Hey guys! This chapter's a little short, but no worries, it should be good. And by good, I mean sad. Honestly, did you expect anything less from me? But it's back to Dawson, so you can see how she's going.

He looked so…wrong. From the way his hair was parted to the way his hands were folded, it was all just so wrong. Dawson stared numbly. Nothing about it had seemed real, but now that she was being presented with…him, it was all very real. And wrong.

"His colour," she stammered to the lady beside her. "It's…it's..wrong. He doesn't look like that."

The mortician gave Dawson a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, hun," she said gently. "This is as close as we can get. It's hard to colour them up, you know?"

No, I don't know! Dawson wanted to scream. She wanted to tear her hair out, slap the lady, do anything but stand here and discuss how to better colour her dead boyfriend's skin. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain some control. "Can you at least put his hair back to its original part?"

"The way the bald spot is…"

"Yeah, I know." It was silent. Dawson stood there and stared. Shay had wanted to come along for 'emotional support', but Dawson had insisted against it. Now, though, she almost wished Shay was there beside her. "Okay, well, thanks I guess?"

"You're welcome, hun." Without warning, the lady enveloped Dawson in a smothering hug. "I know how difficult this time can be for folks. It was your boyfriend, you say? He's a firefighter, right? Those are firefighter clothes."

Dawson swallowed. "Was a firefighter," she corrected. "Lieutenant."

"I don't mean to pry, but was he killed on the job?"

That was a tricky question. Yeah, it had been the job that caused the original injury, and the secondary injury, but he hadn't died on the job. "I guess, yeah."

"I'm so sorry." The mortician let go of Dawson and gave her a long pat on the back. "I bet he was a hero."

"Yeah." She couldn't say anything else. Darn it, why was she crying? She couldn't cry. Especially not here. Not now, not in front of this lady. "Well, I guess, thank you for all your hard work…uh, I think I'll go now."

She left quickly. She couldn't stay in there. Not without crying, anyways, and there was no way she was going to cry in front of that lady. Oh, how she wished she had let Shay come along! The wind blew over Dawson coolly as she pulled out her cell.

"Shay here."

"Hey."

"Oh, hey, Dawson." Pause. "Everything okay? I mean, where are you? Do you need something?"

A glint in the snow caught her eye- a penny. She was too tired to bend down and pick it up. "Do you want to meet me for coffee or something? I just…" She cleared her throat. "I'm finished with the, uh, mortician, and just need to get away from it all."

"Right, okay. That little indie place round the corner from the station?"

"Yeah." Dawson sighed. She felt so empty. "Meet you there in ten." And before Shay could answer, she hung up.

The walk to the coffee shop seemed so long. Every step Dawson took reverberated the message throughout her body; your boyfriend is dead. Matt is dead. Even the cool, crisp air- which usually cleared her mind- didn't help at all. It just made her feel cold inside.

Shay was sitting in the back corner of the small coffee shop. She hadn't ordered yet. Dawson sat down in front of her.

"I was thinking about getting something caffeinated," Shay said without looking up from the menu she had in front of her. "I think I want to finish reading that mystery novel I got the other day, and I need the caffeine to keep me going."

"Hm." It wasn't an agreement or disagreement, rather just a noise of acknowledgment. "I wish they served hard liquor here. Why didn't I invite you to a bar?"

Shay placed a hand gently on Dawson's arm. "Because you know that drinking yourself into a stupor isn't the way to fix this," she said quietly. There was a moment of silence. "Plus, coffee's a whole lot cheaper."

A small smile played across Dawson's lips. "Yeah? Have you ever been to Starbucks?"

"Girl, only hipsters who earn bazillions of dollars 'working at home with google!' go to Starbucks." She paused. "And artists, and we are neither of those."

"Maybe we should be." Dawson let the menu fall to the table. "I think I want something decaf. It'll at least help with the whole not being able to fall asleep thing." She looked behind her for a waitress. "Hm, and maybe a doughnut."

"I'll second that."

A waitress walked quickly over to the girls' table, pen in hand and a large smile on her face. "Hi, welcome to Amour Coffee. What can I get you girls today?"

Once both girls ordered, the waitress flashed another cheesy grin at them both. "Great choices! Now sit tight. I'll be right back."

"Ugh." Dawson raised an eyebrow at the fleeing waitress. "Is it even legal to be that happy?"

Shay snorted. "Come on, are you trying to tell me you never even once felt that happy?" She raised an eyebrow at Dawson. "What about all those times I caught you walking out of the bathroom, tucking your shirt in? Huh?"

"Oh gosh, don't remind me." Dawson snickered. "Remember that time Herman was about to walk into the bathroom and I walked out?" A small giggle escaped her lips. "He nearly had a heart attack!"

"And if I remember correctly, so did you." Shay smiled.

Just then, the waitress came back with steaming cups of coffee and two plates. She set then down in front of Dawson and Shay. "You girls have a lovely day now, you hear?"

"'You girls have a lovely day now, you hear?'" As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Dawson mockingly imitated her. "I was happy. You're right." She took a long drink pause. Shay didn't say anything, just let that last bit stew. "But I wasn't cheesy like her. I was honest to goodness happy."

And for the second time that day, Dawson started to cry.

Have a good day!