule. Sarah tried not to pry into people's psyche, but it was in her nature, and sometimes, she couldn't resist. She had about an hour left to prep her office for the upcoming visit, and all she had sitting out was the blood pressure cuff and scale. As the realization set in, she began to move things around in a panic. She put away some of the papers she had been working on, pulled out Erin's file, got the ultrasound machine out of the closet, and set it up. Overall, she needed to clean up the spaces Erin would see. If Erin peeked into the kitchen, she would see a small mountain of dishes and an overflowing trash can. With only 45 minutes left to get ready, Sarah worked frantically. She washed nearly everything in the sink and shoved the stuff she couldn't into the dishwasher. She gathered up her trash from the living room and shoveled it into a trash bag, and then she had to change out the trash bag in the kitchen. Finally, at around 3:50 pm, she had cleaned the house. She got all her trash bags into the trash cans in front of her home and went inside.

An almost comically short amount of time later, there was a knock. Sarah finger-combed her hair to ensure all the running around didn't have her looking like a disaster. She opened the door, and that warm smile greeted her. Erin scanned Sarah's face with her eyes, but Sarah's smile was carefully calculated - made to fool. Still, Erin seemed to sense the unease the doctor was feeling.

"Hi! Are you doing alright today?" Erin asked with a pang of concern in her voice. Somehow, this woman just saw right through Sarah's clever disguise.

"Yeah, I am, how are you?" Sarah asked pleasantly as she brushed off the question.

"I'm good! May I come in?" Erin questioned without breaking eye contact.

"Yes, of course, go on into my office." Sarah stepped to the side while still holding the door open.

Erin stepped through the entrance and into the office, with Sarah following directly behind. Sarah didn't close the door behind her as she had gotten accustomed to; as she went to sit down, she decided it would be polite to ask.

"Would you like me to close the door? It can get a bit drafty in here with it open."

"Oh, I don't really mind either way," Erin answered after thinking for a moment.

"Alright then, let's get started!" Sarah responded emphatically.

Sarah popped on her blue latex gloves and began working. She started by having Erin stand on the scale, then Sarah took her blood pressure, and finally, she had Erin lay on the medical table for an ultrasound. Sarah applied the frigid gel onto Erin's abdomen and placed the transducer. Sarah moved it around slightly, trying to get a good look at the fetus. When she got it into place, she watched it momentarily and then turned the monitor to face Erin.

"A healthy fetus if I've ever seen one!" Sarah says reassuringly.

Erin cooed words of happiness and comfort to the monitor as she looked at what would be her baby one day. Sarah finished the ultrasound and wiped away the gel from Erin's belly. Sarah decided to make small talk as she was finishing up.

"So, how's teaching been going?" Sarah glanced up at her as she was cleaning off the transducer.

"Oh, y'know, the younger kids are great, but they don't fully understand that they can't roughhouse with me or throw things my way anymore," she chuckled as she spoke, "and the older ones... don't get me started on them," Erin sighed and rolled her eyes but never dropped her smile.

"Oh, really? I won't pry, but what trouble have they been causing?" Sarah smiled invitingly and set down the now clean transducer.

"I mean, what haven't they done? One of them was blatantly flirting with me the entire class hour today, one middle-school-aged group has decided to protest school work, and a few of the high schoolers just gossip and speculate on what I did when I left Crockett," she laughed wryly and sighs before putting her index finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose, "sometimes I wonder if I'm in the right profession!"

Erin clearly let herself vent a tad more than she meant, but she seemed happy to get some of her struggles out.

"Wow, kids these days, huh?" Sarah said half-jokingly. "Geeze, I'm starting to sound like my mother," the comment was meant to be light-hearted, but Erin could tell she was coping with humor.

"Yeah, about that - how have you been?" Erin let her smile down slightly, showing concern in her face for Sarah.

Sarah was slightly taken aback by the question. Most people just talked about how they missed her mom or how she was before the dementia. Surprisingly enough, they had never really checked in on Sarah or even given more than an 'I'm sorry for your loss.' Sarah had tried her best to process the death of who she considered one of her best friends, but she often found herself dissociating instead. She hadn't really cried since her passing, and she sure as hell hadn't actually come to terms with it. Sarah was living more messily than she usually did, slept longer, and still had no energy. All tell-tale signs of depression, but she chose to ignore it - to push it aside.

"Sarah?" Erin's voice broke through Sarah's running mind and blank expression.

"Uh, sorry," Sarah looked down at her lap where her hands were squeezing the fabric of her jeans, "I, um, I'm doing okay. I mean, as okay as you can be after the death of a parent." She chewed her bottom lip slightly, her facade fading away.

Sarah didn't want to break. At least not in front of her. Sarah didn't want to burden anyone, especially one of her patients. She couldn't afford to crack now.

"Sarah, you can talk to me if you're struggling, you know that, don't you?" Erin reached out a soft hand and placed it on top of Sarah's tense one.

As Erin touched Sarah, a rush of emotions, butterflies, and anxiety barreled through Sarah's senses. Sarah was unsure how to respond, and she could feel herself shutting down. It was only 4:35 pm, but it felt like she had been sitting there for hours. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she could feel the tears rising. She quietly pulled her hand away from Erin's and took a moment to collect herself. Sarah's heart pounded in her chest.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I, uh, need to cook dinner soon, so we should probably finish up," Sarah went slightly cold on her, struggling to keep herself together.

Sarah moved her rolling chair away from the table, giving Erin room to stand up. Sarah took off the gloves she had on and tossed them into the nearby trash can before standing up and gesturing toward the door lightly. Erin stood up without another word and walked out of the office and towards the front door. As she opened it and went onto the porch, she glanced back at Sarah, giving her a small, regretful smile. Sarah gave the same smile back before shutting the door.

Sarah stared at her clean downstairs area, looking utterly defeated. She had pushed away the one person who seemed interested in how she felt, and she felt remorse for how the conversation ended. Sarah walked on wobbly legs back to the couch, carefully lifted herself onto it, and huddled into a ball. A million terrible thoughts ran through her head. She let out a guttural sob - the first tears she had shed in months. Her whole chest heaved, and her sinuses filled with snot and water. She struggled to keep herself from hyperventilating as she wept. Sputtered coughs in between sobs did not help her situation. She cried out in frustration. She asked herself why this was happening now when her actual mother had been gone for so much longer than this. Her mother died when the fog clutched her. Only her corporeal form remained - none of what made her Sarah's mom.

Sarah cried for hours, and before she knew it, it was dark out. Sarah didn't lift herself off the couch until around 9 pm. The entire island had gone to rest, yet she remained awake. She pondered the meaning of existence - if there truly was some sort of afterlife and things she could hardly comprehend. In her current state of being, she would never get rest. In her depressed stupor, she tossed and turned in her bed. That little voice in the back of her head, be it a demon or subconsciousness, kept her mind running at top speed. It would ask her questions about the universe. Then, it spoke the most gut-wrenching thing,

"Why are you alive and she isn't?"

Chapter Text

Sarah didn't remember falling asleep that night; all she could recall were tears endlessly flowing from her eyes. She awoke with her bottom eyelids puffy as can be and her nose sore from being wiped. She didn't even undress before curling up on the mattress, and she didn't set out her slippers and robe. It was noon before she even woke up, and she debated not getting out of bed at all. Her stomach churned with hunger, alerting her that she had skipped dinner last night. Sarah could barely fathom eating anything right now, and she was feeling dehydrated and was sure all the crying didn't help. She knew getting up and eating would probably help, but it would take all her willpower to force herself out of bed. Even so, she managed to do it anyway.

Sarah stood up; her legs felt weak. She held on to the handrail as she descended the stairs. Her head was pounding. All she could think about was the aching of her face, head, and chest. She got to the bottom of the stairs and shuffled into her office, where she could grab some Tylenol and ibuprofen. She dumped a couple of each pill out of the container and into her hand. The light that streamed in through the kitchen windows blinded her; It felt like it went directly behind her eyes, shooting pain through them. She managed to fumble a plastic cup out of the cabinet and shut it carefully so she didn't make too much noise and irritate her headache. Her feet dragged on the way to the sink. After she filled the cup halfway, she popped the pills into her mouth and chased them with the water. The ibuprofen touched her tongue momentarily, leaving a bitterness in her mouth. She dumped the rest of the water out and got some milk out of the fridge. She drank directly from the container in an attempt to wash the flavor down.

After Sarah had sufficiently gotten the bitter tang out of her mouth, she got the stuff to make a sandwich. It was the same meal she'd been having at least every other day anymore because it was simple and didn't take any effort. Bread, ham, cheese, mayo, bread. She paid attention only to what she was doing and nothing else. Bread, ham, cheese, mayo, bread. Her two sandwiches were complete, so she headed toward the living room to sit on the couch. Left, right, left, right. With each step, the tip of her toes failed to leave the ground. She sat down and ate her food. Chew, chew, chew, swallow.

Between the food and the meds, her headache subsided. Her whole body was exhausted, and sooner than later, her thoughts returned. She struggled to not tear up again, but as she was beginning to lose that battle, her phone dinged. She lifted up the slightly outdated smartphone that she had neglected to replace with the latest model in a few years. Sarah's eyes widened at the text. Erin had messaged her; she was sure that Erin would be strictly a patient after everything that happened, but as Sarah glanced over the screen, she felt a warmness bubbling up her cold form. Erin was asking if Sarah wanted to come over that night for dinner. Of course, Sarah couldn't go in the state she was in, and it was already almost 1 pm. Sarah quickly replied and asked when she should arrive. Erin told her 5 pm.

Sarah suddenly found herself with the energy she lacked. She walked back up the stairs and hopped into the shower, washing herself clean of the anguish she had been feeling. She assured herself that the energy she got from the text was simply because it was a person who wanted to see her and not because of who it was. She felt a tinge of anxiety, but she pushed it aside as basic social anxiety. After her hair and body were thoroughly cleaned, she got dressed. After getting dressed, she realized she hadn't brushed her teeth that day, so she walked back over to the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush. Finally, she waited until about 4:30 and headed out.

The crunch of the gravel didn't seem as harsh today. She arrived at Erin's house and walked up with her arms crossed over her chest. Sarah knocked on the old wooden door. She didn't sit long before the door swung open. Erin greeted her with a smile.

"Hi, Sarah, come on in!" She gestured inside as she scooted out of the doorway.

Sarah thanked and greeted Erin with a genuine smile. When Sarah stepped into the house, she could smell the food. It was some kind of chicken, maybe potatoes as a side? Sarah then had the brilliant revelation that she could simply ask Erin what she was cooking.

"So, what are we having?" Sarah said, her arms still pulled across her chest.

"Oh, I have a honey garlic glazed chicken in the oven, and then I have some homemade mashed potatoes on the stove," she smiled and turned her head to peek into the kitchen, "and it should be done here soon." Her face made it obvious she was overjoyed that Sarah turned up.

"Well, it smells delightful!" Sarah exclaimed; her smile portrayed one thing, but the bags under her eyes portrayed another.

"How was your night, Sarah?" Erin's eyebrows furrowed lightly as she spoke. She could see the fatigue on Sarah's face.

"Oh, it was... fine." Sarah broke eye contact as she spoke, and her voice heightened with the lie. She tried to clear her throat to play it off.

Just then, the oven beeped.

"That's the chicken!" Erin smirked before leaving the living room to pull the chicken out of the oven.

Sarah breathed a breath of relief as she was 'saved by the bell,' so to speak. Sarah would not let her guard down. She was determined to make up for basically kicking Erin out yesterday night. She was not going to let her mind ruin it this time. Sarah walked into the dining room as Erin set out two plates. Erin's loose waves dangled over the sides of her face a little as she set the food down. She then gestured for Sarah to have a seat; Sarah sat opposite Erin. Sarah's senses were overwhelmed by the scent of the food, and she realized she was famished. Sarah quickly took a bite of mashed potatoes. They melted in her mouth, and the buttery flavor was phenomenal. Erin chuckled under her breath as she realized how hungry Sarah was.

"Is it good?" Erin asked as she watched Sarah shovel another spoonful into her mouth.

Sarah looked up with wide eyes and then put her hand in front of her mouth as she finished eating the spoonful. Before she was even done, she started to nod.

"Yes, it is!" Sarah spoke, feeling a tad embarrassed.

"Good, I'm glad! I haven't cooked an actual meal in a minute, so I was worried that you weren't gonna like it, but I'm happy you do!" Erin talked so freely about her worries, unlike Sarah. Erin's tender laugh cut through the air after she finished talking.

They both ate and made small talk about the food. After they finished their plates, Erin invited Sarah to sit on the couch with her. Sarah plopped down on the couch with a full stomach, and Erin sat next to her, folding her legs under herself so she could face Sarah. Sarah saw that and decided to fix herself and prop one leg underneath her while letting the other dangle off the edge of the couch so she could do the same. Sarah scanned Erin's face and eyes, trying to glean a secret motive behind Erin's kindness. Erin's eyes gave way to concern.

"So, how have you been? Like, actually, not the bullcrap about how you're fine." Erin used her fingers to make air quotations when she said fine.

Sarah shook her head; she didn't want to let her mask go. She didn't want to be seen as weak or sensitive. In reality, she was an incredibly strong woman. She could handle blood, gore, vomit, and the works; her stomach was hard as steel. She handled her last breakup with grace and didn't shed a tear when they split. She took care of her mom for nearly two years after her dementia had gotten bad. She was probably one of the strongest people on the island mentally. She viewed everything through a lens of logistics and statistics, never letting her emotions get the better of her.

"Sarah, look at me," Erin spoke, breaking through the barrier Sarah was making in her mind, "I only want to talk. I understand what it feels like to lose a parent; please, talk to me."

Erin's face lowered into a frown. Sarah felt awful making people worry about her. Well, one person. Sarah looked into Erin's eyes as water formed in the bottom of her eyes.

"Erin, I..." Sarah's voice broke as she went to speak, and she covered her eyes with her hand. She pulled her other arm around her midsection as if she was trying to physically hold herself together, "I haven't been myself. Yesterday night was one of the hardest nights of my life, and I... I just..." She trailed off, letting out a small sob of anguish.

Erin scooted closer to Sarah and wrapped an arm around her side, pulling her down to rest her head on Erin's shoulder. Sarah cried on her shoulder.

"I'm - I'm so sorry. I don't know what's come over me; I swear I'm not usually like this," Sarah spoke between broken sobs.

"Shh, it's alright; you don't need to apologize. This is what friends are for. You've been through so much this past couple of months. Take all the time you need. I will be here," Erin gently rubbed her hand in a circle on Sarah's back, relaxing Sarah's body so she could just lean against her.

Sarah felt immensely guilty for making Erin deal with her breakdown. Erin whispered reassurances as Sarah wept in her arms.

Eventually, the tears slowed down, and Sarah regained control. Without leaving her arms, Sarah looked up at Erin. Sarah was sure she looked like a mess, but she didn't care right now.

"Erin," Sarah broke through the silence as she looked at Erin, "thank you for everything. I... I think I needed this."

Erin smiled back at her, happy to have helped Sarah.

"No need to thank me, really; we're friends, and I know you would do the same for me." Erin tilted her head against the couch and gazed into Sarah's deep brown eyes.

They stayed leaning on one another in silence for a bit before Sarah decided she should probably go home. Sarah expressed this to Erin.

"You could sleep here tonight," as she spoke, it started to rain outside, "I wouldn't feel right having you walk home in the rain, anyway," Erin smiled at the timing of the rain.

"Oh, no, I can walk. It's alright." Sarah began to stand.

"No, I insist! I have a guest room; you can take the bed in there tonight." Erin stood up next to her and grabbed her elbow gently.

"Are you sure? Because it really is no problem to walk home." Sarah asked, making sure she wasn't intruding.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll show you to the room, okay?" Erin assured her it was no big deal.

They walked to the room. It was furnished with an older bed with a wooden frame and a comfy-looking mattress. There was a small nightstand with a lamp on it and a radio. Sarah stepped in behind Erin.

"Here it is! It's not much, and I haven't put a TV in here yet, but the bed is comfortable," Erin told her, "I have some food and stuff in the fridge if you wake up before me, so feel free to help yourself!"

"You're quite the gracious host, y'know?" Sarah spoke, laughing slightly, "Thanks, again, for letting me stay the night, along with putting up with me."

"Sarah, it's nothing, honestly. Like I said before, we're friends." Erin beamed with compassion.

They finished talking and went to their respective rooms. Sarah laid her head down to sleep and was out like a light. She was exhausted from all the emotions running through her heart and mind. She was thankful for having such a good friend in her life. Her sleep was comfortable and dreamless, letting her body finally rest.