A/N-please leave all criticism, all opinions welcome and appreciated

Dan's P.O.V

I had been staring at this letter for the last two hours before Phil finally came home. I had defined each word individually, trying, desperately hoping, to find an alternative meaning. Maybe it was a prank? But then… why had he hidden it?

When Phil eventually came home, I didn't even have the heart to look up into those burning, emerald green eyes. The eyes of someone who had basically betrayed me. Lied to me. So instead of a messy confrontation, I decided to simply read him the letter.

"Dear Mr Lester", I began, trying not to choke.

"I am terribly sorry to report that your test results taken the previous week has returned to us positive. Unfortunately, the brain tumour has increased to a life-threatening size, and although we accept your protests to treatment, we would like you to come into the surgery for a full on briefing, so we can later give you all the advice we need… an... and…" my voice began to crack under the grief and strain. Phil, who had not spoken since entering the flat, chose now to speak

"Give you all the advice we need and determine how many days we can expect you to live," Phil continued quietly. The words pierced my heart. "It is only our wish that you spend your remaining days in comfort. Yours truly, Dr. Hopkirk." He finished, staring into oblivion.

I opened my mouth, trying to speak, trying to be angry as to why he had hidden it from me… but the words got trapped and died in my throat before they could be voiced.

I watched as Phil slid slowly and silently to the ground, landing with a soft bump, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands. Sighing, I forced myself out of the chair, and slid down next to him. I rested my head on his shoulder, allowing a single tear to leak from my eye and land on Phil's T-shit, staining it a darker shade of blue.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I eventually whispered to him in the darkness.

"I didn't know how." He just about chocked out. "I couldn't do it. I can't do anything." His voice was getting progressively louder. "I CAN'T DO ANYTHING!" he repeated, leaping to his feet and leaving me to crash to the floor.

I sat up and stared in horror as he attached our kitchen. He swung his arm across the worktop, sending pots and pans flying.

"WHY DID THE WORLD DO THIS TO ME?!" he screamed, as he picked up the cutlery rack, and flung it at the wall.

"WHAT DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE THIS!?" he bellowed, marching over to one of our chairs and threw it as hard as he could into the door, leaving a massive gash in the woodwork.

"WHY ME? ME OF ALL PEOPLE!" he cried, kicking a chair, sending it flying in my direction. I dived out of the way, and this seemed to knock me to my senses. I sprung up from the floor, and wrapped my arms around Phil's waist, pinning his arms down to his side as he lunged for the pile of plates.

"PHIL!" I screamed his name over the sound of his anguish. He was using everything in him to try and break free, screaming as he did so. I swung him round, so that I was facing him, and forced his head up so he would look into my eyes. "Phil. Listen to me. Everything is going to be ok. Just… calm down. Look at me." His emerald eyes finally looked up to meet mine. He cracked.

Letting him go, he sank to the floor. He curled up in a ball, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably and violently. I sat down next him, pulling him onto my lap, and rocked him back and forth. We both cried, letting our tears flow down our faces, and clung to each other in grief. Eventually he fell asleep, his sobs dying and his breath evening out. Sighing, I closed my eyes, deciding to join him.