Disclaimer: Not mine, no money changed hands. It's called FANfiction for a reason!
A.N: Thanks to ALi and Mel for encouraging me with this. Especially Mel who has been so patient to wait for it. Also this is dedicated to Jess who has forced me into this. I hope your happy and get sending some more Beta work my way! Hope you enjoy it and if you don't well flame away I could use the extra heat to cut the cost of my heating bills.
No.
The word swam round in his head, her voice repeating itself over and over until he could stand it no more. Crying out in agony his whole body shook with violent sobs as he slumped onto the white-tiled floor in despair. Not only had he lost his son, he had lost her too. As his tears splashed down onto the shiny tiled surface he cupped his aching head in his strong, weary hands. As the words reverberated around his brain he sat motionless, just letting the pain wash over him, until it had almost devoured him completely. Each time he heard it his head and heart ached a little more. Grief and anger were slowly eating away at him, devouring him slowly, painfully, as if torturing him for being in love. Desperately looking for a way out of his misery, shakily he stood, his vision blurred with tears.
Glancing in the bathroom mirror he caught sight of himself, his hair ruffled, his pale face un-shaven, all in all he looked as terrible as he felt. In a state of blind panic he fumbled through the medicine cupboard, which he had filled when he checked in, until he found something to ease the pain. Downing the whole tub in a fit of rage he followed them with a swig of the half empty vodka bottle lying near by.
As he stumbled out into the hall he knew what was happening, he'd almost been there before and despite knowing how destructive it was he had done it again. This time going one step further.
Stumbling left to right, banging into the walls of the hotel he had decided to use, he was devoid of all feeling. Filled with just a numb sensation he felt on top of the world, he no longer had to hurt. He no longer had to suffer. He could no longer feel at all. Yet he, somehow, felt about as low as anyone could feel. How many others would he hurt with his antics? He'd seen grief tear people apart, grief had torn him apart. Did he really want to inflict that on his friends and family? They'd be better of without me, he sneered to himself, collapsing to the floor. Not even bothering to try and get up he fumbled in his pocket to produce his wallet. Gently he unfolded an old tattered picture which had been kept in there for years. Before falling unconscious he had just enough time to whisper, "I love you", before lying silent once again.
He fought temptation and temptation won.
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