30 | ❝ RETURNS ARE ALWAYS DIFFICULT... ❞

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CHAPTER THIRTY

❝ RETURNS ARE ALWAYS DIFFICULT... ❞

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[own storyline]

LISSIE POV

EVERYTHING GOES BACK TO NORMAL. Although that was the biggest lie she tried to tell herself. First, she started living at Athena's house with her and her father. It was a bit crowded sometimes, especially with May and Harry, but she couldn't complain, as she was just a guest there.

She missed sharing a flat with Rosie and Marrie, but each of them needed different help. They promised each other they would stay in touch, and Marrie insisted on picking her up from school several times a week and doing things together.

And that moment—picking Marrie up from school—was probably the only time she left the house. She spent all her free time in peace, and while at first it was completely understandable, because her body needed to recover and constantly hurt like hell, over time even she realized she was hiding. There was some sense in it, because the whole world outside seemed too loud, too carefree, and above all, it was moving forward compared to her.

She felt as if she were stuck in that tenement building for good. What good was it that she was safe and surrounded by loved ones when every night she replayed what had happened? Sleeping pills only helped temporarily, because sooner or later she'd wake up in the middle of the night. Several times, to the point that her screams woke her parents, causing Bobby and Athena to rush in, terrified of what was happening. She was grateful that May and Harry had stayed with Michael that night and didn't have to witness how damaged and broken she was.

She was also tired of the constant questions about how she was feeling, if everything was okay, if something hurt... She felt terrible, nothing was right, and the physical pain she felt was beyond her capacity. It was the emotional pain she couldn't handle.

She still hadn't processed what had happened in Chicago, and now the list of traumas included being kidnapped, being marked, and having killed Austin herself.

The worst part was that she felt guilty for having done it. She should have been happy that her tormentor would never be able to hurt her again, but now she had to live with the knowledge that she had killed a man. In self-defense, which the police had entered into their records, but that didn't change the fact that she had been the one to raise the pole and hit him.

To this day, she didn't know what she had been thinking—or even thinking anything at all. All she remembered was that she wanted to protect Rosie because she saw no escape for herself.

Things had changed. They had been saved, and she was alive.

So why couldn't she derive any pleasure from it?

Everything that had not yet given her comfort, that had brought her joy, suddenly became completely unnecessary and senseless. She even stopped listening to music, which had been an integral part of her life, because she believed that all the songs she knew couldn't describe what she was feeling now. And she felt... an emptiness. It felt like it was consuming her more and more with each passing day, eventually taking over completely. She knew she had to do something about it, and the only thought that could help was therapy.

She lay on the bed and stared at the white ceiling—something she'd done every day since leaving the hospital. She turned over a business card she'd received from the same nurse who'd first taken her to Rosie's. According to her, it was the clinic of Dr. Jonathan Baker, who treated similar cases. She was skeptical because he was a man... Maybe she was prejudiced, but she didn't feel like he was the one who could understand her.

Besides, she felt the very idea of therapy was utterly foolish. How could talking to a stranger help her through this? Therapy hadn't helped her last time, so why should it be any different this time?

She sighed heavily and finally decided to take that first step. She was afraid that if she didn't do something—anything—she'd be stuck in this void forever. She reached for the phone and dialed. She had no idea who else she could turn to for help, so she might as well take the one they offered. When she made the appointment, she was exceptionally calm, which actually surprised her. Although she thought the actual call couldn't have stressed her out as much as the thought of going to this appointment, and for the first time in a long time, even trying to be honest.

She put the phone down and considered it such a great success that she decided to share it with her father and Athena. As she reached the hallway, she heard their hushed voices, and as she approached the living room, she could understand their conversation more and more clearly.

"...we can't think about that now," her father insisted. "Lissie needs me more than ever. I need to be there for her, and our wedding can wait. Besides, no one feels like celebrating right now."

"Bobby," Athena's voice was calm and understanding. "I understand everything. You know I worry about her just as much. I'm not saying we should throw a big wedding in some banquet hall right away. I'm just saying we should think about what to do next..."

"I don't know..." Bobby sighed heavily, but quickly regained his composure. "I love you, Athena, and I want you to be my wife. That hasn't changed at all. I just... I feel helpless. I want to help her, but I don't know how. I can't think right now and organize a party where we're all supposed to celebrate when I know not everyone can feel that way."

Lissie felt a pang in her heart. Before she was kidnapped, she had lived this event so deeply—she had helped them organize the wedding, had been actively involved in everything, and her father had promised her he would be its witness. Perhaps not a traditional solution, but he had said he couldn't imagine anyone else in that position, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction, but above all, happiness. Because she saw that her father had finally moved on. The death of their family still lived within him, just as it did within her, but he saw some light in the future, something she couldn't say for herself. She didn't want him to give that up because of her.

She clutched her ribs as they rose again, then took a few steps to the kitchen, where her father was talking to Athena.

"Don't call off the wedding," she said, leaning against the wall.

The two of them looked at her in surprise.

"Mellie..." Bobby immediately walked over to her and helped her into a chair. "You should be resting."

"I've been doing it every day since I got out of the hospital," she muttered discontentedly. Then she looked at them both and smiled weakly. "Don't call off the wedding because of me," she repeated. "You love each other, and you both deserve happiness. I don't want you to hold back on anything just because I have to deal with what happened to me."

Athena looked at her, moved by her words, and Bobby shook his head.

"You're our priority right now, honey," Athena assured her. "We'll wait as long as you need."

"No, please. I want this for you... Do me this favor. I want to forget about what happened, and if you'll let me, I'd love to go back to helping you with the organization. I have plenty of free time right now."

"We have time..."

"Dad," she interrupted. "You're a firefighter, and Athena's a police officer. These are responsible jobs, often involving danger. You shouldn't wait, because no one knows what the next day might bring."

"I need to focus on you now... You're the most important thing right now, you hear me?"

"I know," she smiled and grabbed his hand. "I know you support me and want to take care of me, so do this for me." She looked at Athena too and extended her hand, and Sergeant Grant stepped closer and took her hand. "The wedding will be a good thing. We all need something to remind us that life isn't just about bad things, but also plenty of good things. I want you to be happy, even if it takes me a while to feel that way again."

There was a moment of silence, during which Bobby looked at Athena. They stared at each other until he finally nodded and looked at his daughter.

"Okay..." he finally said, and Lissie's smile widened a little, but it still wasn't the same as before. "We'll think about it, okay? I'm not saying we'll do it right away, but we'll choose a date."

"That's all I want."

Athena gently put her arm around her, careful not to injure her further.

"Speaking of which, I'm hoping you can help me choose a dress."

"I thought you already had it picked out?" Lissie raised an eyebrow.

"Kind of..." she said mysteriously. "I need a second opinion, so I'm counting on you."

"I'd love to," she replied with a short smile. "I'll just need some time for therapy, because I've decided to go back to her."

"That's a very good decision." Athena looked at her proudly. "I'll always give you a ride if I can."

"You have no idea how proud I am of you." Bobby kissed her forehead. "Remember, you're not alone in this, and we'll be there for you every step of the way."

THAT EVENING, AS THEY SAT DOWN TO DINNER, THE DOORBELL RANG. She wanted to go and answer the door, at least to make up for not doing any chores, but her father quickly stopped her. After a moment, she thought she heard familiar voices, and then she saw Suzanna and Ian, whose appearance made her genuinely happy for the first time in ages.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, looking at them as they sat down at the table with them. Athena handed them extra plates, and Bobby busied himself with preparing drinks.

"We were driving by," Ian joked, and Lissie shook her head.

"It's actually quite close from Chicago to Los Angeles to drive by."

"You're nitpicking," he said, waving his hand and piling a double portion of casserole onto his plate.

"You're not alone at the table, idiot," Suzanna muttered, taking the dish from him. Then she turned to the others. "We came because we thought it would be better if we told you in person."

"We're moving to LA," Ian said excitedly.

Lissie had a feeling she'd misheard.

"Where did you get that idea?" Grant asked, genuinely curious.

"You didn't tell them?" Ian glanced at Bobby, who shrugged.

"You beat me to it with your unannounced arrival," he replied with a smile, then looked at Athena and his daughter. "Ian requested an assignment to the Los Angeles unit, and since my team is understaffed, the chief agreed to let him work with us."

"For now, to fill in for Buck," Ian quickly interjected. "I don't want to take anyone's place. But I want to be closer to you and Rosie. I miss our live together."

"You have no idea how happy I am," Lissie smiled briefly at her friend. "It'll be good to have you around again."

Susanna cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"Us," she corrected. "It'll be good to have us around again."

"You quit your job at the law firm?" Athena asked, surprised. "I thought you were a shareholder..."

"I was. I sold them my shares and decided to open my own place here in LA. It might be a bit crazy, but after Ian left, there was absolutely nothing keeping me in Chicago. Especially since my whole family is here... It's just another excuse to change something in my life. I've worked at a law firm for too long with the mindset of making the most of it, not why I became a lawyer in the first place—to help others."

"I'm so impressed," Lissie said, picking at her dinner with a fork. She didn't feel like eating at all, but she didn't want to seem callous. Besides, she knew perfectly well that her father and Athena had cooked this meal specifically for her. "You're starting all over again."

"I'll also be doing pro bono work," Suzanna continued. She was clearly excited about it and looking forward to the new challenges. "I've even started a partnership with one of the women's foundations. I'll consult for them and help with the legal side if needed."

Lissie marveled at how much things had changed in such a short time. She was glad that Ian and Suzanna would be there for them, and that their lives were shaping up this way. However, she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was moving forward except her.

"I think you'll manage without a problem," Athena turned to Suzanna. "And it will be a pleasure for us to have you around more often."

THE CLINIC WHERE SHE WENT WASN'T LARGE. At first, she wondered if she'd reached the right address, but the woman behind the reception desk greeted her with a gentle smile. She asked her to fill out all the paperwork, which Lissie did with shaking hands. She hadn't expected the challenge of simply writing her name. She wasn't sure if it was still due to her injuries or the stress she felt at the mere thought of entering a doctor's office.

When she finally entered, the room was bright. The walls were painted in warm colors, with bookshelves lining one of them, and a large window opposite overlooking the private garden. There was also room for a couch and an armchair, as well as a desk, behind which sat Dr. Jonathan Baker. He was a man with dark hair, streaked with gray at the sides, and a similarly trimmed beard. He wore round glasses, and when he looked at her, he smiled kindly. She could detect a warmth in his brown eyes that seemed to calm her down a bit.

"Hello, Melissa. I'm glad you came." The man rose from behind his desk and stood in front of her, keeping his distance. "My name is Jonathan Baker, but you can just call me Jonathan."

"Lissie," she murmured softly, pointing to herself. "That's what everyone calls me."

"I understand." Jonathan nodded, and she began to play with her hands, unsure if she should say anything or how to act. It wasn't her first session, but that didn't change the fact that she had no idea what to do. "Shall we sit down?"

Jonathan gestured to the couch, and she sat down hesitantly. She ran her hand over the delicate fabric and looked up. Her new therapist sat down in the armchair opposite, adjusted his glasses rather nervously, and reached for the notebook that lay on the table between them.

"I hope you don't mind if I take notes while we talk?"

"No... This isn't my first therapy session, so I know what's going on."

"Either way, I'll ask you for your permission every time," he replied, and she remembered the words of the doctor from years ago, who had performed the autopsy on her after she was raped. "This place is supposed to be a safe haven for you to experience whatever you're feeling, so you make the final decision here."

"Even if I want to end the session and leave halfway through?"

"Even then. Everyone reacts differently, and no one will judge you for what you feel, think, or do."

Lissie didn't respond immediately, processing what she'd heard. The truth was, though, she was trying to focus on what she should actually say. She'd come here because she knew she couldn't cope with what had happened on her own. She wanted to deal with the entire list of traumas Austin had inflicted on her, but she didn't know if it was possible for her to simply pick herself up from this.

She sat on that damn couch, tense, her fingers running over the straps of her pants, and Jonathan waited with exceptional patience, not pressuring her.

"I don't know what to say," she finally said. "Or why I came here..."

"It's normal to have doubts," he said calmly. "There's no right or wrong way. You don't have to tell me everything right away. We can slowly work through what you're holding in..."

"There's a bit of that..."

"I'm not here to judge you," he reminded her. "Only to help you deal with all the pain you're carrying, and you might find it unbelievable, but after years of doing this, I can tell when someone is hiding more problems than they're openly admitting."

"So there's definitely something wrong with me," she almost snorted with amusement. She wasn't sure if that was amusing or completely devastating.

"You're hurt, and my job is to help you heal from that pain."

"What's the point?" she asked with utter seriousness. "Why fight a pain that's stronger than you when it would be easier to just... fall asleep."

Jonathan was silent for a moment, and with each passing second she doubted he had anything to say to her that would change her mind. It was the first time she'd practically openly admitted that she didn't have the will to fight—quite the opposite, in fact.

"Easier, yes," he finally admitted. "But that doesn't mean better. It only means shorter."

Jonathan set his notebook down on the table and leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Let's do this," he began again. "One step at a time. It won't be an easy road, because we won't pretend nothing happened. You decide, Lissie."

Nash nodded. For a moment, she thought that maybe she was wrong, and maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to come here. But then the thoughts returned, that it was pointless, that she was too tired to talk about anything...

She decided to push those thoughts away. The emptiness was still consuming her, but she wanted to fight it.

She just wasn't sure she had the strength.

ROSIE POV

AFTER TWO WEEKS IN THE HOSPITAL, ROSIE WAS ABLE TO RETURN HOME. One of the very few positive outcomes of this whole situation was that she and Marrie finally officially moved in with Chim. They'd decided to take this step a few days before her discharge—there was no reason to prolong the moment, and at the same time, she could see from her beloved how happy he was about the decision.

At the same time, it all felt strange—she'd gotten used to the three of them living together, but now both she and Lissie needed care, both mentally and physically, depending on the specific case. Despite everything, she knew she'd surely get used to this new reality, at least in that regard. The two friends promised each other that, as long as their strength permitted, they would see each other as often as they could.

While living together wasn't a concern for her, Buckley's more pressing concern was her need to use crutches. Doctors assured her that it was a temporary solution, but she herself had some concerns about it.

A few days after returning, she was home alone—Marrie was at school, and Chim had gone shopping to prepare all her food for the next day, as he was on shift. He joked that this time he would be the one checking everything against the mat, which only earned him a pillow from his girlfriend.

She searched the kitchen for her favorite Stitch mug, but to her chagrin, it was nowhere in sight, which meant only one thing—it must have been in one of the upper cabinets, which wasn't convenient for her, given her condition.

Someone else might have said she should wait for Chim to return, but that wasn't her first thought—she was thinking about not wanting to be a burden to anyone, especially him and Marrie.

She desperately wanted to reach the dish without anyone's help. She longed to feel like there was something she could do on her own.

But as she reached out, a pain shot through her lower back. Despite everything, she refused to let go. She gritted her teeth but managed to graze the edge of the cabinet with her fingertips. Frustrated, she pushed it open, then stretched higher until she felt her arm tremble with the effort.

The violent jolt she felt down her spine made her freeze for a moment, and one of her crutches slid off, slamming against the cabinet.

She flinched, feeling her panic grow as she struggled to maintain her balance.

A second later, she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, knowing that even greater trouble awaited her than the pain itself. She knew Chim would be furious with her if he saw her in this position.

"Rosie, I'm here!" he called, entering the apartment. "I grabbed that fruit tea you like—"

He stopped abruptly, seeing her in the kitchen, her clumsy stretching to the open cabinet, as well as the crutch dangling precariously at her side.

Buckley saw his jaw tighten in an instant, his gaze filled with frustration in her direction.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked sharply, leaving the groceries on the counter. A moment later, she felt him hold her, carefully helping her back to her previous position before she landed on the floor. "For God's sake! Rosie, what were you thinking?!"

In that moment, she felt only shame at what she had just done.

"I just wanted my cup," she sobbed softly, trying to defend herself. Despite everything, she sounded like a child who had made a mess and then wanted to try to apologize to her parent. "I didn't want to wait for you to do this, like I did every little thing. I wanted to try to do something on my own... Please don't be mad at me."

Han sighed heavily.

"You were willing to risk your health for a piece of pottery?" he asked her. "You fight so hard to get back to full health, and you do something like this?"

Rosa saw the frustration in his eyes, but at the same time, she knew that beneath it lay pure fear for her.

His hands hovered around her waist, as if he thought she might crumble at any moment.

"It's not just a cup," she whispered. "I wanted, just for a moment, to feel like I used to, when I could do small things like that on my own."

Chim took a deep breath, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, his tone had softened considerably, though the words still carried weight.

"I know independence is important to you. I want to help you, but what about you? You're driving me crazy when I see you pushing yourself so hard..." He reached into the cabinet, then took down the aforementioned mug and handed it to her. "Waiting isn't bad. Seriously. It means you don't risk hurting yourself over something that would take me literally two seconds. Will you promise me it won't happen again?"

Buckley sighed. She knew he was right, though it was hard to admit it. She had certain habits that, given her situation, she had to change to avoid situations like the one a few moments ago.

"Okay, I promise," she said quietly. "No more of that."

She could see the relief in his expression. He kissed her temple briefly but still didn't let go, wanting to make sure she was able to stand again. A moment later, he handed her both crutches. "Sit down, before I turn gray, or lose my mind entirely because of your actions..."

She smiled gently, then began to limp toward the table. She knew he would now be even more vigilant about her every step.

FROM THEN SHE STAYED STRONGHOLD TO THE PROMISE SHE MADE TO CHIMNEY. She knew what she'd done that afternoon was idiotic, so she tried to improve. She exercised during rehab and at home. She wanted to be able to walk on her own; that was her goal.

However... There were also those bad days, when she felt hopeless, and her mood would have dragged her to the bottom if it could. That one morning was one of those days.

She felt her muscles tremble as she gripped the handrails that allowed her to maintain any balance. Sweat poured down her face, soaking into the sweatpants she'd been working out in. Her legs felt like lead, and every nerve she possessed screamed with pain whenever she tried to take even the smallest step forward.

She didn't want Marrie and Chim to watch, but they were there with her, as they were at every rehab session.

"I can't..." she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She winced at the pain that momentarily blinded her. "I need a break..."

The therapist didn't move, still watching her with her notebook. There were times when she glanced at her phone screen, completely ignoring what Rosie was saying.

"You can do this," she said, not even looking at her. Her voice could have been freezing if it could. "Stop being so dramatic. People do these exercises every day and they're alive."

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, even though she tried to hold them back. She tried to suppress her pain, but it was no use, as she finally collapsed onto the mattress.

"Don't be a victim just because something hurts," she snapped. "Tears are no excuse. Get up."

Buckley couldn't move. She was at the end of her rope.

"GET UP!" the woman snapped.

As if on cue, Chim emerged from the next room, holding his phone, meaning he'd warned Bobby he'd be late for his shift.

"Hey, hey," he said, appearing beside her to offer support. When she saw his expression, she knew he was practically ready to explode with rage. Considering the situation, the issue with the cup in the locker was nothing. "Can't you see she's really suffering?!"

"If she didn't want this, no one told her to fall into a madman's trap," she said to Han. "And you shouldn't have interfered, much less brought a child here."

"You're lucky I can't move. You'd lose your confidence," she snapped, her voice turning into a loud moan of pain. Curses rose to her lips, but she tried to keep her mouth shut for the sake of her daughter. Moreover, her pain alarmed the girl and even made her jump out of the chair like a spring.

"Mom," she whispered, grabbing her wrist. "Everything will be okay. We'll find other help. You don't have to practice with that nasty woman."

"Marigold!" Chim called, drawing her attention to the vocabulary.

"It's true, Dad!" the girl replied. "She's a bitch, and Mom is suffering because of her. I can't watch this, and neither can you!"

She could see from her beloved that he was truly barely in control. His voice was razor-sharp, to a degree she'd never experienced during their acquaintance.

"You have no idea what my partner has been through," he growled. "You're practicing your first session together, so you don't know how much she struggles to take a step without crutches at her side."

"Ms. Buckley is completely ignoring my orders and playing herself like a victim with special privileges," the woman said firmly. "This is rehabilitation, not hand-holding!"

"She almost died and you're telling me my mom is playing the victim?! What a disgrace!" the nine-year-old cried. "Dad, do something!"

Han signaled his daughter to leave the situation to him. She did so very reluctantly.

"Do you think humiliating someone is therapy?" he asked angrily. "Or pointing out what happened to him, when it's one of the greatest traumas of a person's life."

Marrie finally lost it and ran out before Chim could stop her. The only sound was her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

The man looked at Rosie and then embraced her gently.

"Rosey... Listen to me carefully. Don't let anyone tell you, you're failing, because that's not true," he said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You're simply fighting for your future, and she doesn't understand that, and she never will. I've seen you achieve the impossible time and time again because you don't give up, even when the situation seems hopeless. You don't have to prove anything to anyone."

The events that followed unfolded like a snowball. Marrie called in the center's director, who took over the rehabilitation worker's case, apologizing to the Buckley-Hans for the entire situation.

Finally, with Chim and Marrie's help, Rosie sat down in a chair. She felt an unimaginable sense of relief that the matter had finally come to an end. Marrie hugged her mother, and her partner kissed Rosa on the temple.

"You're stronger than you think," he replied. "She'll never understand..."

"I don't know what I'd do without you by my side," Buckley said, giving them both a gentle smile. "My heroes... You're my strength. It's thanks to you that I'm still fighting..."

"We're all heroes, Mom. In our own way," Marigold said, and her parents just burst out laughing.

These words made them feel much better. Apparently, this was simply what the three of them needed.

A LOT HAD CHANGED IN THE BUCKLEY-HANS' LIVES SINCE THAT TIME. Even if Rosie sometimes felt like things weren't going her way, she knew she had to go down this path if she truly wanted to reclaim her old life, even if only a small part of it.

One evening, Rosie was brooding as she sat in the living room, waiting for Chim to put Marrie to bed. She stared blankly at a photo taken during Marrie's birthday party at the firehouse—it featured her, Chim, Hen, Buck, Eddie, and Bobby.

She sighed heavily. In retrospect, it felt like that day had happened in a completely different lifetime.

"She fell asleep after the third story and the winding of the music box," her boyfriend said, sitting down next to her. "Rosey?"

"Yes?" she said, glancing at him.

She wanted her reaction to be as natural as possible, but she knew that whatever she came up with, Han would see through it very quickly.

"I'm worried," he said, taking her hand. "I know Ian working at our firehouse has had a big impact on you..."

"I'm actually happy about that," she said, smiling. "I finally have everyone in place, but..."

"But what?" He looked at her intently.

"I won't pretend and I'll ask you this directly. Just be as honest with me as you can," the woman said. "Do you think I can go back to the way I was? I can get back to full fitness, but I'm not sure I'll be able to go back to work..."

He fell silent for a mere second, then looked at his beloved with sincerity in his eyes.

"I know that after what you and Lissie went through... Nothing will ever be the same, but you know that," he replied. "As for your return to work, I see how much progress you're making in your training. The brass would be making a mistake not to let you serve, Lieutenant..."

"I was a lieutenant in Chicago, as a paramedic chief." She lowered her gaze. "Here I am... I mean, I was a paramedic, like you and Hen."

"Officially, you're still with the Los Angeles Fire Department," he observed. Seeing her expression, he sighed. "You may have your doubts, but I know you can do it. No matter how long it takes, we'll still be sharing an ambulance like we used to. Everyone's waiting for you and Buck."

"118th doesn't leave its own," she said, clutching the mug on the table. The statement surprised Chim. "I told Austin that when he laughed at me for coming to the building for Lissie..."

"Honest truth," he said. "Neither of us will leave you, much less Lissie. No one is abandoned in a family."

"Hey!" She laughed. "We're the two of us who are the Lilo&Stitch experts."

Han just snorted.

"Your animation obsession is too contagious," he replied. "But thanks to that brief moment, I saw the glint in your eyes that Rosie had before she got beaten up. That's how I know it's going to be alright."

He sat down next to her, and Buckley simply snuggled up to him, touched. She felt a little relief, because this conversation was clearly what she needed.