Brandon woke up alone under the covers. He felt around the bed in search of Clare's warm body. His search turned futile and a sudden panic passed over him. Had he hallucinated the whole night, from Clare knocking on the door. Clare talking to him like she'd never really stopped. Clare who loved him. He jolted upright on the bed, a gaping hole spreading in his chest.

The door slowly peeled away from the frame, flooding the room with light. Shadows fleeted away to the corners of the room, and there, dressed in his shirt, stood Clare, beaming at him.

"Morning" she greeted him. The shirt shifted around her slender figure as she walked over to him.

Brandon looked in awe. "You look stunning!"

Clare cracked a smile, slipping under the covers. She leaned in and kissed him. "Thanks". She crawled closer to him, and wrapped herself up in his arms. When she had settled she sighed. "I want to ask you a question. More a request".

"Request away," he prodded curiously.

"You're not going home anytime soon, are you?" Her eyes nervously hovered on him.

He smiled hesitatingly. "I can't stay here forever".

Her eyes seemed to repeat the question as those were not the answer she was hoping for. He cleared his throat, pulling her closer to him. "I have to go back just for a while, to see mum. To get few things resolved". He stroked away her fringe and pulled her face gently up, "I'll be back, before the week is out".

As spontaneous as her question had been, she'd made her decision. Her fingers nervously made circles on his bare chest. "Mind if I come along?" Certain desperateness had entered her voice. She didn't want to be left alone again. She was certain she didn't want to see Brandon return, alone, to a place where Maggie was bound to be present. Yes, she was slightly jealous. More than she'd ever admit.

He leaned in and gently kissed her head. "That'd be great".

Coming out of the bathroom, Brandon heard the soft thud of the fridge door shutting. He made his way to the kitchen and found Clare clambering the pantry in search of food. Hearing the creaking floor boards beneath the carpet, she turned around.

"What are you up to in there?" he asked hugging her from behind, and kissing her cheek.

She nudged his head with hers. "I was going to prepare us breakfast." She looked into the half empty pantry containing only canned foods, "But there's barely anything in here, or the fridge".

"How about we eat out then?" he suggested shutting the doors to the pantry over her shoulders. "There are a few cafes along the main road..."

Clare watched Brandon cut away at the last of his Chicken pie. "Do you have anything to wear to the funeral?"

He looked up from his food, and saw her eyeing his clothes. He shook his head, "Not really", he twirled the fork on the plate.

She rested her hand on his, calming its nervous ballet on the ceramic plate with the fork. "We can visit the stores and get you something" she said, weaving her fingers through his. The fork suddenly clattered onto the plate, making the entire café turn their way.

Clare focused on him instead. His hesitating eyes stared at the food on his plate. She gently squeezed his hand. "What's wrong?" He shook his head. "Don't lie, you're terrible at it".

His grip tightened on her hand. "I don't have enough money on me to buy something new." He finally said, facing her at last. "Whatever I have, I borrowed it off Maggie to get home".

At the mention of Maggie's name Clare felt every bit jealous, but she tried not to show it. She cleared her throat, and took a sip of her Caramel Mocha. "Don't worry. You save that money for when you might really need it. We'll get you something now. We still have hours before the service".

"But"

"No buts. Besides, I know you're not running away anytime soon" she said teasingly, "and I'm there, to tag along". He laughed and kissed her hand.

When they got back to Jack's apartment, Clare took out Henry's credit card from her wallet and handed it to him, but Brandon refused to take it. It wasn't even Clare's.

"He won't mind, honestly" she told him when he asked.

"No, I can't. I can't use someone else's money" he shook his head stubbornly.

Clare sighed and dropped on the edge of the bed. "Brandon, he's like a father to me. I have his permission to use the card in need. He was the one who gave it to me. I told you last night, about everything that's happened at home".

"Yes, I know" he said, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. "It just doesn't feel right. He gave you the card, not me, Clare".

She reached out for his hand and pulled him down to her. "Listen to me" she said authoritatively, her hands on his shoulders. "It's up to me to decide what kind of need I should focus on". She cupped his face and kissed him softly, "Right now, that's you". She smiled, "Besides, he wants to meet you."

She tried handing him the card again, not sure whether he would take it. He looked down at the card in her hand. His eyes teamed with tears. He took the card hesitantly and pocketed it.

He couldn't and wouldn't face her, struggling with his pride. He buried his face on her chest and sobbed. He was not so tough. She hugged him close and rubbed his back gently. It was the first moment he had completely opened up to her. Oddly enough, she cherished the moment. Brandon wrapped his arms around her possessively, seeking her love.

Brandon opened the cab door for Clare. She kissed him one last time before getting in. "Get there by 12:30. It's at the Hargrove funeral home. The service starts at one". She tugged at his shirt, "I'll meet you there. I promised Jack I'll be there beforehand for him".

He nodded, closing the door behind her. He stood at the edge of the footpath watching the cab drive away. Clare's car keys jingled besides Henry's debit card. She had left him a ride, to the funeral parlour. He watched the cab take a right turn and disappear. Then he headed down the street towards the shops.

Brandon threw away the old clothes in the bin. He didn't know where to go. He still had a couple of hours before Matt's service. So found a quiet secluded corner in a cosy café, keeping himself busy with several cups of coffee, forever playing with Clare's car keys.

Clare quickly showered. Helga had already taken her clothes and pressed them. They lay, waiting on the bed. She put on her pants, then her fitted plain blue silk shirt. She towel dried her hair, hurriedly looking at the clock next to the bed. It was already ten o'clock. She put on her black overcoat Henry had brought last time he visited. Clare had asked him how things were at home. He had informed that Margaret, along with the kids had taken residence in a hotel suite instead of being in the same house as Daniel for the time being.

Everyone needed time to themselves to ponder things she supposed. Clare could understand that need better than anyone.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Taking out a crocodile clip from her bag, she gently twisted and clipped up her hair. Her fringe hung loose by the side of her face. She finally packed her phone into her pocket and slipped on her heels. Outside the manor, she hailed a cab.

By the time she arrived at the Carter's, there was a procession of cars already lining the side of the street outside the house. Clare heavy heartedly approached the door which flew open before she even rang the bell.

Maria stood there, clad in black, except for a blue broach on her dress. She gently grabbed Clare by the arm and pulled her into the house. "Master Jack's waiting for you in his room" she said, escorting Clare to his room.

Clare knocked softly on Jack's door and entered the room finding him sitting on the end of his bed, head cradled in his palms. His suit neatly lay behind him. "Jack"

His bloodshot eyes darted to her, and then the door. "Could you please shut the door?" his voice dry and barely audible.

She dropped her jacket by the door and cautiously approached him. Before she could ask him anything, he spoke again. "I've been sitting here for the past two hours" he finally looked up. "I can't bring myself to get ready". His eyes stared at Clare's coat by the door. "The hearse is already on its way".

She gently tugged his chin towards her. "You don't have to do this alone!" She turned around and grabbed the suit. "I'll help you to get dressed," she looked down at him, sympathetic. "You have to go through with this. We all do" she spoke as softly as she could.

She took the coat off its hanger, and grabbed the shirt nestled within it. "When my mum died" she said unbuttoning the white shirt. "I didn't really understand what was going on. I just knew I didn't want her buried away from me". She gently tugged at his elbow, forcing him to get up from the bed. She held out the shirt to him. "But, when I think back, I'm glad I went".

Jack glared at her, his blue eyes confused. How could anyone be glad to say goodbye to a loved one? He didn't understand.

She nervously smiled, buttoning up his shirt. "I got a chance to say goodbye, Jack" she stated, looking up at him as she finished buttoning up the collar. She watched him tuck his shirt inside his pants. "It's the only time you can actually see him", she said holding up the coat for Jack to slip into.

Straightening his coat, Jack turned around to meet her eyes. "I don't want to say goodbye, Clare".

Clare was thinking what to say, when a knock sounded on the door. "Your father is waiting for you, Jack" Maria informed through the closed door.

"Give me a sec" He turned to the bed and grabbed the blue tie.

"I'll wait outside," Clare said, walking over to the door and grabbing her coat.

Clare held Jack's hand protectively, sitting in the car, being driven to the funeral home. The Gallery room had been cleared of all its worldly possession of coffins. It awaited, filled with seats for the service attendees. Jack sat quietly, peering through the windscreen. Ahead of them was the black hearse.

In the Gallery room, Clare and Jack stood to the side, watching people drifting in, all clad in a sea of black. Jack scanned the gallery, spotting hints of blue in the flower arrangement. Matt's casket stood open at the front of the room. Jack nervously played with the paper in his hand. He looked to the entrance, spotting a familiar face drifting in, the only other person, besides Jack's family and Clare, who wore something blue.

Brandon approached Jack and Clare, in black pants, and a blue checkered cotton shirt. He was tieless and had on a black blazer. A dozen blue tulips in his hands. He weakly smiled.

"How you holding up?" He hugged Jack warmly, and kissed Clare's cheek.

Jack scanned the room swiftly, shaking his head. "Not so good".

People were already seated, and the priest waited behind the podium. Clare turned to the boys. "We should get seated!" She led Jack to his seat and turned around to go to her own seat. Jack held her arm, his eyes pleading her not to abandon him.

Jack slid across, making room for her. "Please!"

Clare turned to Brandon on the row behind, almost uncertain. Brandon smiled, nodded, and then slid himself into his seat. Clare sat down next to Jack, holding his shaking hands.

Hardly anything registered in Jack's mind. He stared at the open coffin. Only occasional words slipped in. His grip tightened around Clare's hand with time.

"Go Jack" Clare whispered. "He's calling you," she gestured to the podium.

Jack swallowed nervously and let go of her hands as he got up. He slowly approached the podium. Once there, he nervously stared at his parents sitting a few seats away from Clare. His hand reached into his pocket and grabbed the piece of paper he'd brought along with him. His throat tightened and dried. His stomach knotted uneasily. He stood there, frozen, his nervous eyes darting around the room. Numerous pairs of eye stared back at him. With his trembling hands he struggled to unravel the piece of paper.

Clare peered around the room, and could sense Jack's discomfort. He can't do this alone, she thought and turned to Brandon. "He can't do this alone," she whispered.

Brandon nodded, looking past her at Jack. "We should go up..."

Jack watched, at the brink of tears, as the two came and stood beside him. Clare took the paper from his hand. She smiled weakly, and handed him the unravelled paper. On the other side, Brandon cleared his throat, and stepped forward.

He faced the room full of people sensing Jack's bewildering eyes on him. "I apologize on Jack's behalf...He's been through a lot with us in the past weeks". He looked to the Carters sitting at the front. "I would like to give him a start," he added, nodding to them for permission to go on. Ken weakly smiled and nodded.

"I met Matt and Jack only two weeks ago. You may think what can two weeks teach you about a person, then try surviving with them". As Jack and Clare stood supportively beside him, Brandon continued. "Matt was a caring person, with a great level of maturity...when we needed it the most. He laughed with us, cried with us. He gave us reasons to hope. To look forward to a future, although all we had was the cold snow".

"I'm sure you know about the accident. Had it not been for Matt, we would never have taken action. Perhaps, the three of us wouldn't be standing here," he turned to Matt's coffin with glistening eyes.

Becoming self conscious, Brandon looked at the sea of people who had known Matt for longer. He throat knotted nervously. "It's a sad day, a great loss. I didn't have the opportunity to get to know Matt as well as most of you. Whatever time I had known him, Matt was a great human being. A good friend, great brother and a good son. His memory will live with me". Brandon bowed and stepped back, urging Jack to take up the stand.

Jack with the unfolded paper in hand took Brandon's cue and stepped forward. "Matt was every bit the person Brandon said he was. I miss him. Nothing will be the same," he said shaking his head. "I will no longer be able to have discussions with him. I'm even going to miss the moments we argued, which were quite often...Matt has left a gaping hole in our lives, dad's, mum's and mine."

"He was a brother and a friend who purposefully got in trouble to keep me company". Jack fiddled with the piece of paper. "He looked out for me, always had. Even that day, he was doing the same."

Jack wiped his tears. "Doctors say he died of head trauma and hypothermia, I know better." He looked at his parents, seeking their forgiveness. "Had I done more, had I gone with him, we might not be sitting here today to say goodbye."

Jack licked his dried lips, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "I let him down. I let everyone down". He took a shuddering breath, "I'm so sorry...more than you'll ever know. Even if we weren't blood brothers, there is no way I would have traded him for anyone else".

He looked up at the stained glass dome adorning the gallery. Patches of blue sky peeked through the colours. "Matt, I hope you will forgive me. I love you so much. The world hurts without you here".

Clare shoved a tissue to him. He struggled to grab the limp piece of paper. "I'm sorry...I can't go on". He shook his head. Clare helped Jack back to his seat, and Brandon followed.

Jack went back to relentlessly staring at the casket as the service was wound up by the priest. It became too much to bear at one point, and he left for the back door. Clare flashed a concerned look at Brandon behind her. "Shall I go check on him?" she mouthed.

Brandon eyed where Jack had disappeared, and nodded. Clare slid out of her seat and was gone.

She found him sitting on the cold edges of the concrete lot. His head cradled within his palms, elbows resting on his knees. She approached him, noticing the shudder course through his body as he sobbed silently. She crouched down, kneeling besides him. Her arm wrapped around his slouched shoulder. Suddenly, Jack flung himself into her body, hiding his face in her coat, his head resting on her abdomen. Clare's eyes welled up, and she tightened her arms around his head, as if trying to protect him from the grief. She held him, her knees digging into the rough surface of the hard asphalt painfully.

Before long, Brandon came looking for them. Clare turned to him with a nervous smile playing on her lips.

"Jack" he called softly. "They are ready to take Matt...we should join them."

Jack pulled away from Clare, his eyes dry and distant. He nodded obediently and pushed off the ground. He walked back into the building without a word.

As they carried the coffin out of the chapel, a dark mood fell. This was Matt's last journey.

Brandon and Clare hung back as the coffin was taken to the waiting hearse. The small sea of black-clad mourners inched forward, struggling to hold on to their composure. Painful sobs and hiccupped whispers escaped from the crowd occasionally.

A file of black vehicles rolled on through the near empty streets.

In the back seat of a car, Jack sat staring out through the windscreen at the cars ahead. It still felt surreal. That couldn't be Matt, caged within a coffin. Jill gently stroked his hands. She rested her head on his limp shoulder, tears flooded her bereaved eyes. She stared out the windscreen at the hearse. Her stomach churned in anxiety, being driven towards the cemetery.

Jack sighed reluctantly as the car came to a stop at the curb of the road. His voice finally broke the unbearable silence. He laid his hand on top of the trembling hands that were his mother's.

"I'm sorry". His eyes lowered to meet hers. He embraced her. "I'm so sorry, mum".

Jill let out anguished sobs and clung to Jack as if he were her lifeboat.

Once again, Jack carried his brother slowly through the narrow pavement. Their family burial ground, with an open wound waited to take Matt into her cold womb. Jack shuddered at the thought.

Clare and Brandon trotted along the side. Snow softly crunched beneath their feet as they walked arm in arm. The wind webbed through the gravestones. No one had yet questioned why there were hints of blue around, some with blue garments, and some with blue tulips.

Tears streaming down countless pair of eyes as the priest said the final prayers.

Jack watched the coffin descend and maintained his ground as relatives and friends dropped a handful of fresh earth and flowers over the wooden box. Over a short time, the coffin vanished beneath the soil and the crowd dissipated. Slowly making their way back towards their cars, or offering the Carters their sympathy.

Jack stepped forward and picked up a shovel with trembling hands. It should be me down there.

The last hope that this was all a nightmare vanished before Jack's eyes as the service men laid fresh grass on top of the soil in order to cover-up the grand scar on the earth before them. As occasional flowers were laid over the grass, people failed to register that the scar the Carter's endured was one that could never heal.

Slowly people drifted out, walking solemnly back to their vehicles. One by one they drove back to the Carter residence, where a light afternoon tea awaited them. Where they could talk about Matt, and celebrate the life that once was.

Jack hung back at the gravesite, staring at the heap of flowers and grass that lay on top of his brother's fresh grave. For the first time he noticed the gravestone. He read it with dread.

Matthew Oliver Carter

1986-2010

A beloved son and brother

May he rest in peace!

For a moment, Jack felt as if Matt stood beside him. He turned his head only to see more graves. With a final goodbye in mind, he laid a wreath at Matt's feet. "I'll see you again".

He took a few hesitant steps back, his eyes falling on Matt's name. He finally walked away, a hole ripping in his heart the further he walked. The emptiness stretched and yawned in him.

His car stood by the side of the road, the driver patiently waiting for him. Jack couldn't get himself to be driven back to the house. People were gathering there in black, only to remind him of his loss. He sat limply on the icy-cold hood of the car, exhausted. His thought crowded by memories of old. He heard the door open behind him and his driver's voice rang out.

"Shall we go, Sir?"

Jack turned around and briskly got to his feet. He shook his head. "Why don't you go ahead? I'd like to walk back".

"Are you sure?" the driver asked, unnerved.

Jack simply nodded.

"I'll see you back at the house, then". The driver got in the car, keyed the engine and pulled out into the lane. Before long, Jack was staring at the car driving off beyond his sight and felt a huge sense of relief.

Jack slowly walked down the hilly road a short while, then stopped, suddenly struck with fear of returning home. He got off the side on the road and sat on the brick wall, tears dribbling down his rosy cheek.

Brandon tapped softly on the steering wheel. His eyes fixed on the back view mirror. He had parked the car at the base of the hill where they now waited for Jack. Jack's car had driven off without him.

"Can you see him?" Brandon asked, turning to Clare. His focus returning to the mirror every now and then.

Clare sat on the passenger side, her legs dangling outside the car. She stepped on the ground, and stood on her tip-toe, glaring up the hill. "I think I'll check on him. I did see him before".

She shut the door and started walking uphill. Brandon poked his head out the window. "Get in the car, Clare, we'll drive back up".

Brandon brought the car to a stop opposite where Jack sat on the brick wall. They got out of the car, and crossed the road, towards him.

Clare felt a shiver course through his body as she put a hand on his shoulder. She drew him into her body, hugging him tightly. Her other arm curled up to cradle his head protectively. She felt him take a hold of her hand, and for a moment she thought he was about to peel off her weak arms and run away. Instead, she felt the gentle rocking of his body back and forth. He was crying, sobs muffled by her jacket.

Her eyes watered, but she ignored her own tears and kept her arms wrapped around Jack, and let him sob.

He hid his face further within her coat, and she glanced up at Brandon, who stepped up quietly beside her, wiping away her tears. He brought the two into his arms and gently patted Jack's back.

Exhausted, Clare leaned into Brandon, patiently waiting for Jack to gather himself. After all, home wasn't what it used to be anymore...