They walked to his flat in silence. He only lived a few streets away from the hospital and Rita was glad of the walk, concentrating on the feeling of the pavement beneath each footstep. A constant reminder she existed in that moment. Iain said nothing, satisfied with holding her hand tightly to reassure her he was by her side. They reached the door and he unlocked it. Rita yawned, swaying on the balls of her feet. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, washed over her. Iain guided her towards the stairs with a gentle hand on the small of her back.

"Why don't you go up and make yourself comfortable? I'll erm...go and make us a cup of tea. Mine's the room on the right."

Rita nodded sleepily, making her way up the stairs. Iain disappeared into the small kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs and climbed the stairs to his room. Rita was sat on the edge of the bed staring vacantly into the distance. He put one of the mugs down on the side.

"Rita?" He crouched down in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her knee. Her eyes snapped up to see Iain holding out one of his clean t-shirts, she frowned.

"Seen as you don't have anything to wear. It'll be big but..."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

Taking his mug, he moved towards the door.

"Wait-" her voice wavered, the strength of it failing.

"Stay with me?" Her voice was less than a whisper. He nodded.

She took off her jacket and shirt and slid the shirt on over her underwear. He couldn't help but admire her body; every curve of her waist, the sharp line of her jaw. She was beautiful even in sadness. His gaze wandered across her body as she crawled into his bed and under the sheets. He realised he'd been staring and cleared his throat. Rita patted the sheets next to her, a pleading look in her eyes.

Iain put his mug down and sat next to her. She crawled into his embrace, slipping an arm around his waist. His head resting on the top of hers lightly.

"How long have you known?" He broke the silence.

"About a week-"

"A week Rita! You've been dealing with this all by yourself for an entire week!" His eyes locked on to hers.

"The letter came last Saturday. I- I was almost in denial at first, then it began to sink in. Last night was the low point."

"Oh Rita..." Iain squeezed her tighter.

"The worst bit is I didn't even know he was ill. We hadn't talked much since me and Mark got married. He always hated Mark, used to say there was something not quite right about him. Of course he was right."

Tears began to fall again. She sniffed.

"I wasn't even there. When it mattered, his only daughter wasn't there."

Iain cupped her cheeks brushing away a tear with his thumb.

"Shhh. I'm here. It's okay to let this show, you don't have to be strong all the time Rita. Not for me. I've got you."

Rita cleared her throat again, attempting to compose herself.

"Last night was just the tip of the iceberg really. It was stupid. And waking up in a hospital gown in front of Connie was no better."

Rita met his gaze, a glint of amusement in his eyes. She giggled. Looking down she traced a line from his belt all the way up his stomach under his t-shirt, the contact making his skin tingle. Her eyes locked on to his. She moved closer to him, her gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips. A big yawn interrupted her spiralling thoughts, she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Go to sleep. It's okay, I'm here."

Rita lay down on the pillow, exhaustion washing over her. She was asleep within minutes. Iain waited until her breathing evened out before planting a light kiss on her forehead and leaving the room. As he made his way downstairs, he thought of the sleeping woman in his bed. For a fiery character who never let any hint of weakness show, this situation had obviously broken her. She needed time to heal. Grabbing a blanket, he tucked himself up on the sofa. It was far too small, it would be an uncomfortable night that was certain. His thoughts wandered as he drifted off into a troubled sleep. Maybe, just maybe, he could fix her.

Sunlight streamed through the open curtain, waking Iain as the beams hit his face. He rolled off the sofa and on to the floor, his neck and back ached like hell.

"Bloody sofa," he muttered.

Rita appeared at the living room door. He observed the sight before him with a smile. Without shoes on she was even shorter. Her hair stuck up at awkward angles, she looked younger without any make-up on. His grey t-shirt fell to just cover her.

"Morning you." She gave him a sleepy smile. "I've made coffee as a sort of thank you for last night."

"Great." He managed to stand upright, stretching out his back and rolling his shoulders. The joints popped and cracked. He ran a hand through his hair.

"You feeling a bit better?"

Her walked into the kitchen where Rita was stirring the dissolving coffee into two mugs. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to face him, a pained expression on her face.

"The funeral is this afternoon."

He traced the line of her jaw with a thumb.

"Do you want me to come with you? I can get get Dixie to swap my shifts so I can have the afternoon off."

Rita nodded glumly. She put a hand on his chest and felt the hard muscle beneath his shirt. His hand fell from her shoulder to her waist. He lent forward to gently rest his forehead on hers. They remained like that for a while, just enjoying the proximity. Iain was the first to pull back.

"Right I better get a shower and find my suit then."

"Yeah I'm gonna swing by home on the way into work for some clothes. I'll see you this afternoon?"

He nodded before planting a kiss on her forehead and going upstairs.

Rita drained the last of her coffee from her mug and climbed the stairs, locating her clothes strewn across his bedroom floor and getting changed. Passing the bathroom door on her way out, she heard him humming over the crash of the shower. It made her smile.