Just two one shots, but two different takes on similar, but not the same, situations. I will probably post the other part tonight or tomorrow morning. You don't need to read both, although I'd be eternally grateful if you did! Please, please, please review, it means SO much to me :) Even if you want to tell me it's rubbish, please do, it doesn't take long!


Tom hates this. He stands on the edge of the crowd of doctors and nurses gathered around her bed, his fists clenched. He knows what's happening to her, and he knows he can't help her. No one can help Sam now. The muttering of Zoe and Ash is driving him crazy - do they think that he can't hear them, that he doesn't know what's going on? She's been arrested for nearly an hour now, and they're about to give up.

He doesn't even realise it, but his face is hot and wet from the tears falling freely down his face. He has been staring at her for so long that when Zoe touches him gently on the arm, he jumps.
"I'm sorry, Tom, we couldn't do anything else," she murmurs.
"I know," he whispers through the tears, as his feet carry him instinctively to her bedside. The group of medics leaves the room, and for once, resus is silent. Tom sits alone with Sam's body. He strokes her hair, squeezes her hand, kisses her forehead, waiting for her to wake up, to say something, even to hit him, hard, because he deserves it.

Because the accident was his fault. If he hadn't shouted at her this morning (it seemed like years ago now), if he hadn't sat sulking on the way to work, then this would never have happened. She had been so angry with him that she forgot to look at the road, she didn't see the car they were heading for at fifty miles an hour. And now she was... Not alive... He couldn't bring himself to think of her as dead, and he was alive, when he should be the one lying there, not moving, not breathing.

Zoe returns, on her own this time, and says softly, "They need to move her, Tom."
Tom doesn't reply, but he hands Zoe Sam's organ donor card. She takes it, a sad, sympathetic look in her eyes, and opens the door to reveal the porters waiting to take Sam downstairs.

They don't give their condolences, after all, it wouldn't bring her back, but they offer to let him come with them if he wants. He accepts, keeping hold of her hand the whole time: it's the only warm part of her now. He doesn't want pity, he doesn't want anyone thinking he can't cope, although he doesn't know how he's going to go on now, so he avoids the eyes of the people who stop what they are doing to watch him go downstairs

He continues to sit with her while he's waiting for them to lay her out. Then he gets up and begins to talk, to say all the things he didn't have a chance to before. No. That was a lie. He had had the chance to tell her, but he hadn't, and he loathes himself for that. So he says it all now.
"I'm so, so sorry Sam. Sorry for everything, sorry for shouting this morning. I'm sorry that I never said I was sorry. I never said how much I loved you Sam. I still do."
It's only a matter of time before he's crying again, choking on his words as he desperately tries to tell her everything. He kicks the wall, once, twice, twenty times, until his foot hurts like hell, but it's nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

He sits back down, looking at all her cuts from the accident, ranging from big to minuscule. She's still gorgeous.
"I never told you how beautiful you are, Sam, how perfect. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." It doesn't matter that she can't hear him. He wishes that she was just pretending to sleep, and she'd open her eyes and tell him she'd heard everything, and she'd laugh at his awkwardness, and then he'd have to kiss her to shut her up, because she would be driving him mad with love and lust, again.

A nurse comes in: he can see in the corner of his eye that it's Charlie. Tom doesn't acknowledge him, so Charlie clears his throat. "Tom, you've got to let her go now," he says, gently.
Tom knows this, he knows that Sam would want him to go, so he presses one last kiss to Sam's pale, cold lips. "I love you, Sam, goodbye," he whispers, then he leaves the room.