"It's nice to meet you Jasmine" Valentina out held her tanned hand, my slightly trembling fingers taking hers briefly

"You too" I managed out, sitting opposite the woman, absorbing her features, her eyes, her jawline, even her hair reminding me exactly of her son

Isaia silently exited the room, giving us the moment together. I was suddenly extremely nervous, what did this woman know of me? Of my relationships with her son? Did she blame me?

Placing her hands together on the table, I noticed a tissue crumpled inside. Her lightly painted baby blue fingernails began to toy with the delicate fabric. She appeared just as hesitant as I was.

"I'm sorry.." I began

Instantly she was shaking her head "No, no, no" Her hand reached out for mine, gently taking hold "No" She repeated again forcefully, her accent slightly protruding. She cleared her throat, averting her eyes before composing herself, straightening up "He told me about you, you know?"

I watched her carefully "He did?"

I was surprised, he hadn't told me that.

"He called me a few days ago, he was gushing about how he'd met a woman, he explained to me the circumstances.. worried that his quick but deep emotional involvement would scare you away" She smiled slightly "He hadn't ever spoke about someone before the way he spoke about you.."

I forced back my sadness, urging the tears to be respectful "He was.. he was unlike anyone I'd ever met before, he was.. he was perfect.." I told her

"I want you to know" She was patting my hands with her own "I don't blame you, at all, I'm proud of him, I always have been, and I always will be.. I was always worried for what this job would do to him.." Her voice had cracked, her head bowing as her shortly cropped straight hair fell beside her face as a shield

This time I found myself gripping her hands beneath mine "I want to say thank you.." My lips trembled "Thank you for raising him the way you did, for giving me those moments with him.. those moments.." That's when my own emotions burst, my eyes watering "I won't ever, ever, forget him, I just.. I want more, I feel cheated, I feel lost.. we had plans, we had.." Sobs escaped, my face dropping as tears freely fell.

Before I knew it, Valentina had rounded the table, sitting beside me, embracing me in her arms as we both came to terms with our loss.

"It's okay, it's okay, I know.." She whispered into my hair, comforting me when she herself had needed the comfort

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry" I cried as she did. We had both lost him, we had both known the pain, the despair, we had both understood that now we needed to somehow move on without him, and that was going to be an enormous challenge.

8 days later, I sat beside Valentina, her fiancé Ferdinand and Dawson's immediate family in the front row of the local church, voices hushing before the service began. I had been to funerals before, to more than I should have been, but this was different, this was both arranged in a more complex manner and it felt more emotionally complex. I hadn't understood what Dawson and I were, and before I could, he was gone.

With my dad, I had found time to process the idea of losing him, those thoughts were difficult within themselves, but when it came to losing someone so quickly, so unexpectedly, in your arms in such a violent way, it was almost completely impossible to come to terms with. All I could do was blame myself, wish that I had done something differently that would have saved him, all I could do was question my own actions.

It would take a long, long time to find it in myself to forgive myself for what had happened, just like it would with what had happened to Tony. I was in the centre of all of the loss, and yet I was the one who remained standing, breathing. It hardly seemed fair.

Saying goodbye to a police officer in such a widespread city was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Dozens of officers dressed in their formal uniforms, badges, hats, shiny oiled back boots, men and women lining the church to pay their respects. The chief sergeant was there, his boss, I.A detectives, Oliver Harding, June, anyone that had ever dealt with Dawson, or not, was there. While standing outside, the sun warm on my bare arms in the centre of the cemetery, I felt a shiver run through me. Valentina placed an arm around my shoulders, lightly squeezing when the formalities of Dawson's burial continued. Throughout most of the service, the speeches, the soft music and the lowering of his casket, I chewed at the skin inside my cheeks, my body numb, my emotions withdrawn. Crying and sobs throughout the crowds tempted me to break, but as I stood beside Valentina, I found strength. She had kept herself together, her puffy swollen eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. I would save my break down for a more private place, alone in my shower like I did every other time I had lost someone I had cared for.

I would come back, every week, for the remainder of my life to visit my protector, my hero. As I left the cemetery, I made a vow to myself that I would always return to lay flowers for the man who had taken a bullet meant for me. I would refuse to forget him, I would refuse to let a single day go without thinking and thanking him for what he had sacrificed for me.

Standing inside my kitchen, freshly showered and rid of my dark sorrowful funeral attire, I continued packing my belongings into the various boxes scattered across my apartment.

I jumped when a small knock sounded on my door, sighing when I saw Camille standing outside the peephole.

"Jasmine" She breathed the moment I opened the door, her arms embracing me tightly, holding me together

"I'm okay" I told her, her eyes looking over my features when she pulled back

"Packing?" She turned her attention to my disarray living conditions, laying her jacket down on the back of the couch

I nodded with a sigh "Most of it is done, removalists will be here in the morning"

"How are you feeling about it?" She began helping me pack the last of my kitchen utensils

I shrugged "Excited, nervous, a bit of everything.. thanks again Camille, it really does mean a lot for you pulling the strings you did"

"It's no problem, Rich has been trying to find a tenant for that house for a few months anyways, he was more than happy to have you there" She smiled, her eyes soft as she watched me carefully

Camille's father in law - Richard - was a realtor, he had a 2 bedroom home between the city and Hartley conveniently up for rent. I jumped on the opportunity, eager to leave my haunted apartment in hopes of starting new. It would be a longer drive from the city, from work and from school, but I hoped that it would be worth it in return for having a little more country in my backyard. Hartley held so much more importance to me now than it ever had before, I needed to be closer to it, I felt closer to him when I was there.

"Okay so I gotta ask, what is that smell?" I changed tone, scrunching my nose up "Are you wearing men's cologne?" I moved closer towards her, sniffing the air

She paused, narrowing her eyes on me "Okay then, what super hero powers have you picked up?" She scoffed "Byron was getting ready for work when I left home, he sprayed his cologne on right before I hugged him to leave, must have stuck to me" She began pulling at her clothing, sniffing it "It's so faint, how did you even smell that?" She shook her head as I shrugged

"So Miss super sniffer, how do you feel about pizza, my shout, I'll order it to the door, we can watch a movie, I'll help you with the rest of this.." She changed tone, slumping down on the couch with her phone between her fingers

I smiled, genuinely appreciative for having her, for having the support "Sounds good"

"Perfect" She sang, dialling a number into her phone before pressing it to her ear.

Camille was a breathe of fresh air. She knew how to make me smile, she knew what to say to make me feel better, having Camille with me in such a dark time was a godsend.

For hours, as night progressed, we spent our time packing boxes and watching movies until my apartment was entirely empty, ready for the next morning. I was excited about change, I was looking forward to moving ahead, putting the past behind me for a fresh start.

Like the true boss Camille was, she had called in sick for work for the next day and informed Byron that instead of heading home, she would be staying with me, helping me move. I tried to protest it, uninterested in being babysat, but she had insisted, and for once, I wasn't so unhappy about it.

We had both slept on the couch and my sleep had gone undisturbed thanks to the tablets I had once again been prescribed.

6am I had gotten up, rising with the sun, unable to sleep anymore despite tossing and turning for an hour beforehand. Moving to the bathroom, I felt a sudden sickness inside my stomach rise, again, the taste of my own saliva making me feel nauseated. Rushing to the toilet bowl, I had only just made it in time to throw up, confused by the continuous sick feeling inside of me. It wasn't like my body to react the way it was, I hadn't ever felt the urge to throw up in all of the loss I had felt before, this was different.

After my urges stopped, I sat in the toilet lid, wiping my face with a cold washer. It was ironic that the moment I released what was inside of my stomach, it would growl out in hunger. I was frustrated with how my body was betraying itself.

Sighing, I stood, draping the washer over the faucet to dry, and that's when my eyes roamed over the small singular blue box sitting on the empty shelf beside my fingers. I flinched, reaching out for the item as my mind kicked into overdrive. As I began to make calculations inside my head, organising the weeks, the timing, the fact that I had missed a cycle, I began to panic. My hands were trembling, my thoughts racing, and when a knock sounded on the door, I jumped, caught off guard

"You okay in there?" Camille called

"Yep, I'm good" I rushed back out, stuffing the box of feminine hygiene products back on the shelf, composing myself before exiting.

The next few days consisted of organising and attempting to get my life back into a routine. I had successfully moved into my new home, enjoying every moment of it. It was a perfect little brick house, cosy and surrounded by large trees on a neat little 800 square meter block. Every morning I watched the sun rise as I sat with my coffee on the front porch, grateful for the weather, grateful for the view. I felt a sense of peace that I hadn't felt before and with Monday morning nearing, I felt ready to begin my new chapter, returning to school, returning to work, returning to life as I knew it.