Two weeks turns into a lot longer.

After a night spent worrying about Randall being all alone at your Auntie's place, you then were given the all clear by Dr. Saunders the following day. Though you weren't entirely 100% just yet - still needing to take some medication over the next couple of weeks, as well as still having a slight limp in one leg - you were glad to be getting out. Hospitals were never exactly your favorite place to begin with, and after everything that had happened in this one, you didn't care if you never saw the inside of it ever again.

After about a half hour spent signing all of the various pieces of paper agreeing to keep Randall's transplant a secret, you asked your dad on the drive home how your mom was doing (after yesterday's slight freak out), to which he assure you "much better". You also inquired as to whether he'd heard anything from Randall or not, even though it had really only been one day. Not surprisingly he hadn't (it being a tad more than optimistic to think that he might), and your father agreed that it was probably for the best that they didn't. Not for a while anyway.

"Randall's a tough kid. He'll get through this just fine, you'll see," he said, after you'd repeated what Randall had told you about keeping his distance for the time being.

"A kid" he was most definitely not... Not anymore. He was a woman now. A fully grown adult woman. It was bizarre for you to think of him that way, still seeing the goofy ginger haired kid who was forever getting you in trouble when you pictured him. He was tough though, and had got through a lot of hardships himself and come out the other side unscathed. Such as the **** of his mom. So maybe your dad was right. Maybe he would be fine. You still wanted to be there for him though, just to make sure that he was.

Once the two of you returned home, you were greeted by the rest of your family, glad to see you out of a green hospital gown at last. Just as your father had said, your mom did seem much better, but even still, you avoided making any mention of Randall while around her. Getting settled in again then, you headed upstairs to your room a little later and decided to send your friend a text, just to let him know you were out. You wondered though, as you sent it, whether or not you were actually sending it to the correct phone. Would he still be using his now, or would he have to use your Auntie's? It was all rather confusing. Because if this was the case, then his XBox Live gamer tag, his email address, his Skype info... it would all have changed. Maybe I should just try phoning Joan's apartment instead...

No. Better not. Not yet anyway, you decided in the end, I don't want him to think I'm hounding him after what he said about needing space. I'll just wait and see if he replies first.

Leaving it at that then, you patiently waited. Not getting one that night, or even the following day, you quickly realized that either he was purposefully ignoring you, or was in fact no longer using his own phone right enough. Deciding that it was probably the latter - if Randall Davies was supposed to be dead, there couldn't be any phone records of him sending texts or anything now- you sent a message instead to your Auntie's phone, and sure enough, received a response not too long after.

Randall : Yeah, soz. Doctors told me I had 2 use this 1 now. Glad 2 hear u r out. I'm doing ok. Might take some time 2 get used 2 having my own place though.

You: Guess that makes sense. Let me know if u need any help with anything. I've spent a bit of time over there in the past. Can help tell u where things r.

Randall: Will do! Think I'll manage 4 now though.

Getting the message loud and clear, glad that he had actually replied, you didn't push this any further. Randall obviously needed some space from you as well as everyone else, and as much as you wanted to go see him, you were going to have to wait until you were both ready.

These texts continued pretty frequently over the next couple of days, with Randall often inquiring about how your family was doing, as well as occasionally laughing about something stupid he'd done. Such as trying to master your Auntie's high heeled shoes and ending up falling on his ass. Or setting off the smoke alarm trying to cook himself a meal. Though he just played it off as one of those things, in reality Randall had never been independent before. There was a hell of a lot of stuff he didn't know about living by himself, and you had to wonder where his dad and Alice were in all this.

Randall: Nah it's cool. I'll figure it all out. My dad just left actually. I'll ask him next time he's here how the damn thing works.

Well at least he's actually helping out, you thought as you read this, having feared perhaps that they might have just stuck him in the apartment out of the way and pretended like he wasn't even there. Much like you got the impression that his step-mother wanted to do...

The first week out of the hospital passed kind of slowly, and even though you were communicating fairly regularly with your friend (maybe two of three times a day), you were also unfortunately housebound for the moment until your leg fully healed. That meant you were stuck watching the same old DVDs you'd seen a hundred times, as well as, due to Randall's absence, **** to put up with your little brother David as your video game opponent. That was when your dad received a call from Mr. Davies about Randall's 'funeral', that was being held the following week.

"I think they just want to get it out of the way as soon as possible," he explained to both you and your mother after hanging up the phone. "You know, to make things easier on themselves and Randall. And uh... well they, I dunno, they thought perhaps in a way, symbolically at least, it could also be a funeral for Joan. To give us an opportunity to honor her memory."

This seemed like a totally bizarre concept and naturally your mom was immediately opposed - at first anyway. After a few days of mulling it over, you all as a family decided to go. Needing to give your Aunt Joan some kind of closure at least. Randall of course felt bummed out about it, telling you that he was really sorry that you couldn't have a proper funeral instead of this sham. He also declined attending himself, admitting that it would be way too awkward for everyone, as well as too weird to watch himself be buried.

You completely understood where he was coming from, and in the run up to the funeral, you found yourself speaking to him less and less. His texts becoming fewer and far between, and his replies, much, much shorter. You figured that this was presumably due to all of the feelings of guilt and sadness that were being dredged up by all this talk, and so let it slide. Giving him the much needed space you assumed he was after. You had to focus on being strong for your mom and your family now anyway.

The actual day itself was weird beyond belief, and pretty much everything you'd imagined it would be. Sitting in the church, then by the graveside, surrounded by Randall's various family and friend's, pretending to be sad at his passing and feeling like a fraud while you did. Admittedly though, your thoughts did turn to your Auntie Joan as the minister spoke his words of comfort. Though you would in fact see her beautiful smiling face again, she was the one who was now truly gone.

After it was all over, none of your family really felt in the mood to hang around afterwards for the wake, but you did however decide to see if you could grab a few words with Randall's father before you left. He had remained pretty stony-faced throughout the entire service, stood there next to his wife.

"It's good to see you again, Tim. How is everything?" he asked, after you approached him, shaking your hand.

"It's going okay," you replied, with a shrug. Not entirely sure how else to answer. "Actually, Mr. Davies, I was kind of wondering how... you know, how Randall is doing?" You had to say this last bit as a whisper, not wanting anyone else to overhear.

Sounding a little uncomfortable by the mere mention of his name, he replied, "Uhm, he's... he's doing okay, I suppose. You know Randall, always plugging away."

Though this was pretty much what Randall himself had been telling you, there was something slightly off by the way he said it. His manner causing you to grow slightly suspicious. "But you have been helping him out right? You and Mrs. Davies. He's not going through this all alone."

"Well he's uh... he's..." he began to stutter, looking a little red in the face as he gazed nervously around the room, seemingly spotting something. "Excuse me a minute," he said, pointing to a group of people in the far end of the room,"...There's uh, there's a few people over there I really need to speak to. We'll talk later, okay?" And with that he hurried off, leaving you standing there, very much confused.

What the hell? you thought, realizing that he'd not only avoided the question, but totally brushed you off as well. Had he actually been helping Randall out, or was that a lie too? You had to find out, and so after a rather uncomfortable car ride home, you immediately rushed upstairs to text your friend and find out what exactly was going on.

Randall: Soz I didn't tell u dude. My dad and Alice have just been 2 weird about this whole thing. They thought it best if I just go it alone for a while. It's cool though. Who needs them right?

You couldn't actually believe this. How could he do that to his own son? Alice you could see, but Mr. Davies... What kind of parents are they?

You: Dude that it totally f-ed up! I'm coming over there right now.

Randall: No. Don't Tim. I'm ok on my own. I just need time is all to work through all this shit. Give it another week or two. Please!