Harry was running late. His flight had been delayed due to mechanical issues and he was one step away from chartering a flight. His anxiety on the plane was overwhelming and he had to fight himself on the drink he knew would make it easier. He'd not had a drink to cope with his feelings in weeks, and if he couldn't maintain on the way to her, he had no hope of staying sober today. He tried to remember the deep breaths that had help him cope when he had learned yoga during the crazy TMH days. He should try to sleep, but his mind was racing.

Jeff has arranged for a car, so Harry grabbed his bags, he never checked - that was a pap nightmare, hurried through the airport and immediately got into the blacked out sedan waiting for him.

"Can you take me to this address?" A moment passed and he remembered his manners, "please?"

"Mate," the driver started, "this is a 90 minute drive, you sure you don't want to go home and get a car, freshen up, you just got off an 8 hour ride that took 10."

"I gotta go straight, I already missed..." he trailed off an tried to regain his composure. "I need to go straight there."

The driver nodded and made his way to the A4. Harry had stopped biting his nails long ago, but they were ragged by the time he arrived at the staid brick building. "Can you give me a few minutes?" He asked, "I'm not sure I want to lug my bags until I figure out my plan."

"Sure, H, take your time." Paul smiled at him supportively.

Harry made his way up the stairs and stopped just inside the open door to look at the blown up picture there. She was really beautiful, and he nearly traced her familiar features.

He made his way passed the foyer and cursed the heels on his boots. They were going to announce his presence, and he couldn't stand the thought of stealing attention away. He walked as softly as possible and took a seat in the back while the unfamiliar man up front spoke.

"Uncommon grace is so rarely found these days, compassion is in short supply too. But both could be found in Donna Contreras, and in the daughter she leaves behind, please join us Laurel." The vicar stood to the side and Harry could see Laurel fidget a little and gather some papers before she walked up to the lectern.

He catalogued the changes in her face when she turned toward the small crowd. She looked pale and her cheeks were hollowed. The brightness of her eyes were dimmed, but they shone with tears as they had the last time he'd seen her face.

"Thank You all for coming," Laurel spoke strongly. "My Mum always told me that the quality of your friends far outweighs the quantity if you do it right. And I know she did something right, because most of the faces here are faces that I've known all my life. My mum would be so happy to see you all gathered together for any occasion other than this. I'd rather see not a one of you ever again than have to see you today," she choked up and stared at the ceiling before beginning again.

"The doctors told us two months seven and a half weeks ago and I thought for sure they would be wrong, my mum, Donna Contreras, was a force of nature, she'd survived worse than this, lost a husband to politics, a child to tragedy, breast cancer would be something we'd survive together, again." The tears streamed freely down her face at this point.

"My mum and I were a team and I don't really know what I'm going to do now that I've lost my teammate and best friend. Once we moved her home to hospice, she would refuse her pain meds occasionally so she could talk to me. She told me stories, sometimes about you all, often about my father, their adventures and love affair, how unfair their enforced separation was. But usually she would tell me about my sister and I, what we were like as babies, how we fought constantly when we were younger because we were only 15 months apart, how we looked like Angels in the little white dresses my dad's family sent us for our first birthdays, and her hopes for my future. She didn't want me to be alone and she forced me," Laurel's voice took on a bitter edge at this point, "to get the genetic testing to make sure I wasn't doomed to die this way too. I think she wanted to go weeks ago, but she held on until my results came in. Held my hand while I read them to her, cried her joy out and called me angel. Reminded me that a broken heart is a heart that's been loved."

Laurel looked down, and when she looked back up,
Harry could tell she'd spotted him because her breath caught. She looked flustered for a minute and looked to her notes again. "I can't read my notes anymore, the inks run...mum....you were the angel, in the shape of my mum, and I guess it's alright that you've gone, because you're home." She gathered up her things and went to sit beside the blonde in the front pew. Harry recognized her from pictures.

The vicar took the podium again and led a closing prayer, but Harry didn't close his eyes, he stared at the back of Laurel's head. He willed her to turn around. She glanced back and gave him a sad smile.

Harry waited for her, standing in the last row.
"Hi," she spoke and he couldn't help himself, he wiped beneath her running eyes. "How'd you know?" She said biting her lip.

"Ed sent me the...." he paused, "he sent me the obituary. It said where the service would be, so I flew home. I didn't want you to be alone."

She nodded, "thank you for coming, are you coming to the wake? It's at home. I'd," she teared up again, "I'd like you to be there, with me."

Harry took her hand "course, however long you need."

"Till after, so we can talk? You can help me clear up all the get well cards and old flowers? Can you stay that long? " Her expression was hopeful.

"Laurel, I'll stay forever if you need."