"Alright, you two," Aunt Martha hugged Heath and Johnathan, "Take care of yourselves. Heath, good luck on your seminars."

"Thanks, Aunt Martha," Heath nodded, casting a glance behind her shoulder. Winnifred silently watched from behind. When her aunt walked away, she slowly approached them. For a while, they stood in silence.

"Well," Winnifred heavily sighed. "Till then, I guess."

Heath wordlessly nodded, refusing to meet her eye. Johnathan likewise silently stood, his hands in his pockets. Winnifred nervously chewed her lips, not knowing what else to say. The train whistle gave a warning shrill.

"Winnifred, don't be long!" Margaret called, disappearing into the train after her aunt. Winnifred waved her away, before frantically whirling back to her friends. People shoved past them, making it harder to talk to each other, as well as implicitly hinting on Winnifred's minute departure. Johnathan's fingers dug into his palm, mind anxiously working.

"Watch your spasms, will you?" He warned. Winnifred nodded. Damn, this is so bloody ridiculous...

"Oh come here," Heath finally broke, tugging Winnifred into a hug. Winnifred shut her eyes, almost strangling him in her embrace. Then, letting him go, she hugged Johnathan, slightly knocking his glasses to the side. The train gave a final whistle and started moving. Winnifred swore and ran to the entrance. Grabbing the handrails, she looked back at them one last time before disappearing in the train.

"Let's go," Johnathan quietly said to Heath. That one obediently turned around. They made way through the ecstatic crowd, rushing forward towards the departing train and down the platform. Johnathan quickly ran down the steps from the station onto the dusty road before slowing down to a walk, hands still in pockets. Heath silently walked at his side.

"How do you think Maine is?" He wondered aloud. Johnathan shrugged.

"She'll write to us, then we'll know," he answered, lifting his head up from the ground.

"She won't," Heath instantly rebuked. Johnathan frowned.

"Why are you so sure?" He asked, slightly furrowing his brows.

"Well, I uh..." Heat stared at the ground, slightly ashamed.

"I made a bet with Freddie that we won't write to each other. To see...uh, who lasts the furthest."

"Idiots," Johnathan shook his head. Heath smirked.

"How otherwise, man? Wanna make your bets?"

"No thanks," Johnathan dismissed the offer, glancing on his watch. His eyes slightly narrowed.

"Listen, do you have a free day today?"

"A lecture, but that doesn't count, why?" Heath suspiciously frowned.

"Can you come to the hospital with me?" Johnathan said in a flat voice.

"I have a job to do, and I need a second person for it."

"Don't you have nurses for that?"

"Nurses aren't quite the fit for this job," Johnathan impatiently explained, quickening his pace.

"So are you coming or not?"

Heath shrugged. "Yeah, why not?" Johnathan thanked him with a tense smile. Heath sighed inside. Here it goes. No thank you's or hello's. At least not until the job is done. The hospital was near the train station, so the walk wasn't long. Johnathan roughly flung the doors open. They smacked Heath back in the face. Swearing, he shoved the doors open and hurried after Johnathan, who was already gone in the corridor.

"Where are you going..." The receptionist's question was left without an answer as Heath ran past it. Johnathan stopped next to a door and, quickly unlocking it, walked inside. Heath was about to walk in as well when Johnathan walked right back out.

"Here, put this on," he tossed Heath a white surgical coat and gloves, dressing into another one on the way.

"How?" Heath crossly threw, twisting the coat in his hands. Crane ignored his question and was already walking away. Heath quickly pulled the coat over himself, hoping it was the right way, and followed the intern. He shoved the gloves into his pocket. Johnathan stopped at another door and walked in.

"Hold the door," he ordered Heath. That one shrugged and propped the door with his foot. In a moment, Johnathan drove out a movable stretcher trolley. An old man was lying in it. Heath almost let go of the door at the sight of him.

"Alright, I'll lead the way, and you push him. Clear?" Johnathan glanced at Heath's troubled expression.

"And do not worry so much. He won't wake up." Heath pressed his lips and took hold of the cold metal bars. Johnathan grasped the gurney by the other side and started walking backwards, occasionally looking over his shoulder.

"Right turn ahead."

Heath submissively turned right.

"Left this time." Heath turned again. Johnathan turned back around. There were no people in the hospital, making it easier to navigate. Heath quietly whistled under his breath, occasionally taking glances at the old man. He was extremely pale, the skin sagged on his face. He must've been seriously ill, for Heath could hardly tell the moving of his chest.

"Hey, uh Johnny?" Johnathan turned his head back around.

"Yes?"

"Where are we taking him?"

"To the morgue, obviously."

"What?!" Heath abruptly stopped. The gurney stopped short, the old man slightly jerking to his side.

"Do you mean that we are transporting a...a...

"It's just a corpse, Heath," Johnathan tiredly answered, pulling the trolley forward.

"He died only yesterday evening." Heath was quiet for a moment, regaining his composure, then started pushing the cart again.

"What did he die from?" He asked after a short while.

"A stroke. Left," Johnathan ordered over his shoulder. Heath roughly turned the trolley left. They stopped next to large doors. Heath felt a small shiver crawl his spine. Johnathan calmly fixed his glasses and started towards doors, head slightly at an angle. Heath licked his teeth and pushed the trolley forward, hoping that Johnathan knows what to do.

The cold banged Heath into the face when he walked in. He shivered. The room was freezing cold. The walls were covered in what looked like iron boxes. Johnathan stopped next one of them. Heath watched him enter a code. 1564636. The chamber silently opened. Instantly, cold air burst out and rolled down on the ground. Johnathan tugged out a stretcher like structure. Heath felt a wave of nausea come up to his throat and quickly put on his gloves. Johnathan turned back.

"Help me leverage him." Heath sent Johnathan a murderous glare and held the man by the ankles while Crane held him by the shoulders. Together, they hoisted him up on the stretcher.

"Okay, are we done?" Heath hopefully asked.

"Not yet..." Johnathan took out a small tag out of his pocket and hung it around the corpse's toe. Heath closed his eyes. Of course. He should've known. Johnathan pushed the stretcher with the body back in and shut the door. Heath silently watched him, trying to shake off disgust and the desire to vomit.

"Who is he?" He quietly asked on their way out.

"Unidentified," Johnathan tugged the gloves off his fingers and threw them into the trash bin next to the exit. Heath hastened to do the same.

"Some people found him lying unconscious on the road with a broken hand. Then it turned out that he had ischemic strokes in the past." Johnathan was quiet for a moment.

"He was my patient." Heath whirled back to Johnathan.

"How come? Aren't you a psychologist?"

"He was a schizophrenic," Crane shortly explained.

"And is that why we are burying him right now?"

"No, it's because the dieter was off duty."

They parted at the entrance. Johnathan claimed he had more work to be done, so Heath ran to the mill. There was a feeling of awkwardness, as if something was missing. Winnifred.

A/N Sorry, guys, the next couple of chapters will be kind of short, but that's to alternate the settings!

Man, Winnifred's gone! What will Heath do about it? ;) You know, there's a song called SLY by Scorpions which I think really fits the situation...;););)

Once again, thanks for reading!