Still not entirely sure whether to make this a longer thing, but we'll see how it goes. Thanks for all the reviews so far - any feedback is always appreciated!

This was both the best and the worst place for him to be, but at the core he knew he couldn't bare to be anywhere else right now. At least here the coat she'd left behind in a hurry that morning, that neither he nor Michelle could bring themselves to move from the sofa it was sprawled over, still carried her scent. He grabbed it now, clutching it tightly as though if he wished hard enough she might return to him, and the tears returned.

Almost on cue Michelle put down the mug of coffee she was bring over and hugged him tightly. For a moment neither spoke as they clung to each other like the soul survivors of a shipwreck, unable to comprehend the events of the night before.

He hadn't even bothered going home: he knew his lack of desire to face his wife's reaction would be matched in hers to have the inevitable argument, and what can you say anyway? With the exception of one knowing look as she'd stood in the doorway of the pub, watching as her husband was pulled, hysterical and broken, away from the woman he truly loved; there'd been no contact since the previous morning, back when the world made sense.

When Michelle had arrived at the hospital, sobbing hysterically and asking no one in particular why she had to lose everyone she ever loved, it had seemed natural and automatic for them to huddle together outside in the cold as Peter chain smoked and Michelle tried to resist the violent urge to throw up. She'd not even queried what had happened between them, or why he was there, but he guessed she had more important things on her mind.

He'd hesitated slightly when she'd insisted he stay at the flat with her, but he didn't feel he could leave her alone, and besides, he didn't know where else he would go. Going home was out of the question, staying with his Dad would involve far too many questions and judgements than he could handle, and somehow being there, as close as he knew he would ever again be to the woman he loved felt right somehow. There was a strange comfort in the morbidity, and so when he'd agreed he was almost glad when a slight smile of relief had flashed across her face.

Peter wiped a tear from his blood shot eyes as Michelle seemingly remembered herself and edged away, snapping back into her usual super-efficient mode, moving a coaster to sit underneath the now lukewarm mug.

Since when did Carla ever use coasters?

His use of the past tense suddenly startled him, as it dawned on him perhaps for the first time in any real sense that this was all she would ever be now.

In her whole life, she never used coasters. She will never use a coaster again because she's dead.

The simplicity ate at him, made him feel hollow and fragile, like he might just blow away if a wind blew in. For the first time he understood what they meant when they said you lose someone hundreds of times, for every realization, every anniversary that passes without them, every future plan you realize they won't see… every time you think about something as stupid as a fucking coaster.

"Should we erm.. I dunno, phone anyone?" Peter's voice croaked unexpectedly, and he realized how long it had been since he'd last uttered a word. "What about her Dad?"

Michelle didn't respond for several seconds, and he wondered whether she'd heard him. "They don't speak," she eventually replied, busying herself by pointlessly rearranging the kitchen surface. She sighed then, turning to face Peter and stammering slightly as she corrected herself. "I mean um, they didn't speak".

"Yeah, but still…"

Michelle walked back over to the sofa, reaching across to grab the mug she'd put there a matter of minutes ago. "You drinking this?"

Peter shook his head.

"To be honest, Peter, I don't know if she'd even have his number". He found her matter-of-fact tone cold, not that he knew how else you were supposed to respond. "She fell out big style with her family years ago, her Dad even before that. I don't think they'd spoken since Paul".

Like a stab in the chest, Peter suddenly felt a wave of guilt he could barely contain. All those times he'd moaned to her about his family, blamed his father for everything wrong in his life. She must've thought he was a selfish pig.

The door buzzer made them both jump, and Michelle almost dropped the mug as she poured its content down the sink. "Who's that now?"

The pair exchanged uncomfortable looks before Michelle slowly picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

Her face changed as she listened to the voice on the other end, from sunken and tried to something he couldn't quite read.

"Come up…" She frowned as she placed the phone back on the wall and released the latch on the door. "It's Darren", she told him before he needed to ask.

"Darren?"

"Her brother…" Her tone was distant, her eyes fixed on the door as though she were expecting something terrible to blast through it at any moment.

The tall, skinny man who strolled with ease through it moments later temporarily took Peter by surprise. He had Carla's dark hair, and dark, lose fitting jeans and a slightly worn leather jacket. Peter wondered for a moment who it was he reminded him of before it occurred to him that it was himself.

"Alright, 'Chelle?" He grinned, throwing what looked like an overnight bag onto the floor and reaching out to hug her. Michelle accepted the greeting with some reluctance, her body still tense and unsure. "God am I glad to be off that bloody train! Bloody kids screaming non-stop the whole way there. She around?"

Michelle exchanged a glance with Peter before turning her attention back to Darren. "Who…?"

Darren grinned. "Who? Margaret Thatcher, who do you think? That pain in the arse sister of mine!"

"You mean you… you don't know…?"

He looked worried now, his posture suddenly slumping as he seemed to notice Peter for the first time. "Know what?"

"Darren what are you doing here?"

"I was kind of hoping she'd tell me that. Rang me up out the blue the other week, asked me to come up here. Said there was something she had to say or…" His voice trailed off as he saw the look on Michelle's face. "Why, what don't I know?"

"You'd better sit down". Peter motioned the chair opposite him as the pair exchanged worried looks.