Hello, long time no see :) I have no excuse for this huge gap in updates really, apart from being manically busy finishing off and preparing for my GCSEs (which are in 3 weeks, eek). I've been writing bits and bobs of this chapter for a couple of weeks but got a burst of inspiration and finished it off tonight. As for the knee, it's actually almost completely better but it's been a looong recovery (that's how long it's been). I hope you all enjoy, and if you're new to this fic feel free to ask me anything if you're confused!

Day 7: 5:43am

Seven days. That was the first thing that came to me the moment I stirred from yet another restless nights sleep in Zoe's spare room- a whole week had passed since Tom died.

It felt like just hours ago that I was stood in the cold morgue saying my final goodbyes; at the same time it felt like a lifetime since I'd seen him last. The reality was that it felt like a lifetime because it would be, it was just the very beginning of a lifetime I'd have to live without Tom by my side.

I realised almost every morning had began the same in the past week. I'd awaken early accompanied by an agonising ache in my heart and a pit of nausea growing in my stomach. I'd spend the sunrise trying desperately not to both throw up all over Zoe's immaculate white bathroom and dissolve into the tears I knew would never stop once they began. I'd convince myself the constant sickness was a physical reaction to grief, my body just trying to rid itself of the hurt felt in my heart.

I'd sit in the bay window of the bedroom, perching myself on the particularly uncomfortable window ledge, absorbed in the beautiful sunrise I'd watched every morning. Secretly, just waiting for Zoe to get up so I could escape my own mind and distract myself with hers.

Sometimes, I'd open the windows wide, as if the crisp autumn breeze would strip my mind of the darkness and the orange glow which bathed the sky and the trees would warm my drained and empty soul.

The seventh morning I woke up after Toms death would be the hardest day yet, and it would make sense for the sunrise to be stronger than ever. I awoke at 5:43am with that same overwhelming nausea and ache but my heart jumped as I remembered the day.

It was Wednesday, and it was the day I would bury my fiancé.

I stumbled out of the bed, still drowsy from sleep and made towards the window once again to watch the sunrise.

Instead, I was suffocated. The grey clouds reached down from the sky, wrapping around my neck and choking me. The rain smacked the windows of Zoe's spare room viciously, trying desperately to get in.

The very morning I needed to see the sunrise, yet it was as if the heavens were grieving alongside me.

7:52am:

"Sam? Sam!" I awoke again with a throbbing in the back of my neck, and a concerned Zoe calling my name.

I was curled up on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor, yet I couldn't remember even coming into the room two hours earlier.

As I came round a little more, the smashing of the rain upon the roof rang in my ears and my heart sank even more as I remembered the site I was greeted with when I sat by the window earlier that morning. I winced as I finally peeled open my eyes and lifted my head from the tiled floor.

"I'm sorry Zoe," I croaked shyly.

"Don't be sorry. Nausea again?" she queried, with a hint of knowing much more than I was comfortable with.

"Something like that," I sighed and took Zoe's hands as she helped me to my feet, "is it ok for me to use the shower now? Might as well start getting ready now I'm up."

"Of course," she nodded, "big day ahead."

She wasn't wrong.

8:11am:

As I finally emerged from the ensuite having spent a little too long enjoying the soothing effect the warm water had on my swirling stomach, I was confronted by a small rectangular box accompanied by a slip of paper sat on the bed. Hands suddenly shaking, I picked up the small note,

"Please take this when you're ready. Trust me, and when you get the result, I will be here to listen. Z x."

I shook my head in disbelief as I quickly shoved both the note and the box under my pillow- out of sight, out of mind, they said.

As I dressed myself, it was as if the all the remaining slivers of colour in my life were simply draining away. Tom was never keen on black- he'd spend much of his time clad in bright turquoise scrubs and aside from that he favoured browns and whites. However, his adoptive parents, the couple who took Tom on when he was just a few weeks old yet never took the time to learn anything about their grown up son, were stark traditionalists. So black is what they insisted on, and it was the colour of the dress I was trying desperately to pull over my head.

I tried to slap a little colour on my face but I ended up looking more like a ghost than when I first started. Rings of eyeliner made my eyes look hollow in my head- I looked empty. I was empty. I felt nothing, not even pain. I didn't even feel human. The concept that what lay ahead of me was the burial of a 30 year old who I loved so dearly, that didn't seem human.

10:32am:

"We are gathered here to celebrate a life lost too soon, a life ended so tragically and prematurely by The Lord. Thomas David Kent, just 30 years old..."

I was struggling to take in the empty sympathetic words of the vicar stood solemnly at the end of the chapel. It made no sense to me that the service was so religious, when in life Tom hadn't even mentioned his beliefs to me. I couldn't work out if I knew nothing about the man I loved, or his parents had got it dreadfully wrong.

My eyes were fixed on the wooden box perched proudly behind the vicar. It was covered in flowers, and atop stood a photo of Tom. I couldn't bear to look at the photograph after a quick glance, the crinkle of his smiling eyes, his curls shining in the sunlight that bathed him. It seemed too raw to think of Tom in life, instead I tried to focus on what he might've looked like inside the coffin. Visiting the morgue less than a week earlier, the picture of Toms cold body was engrained in my mind and when I slept it was all I saw. When I looked at the coffin, all I could see was that.

My thoughts were broken into again by another loud sob making me jump, as Toms adoptive mother again made a loud expression of her grief as the vicar mentioned something about "how much Tom adored his mum." The woman sat beside me was going to be my mother-in-law, and yet I felt more comfort and warmth from Zoe despite her sitting a few rows back from me, than her. It was more as if I was stealing her son from her, not sharing the grief that she felt in his absence.

10:48am: (Fletch POV)

It was a cliché, but as I was wheeled to theatre on the cold trolley down the endless hospital corridor, it was as if my whole life flashed before my eyes. My skull was about to be smashed open, just for a tiny piece of the bastard tumour that ruined my life and so many others, and I was scared.

I pondered the past week, just as I had done every minute I spent in a prison cell or hospital bed. Just a week since I ended someone else's life, just a week since I had changed the life of myself, of Sam, of our colleagues, our friends and our families. I was almost relieved that I found myself alone on this day.

A court hearing a day before had granted me bail and a trial which had been delayed for medical reasons so no longer was I pestered by police officers so sure I'd be able to escape despite having a life threatening brain tumour. Sam and Zoe were at Toms funeral, and I'd insisted Nat attend also on my behalf. She rarely visited me now anyway, she had become the sole carer of our 3 kids and not to mention she was heavily pregnant. And the truth was, she was ashamed of me- she deserved to be, I was on bail for killing someone.

So lost in my thoughts, I barely registered the strong smelling mask being placed over my face until I heard the words I'd said myself so many times;

"Just breath deeply, and stay nice and calm."

Stay calm. That was the last thing I heard before I drifted into darkness.

11:04am:

The sun tried to peek through the thick black clouds as the crowd traipsed from the church, following the coffin perching so proudly on the shoulders of Toms relatives.

I'd lurked behind, desperate to avoid the sympathetic words and looks of those who had worked out who I was. I'd managed to keep my composure remarkably well, shedding not a single tear and as a result I blended into the crowd of "colleagues and mutual friends".

I barely noticed Zoe falling into step beside me as we walked into the rain which fell so furiously. She was clutching a stethoscope I recognised instantly as Tom's, picking nervously at the plastic. She noticed me looking and smiled weakly,

"I found it going through his locker the other day, I thought he needed it with him."

I nodded mutely, trying desperately to match her smile.

We reached the graveside a little later than the others, standing solemnly as the coffin was placed beside the perfectly dug out hole. It was lowered into the soaked mud as family members began to toss roses into the grave and my head began spinning. It was as if I was being dragged towards the hole, like Tom was reaching out from his box and pulling me at my ankles. Dirt was being tossed into the grave and people threw momentos into the hole, slowly suffocating the body laid inside it. The tears rolling down my face matched the tears falling from the sky, shielded by the black umbrellas, as my breathing became rapid. They were covering him up, throwing away any memories alongside him. I felt Zoe take my arm as if to lead me closer to the grave, and I felt myself shaking my head quickly,

"No," I whispered, "no Zoe."

She looked at me, her eyes filling with panic and concern instantly.

"Hey, it's okay," she said softly.

"I can't do this Zoe, I can't watch him disappear into nothing," I muttered quickly. I turned on my heel away from the woman and ran back towards the church, leaving her stood at the graveside without me.

I'd never been a religious person, but the absence of the rain and the new sunlight pouring through the stained glass window was strangely comforting as I settled down onto the front pew. A few programs were scattered on the bench beside me, and I finally forced myself to look at the photo of Tom plastered on the front. He was smiling up at me, looking so content and proud. He looked young, his graduation cap on his head. I struggled to recall a time where I didn't know Tom, having to remind myself that as he graduated I was a 3rd year med student who had fallen in love with my grumpy old mentor whom I'd later go on to marry, and then divorce.

"He'd be so proud of you," a voice assumed my train of thought, as I realised I was still staring at the photograph I was clutching. As I met the kind eyes staring down at me, I nearly crumbled.

"Charlie," I smiled weakly, instantly calmed and relieved by the company stood beside me.

"I saw you come in here," he explained softly, "I thought I'd come and say hi."

"I feel so guilty, I tried so hard not to act up today." I admitted.

Charlie shook his head dismissively as he settled on to the pew beside me.

"My ex-wife died in a car crash," he admitted quietly.

I looked at him in shock, "oh wow, I didn't know, I'm sorry-"

"No reason you would've, you'd have still been in school when she died it was that long ago. But the point is I didn't cope nearly as well as you did,"

I shook my head quickly, "all I've done is cry-" I started.

"No, you've reacted like a human Sam. I had to be strong for my son, I got custody when she died yet I still managed to make a mess of it...it's been a week, and you've done amazingly well, better than I did." he smiled gently.

"But you will get through this horrible, awful pain you're feeling right now. I did, and you will but you have to be patient and let yourself grieve. Tom wasn't just your colleague, not just your friend, he was going to be your husband, your soulmate. Having that ripped away from you in just a second is unfair."

I let the tears run down my face freely for the first time that day as I felt Charlie's hand take mine, running his thumb over my palm soothingly.

"Everyone has gone now," he said softly. "You don't have to go the wake, Zoe can take you to see Fletch, it's all over now."

I just nodded, squeezing Charlie's hand gratefully.

There was going to be more to this chapter but I thought at 2k words it was long enough. Please keep reviewing, suggestions for improvements are very welcome :)