Note-Dear rarax1, thanks for your lovely review! The big one I was working one was the Halloween story, this just came to me recently. Also thanks to My_Alphabet_Soup, for her reviews of awesomeness. Also, I don't know the full facts about the arrest, so some bits might be wrong.

He hadn't killed his wife. She'd been at home when two people broke into the house. She'd tried to call the police, but one of the men saw her, took a hammer that was lying on the table, whacked her on the head and ran. By the time Walter Mickhead got home, she was already lying on the kitchen linoleum, cold, stiff and very dead.

He could remember bending down and touching her face, stroking it with shaking hands. Then he bent down to pick up the hammer, and looked at the blood soaking into the silvery metal. Then he called the cops, and spent the rest of the night in a motel, crying into the sheets, and staring at the ceiling, very much awake.

"Hello, Miss Cardon, I'm Dr Mickhead. I see here you were admitted for swollen lymphnodes and abdominal pain…"

It was a wonder he was still a doctor, really.

He'd gone back to work the day after, mainly just to try and keep his mind off the images of Helen lying on the floor.

"Walter, what's wrong?"

He had turned to see Nurse Candy Jenkins watching him anxiously. Candy was a good friend of his, a lifetime companion.

"Helen died"

"What? Oh my god, Walt…"

Then he'd started to hyperventilate, so he ran into a supply closet to calm down. But Candy had followed him. Then she had kissed him, and before he knew it, they were making out. Then that young black haired doctor, Dr Dorian, had walked in, given them a dirty look and walked out again. And Walter had followed him.

"We've got you booked in for a MRI scan at twelve, Miss Cardon, so I'll get an orderly to send up a wheelchair…"

Looking back, he realised that not macking with Candy was a mistake. Aside from Nurse Roberts and Nurse Espinosa, she was the biggest gossip in the hospital. And she was not a pretty sight when she was mad.

"Dude, I heard he took out his wife with a hammer while she was washing up!" he'd heard one intern say to another. He still heard it sometimes. He just shrugged it off, and carried on.

It was too late when he realised that his fingerprints were all over the hammer. He'd tried to pass it off to someone (who turned out to be Dr Dorian's girlfriend), unsuccessfully. But by then it was too late, and he was the number one suspect. When they'd nailed him, he'd cried and protested and struggled. But it was too late. And while he was dragged from the hospital premises, Candy had stood by and shook her head mockingly.

The next few weeks in prison were hell. Crap food, a cellmate who resembled Dr Hooch in craziness and excruciatingly painful exercise regimes. Walter had spent every night crying himself to sleep, then waking up due to nightmares of Helen's ghost.

Then they finally let him out. He was amazed that Dr Kelso let him have his job back ("Don't worry sport" Kelso had said. "The amount of times I've fantasised about doing the same to Enid…at least you actually had the guts!"), and the majority of the hospital seemed to let him be. They avoided him…but at least he was on his own. And that was all he really needed, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

"You're such a nice young man, Dr Mickhead!"

"Why thank you, Miss Cardon"

Yep. Wonder he was still a doctor, really…