July 20th of 1985 was one of the hardest days of Sam's life. It was the day of Coach's funeral services and it took all he had to not break down. He seemed to be a pillar of strength as he helped lift his casket as a pallbearer. He seemed as cool as a cucumber as he managed to flawlessly deliver the 23rd psalm while those around him crumbled in despair. He lost it when they began the burial service. The priest said he was made from dirt and to dirt he shall return. Sam didn't like that at all; Ernie Pantusso was an angel and to heaven he shall return.

He split right after that. He just needed to go home and cry it out. He buried his friend, his employee, his mentor, his father. God took one single man away from this earth a couple of days ago but Sam figured God didn't realize that the one man equaled four men to him. A couple of weeks before he had said goodbye to Diane for she was going to Europe and was planning on getting married. Carla would be leaving too but only for a little while. Her sixth child was going to be born soon. Man, he thought, everytime I lose, Carla gains.

Out of the car and into the blinding sun, he makes a mad dash through the front door, up the stairs, and turns the key. He was finally home and this is where he was going to stay for the rest of the day. He locked the door behind him, went to the windows to draw the blinds, and to the phone that he kept of the hook. He did not want to be disturbed. He was just about to lay on the couch when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Sam asks, annoyed.

"Sam, honey, it's me," a familiar voice said, coming through the door hinges.

"Diane, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I know about Coach," she said, beginning to cry. "I tried to reach out to you earlier but I couldn't."

"Sweetheart, come back later."

"Sam Malone, open the door!"

With a heavy sigh, he rolled off the coach and crept to the door. He was in no mood to comfort anyone. Any other time he would have been delighted to see her again but today was just not the day. He opened the door to find her looking as broken as he felt. Her hair was a mess, her eye makeup had spilled onto her cheeks, and she just looked like such a lost soul. The sight of her poor self made tears come to his eyes.

"Come here, Sweetheart," he says drawing her close and shutting the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry," she says, clinging to him tight. "So, so sorry. You loved him so."

"I'm sorry, too, Diane. I know you loved him too."

"I did, too," her voice was beginning to break. "I've cried all the way back here on the plane."

"At least you had Frasier's shoulder to cry on."

"No I didn't," she says breaking away. She can't look at him while she delivers this news. "I told him I didn't want to marry him."

"What?! Why did you do that?"

"I don't love him that much," she says sitting down on the couch. "I knew it for some time. Coach saved my life on that one."

"How'd he do that?"

"He gave me the courage to walk away. I heard he passed on and that was when I decided life was too short to live for someone else's dream."

"Well," Sam said with a smile that hadn't been on his face for a couple of days. "I'm sure Coach is proud of you."

"Frasier is going to hate me. I don't blame him," she says, staring off into space. "I guess I did what I had to do though."

"I don't hate you," he tells her with a cheek kiss. "I'm glad you came to your senses and have come back to Boston. I sure could use you."

"Well," she says with a shy smile. "It's good to be wanted."

"No, no, needed. I need you right now."

"That's the best thing you've ever said to me," Diane says as she pulls him into a hug that the both of them will never want to break away from.