Sara lies in bed with Hank's arms around her, a contented smile on her face, despite the fact that he's teasing her, not for the first time, about how she slipped and called him baby at a crime scene a few days ago. She rolls her eyes, asks if he's ever going to let that drop, but before he can reply, the phone rings, and she's automatically reaching for it, even as he's ineffectually reaching for her, telling her to ignore it.

She ignores him, and when she hears the familiar New York accent in her ear, she's glad she did.

That doesn't last though, not when she hears Tony's voice. She's only heard him sound like that once before, and the memory chases away her smile. She stands, evading Hank's questioning touch and pulling on her robe, all without the phone ever leaving her ear. She doesn't miss a word of Tony's tale, about how Angela showed up back into his life a few weeks ago, how she told him she was clean, how she wanted to make a new start with him. How she went missing and how she'd been found dead, overdosed on heroin in a car in Queens.

It's just like losing her brother all over again, and the loss and pain in his voice rips through her, bringing tears to her eyes. Because she remembers how he's feeling all too well, and no matter how long they were separated, no matter how bad things were, she knows that Tony never stopped loving Angela, only divorced her when it was clear that she'd left him and she wasn't coming back. Tony had gone on with his life as best he could, but Sara had always known that he'd take Angela back in a heartbeat.

He'd always believed that his love was enough to save her.

Just like Sara had always believed that her love was enough to save Mike.

They'd both been wrong, fools for love, and as she curls up into a ball on her couch, she lets herself cry for both of them.

They talk for a few minutes, then hang up, but it's a long time before she stands up, walking slowly back to her bedroom. Hank is still there, and he looks up curiously when she comes in, curiosity vanishing, replaced by concern when he gets a good look at her. He opens his mouth, and she knows that he's going to ask questions that she can't answer right now, so she shakes her head, dropping her robe to the floor and climbing into bed beside him. She wraps her arms around him, presses her freezing cold body to his warm one, and when his arms go around her, when he's breathing into her hair, she hopes that his presence in her life will warm her.

It doesn't.