Dr. Audrey Hepburn, her name an unfortunate accident resulting from a star-struck mother and the bad luck to fall in love with Walter Hepburn, studied the woman in front of her. She was getting plenty of time to complete her study. Sarah Mackenzie didn't speak unless spoken to, didn't make eye contact, and, from the looks of it, didn't eat much. She was sullen, uncommunicative, and prone to one-syllable answers.
She repressed the sigh that wanted to force its way out of her throat. She had told Sarah's friend - she checked her notes - Harm that this wouldn't be a miracle cure. A person did not appear in therapy one day and emerge magically better. It was a complex cocktail of sessions and, in cases like Sarah's, the right drugs. She did agree with his assessment that Sarah needed it. The suicide attempt alone demanded it. But Sarah had to want help in order to receive it and it appeared that she didn't realize that she wanted to be helped yet.
"Sarah," she prompted. They only had fifteen more minutes left in their session and she wanted an answer to her original question. "You never answered me. How are you feeling?"
"Fine." She rubbed her hands down her arms and looked around the office. She pulled the corners of her mouth up in what passed as an imitation of a smile. "You have a lovely office."
"How's your mood been today?" She ignored the attempt to dodge the question, but she could have laid even money on the answer.
"Fine."
Audrey tapped her fingers against the side of her desk. Leaning forward and resting her chin on her palm, she said, "Your friends don't think you're fine. They're worried about you."
"I'm okay," she murmured.
Audrey shook her head. "Why do you think you're okay?"
The other woman looked up. "I've been in difficult spots before." Her lips trembled into a smile. "I'll survive."
"Sarah," Audrey said firmly, "you very nearly didn't survive this."
"And yet, here I am." Sarah shrugged her shoulders and studied the woman's office. "You have a lovely office," she said again.
"Thank you." Audrey followed the path of Sarah's eyes. "Most of it I picked up while traveling." She flicked her gaze back. "Do you like to travel?"
"I don't get the chance to very often." She knitted her fingers together tightly in her lap. Audrey could see the knuckles turning white from the pressure of the grip. "Work. I travel for work."
"Do you enjoy it?"
"Work? I guess. It's a job." She hitched a shoulder a little. "If it were fun, it'd be called play."
Audrey had already talked to a few of Sarah's co-workers, unofficially. She needed a control group because she knew Sarah's viewpoints were likely skewed by her emotions. Although there was a fair amount of the usual office grumbling, everyone had been unanimous in the unique atmosphere. She heard the word family mentioned often during the interviews.
Sarah's response, despite the contrasting stories she heard earlier, didn't surprise her. Often, people who attempted suicide developed a type of tunnel vision approach to their lives. Combined with a sense of isolation, they lacked the ability to see the fuller picture. She thought that Sarah had simply lost the ability to see that people cared about her.
"What about your co-workers?"
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it. "They're nice." She glanced away. "I like them."
"They said the same about you."
"I know." The words shuddered out.
"Do you really?" Audrey leaned against the side of her chair and rested her elbow on its arm.
"Yeah." Her voice was small. "I do." She paused. "It's getting late. Can I go home now?"
"Do you have someone to take you home?"
Sarah jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the door. "My frie - uh - Harm." She stuttered the beginning of his name. "He's set up residency in my apartment."
"It's better for you to have people around." Audrey had explained that same principle to Sarah's friends. Sarah couldn't be left alone. Not because of the risk of another attempt, although that played a role in the decision, but because many people who tried to killed themselves were isolated or felt that way. She needed the contact with the outside world that another person would provide. She simply could not be left alone with the demons in her mind. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
She walked the other woman to the ante-room. The man, Harm, stood up when they entered. Sarah didn't look at him and he didn't take his hands out of his pockets. He looked puzzled, as if he had yet to figure out how he had arrived at the office. Audrey understood his frustration and she could only hope that Sarah would be able to see his concern, but if body language was any indication, a major source of Sarah's problems stemmed from the tension flowing between them.
***
Her apartment was getting dark but she didn't want to turn any lights on. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her mug of tea she stared out the window. It had taken some convincing but she was finally alone. He'd been reluctant to go and for that she was grateful. She was just tired of being watched.
Everyone was watching her. Her doctor, her CO, her friends. Harm. It was the first moment alone since she'd been released from the hospital. It was temporary, Harm was picking up Chinese take-out, but she relished it. Her stomach growled in protest at the thought of food. She hadn't eaten much in the past few days. Weeks, really, if she were honest with herself.
Her fingertips pressed against the window sash. The glass was cool beneath them. She imagined the coolness spreading through her hands, radiating up her arms and down her bones until she was as cool, as calm, and as invisible as the glass. Her forehead leaned against the panes and she watched the world below her.
Often, during the course of their time together, she wondered why Harm felt compelled to fly. But now, she wanted to experience the freedom. She wanted to feel the rush of the wind against her face. Wanted to be able to spread her arms and feel those few precious minutes when all there was the air, the wind, and the sky.
An arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her back from the window. Off-balance, she tumbled to the ground, taking the body attached to the arm down with her. Almost objectively, she noticed the broken mug on the floor and the half-open window. Had she done that?
From their position on the floor, Harm soothed her hair back from her forehead. "Mac, what are you doing?" He kissed the crown of her head. She wondered if he knew that he was doing it.
"I don't know," she said, studying the mess under the window. "I didn't know I did that."
His arm tightened around her waist. "Why are you doing this?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he murmured into her hair. "Get better, please, Sarah."
She
nodded slowly. The tears gathering in her eyes spilled over onto her cheeks.
She buried her face into her hands and mumbled, "I'm sorry,"
into them repeatedly.