For someone who spent months on end living away from home, he had managed to accumulate an unholy amount of clutter, Josh decided. His spare room seemed to contain everything but the kitchen sink.

It was a day's work, to sort through it all; he was glad to see it done. He'd managed to come across the Scrabble board Emma had left him in the process, and he couldn't decide if that made him happy or sad.

Many of his clients had left him small items of sentimental value over the years, which he proudly displayed in the living room; Emma's Scrabble board hadn't deserved to be relegated to oblivion, but it had brought up too many memories of nights spent playing it and laughing with her and Emery. Josh could handle the bittersweet remembrance of the dead perfectly well; the living, it seemed, were a different story entirely.

For the rest of the week he felt like he was in a holding pattern, everything suspended until he knew for certain how things would play out. That didn't mean he didn't make effective use of his time.

His daily routine started with him pestering Mark for news, even on days where the man wasn't on call, prompting an irritated "you realize I don't actually live in the hospital, right?" from his best friend. The rest of the time was mostly taken up by shopping — Emery had nothing, and he'd need a few necessities —, complete with battles of will over delivery schedules and mishaps.

He tracked down Emery's ophthalmologist with a series of phone calls. From there he set up an appointment and, after much explaining and even more begging, managed to get two copies of Emery's eyeglasses prescription from him.

He went to the same optometrist Emery had used for the main pair. Those glasses would take three to four weeks, but they'd be an exact copy of the ones he'd had, from the lens treatments to the frame brand. With the other prescription, Josh got a cheaper, more generic pair — though still in the same sort of heavy black frame Emery favored — that he could pick up in 24 hours; it turned out he needn't have worried about the 24-hour time-frame, since he wasn't allowed to visit Emery to drop them off.

Zoe called him — a startling development, considering he didn't even know she had his phone number. She'd heard he'd been by earlier, and she wanted to tell him not to fret over the glasses — Emery didn't need them while sleeping, which was what he did most of the day.

There was something comforting in talking to her about this. Mark was unerringly straight when telling him how things stood, and had no qualms when it came to voicing his general disapproval of Emery; Zoe seemed to think that there was some grand love story behind what little she'd witnessed the week before and, not knowing any particulars, was gentle and encouraging on the matter of Emery.

Sam, he was told, had arranged for a nutritionist to make a meal plan for the duration of Emery's treatment at home; that way they could make sure he regained his weight with minimum upset to his stomach. Dan also texted him — again, he didn't think he'd given him his number before — with updates whenever he was on call. Josh felt moved beyond words that Mark's friends were going out of their way to take such good care of Emery.

Throughout the week Emery continued to do well, despite a little nausea that delayed his return to solid food by a day or so. Mark seemed to think his release would get pushed to Monday.

He had a key made for Emery, then disliked every key chain available in the known universe. On a whim, he went with a cheap plastic one, made to insert a picture into, and printed out the phrase "I caught TB and all they gave me was this lousy keychain" to fit in there. At least that would earn him a laugh.

He also bought an assortment of boxers, briefs, and trunks worthy of an entire regiment. Emery certainly wouldn't need that many, but there was no way Josh was going to ask him "boxers or briefs?" so he had to cover his bases.

On a more somber note, he made an appointment with a lawyer to have a will drafted. It was something he'd never bothered with before, but the thought that Emery would once again be left out on the streets if something happened to Josh had been persistently nagging him, not to mention that most of it had been Emma's money. He felt as if a weight had been lifted, having taken that step.

With all the important things taken care of, he was relegated to more waiting.

Josh had always enjoyed his time off, his solitude, the time to do whatever he wanted while finding his center again in between one client and the next, but this much waiting was making it feel claustrophobic.

It was high time he observed his own rituals, instead of everything being about Emery. That included taking the time to carve the latest piece for his charm bracelet — a steering wheel to remember Mr. Cohen by —, or putting on his earphones and going for long jogs; nothing seemed to help him settle.

Emery was still tolerating both his regimen and solid food on Sunday, and he had finally been taken off the IV drip. It was all but certain he'd be discharged on Monday.

When Mark showed up on his doorstep at lunchtime without warning, with some takeout and a comment on how he figured Josh was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he could have kissed the man. He'd always known Mark knew just when to leave him to his own devices, but it turned out he knew when not to with the same precision.