Disheveled and lonely the broken man sat propped against the bar amongst a pile of empty Jack Daniels bottles. The alcohol helped to numb the pain felt within. The feeling of guilt and abandonment. Feelings that would never go away, never fade, never stop. Even when he allowed his eyes to shut, he was trapped in a false sense of security slipping into a world where everything was how it should be, and then the anguish would return it was still there, haunting him.

Three days had passed since his life was changed forever, three days he had been sat in the club he owned silently mourning and three bottles of JD had been demolished. It wasn't going to resolve anything, he knew, but it helped momentarily. For the first time since he had locked himself away he thought about venturing out into the square. Taking a glance of his reflection before making his way to the Office door he noticed the way his eyes were bloodshot and his skin had been tarnished with a sallow tinge. Entering the Office he picked up his keys from the desk and made his way to the exit.

It was exceptionally cold out, the icy breeze nipping into the cracks and crevices of his skin. Nothing had changed, not really everything was the same as he had left it. As he walked through the square he felt a constant flow of eyes pressing against him, crushing him, making him feel weak and helpless. Of course it was only natural, nobody knew what to say to a man who had lost someone close in such tragic circumstances. It was expected almost acceptable to stare and that feeling of guilt came flowing back, drowning him in a sea of sorrow.

The walk from the R&R to his house had been the longest walk of his life; in his mind…in reality it had only been several minutes. And there it was, the reminder of the happenings of the last few days. An array of flowers and letters, all left for him…how would it possibly help him now? He thought, it was over he was gone and that familiar sense of guilt returned.

"Jack."

That familiar voice, full of warmth and love. The voice that made his heart sink, secretly he was glad it was her who he had bumped into.

"Jack, I…I'm…I hope you're okay." She said in a soft tone, knowing full well how he would be feeling.

"Okay?" Jack scoffed. Had it been anyone else he'd have probably voiced exactly how he was feeling, which was like a bomb had been let off inside him, ripping him up inside.

"I'm sorry." she stated, placing a hand on his arm knowing that it wouldn't help but what else was there.

"Sorry? Sorry? For what Ronnie? What exactly are you sorry for?" Jack seethed, letting his anger get the better of him.

Ronnie gazed into Jacks eyes, she had noticed how unkempt he looked but now she looked closer she knew exactly why. He had obviously drunk himself into oblivion and was only just coming to…his eyes were all bloodshot and his skin was dirty looking, he hadn't changed his clothes since that night his shirt creased and crumpled. It saddened her to see him in this state, but she knew if she interfered when it didn't concern her then it wouldn't help matters. Instead she turned away from him not wanting to be there when Jack's tempter erupted.

"Wait, Ron…I'm sorry." Jack whispered, catching Ronnie's hand and pulling her back. "I didn't mean…that wasn't aimed at you okay. I just…I want it to go away." He said, his voice trembling.

"Jack, I know what you're going through. I know, I've been there…remember."

"I know, it's coming up for a year now isn't it?" Jack said, is voice full of empathy, she was the only one who knew exactly what it felt like.

"Soon, look Jack…go and tidy yourself up. Have a shower, shave and get some clean clothes on." Ronnie instructed. "Have you eaten?"

Jack looked down to the ground, the only thing that had passed his lips in the past 72 hours was liquid, of the alcoholic kind…

"I thought so, look go and take a shower and I'll go get some food, fix you something up. Okay, you need to eat Jack." Ronnie insisted.

She was right, he thought to himself, he did need to pull himself together.

The water steadily trickled down his skin, scolding him as it did so and it hurt but it was a nice kind of pain the kind of pain he could control. Picking up the sponge Jack squeezed the nearest shower gel onto it before rubbing it against himself. Lathering up his torso, the water rinsing it all away Jack stood in a distant daze. The room was steamy and he could hardly see, after drying himself off he wrapped a towel round his waist and let the water flow out of the tap. Holding himself upright on the bathroom sink, Jack stared solemnly in the mirror before liberally applying foam over the bottom half of his face. The blade was sharp and sliced right through, each time getting closer to the end. The fresh feeling he felt when he pulled the blade over his moist skin was all too memorable, each time anticipating the next pull. Turning the tap off Jack looked into his reflection. The bloodshot eyes were no more, his skin rejuvenated back to the usual pink tone it always was and then he looked down. Flecks of red dotted all over the white porcelain sink. Reminding him, only too well of his loss once again and it hurt, stung more than the water ever had. He could feel himself slipping back into that sound depression, it was all too much he couldn't go back there…

"Jack, Jack are you there?" Ronnie called through the letterbox, she'd been waiting for him for a few minutes now, starting to think he wasn't going to answer. Opening the door Jack gave a weak smile, no energy left in him to say anything he collapsed on the settee watching as Ronnie walked over to the kitchen. Ronnie puttered round, remembering where everything was from her time there. Filling the kettle up with water and flicking the switch she walked back over to Jack who had been watching her all the time.

"Jack, what have you done to your face?" Ronnie asked her eye's widening, she hadn't noticed initially but now looking directly at him she could see the numerous cuts sprawled all over the bottom half of his face. Making her way through the bedroom and into the en-suit Ronnie drenched a flannel in warm water before squeezing out the excess and making her way back through to Jack.

"Come here, let me…Jack let me help" Ronnie pleaded, trying to wipe down his face.

"I'm fine Ronnie, just leave it…please."

"Jack, I'm sorry but you're not fine…just let me…" Ronnie pressed the warm flannel onto Jacks face removing any traces of blood from his skin. This felt good, Jack thought, it felt nice…the warmth of the flannel on his skin tingled but it made him feel better. Ronnie dabbed a fresh towel on Jacks face, before kneeling down and staring at him…he really wasn't in a good state of mind she thought.

Tears fell down Jacks eyes, something Ronnie had never saw before.

"Jack, it wasn't your fault you know." Ronnie whispered taking his hand and sitting down next to him.

"It was Ron, I told him to run, I told him to leave Walford and then he died. He died because I was trying to protect…" Jack couldn't finish the last sentence; it hurt to admit that he had influenced his nephew to run away from the police to protect the person her loved most.

"Who Jack?" Ronnie pressed, trying to get to the bottom of his heartache.

"You" the words left his mouth so freely and it was true, Jack had told Bradley to run to save himself but also to save Ronnie. In his mind he had abandoned Bradley when he needed him most, of course he hadn't committed murder Jack knew that deep down, but he had punched Archie Mitchell and was one of the top suspects…as was Ronnie.

"What are you saying Jack?" Ronnie asked, confused as to what Jack meant.

"You, Ronnie, you were the top suspect…until they found Bradley's dna on Archie" Jack explained.

"I don't understand, what-"

"Bradley went in, he went into The Vic and punched Archie. He punched Archie." Jack uttered, forcing the words out so fast they didn't really make sense.

"You don't think I did it do you Jack?" Ronnie asked her hand still encased in his.

Jack looked into Ronnie's eyes; they were full of sadness and had been for some time now. He remembered back when he had first met her, the way her skin glowed, the way her hair sat, her blue eyes twinkled when she was thinking. Ronnie was full of life yet even back then he could tell there was something locked inside her, something she was keeping to herself.

"No, I don't think you did." Jack answered, squeezing her hand slightly. He truly believed Ronnie when she said she had not killed her father, she had reason to hate him, despise him even yet Jack believed her when she said she hadn't hurt him. Jack remembered his last encounter with Archie…he remembered Archie goading at him, making him want to punish Archie for what he had done to his daughter.

"Jack, are you going to be okay?" Ronnie asked.

"Yeah, yeah I think I will be." Jack smiled, he felt stronger now…Ronnie had been through far more than he had and she was strong enough to come through the other end…and so was he.

"Okay, tea of coffee?" she smiled, jumping up from the settee.

"Coffee" Jack replied, something in Ronnie made Jack feel warmth and happiness. If any good were to come out of the mess it was that Ronnie was free from the anguish Archie caused her he thought to himself.