I'm super shit at updating this fic, huh?

I'm sorry! I'm so pre-occupied with my other fic, I'm terrible.

So yeah, here it is. Enjoy, I guess!

DISCLAIMER: In The Flesh and all it's characters belong to Dominic Mitchell and BBC3. Song lyrics belong to the lovely Gabrielle Aplin. Direct quotes taken from the show belong to the original writers, I make no profit from this story and write it purely out of love for the series! :3

"Dreams are like angels

They keep bad at bay

Love is the light

Scaring darkness away."

-'The Power of Love', Gabrielle Aplin

Ugh…

…Fuckin' Hell…

Where am I?...

I'm never drinking again…

…I haven't drank for four years.

Is that right?

Yeah, four years.

I'm not human anymore…

I'm…?

His eyes blink slowly open, squinting in the light of day as it burns his oversensitive retinas.

Alright, focus: I'm…

A dark shape over his vision starts to slowly come into focus.

I'm dead. No, I'm…

A soft thud as something metal falls to the earth.

I'm a Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferer.

The shape shifts slightly, the sound of skin and fabric scraping dirt hits his ears.

I'm Kieren Walker.

The shape moves, the weight pinning him down shifting. Two white eyes stare down at him.

"Kieren?"

Simon. It's Simon. Kieren blinks, rolling his head slightly. They seem to be lying in mud. Fuck, how did that happen?

Oh, that's right…

He feels on the verge of a panic attack as it all floods back to him- Gary, the Blue Oblivion, his father, the gunshot. A million questions vie for attention, rattling round his aching head. Am I going to be okay? Where's that fucker Kendal? Did anyone else see him do it? They know I didn't do it myself, right? It wasn't my fault! Where the fuck have you been? What the Hell just happened?

"Did…" he rasps, feeling his lips stick together slightly. Bile. Ugh. "Did I hurt anyone?"

"No," Simon says, his hands rising to Kieren's face, his hair, pressing and touching all over as if he can't quite trust his eyes alone. He laughs breathlessly, disbelievingly. "No, you didn't. You beat it!"

Kieren wants to laugh, too, join in the giddy relief of the moment, but frankly he feels like his brain's been through a cheese grater. As Simon's hands move from his chest to his arms, pulling him upright, the change in altitude almost has him falling right back over. Fortunately another pair of hands hold him up, handing him off to Simon once he's found his footing. He glances up at his dad as he's pulled away, notices the shock on his face.

Wait, what happened? That was a gunshot, right?

He hears Zoe shout something, hears Simon reply curtly, but he can't focus on the words. His scrambled brain is desperately trying to put together the events of the past few minutes, and failing miserably. They walk a few minutes before he finally finds his voice again.

"Simon?"

"Yeah?" Simon supports him as gently as possible as they walk. Where they're walking to, Kieren has no idea.

"What happened to the bullet?" he asks softly, almost stumbling over the uneven ground. "That was a gun I heard, yeah?"

Simon nods, tightening his grip on Kieren's shoulders. "Yeah, it was," he says, looking straight ahead. "Don't worry 'bout the bullet- tweezers'll get that out."

"What d'you-?" Kieren begins, eyes widening as realisation dawns. He stops suddenly, yanking Simon around by his arm (and it's a good thing he took him by surprise, he'd have been too weak to do it otherwise). He stares at the ragged hole in the Irish man's suit in astonishment, sees the deeper gauge in the flesh beneath. "Fuckin' Hell, Simon-!"

"It's fine," Simon says quickly, taking hold of Kieren's arm and pulling him along again. "It's nothing. Come on, we need to get you to the surgery, need to make sure you're…"

He trails off as Kieren tugs him round again, reaching his arms around his torso and pulling him close, pressing his face to his shoulder. After a moment he feels the dark-haired man's hands on his back, cautiously returning the embrace.

This is far from over. It was absolutely fucking idiotic of the man to dive in front of that bullet, and he still isn't off the hook for disappearing.

But Kieren tightens his grip on him anyway, hands pressing lightly against Simon's spine and the scar that runs its length.

He may be an idiot, but he's glad to have him back.

They find themselves sitting alone in the waiting room of the GP's surgery, awaiting Doctor Russo. Typical Roarton service- one of them literally has a bullet in their shoulder and still they face an endless wait in an empty room. Jesus, this place is a ghost town.

Kieren keeps flexing his fingers, arching his back, stretching his neck. He feels so stiff- even more so than usual. It feels like his joints have all swelled up. He's an absolute mess- he'd done his best to wipe the gunk from his face but stubborn traces still cling to his lips, sticky like tar.

With his face looking as rough as his stiff body feels, he'd appreciate it if Simon would stop staring at him.

"What?" he asks, turning his head to Simon and noticing that the man's gaze doesn't even falter.

"I've never seen anyone fight against Blue Oblivion before," Simon answers quietly, eyes never leaving Kieren's face.

"Well," Kieren huffs, turning his gaze down to his hands and shrugging. "Live long enough and you'll see all sorts."

"You're incredible, Kieren."

Okay, Kieren would be lying if he said that statement didn't make his dead heart flutter a little. But he furrows his brow and looks at Simon disapprovingly, shaking his head. "No, I'm not," he says firmly, shutting down any attempts at sweet-talking before they start. He's still angry, he has to remember that. "I'm just a person who didn't want to do any more harm. Don't start getting all mystical on me, okay? I'm not the messiah. I don't have any special powers."

He looks back at Simon and raises his eyebrow. "Unlike some people."

A small, surprised smile appears on Simon's face, like he doesn't know what he means but is choosing to take it as a compliment. "…I don't have any special powers."

"You've got the power to disappear."

Simon's face falls. Good.

"You left. I searched everywhere for you," Kieren says, searching Simon's face for answers. "Where'd you go?"

Please, please, PLEASE, just be honest this once…

"The city," Simon mumbles. It's vague, it's useless, but it's the truth- he can see it in his eyes.

"Why?"

Simon meets his gaze, opens his mouth. For a moment, it looks like he's going to tell him. He can scarcely believe it- maybe this really is a new chapter for them both. Maybe the mysterious Mr. Disciple is finally letting the mask fall…

The door slams against the wall, loud as a gunshot to his surprised ears. They both turn to the sound. Kieren's black blood runs cold.

Philip is staggering through the door, face a blood-spattered mask of anguish as he cries out for help. In his arms is a body, limp and bloodied, beautiful skirts stained red.

"Amy!" Kieren gasps, and he can't make sense of what he's seeing. Amy is dead- no, dying. Amy is covered in blood. Amy is covered in her own blood, seeping out from the wound in her chest. Real blood. Warm and red, pulsing with life. He knows it's real- knows the smell. Not half an hour ago he'd been craving it, stalking it. Now it brings bile to his throat.

"Amy!" He calls again, racing forward to help Philip carry her, only dimly aware of Simon shouting for help behind him. "Amy! Fuck, Amy, wake up!"

Blood covers his fingers as he helps carry her, and though he can't feel it he knows it's warm to the touch. It drips onto the pale floor as they stagger along, an almost radioactive trail of red marking their path. God, so much…

"What the-?"

Doctor Russo's eyes widen as Philip shoves past him, placing Amy's limp body across the examination table as the angry wounds keep weeping. Russo snaps into action, striding over to her side as he surveys the damage and Philip breathlessly recounts the story.

But Kieren can't hear a word he says. He doesn't have time to marvel with Russo at the sight of her blood, warm and pumping, as it seeps through her clothes. All he can do is sit at her side, taking her hand and holding it tight as the blood on her fingers stains his skin.

"Please, Amy," he breathes, trying to keep his voice firm and failing. "You're not allowed to leave like this…"

Her eyes don't even flicker. The phantom feeling of slick black bile clogs his throat, he can barely speak past it.

"You're my best dead friend forever," he chokes. "That's non-negotiable…"

She can't die. She just can't, it's impossible, not like this- what good is a stab to an unbeating heart?

He hears Russo mumble something about her eyes, but all he can see is her blood-soaked hand as he holds it close. It's not her time yet, it can't be.

We have so much to talk about. You still have to shout at me and Simon, we all have to go on that day-trip together, you still have to talk Jem round- come on, you always talk 'em round in the end! You'll never be BFF's if you don't keep trying to wear her down, you can't give up now…

Russo backs away. That grabs his attention. He looks up imploringly, and feels the icy stab in his heart when he sees the Doctor's face.

"What're you doin'?" Simon demands, still hanging back. Kieren can't tear his gaze away to look at him for even a second.

"There's nothing I can do…" Russo says quietly.

Kieren's lifeless heart turns to stone, plummeting in his chest.

The rest of the room fades away, nothing left but the body on the table.

Amy Dyer, he thinks, tongue too numb to form the words. My beautiful genius…

Behind him Philip sobs, the sound gut-wrenching in its anguish. Simon is silent, and Kieren can only imagine what his face must look like at this instant. He doesn't think he can look at either of them- he thinks it'll break him further. So he closes his eyes, and with trembling fingers he raises her hand to his lips, closing his senses to the violent red against her slender hands.

The image of a small smile, a mask of happiness over a troubled face, burns in the forefront of his mind. False brown eyes peering from beneath a red flower, bright and relentlessly cheerful against the grey Roarton sky.

"Not a day trip this time, Partner."

As his dry eyes burn with the need for tears, eyelids frozen shut against the violent blood splatters across that same beautiful face, he pours every last word he never said into that grip.

As people start to move, as voices vie for attention, he sits still as a statue and holds his best friend's hand, knowing it's the last time he'll ever do so.

Even through his dead nerves he can feel the warmth and light she wore every day like jewels and flowers seep away, and winter settles over the world like a blanket; cold, unforgiving, and deafeningly silent.

How will the sun rise in Roarton without Amy Dyer?

It's my fault.

Simon tries to be there for Kieren, God knows he tries.

But even as he takes Kieren by the arm, holds him against his side, strokes his hair as he slowly walks the numb boy back to his house, a traitorous part of his mind keeps turning that one sentence over and over.

They thought about going to the bungalow- Kieren doesn't really want to talk to his family at the moment- but going to the place where Amy should be would be even worse, surrounded by her presence, walking past her room with her still unmade bed and her clothes on the floor. She'd never do one of her spring cleans again.

So they go to the Walker house. They are greeted there by the whole family, but Kieren doesn't spare them a glance. He just walks, eyes blank and body stiff as he traipses up the stairs. Simon can do nothing but follow, jaw set and fists clenched, knowing that he will force his guilt down to the Earth's very core if it means he can take care of the boy first.

He's already let Amy down, he won't let Kieren down, too.

Kieren feels Simon at his side, gently supporting him. But he can't for the life of him turn to meet his eyes.

He feels cold. He already knew he was cold, his dead body with black blood, but he'd never honestly felt so cold and empty before. Now he can't ignore it.

He sinks slowly onto the edge of his bed, unmoving as Simon fusses around him. The Irish man is restless, obsessively tidying away loose clothes and drawings, straightening sheets, pacing endlessly.

It feels like he's trapped under ice, every freezing pang of doubt and sorrow in his body bubbling beneath the surface, kicking and screaming to be released.

It's only as Simon kneels before him, dabbing away at the dried blood on his hands with a damp cloth that a single spidery crack spreads across his self-made barrier.

He sobs, the sound so dry and hitching with no actual tears to back it up, no saliva in his throat or breath in his parched lungs. Another follows, and another.

A familiar strong hand rests gently on his neck, and the dam breaks.

He slumps forward, curling into himself, around his hollow chest. His head hits Simon's shoulder, resting there as the dry sobs wrack his body. Another hand strokes his back, the first moves to cradle his cheek.

"I'm sorry…"

He hears the murmured words, but pays them no attention. What good will they do?

"I should've been there…"

This time the words come from his own lips, slipping out before he can catch them.

He feels Simon tense, knows that he wants to deny it. But he stays silent, thumb gently stroking the dry skin beneath Kieren's eye. Thank God- he doesn't think he could've forgiven him if he'd tried to make excuses on his behalf. There were no excuses.

So he just sits still, let's Simon hold him as his shoulders shake, feeling his rotten heart slowly, agonisingly split in two.

"I'll protect you from the hooded claw

Keep the vampires from your door

When the chips are down I'll be around

With my undying, death-defying love for you

Envy will hurt itself

Let yourself be beautiful

Sparkling like flowers and pearls and pretty girls…"

Well, there it is. I'm so sorry.

This is the chapter where I thought for a long time about going AU. I love Amy so much, and for ages I thought about an unlikely plot twist that has her faking her death and running away. But it seemed pretty far-fetched, and honestly the whole point of this fic has been to explore the characters' inner feelings toward the events of the show and I'd be cutting out a massive, important piece of that if I let Amy live. I'm so sorry- but I refuse to believe Amy is gone for good. I guess that's for the eventual sequel (or series 3, with a bit of luck) to decide. And if you thought this chapter was short, it's because the next two chapters are very big, emotional & introspective chapters so that's where the detail's gonna be.

Until next time! X