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"How have you been doing Ms. McEnzie?"

Erin inwardly cringed at the sound of her own name. She stirred on the cushiony love seat, feeling as if it were swallowing her whole.

The woman who questioned her sat poised in her wing back chair, her hands clasped lightly in her lap. Her voice was light and soft, falling featherlike against Erin’s sensitive and tightly strung emotions.

Erin cleared her throat and willed her own voice to come to life.

"Fine, and please, call me Mac."

She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it firmly to her, gaining some sense of security with its presence.

The doctor of psychology eyed her silently, searching her own mind for another question that perhaps would elicit more of an answer.

"Mac, last time we met you were unable to remember much of what had occurred on the night of the shooting." Her hands remained delicately clasped in her lap, her voice equally as delicate, trying to diffuse with soft words. "Is that still the case?"

Erin felt her brow tense as images of that night invaded her mind. She saw Henderson on the floor, crumpled like a rag doll. She saw Jack nuzzling and pawing at her limp hand, whining at her lack of response.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to fight the memories, not wanting to know the pain that they held. Yet, still they came, welcome or not.

She heard laughter. Strange, evil laughter rang in her ears. Then there was a flash of blood, deep red and penetrating the cotton fibers of a shirt. The shrill laughter pierced her ears and she clenched her eyes closed wishing she could somehow muffle the ear rendering sound. Her eyes flew open as the evil laughter gave way to a deafening pop of gunfire.

"Pop!!"

Erin jumped up from the couch at the sound of the loud noise. Her eyes were wide open with terror as she searched her surroundings for the source of the gunfire.

Dr. Greenberg stood across from her a surprised look on her face, a manila file folder in her hand.

"I’m sorry." The slender built doctor started. "I dropped a book while reaching for your file." She held out her hand and lightly grasped Erin’s arm. "Are you ok?"

The doctor’s hand was slight and fine boned like her frame. Her skin felt cool against Erin’s arm.

She looked up from the hand to meet the doctor’s light brown eyes. Her heart was hammering loudly in her chest and she tried to steady her erratic breathing.

"Here, why don’t you sit down?" Dr. Greenberg suggested as the look of concern creased her forehead. She led Erin slowly back to her seat. "Would you like some water?"

"No." She managed to say with tight vocal chords. "No thanks."

The doctor resumed her poised professional position and began leafing through Erin’s file.

"Are there memories now, Ms. Mc….uh Mac?" She corrected as she looked up from the file.

Erin shook her head. "Just flashes. Nothing I can make any sense of."

The doctor clicked her pen and made a note.

"Ok." She took a big breath before continuing, letting Erin know that she was about to say something important.

"Sometimes Mac, when we see or experience things that our mind can’t handle, we block them out. Sort of our body’s own security system." She paused and looked at Erin, waiting to see if what she was saying was sinking in.

"So what are you saying…that I may never remember?" Erin stared at the doctor in her wingback chair and noted oddly how gothic her frail body looked against the chair as a backdrop. She could’ve easily been staring at a 1940’s horror picture.

The doctor thought before answering, searching the room as if the answers were going to materialize right before her.

"You will most likely regain your memory, but it may take some time. And even then you may not be able to make sense of all of it. It will come to you in fragments, brief images much like you are experiencing now."

Erin sighed her discontent and grabbed at the throw pillow once again.

The doctor watched her for a few seconds before continuing.

"We also talked about Mark last time I saw you. How is that situation panning out?"

Erin shrugged her shoulders like a lost teenager, the pain too close to the surface and the wisdom to handle it not yet developed.

"I packed my belongings this past weekend. Before he and his girlfriend came home."

"He’s out of the hospital then?"

Erin shook her head. "I agreed to let him have the house and I wanted to be out before the girlfriend was in."

"That’s certainly understandable. Where is it that you’re staying?" She continued to make notes as Erin answered.

"I checked into a hotel."

The doctor looked up, a little startled by the answer.

"You haven’t made arrangements for your own place?"

Erin stared straight ahead, lost in the blurred room. She couldn’t explain it, but something inside had warned her against getting her own place.

"I…I haven’t found a place I liked yet." She finally clarified, clawing her way back from the fog, knowing it was easier to lie than to explain her own mysterious paranoia.

The session continued and Erin did her best to stay attentive. She hated the sessions, but she continued to go because the department required that she do so. Every cop had to take a leave of absence and see a therapist if they were involved in a shooting. She had put in her time with therapy and the investigation involving the shooting was close to being tied up. She anxiously hoped that this meant she would be able to get back into the swing of things.

Lost in the deep sea of her own thoughts, she found it difficult to resurface when the doctor’s alarm sounded on the table next to her wingback chair. Erin jumped up more than willing to let reality seep back in. She was glad her hour was finally up.

She walked out into the hallway and took in a big breath of fresh air. The trying session was over and she was more than grateful to be out of the tiny office. Stretching as she walked, she headed back towards the homicide division and away from internal affairs.

As she approached her desk she relaxed a little and glanced over at the whiteboard on the wall. There were several pending murder investigations and she frowned as she looked down at the empty basket on her desk. She glanced at her silent phone and blank message pad. The hope she had developed earlier in the day suddenly drained from her.

"Hiya Mac." Jeff Hernandez greeted as he tossed some files down on his desk across the room.

"Hey yourself." She smiled slightly and walked over to his desk where she made her hip at home, resting it against its side.

Jeff slid into his chair and dabbed at the sweat beading on his forehead.

"How are things going?" He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a Kleenex and used it to continue to wipe away the sweat.

"Everything’s fine." She fibbed, wanting to sound ok.

"Be glad you’re in here and not out there. It’s 113 degrees today."

He tossed the damp tissue in the wastebasket next to his desk.

"So how come nobody’s thrown anything my way?" She threw the question out there, hoping her long time friend would give her an honest answer.

He sat forward in his chair, surprised at the directness of the question.

"Mac, it’s not because we don’t want to." He looked up at her with sincere brown eyes.

"Then what it is?" She crossed her arms over her chest, preparing herself for the answer.

"Well, it’s Ruiz. He told us not to."

Erin breathed in deeply. It wasn’t the answer she expected to hear. She reached down and patted his desk as she stood back on two feet.

"Thanks." She tossed over her shoulder as she headed off towards Ruiz’s office.

She stopped in front of his closed door and raised her fist to knock lightly.

"In!" She heard him shout in response to her soft knocking. She opened the door and was surprised to see the doctor she had just left.

Dr. Greenberg was sitting across from her sergeant, a familiar file in her hand.

"Oh, I’m sorry." She started to back out, completely surprised and a little embarrassed as she realized that they had most likely been discussing her.

"Don’t be Mac. The doc and I were just finishing up." Ruiz explained as he nodded goodbye to the polite and gentle psychologist. She nodded at Erin as she breezed past her through the door.

"Sit." He gestured with his hand and repositioned himself on his seat before making a steeple with his hands.

"So, what brings you to my door, Mac?" He was studying her with his intense eyes, the wire frames around them doing little to hide their penetrating power.

"Well, sir I was just wondering why you ordered the guys not to give me any work. I was hoping I would be cleared for, at the very least, some desk work." She was surprised at how easily she had laid it out. Her nerves were doing double time, but her statement had sounded very focused and reasonable.

Ruiz pushed himself up from his chair and walked around his desk to shut the door to his office. He sighed as he walked back around his desk and he avoided her eyes as he returned to his seat. He looked like he was about to tell her that her best friend had died.

"As you know I just spoke to Dr. Greenberg." He looked up at her then; the intensity in his eyes had softened. "And she feels that it is in your best interest to remain on medical leave for at least a few more weeks."

"Excuse me?" She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her blood pounded angrily to her ears.

"Mac, she’s diagnosed you with post traumatic stress disorder."

"What? What?" She was shaking her head, not able to comprehend his words. "She’s wrong…I’m fine…"

"Mac." He demanded softly, needing her to look at him. "She said you nearly jumped out of your skin today when she dropped a book."

She swallowed hard and looked away.

"How can you be expected to go back out into the field when little noises affect you?"

She looked down at her hands and felt her throat tighten with tears and rage. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. Suddenly the life she had once known had been completely pulled out from underneath her.

"I understand sir." She whispered, lying. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand at all. Her own mind had become her worst enemy, taking the last remaining crumb of her life with it, her ability to work. What was she supposed to do now? How would she escape her horrible life without a job to throw herself into?

She rose very slowly from her chair, unsure if her legs would hold her.

"I’m sorry." Ruiz offered softly as he rose with her to walk her to the door. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "You’ll get through this Mac, I know you will. Keep seeing the doctor, she can help you."

Erin looked over at her superior; he stood at eye level with her.

"Did she say how long? Or what I could do?"

The intensity returned to his eyes as he thought.

"She suggested that you maybe, for whatever reason, were avoiding the memories. She said the only way to work through them is to face them, feel them."

She closed her eyes and remembered vaguely the end of her session not even an hour before. The doctor had said the same thing to her, but she had somehow not heard. She looked back over at Ruiz and gave him a tired smile.

"Thanks." She said softly before walking out the door.

Completely confused and suddenly feeling dangerously emotional, she quickly made her way into the women’s restroom. She pushed open the door and ran to the row of sinks where she hastily began splashing water on her face, trying her best to force back the hot tears that so badly needed to escape.

"Mac?" She heard her name from behind but didn’t turn to look. She recognized the voice and instead raised her eyes up to look in the mirror above the sink.

Henderson came up quickly from behind placing her hand on Erin’s back.

"Oh my God, are you ok?" A look of alarm spread across her face as her eyes skimmed over Erin’s.

Erin turned off the water and moved over to the side wall to dry her face with the provided folded white paper towels. Henderson moved to stand in front of her, placing both her hands on Erin’s shoulders. Erin looked up at her to answer, to tell her she was fine but as she saw her face, flashes of violence invaded her mind.

She saw Henderson getting hit from behind. She saw her body collapse and lay limp on the floor. And in her ears, the evil laughter rang.

"Oh God, God no!" Erin grabbed at her ears and shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the images, of the laughter.

"Mac! Mac look at me!" Henderson had lost her grip on her shoulders and she tried to move in to touch her again.

Erin looked up at her and slowly eased her hands from her ears. Her lips trembled as she began to speak.

"I saw you. You were lying there…you looked…dead."

Henderson stood there, intently searching her face.

"Oh no, I’m fine." She tried to embrace her but Erin reacted again, afraid to be touched.

"Don’t touch me!" She shrugged away from her and turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her face was red with emotion and her eyes looked wild and afraid.

Henderson stood still and let her hands fall to her sides.

"I’m sorry; I wasn’t going to hurt you." She whispered, more than a little upset by their present encounter. She hadn’t seen Mac very much since the night of the shooting and now seeing her like this…so terrified made her realize that she really didn’t have any idea as to what really happened in that room that night.

"No, I’m sorry." Erin replied softly as she turned to face her friend. "I’m just really confused." Her voice quivered with raw emotion. "And scared." She laughed unexpectedly. "And I don’t even know what it is that I’m scared of."

Henderson took a step towards her but then backed off, not wanting to upset her again.

Erin rubbed at her face which suddenly felt tight and itchy.

"Ruiz just told me that I’m out for at least a few more weeks." She confided.

"I’m sorry." Henderson offered feeling truly bad for her friend. "I’m out too."

Erin looked up at the soft statement, unsure of what she had just heard.

"What?" She asked disbelieving her own ears.

Henderson gestured towards the door. "You wanna take a ride? Get out of here?"

Erin shook her head in agreement. "Yeah." She declared with more conviction as she followed Henderson out of the restroom.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, enough time for Henderson to put some distance between them and the station.

"I’ve decided to resign." She said matter of factly as she drove.

"What? Why?" Erin couldn’t get the questions out fast enough.

"A lot of reasons. One being you." She looked over at Erin as she said it.

"Me?" Erin asked completely confused as to how she had played a role in this drastic decision.

"I failed you, Mac. That night I was completely useless to you and you could’ve been killed."

"But that wasn’t your fault…you were knocked out…"

"Knocked out? Come on Mac. You yourself can’t even remember what all happened. The point is is that I should’ve never allowed myself to get knocked out. It was my home, my turf and I was there to protect you. And I failed." The last sentence was said in a softer tone laced with defeat.

"You can’t mean that." Erin said looking at the auburn haired woman next to her.

"Oh and let’s not forget the fact that I was completely wrong about Adams. Even if she was somehow involved, I couldn’t bring forth the proof. So she walks without so much as a slap on the wrist."

Erin let the last statement pass, not wanting to think about the mysterious dark woman. Instead she preferred to think about Henderson and their current situation.

"I thought you said that you could never imagine giving up your job as a detective." Erin looked away from her, the new revelation of Henderson leaving too much to bear. If she looked away then maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad. So instead of focusing on her friend she allowed her gaze to drift out the window and onto the scenery that streaked by.

"Well, I’ve decided to take your advice." Henderson responded.

"My advice?" She turned away from the window and looked at her once again.

"Yeah. I’m going to write fulltime now." Henderson smiled at her, seemingly grateful.

"Oh." Erin didn’t know what to say and it was becoming very clear that her life hadn’t been the only one affected by the shooting.

"And…since you’re not going to be busy the next few weeks you are welcome to come stay at my new place with me. Rumor has it that you’re living in a hotel." She glanced at her briefly and then retrained her eyes on the road.

"You bought a new place?" Erin asked without confirming her present living arrangement. She didn’t know why but the announcement of Henderson’s new home surprised her.

"Damn right I did. I wasn’t about to stay in that house after all that happened there."

"Of course." Erin responded softly. Of course Henderson couldn’t stay there. Not after the intrusion and the blood shed

"So I bought a new place up in the pines, away from this inferno."

"Sounds nice."

"It is." She looked back to Erin with warmth and hope in her eyes. "And if you’re up for it…you can see just how nice it is for yourself."

part 2

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