He held her hand as they walked through the bustling corridor of the hospital, patients, visitors, cleaners and doctors passing them by. Sam's hair brushed against his jacket and he treasured the sensation, giving her hand a squeeze before putting his arm around her waist and drawing her close to his side. Martin drew in a deep breath, guilt haunting him as he realised he was enjoying the walk with Sam to the room in which his good friend lay after nearly cutting himself to death. As if reading his mind, Sam pulled away from Martin and went to ask the nurse where Danny Taylor was.

………………….

The room is quiet for once – the nurse has left him alone, the psychologist has been and gone and he is again alone with his thoughts, with the darkness. He lets his eyes scan his arms, covered with gauze and bandages before lifting the neck of his bed gown and taking in the sight before him – blood soaked bandages cover nearly the whole area of skin. He returns his gaze to the ceiling, he feels empty – there is no other word that could describe it. Empty – a hollow shell. It is such an effort for him to breathe he notices, his body feels like lead and his head full of fog.

…………………..

Sam stood at the doorway and looked into the room, her eyes focused on a pale figure lying upon a stark hospital bed, tubes running from his veins, dark shadows under his eyes and bandages covering his arms. She walked in slowly, wondering what to say to him, and hoping that the words would come to her.

"Danny? Danny, it's me."

He turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice and shuffled so that he faced her.

"Hey Sam, how are you?" he questioned, trying to again hide behind the mask of Danny Taylor that everyone was used to.

"No, how are you Danny?" she asked, trying to read his face.

"I'm ok, food's not that great but you know, that's hospital for you," he tried to joke, a sad smile plastered on his face.

"Danny…" she half winced, "You don't have to pretend anymore."

He looked into her eyes trying to will the haunted look from his own and reached to touch her hand.

"I'm sorry I scared you Sam, I'm sorry you saw me like that… I am going to be fine, really." He turned away, flinching as the sudden movement stretched his wounds, when he turned back to look at her he noticed a tear streaking her face. He hated that he hurt her – it was yet another reminder of how worthless he was.

……

Martin sat on a chair in the lounge, he had convinced Sam to go in by herself, that he would be there in a few minutes, but he wasn't sure he could go in at all. Images of Danny sprawled helpless across the driver seat, his skin covered in his own crimson had scared him – no, more than scared him – terrified him. How could someone do that to themselves he thought to himself – what would bring Danny to the point of dragging blades across his flesh!

Last night, Martin had sat with a kitchen knife held against his own arm – willing himself to press down, to understand but he couldn't, and he didn't understand however hard he tried to get his mind around it.

He stood up slowly, taking in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. What he did comprehend was that Danny was a good friend, a good friend he almost lost, and he was not going to let that happen, he was not going to lose Danny.

……………….

Uncomfortable silence – Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, her legs hanging over the edge and she had spent the last five minutes watching them bend and stretch as they swung – as if somehow her black work shoes had suddenly become fascinating.

She arched her neck toward the door as she heard footsteps approaching to see Martin as he lightly rapped his fists against the door frame.

"Hi Martin," Danny greeted him, his voice soft and somewhat unsteady.

"Danny," Martin replied as he pulled up a chair. "How are …"

"I'm ok," Danny sighed. He appreciated them being here yet what he really craved was time alone without awkward conversations and looks of pity.

"You scared us Danny, no you frightened the shit out of me actually. I want to understand – I want to help you" Martin spoke truthfully.

"I don't need your help," he whispered, whilst wanting to scream the words instead.

Danny closed his eyes, blocking out the faces looking down upon him, trying to calm the mounting surge of emotion that was beginning to wash upon him and trying to stop his mind from spinning.

A nurse bustled into the room, walked to the end of the bed taking a look at the chart she held in her hands.

"Maybe that's enough for today," the nurse said, after glancing at her patient to find him with his eyes closed and body tensed. She smiled at the two visitors as they stood nodding.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Martin said, lightly touching Danny on the shoulder.

He nodded, forcing a grim smile grace his face as Sam bent and kissed him on the cheek.

"Tomorrow…" Danny said to himself. How he was looking forward to another day…