AN: I apologise profusely for the ridiculous length of time between this chapter and the previous one. The only excuse I can offer is that I don't watch Glee any more. Lame, I know. I do keep coming back to this when I want to write though!
I hope you enjoy this and I have at least two chapters worth of stuff already lined up if there are still people reading this. As usual, trigger warning!


I'd forgotten to turn off my alarm the night before, so I woke with a start at 6am. Sighing, I reached over and smashed the off button and lay looking up at the ceiling tiles, again. After a few seconds of staring I decided that I was done with counting the ceiling tiles and rolled to the side of the bed. I'd obviously kicked my slippers off at the doorway last night so I hopped across the cold wooden floor and slid into them as I clicked the door open. I grabbed the phone and wandered towards the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. The kettle bubbled as I, once again, dialled the number for Personnel.

"Good Morning, Personnel." This time the voice didn't belong to Mary.

"Um, Morning." It wasn't like I even liked Mary, but I was kind of disappointed that it wasn't her. I guess because she knew a little about me, with this new woman I would have to explain everything over again. "This is Blaine Anderson."

"Oh, yes. Good Morning, Blaine." Suddenly her voice changed from a phone voice to something else. "How're you this morning?"

"Um." I sounded so dumb. "Fine, thanks. I just...I need to speak to someone about a sabbatical?"

"Okay, I'm going to put you on hold while I transfer you to someone else." Before I could say anything else the phone clicked over and music started to play. As I waited I grabbed my mug from the cupboard and started to make my coffee and sidled through everything I'd discussed with James the day before. A sabbatical was a good idea, we'd agreed. This was the first step to getting better.

"Good Morning, Adam speaking." The voice came just as I dropped my spoon into the sink and took my first sip.

"Morning, this is Blaine Anderson." I coughed, as the hot coffee slid down my throat. "I need to speak to someone about taking a sabbatical."

"Okay, Blaine." Adam replied, all business. "For now I'm only going to be able to make a request for this. I'm going to need to ask you some questions first." Suddenly my eyes prickled with tears and butterflies danced in my stomach. I cleared my throat.

"Okay?"

"Okay, what is the reason that you are applying for sabbatical?" He asked. I had no idea what I was supposed to say. I wondered if I should, maybe, have spoken to my doctor first or something. My hands started shaking.

"Well, I guess there's some stuff in my file or something? About, well, my situation. I guess?" There was audible typing and clicking as Adam pulled up my file.

"Oh, I see. Yes." I prepared myself for the sudden sympathetic tone I was so used to hearing from people. "Okay, well. I'm not certain if this will qualify you for sabbatical, really." His voice was stone cold. I didn't want the sympathy, because I was sick of hearing it, but there wasn't even any empathy. Nothing.

"Right? So, what, do you need me to get some papers from my doctor or something?"

"Well, with it being so long since your loss we might need some proof that it's still affecting your ability to work."

"So long?" My fear and uncertainty had suddenly changed to anger. This guy knew nothing about me, I'd never spoken to him before, never even met him. But yet he seemed to think that a year was a long time and I would have completely forgotten about my boyfriend in that time.

"Sorry?"

"You suggested that a year is a very long time and that I should have forgotten all about my partner in that time." I couldn't mask the fury I was feeling. "You seem to think that you know all about my situation. You are applying a blank form on your computer to me and assuming that I fit into your boxes."

"I.."

"Let me tell you something, Adam. When you lose someone you love as deeply as I loved my boyfriend you never feel whole again. I still feel, right now, the exact same way as I felt the day that the machines that were keeping my partner alive were turned off. I hope that you never have to experience the pain of losing the person that makes you understand why you were put on the planet. I hope that you never have to feel so irrevocably broken. I wouldn't wish my pain on anyone." I paused momentarily and realised that I was crying. "So I'm sorry that you think that in a year I will have forgotten that he even existed, but I haven't."

"I'm sorry." His voice was even and controlled, still in business mode. "Please, try and get us some papers so that we can process your sabbatical. Feel free to drop them into the office or mail them to us. We'll try and be in touch as soon as we can." The phone clicked off and I threw it onto the counter top. I'd not even noticed that I'd dropped my coffee cup while I was on the phone and steaming liquid was pooling around my slippered feet. I crouched down and pulled the cupboard beneath the sink open to grab a rag. As I did so a bucket fell out. There was a note tacked to the front written in Cameron's handwriting.

"I do this for our wedding fund"

I stared at the note unblinking as tears rolled down my cheeks, remembering. We'd joked that the only way that we would ever be able to afford to get married, or even engaged, would be if I'd washed cars in my underwear. I'd laughed so much that night on the couch, in his arms, that I cried. A few weeks later I actually did wash our car, and when I took the bucket out of cupboard I found his note. I'd not even thought about washing my car since we lost him, so I'd obviously not seen it since. I collapsed down into the pooling coffee and tugged my knees up to my chest.

How had I ever felt hopeful yesterday? How could I ever imagine a life where every memory didn't knock me over like a bullet train? I lay there, soaked in the coffee and thought about going back on the plan I'd made with James yesterday. I didn't see how I would ever feel whole again.
After ten minutes I remembered that I had some pills in the medicine cabinet. I heaved myself from the floor and threw off my wet slippers. The dripping bottoms of my pyjama pants dragged along the floor making a wet trail behind me all the way to the bathroom. The cabinet was mirrored and as I pulled it open I saw myself in the reflection. I braced myself on the sink and stared into the reflection in the opposite door. I could see the pill bottles lined up in the open half of the cabinet, but I couldn't imagine taking them. I leaned over the sink and retched into the bowl.

Looking up, I screamed. I ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the phone again. I punched in the number for Hope Line and waited for someone to answer.


AN: I apologise for the amount of dialogue again. I'll pre-warn you that the next chapter is like this too. However, not so much in the following one! As usual, I encourage honest and critical reviews.