Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead

Thanks so much for all the support with my other L4D stories, this is one I thought up out of the blue and I wrote it while listening to 'A Message', and 'I'm not Alright' from the Death Sentence movie soundtrack and also 'Pieces' by Red.

Enjoy

Zoey smiled to her son Michael, the small boy a spritting image of his father who was currently lying on the living room floor beside him.

Michael sitting on Ellis' chest as his father pretended to be frightened while his 4 year old son punched him playfully, laughing when Ellis' waved his hands in front of his face.

"I surrender, just please spare me!"

Coach shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips when Ellis grabbed his son and lifted him into the air as he sat up. "How do you deal with babysitting two children every day?" He asked Zoey, her face reddening as she burst out laughing at his comment, "I have no clue."

"Hey, I ain't no kid!" Ellis said to his wife who was still laughing to herself while Coach chuckled lightly. "Oh shut up Coach, Michael knows I ain't no kid."

Michael laughed, causing Ellis to shake his head and smile himself, "Y'all turned my son against me!" He said laughing as the phone rang.

Ellis saw Rochelle get up from the couch, trying to hold in her laughter as she ran into the kitchen and grabbed it.

"Hello?" She asked, twirling her hair with her index finger as her shoulder came to rest against the beige wall.

"Oh hey daddy, what's-" She stopped, pushing herself away from the wall slowly at the sound of her father's distressed voice. "What's wrong?"

A few minutes passed before her company heard the phone fall to the tile floor, followed by footsteps as Rochelle walked back into the living room with a shocked expression. Her eyes welled up with tears as she ran a hand over her face and took a deep breath.

"My sister died."

The moment those words left the survivor's mouth, the tears filling her eyes ran down her soft cheeks; her head turning to the side as she left the room before anyone could even think of saying the words, 'I'm sorry.'

Shutting the door to the bathroom and turning on the shower as Ellis and the others sat in silence until Nick got home a few minute's later.

Kaitlin, who'd been sitting on the floor with Michael playing stood up and pulled on Nick's long shirt sleeve as he looked at the sad faces of his friends.

"He bent down beside Kaitlin who pulled his sleeve harder, her small face wet with tears, sniffing as he swiped his thumb across her cheek to wipe the tears away.

"Aunt Lisa died..." Was all the little girl managed to say before her dam burst and she began to cry again, Nick stood up straight as Kaitlin ran to Coach's comforting arms.

He could hear the shower running as he threw his jacket onto the coat rack and walked towards the bathroom door and slowly cracked it open to see rochelle sitting on the tile floor of the shower as the water ran over her bare skin.

Her long hair dripping wet as her head rested in her arms that were wrapped around her knees as she kept them to her chest.

Ellis and the others watched Nick walk by them to a small closet, "Nick?" Zoey asked sadly as her friend walked by them without a word, a towel draped over his arm.

They watched him walk into the bathroom and shut the door.

Rochelle didn't hear the door quietly click shut, nor did she hear her husband's quiet footsteps as her small sobs were muffled by the shower. The hot water making the bathroom thick with steam, the fogged shower door that was only slightly open allowing Nick to see her.

The con man touched her shoulder as he pushed the shower door open all the way; sighing when she didn't move from her place in the corner.

'Rochelle...' His mind repeated her voice as he shut his eyes and stepped into the shower in full clothing, reaching across and turning off the water.

His hair now slightly wet as he knelt down in the shower, unfolding the towel and putting it over Rochelle's shoulders.

Her small sobs continuing as she felt Nick's warm arms around her, pulling her close to him as he got down on his knees, not saying anything.

His hand on her back while the other one held the back of her head, she could feel the roughness of his strong hands through the towel as he stroked her soaked hair. Burying his face in it and kissing the dark hair, his other hand rubbing her back.

Rochelle finally pulled her face away from her arms, pushing it into his soft shirt while her wet arms wrapped around him; holding onto her husband like a lifeline as she continued to cry in his shirt.

He was still silent, the two of them sitting in the shower alone as she cried in his arms, her hand coming to grip his hair as she held his head to her shoulder.

She could feel his hot breath on her neck as she choked out his name, "Nicolas." She whispered, her voice filled with grief, not able to say anymore as he slowly pulled away from her.

Nick pulled the towel a little more so it covered her completely as he helped her to her feet, letting her step out of the shower before getting out himself.

Rochelle was silent as Nick slowly opened the door and let her walk out, ignoring the sad eyes of their company and the chill he got from his wet clothing as he led his wife to their bedroom.

Kaitlin following them as Ellis, Coach and Zoey let themselves out; the couples young daughter slowly making her way to her parents bedroom.

Seeing her mother now dressed in a white tank top and grey sweat pants while her father wore only a black shirt and pants, both of them lying on their side.

Nick's arms protectively holding Rochelle close to him as she curled up beside him, her face again buried in his chest, neither of them noticing their 5 year old climb into the bed, sitting behind Rochelle.

Resting her head on the back of her mother's shoulder and rubbing her arm untilRochelle pulled her between her and Nick.

"It'll be alright mommy, she's in Heaven now." the young girl said quietly, wiping her mom's tears away like her father had done to her.

"I know sweetheart... I know."

Couldn't think of anymore and I hope you liked this.