Craig looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.

The dark suit fitted perfectly as if it had been made to measure, but he felt constricted in it, suffocated and every fibre of his being wanted to tear it from his skin. He didn't want to wear it… he didn't want to NEED to wear it.

The deep colour of the fabric seemed to wash away the natural tanned tone of his skin leaving him looking washed out and pale. Craig had never looked pale before; then again he had never had a day like this before.

Maybe it wasn't the suit that made him look pale and drawn. Maybe it was due to the lack of sleep that had left the dark circles under his eyes or the grief that had taken the sparkle from them. Maybe pale was simply the way he felt because apart from numb Craig wasn't even sure how he felt.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Craig turned his head.

"Ready?"

Jake was dressed in a similar style to Craig and he looked as uncomfortable in the formal wear as his younger brother.

"Not really," Craig admitted as he adjusted the unfamiliar tie.

"Come on. It's time."

Craig let out another weary sigh and followed Jake from the pub. Steph was waiting outside for them, Jack at her side with his arm resting lightly on her shoulder. Her simple black dress gave her an elegant air and her make up hid the worst of the red puffiness from around her eyes. Craig smiled a half-smile as he looked as his sister. For the first time in his life he thought she looked beautiful. What a day to finally achieve that.

---

The church felt cold and oppressive as Craig sat on the front pew with his siblings and stepfather. Every so often Craig would look around in the hope of seeing a certain face but it never arrived. He didn't know why he should have expected it but part of him had at least hoped that his father would have been there today. Then again his children had long since learned that you could never rely on Johno Dean for anything.

The church was filled with flowers, too filled, they were everywhere Craig looked and the sight of them nauseated him. Lilies. Why did it have to be lilies? And why so many? Craig could feel the scent of the flowers clawing at his throat and he fought back the urge to vomit. Their stench was overpowering, a sickly sweetness that reminded him of rotting fruit. He shuffled in his seat, wishing he could be anywhere else but where he was.

Steph gripped onto his hand tightly and as he looked at her he could see large tears forming in his sister's eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was too soon. Much too soon.

Craig let his eyes fall to his feet. He couldn't bear to look at the front of the church, couldn't stand seeing that cold hard wooden box sitting there or the picture by its side, all covered in flowers, still more flowers.

With a cough the vicar took to the pulpit.

"'I am the resurrection and the life,' says the Lord. 'Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.'" The vicar's words sounded cold and empty to Craig and he tried to tune them out.

"We are here today," the vicar continued in a solemn tone, "To celebrate the life of Frankie Osbourne…"

Craig fought the urge to laugh. Celebrate? What was there to celebrate? He was 20 years old and the world had decided to take his mother from him. There had been so many things he had never said, never done and now he would never have the chance.

A rush of guilt washed over Craig as he hung his head in shame. Since leaving for Dublin Craig had never managed to make it home to visit his mother. There had always been a good reason of course, except that there hadn't. What there had always been was a good excuse. Yes, he had telephoned, but more and more that had been out of duty rather than desire, and now he need never worry about calling his mother again. She would never be there to receive his calls. She would never be there to worry when he didn't call, or didn't write. Quite simply she would never be there.

"Craig," Steph nudged her younger brother and nodded to the front of the church.

"Craig," The vicar said gently, "I understand you wanted to do a reading?"

Craig had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard the first time the vicar said his name and he got to his feet with an embarrassed flush as he moved to the front of the church.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the piece of paper in his hands Craig began to read.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the… I am the…"

Craig's voice cracked and the tears that he had held back for the last three days poured from him. His vision blurred and his hands trembled. He couldn't carry on but nor could he move.

The young dark haired man stood at the front of the church and broke down. He felt like a child, lost and alone and without a mother to rescue him.

The congregation shuffled in their seats in a mixture of sympathy and discomfort. All but one.

Craig felt a comforting arm around his shoulders as they shook with heavy sobs and a strong voice continued the reading.

"I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die."

Wiping the tears from his cheeks Craig lifted his face to see the warmth of two reassuring blue eyes looking down at him.

"John Paul," Craig said in a whisper.

"Come on," John Paul replied, his arm still tight around Craig's shaking shoulders as he led the man back to his seat.

Steph shuffled along the pew allowing John Paul to sit beside her brother and John Paul smiled at her in thanks.

Craig reached for John Paul's hand, seeking comfort in his grasp and holding on as if he might never let go again.

"How… what… why are you here?" Craig whispered in quite bewilderment. He hadn't spoken to the young McQueen since they day they parted at the airport and as much as he had longed for him so many times, as much as he had wanted him there that day he hadn't felt he had the right to ask.

"Jake called," John Paul told him, "He said you needed me…"

"I did," Craig agreed looking at his older brother and smiling his gratitude, "I do."

---

The railing was cold under Craig's hands but he gripped it tightly as he looked out across the darkening sky. The day seemed to be dragging on indefinitely and it was wearing him down.

After the funeral everyone had retired to the Dog for the wake and Craig found himself smiling blankly at face after nameless face as a stream of mourners passed on their sympathies. There were times when Craig wanted to scream in their faces. Hypocrites. He knew for a fact that half the people there didn't even like Frankie, but now it seemed everyone had been her best friend, and they were all gushing about what a wonderful woman she had been and how much she would be missed.

Well Craig knew the truth. There were times when she hadn't been a wonderful woman. There were times when she could be a total bitch. But she was his mother, had been his mother, the only one he was ever going to have and now she was gone. The last thing he needed right now were these fakes.

His frustrations had finally driven Craig outside, where he stood breathing in the cool, still air and the gentle solitude.

"You OK?"

Jake leant against the railing beside his younger brother and smiled. It was a pained forced smile, one that Craig recognised all to well, the same one he had been using all day.

"Oh you know…" Craig replied and Jake nodded, he did know.

There had been times when all the Dean children had had run ins with their mother, but deep down they always knew she loved them, just like they always loved her and her absence would leave a terrible hole in their lives.

"Thank you," Craig said suddenly.

"For what?"

"Calling John Paul."

Jake smiled, this smile a little more sincere than the last. "Look Craig, I'm never gonna pretend what you and him had… but I knew you couldn't go through this on your own… and there's only so much support me and Steph can give you right now… I didn't even have to think twice about who you needed here."

"That means a lot Jake, really… Having him here… it has made it… not easier… bearable I guess…"

"I'm glad," Jake squeezed his brother's hand affectionately, "He's a decent bloke, I know that… suppose I always knew that… I might not be comfortable with…" Jake shrugged, "You know… but I'm glad he showed up for you."

As if on cue John Paul approached, two bottle of lager in his hands, one that he handed to Craig.

"I'll leave you to it…" Jake said before turning to head back inside. For a second his eyes locked with John Paul's and a new understanding seemed to pass between them. They might never learn to be friends or manage to agree on matters but they did share one common bond. They both loved Craig.

"How you doing?" John Paul asked as he took his place beside Craig.

"Sick of people asking how I am," Craig replied.

"Fair enough… so d'you see the football last night?" John Paul smiled a deep reassuring smile that touched at Craig's very soul and Craig let out a small laugh.

"Seriously Craig," John Paul continued, "It's just coz people are concerned about you… because we love you."

"We?"

John Paul smiled and rested his hand lightly on top of Craig's as he took a slow drink from his bottle, they both new he didn't need to answer that one.

The two men stood together in silence. The air around them was growing colder but neither felt the inclination to move. As the night wore on the mourners slowly filtered their way from the pub, leaving it empty and desolate.

"Why did it happen John Paul?" Craig asked after some time. His voice was low, hardly a whisper, but the pain in it was deep and heavy.

"I don't know," John Paul replied truthfully, "It was just an accident."

"But why her? Why then? She'd been up and down those stairs a million times…" Craig voice broke with a small sob and John Paul slipped a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders.

"Jake said she fell… there's nothing anyone could have done…"

"I could have been here... I was so far away…"

"It wouldn't have helped Craig, you know that… and you know how proud she was that you got into Trinity…"

Craig pressed his face into John Paul's chest, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as John Paul held him tightly.

He felt so useless, his wished so much that he could take away Craig's pain but he couldn't. All he could do was be there for his dearest friend and hold him.

The truth was there had been times when John Paul had hated Frankie. There had been times when he had silently wished she would just go away and die. But now, in the reality of the situation, his heart broke over Craig's grief and the grief he saw in the eyes of Jake, Steph and Jack. John Paul might not have been Frankie's biggest fan but these people had loved her and now she was gone. He could only imagine how that would feel and he felt blessed that he knew Myra was still there whenever he needed her.

Craig wiped his eyes and sniffled back the tears. He felt drained and the eyes that looked at the beautiful face of John Paul McQueen were hidden behind dark rings of exhaustion.

"You should get some sleep," John Paul said, running his hand softly over Craig's hair, "Go on, I'll call you tomorrow."

Craig looked towards the pub and then back at John Paul. "Not there," he said in a pained whisper, "I can't… wherever I look she's… Please John Paul… Can I stay with you?"

John Paul hesitated. For the last year he had lived in a shared house with two other students, and although he knew they would not object to him bringing someone home, they never had before, he wasn't sure it was a good idea. Not for him and not for Craig.

"Please…"

Craig's eyes were wide, pleading with John Paul and he felt powerless to refuse.

"Course you can," John Paul said, "You gonna tell Jake where you've gone?"

"Nah, he knows I'll be OK… he knows I'm with you."

---

John Paul stood in his bedroom, shuffling awkwardly as Craig perched on the edge of his bed. He had dreamed so often of bringing Craig back to that room, but not under these circumstances.

Craig looked around the room and smiled. It was so reminiscent of John Paul's room back at the McQueen's, so many familiar pictures adorned the walls and, beside the bed, one picture was more familiar than all the others.

"We look so young," Craig said as he picked up the picture frame, smiling at the two young men in school uniforms, arms around each other in a friendly hug.

"Seems like a lifetime ago," John Paul agreed as he took the picture from Craig's hand.

John Paul had hidden that picture away so many times. Tucked it in the back of a drawer only to get it out again a few days later. There were days when he couldn't bare to see it and days when he couldn't bare not to. The memory of those two smiling young men haunted him. Just like the memory of Craig haunted him. Some things you were never free of and some things you didn't want to be.

"Get some rest Craig," John Paul said as he replaced the picture on his bedside cabinet, "I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Don't," Craig grabbed for John Paul's arm, "Stay with me… please."

"Craig I don't think that's a good idea…"

"Please John Paul, don't leave me alone… not tonight."

John Paul's heart went out to the hurting broken man on his bed and he nodded. "I'll stay," he said quietly, what else could he do?

John Paul tried his best not to watch as Craig slipped out of his suit, letting the garments fall into a heap on the bedroom floor until he was completely naked. John Paul's fingers itched to stroke at that firm soft skin and to pull that body into his arms and love it. Instead he threw a t-shirt to Craig before taking off his own suit and slipping on a similarly shaped top.

Craig sighed as he nestled his head against John Paul's chest, John Paul's arms wrapping around him and keeping him safe.

For the first time since receiving that phone call from Jake, since getting on the plane in Dublin, Craig felt some peace. John Paul's embrace comforted him and, as his heavy eyes drooped closed, the much-needed release of sleep took him over.

John Paul kissed the top of the sleeping man's head as a single tear ran down his cheek. He still loved Craig so much, he always would, and seeing him so distraught broke his heart. But that wasn't the only pain he was feeling. John Paul knew that in a few days, a few weeks, or however long it took, Craig would be gone again. Craig would return to Dublin and his life there, and John Paul would be left without him. And, as selfish as he knew it was, that was the pain that hurt him deepest.