Hello ! I hope you enjoy this! Hopefully this will be a multichapter (depending on my motivation and worklaod). Thank you sconesteakimchi (on instagram) for helping proof read this chapter! This chapter does include content about death, grief and alcoholism.

The horrid feeling of guilt lingered . If only she'd have acted sooner, if only she'd have checked on him. Nobody blamed her; it wasn't her fault, yet Sam was still unable to shake the feeling of guilt and regret.

It should have been her.

The hustle and bustle of the busy pub surrounded her but, in that moment, she had never felt so alone. It was almost like she was frozen as the world continued to operate around her.

Raising her glass to her mouth the sweet burn of Jack Daniels on her tongue broke though the numbness for a split second. At that moment, she was lost in this world, without the person she depended on most. The ying to her yang; the ant to her dec; the light to her life : taken in one agonising second.

Solitude was all-encompassing as she sat at the bar alone; her mind raced with thoughts yet felt so empty. Processing the loss wasn't currently an option for her- she didn't know what she needed but suspected it was the man she had lost. Drowning her sorrows was not her smartest move, but in that moment she felt it was all she was capable of doing.

She was suffocating.


A familiar hand landed gently on her shoulder. The touch broke the sense of isolation overwhelming Sam. Instantly identifying the owner of the hand, she turned slowly to face them.

The events of the last 24 hours crashed down on her all at once as she began to sob into her ex-husband's arms.


Dylan had always had a sixth sense; he knew when she wasn't okay, even if she was three thousand miles away. It could be pertaining to her mental or physical health; either way, he often knew before recognised behaviours in her that others would view as nothing out of the ordinary: Biting her lip was an indication that she was anxious; she would run her fingers through her hair when she was stressed; and, if she was quiet; she was angry.

Although he would usually struggle with emotional cues from other people, he knew Sam like the back of his hand. Something was different with her, she didn't hold her usual spark; it had faded into a dull gloom.

Her shoulders were slouched, almost as if a raincloud hung over her ominously;tears rolled down her cheeks like rouge raindrops,and her fists were clenched in a poor attempt to suppress her emotions.


Dragging her away from the pub was a difficult task, as, although she was completely silent, her stubbornness remained. He couldn't imagine the pain she was in. Having once heard that bonds built on tour were one hundred times stronger than those built at home, he figured that, to Sam, this loss would be heartbreaking. It was no secret that she and Iain were very close ; their friendship, since her return to holby, a strong one.

The subject of her loss, Dylan knew, was one that may shatter the woman of him; so instead of broaching the matter, he guided Sam home, ensuring she was tucked up with access to a bottle of water for when she woke up to nurse the inevitable hangover she would be greeted by in the morning.

He waited long enough to ensure he was asleep before taking a moment to inspect the quaint flat he was stood in. Tip toeing around quietly in an effort not to wake the sleeping woman in the bedroom , his mind raced with thought. This flat belonged to a strong, independent, resilient, young woman. It was clean and put together, seemingly the opposite of how he had found her in the pub that evening.

The kitchen counters sparkled in the moonlight that was shining in through a crack in the shutters; not a speck of dust nor a hint of disarray. Although the contents of the kitchen were minimal, it had a homely atmosphere. His gaze flicked over to the small, silver fridge in the corner of the room, where he noticed four pictures dotted around, held up by nothing more than fridge magnets.

The third one sparked the most interest. Why had she kept that after all those years? The picture was of herself and Dylan on their honeymoon after their spur of the moment nuptials. He recalled the trip being cheap and cheerful but full of love and happiness. Incredibly last minute, they had snuck off to Paris before she was due to be deployed to Afghanistan in an blissful attempt at one last weekend to themselves before 3000 miles was put between them. Thinking back, he wasn't sure if there had been a happier time in their marriage; they were wrapped in the bubble of being newlyweds; they wanted to spend every last waking minute in the company of one another.


He had never known Sam to show her emotions so unabashedly, as she had always hidden them with the steely facade she was infamous for. This was the first time he had seen her truly heartbroken. The complications and upset in their marriage had caused her great distress- but she had never let Dylan see that.

She had a habit of running, running far away from the trigger of her emotion. When they had argued, she would ask for an early deployment or if they had bickered she would take herself off on a lengthy run in order to clear her head.

But this time she couldn't run. Because, this time, wherever she went she would be reminded that the person she had once called her best friend was gone.

A sense of duty engulfed Dylan, he felt he had to stay to make sure she was safe- he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. For once his head and heart agreed on something. He rid the flat of all alcohol, not wanting to risk his estranged wife going down a similar slippery, dark path he went down; he wouldn't wish that pain and heartache on his worst enemy nevermind his Samantha.

Suddenly, the realisation that he never stopped caring about the beautiful, young woman he had married all those years ago flooded into his head. She was his sun and his rain all rolled into one. How had he been so painfully blind all those years? They were made for eachother.

His feelings boiled up throughout the evening, often gazing back at the photograph on the fridge; however he was aware that, for Sam's sake, he had to keep such feelings hidden: she was too delicate to deal with his regrets.

Right now she had to concentrate on getting through what could possibly be the most difficult time of her life- and he had to concentrate on making sure she was kept afloat.