He was tired. He felt as if it had been days that he'd gone without sleep, and it was true enough. He knew he'd slept at some point, either on his own or drugged, but he was exhausted. The bed he was sleeping in was too small, and yet at the same time too big. Empty. Cold. Much like he felt inside.
It still didn't feel real. He felt like he'd watched the funeral in someone else's body, from far away. He'd seen them lower the caskets into the ground, heard the words spoken by the priest, but none of it seemed like it was happening to him.
Roxy was pressed close to his side, and Alex on the other. His hand found it's way to Alex's shoulder, strong and steady though he didn't feel that way inside. He needed to, for the kids. Angie would want it that way. He squeezed Alex's shoulder, and then wrapped an arm around him, as he'd done with Roxy.
They needed him to be strong, and he wouldn't let them down.