Cook stood next to Effy`s bed watching her sleep peacefully. He couldn`t bring himself to wake her; he didn`t want to disturb her but he also didn`t want to have to tell her the news. The news of Freddie`s death. He couldn`t bear to do that so instead he took the cowardly route. He climbed into bed with her and let himself drift to sleep.

...

"Cook! What the fuck?" Effy shouted confused at why James Cook was asleep in her bed.

"Morning Eff." He replied sleepily.

"Cook. What are you doing here?" She asked exasperatedly.

"I couldn't sleep. Effy, there's something I have to tell you..." He started, completely terrified of saying the words.

"Well get on with it."

"Freddie's dead." He said painfully, deciding to just "rip the band-aid off".

"What? What the fuck are you talking about? Freddie's left. He skipped town, remember?" Effy said in a hurt tone.

"No Effy. Foster killed Freds. He's gone. I came here last night to tell you but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because if I said it out loud... Then I would be admitting that he's actually gone." He started to break down into sobs. Effy's eyes started watering. "He's just really gone. And he isn't coming back."

The two of them stood at opposite sides of the room, sobbing uncontrollably over the person they loved most in the world. And there was nothing they could do to bring him back.

...

"James Cook." A police officer in uniform said.

Cook rose to his feet with Effy standing right by his side. Her thumb was rubbing smooth circles on the back of his hand. He gave her a forced smile before walking to the officer who was going to book him.

"You're under arrest for second degree murder of Sophia Moore. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you." The officer droned on.

"Alright, alright. I know the drill."Cook stated. He turned his head to look back at Effy, who was standing idly by with an expressionless face until he was pulled into a room with grey walls, a one-way window and a steel table. He took a seat on one of the chairs and was waiting for five minutes until another police officer came in to interrogate him.

"So James Cook. We finally have you back where you belong. Well, that's not true. You're not back where you belong until you're in a cell." The detective said. "I'm Detective Gibbons. I am also the person that is very confused as to why you turned yourself in after escaping."

"Well I figured there's no point in running anymore. There's nothing left for me out there." He said, thinking the whole time that this wasn't true. She was there. She was the only thing left for him. But he couldn't have her. He couldn't do that to Freds.

"Ah, I see. No one wants anything to do with a fugitive." Detective Gibbons said with a smirk.

"Yeah, something like that." He stated with an icy stare.

"Look, I am not trying to be rude or anything but why the fuck am I here? You already gave your statements on Sophia's death. The arresting officer told you more time would be added on your sentence. So please enlighten me on why we needed to have this... chat." The detective said with malice in his tone.

"I wanted to have this "chat" because I want to strike a deal, mate. See, I have some information on one of the cases your working." He started.

"Please, do tell. What case do you have information on?"

"Freddie McClair's murder case." The detective's mouth fell open in shock. That case hadn't been very active lately because of the lack of leads.

"How'd you know about that? We only found his body yesterday. Only the family knows." Detective Gibbons questioned suspiciously.

"I know because I found his killer. His name is John Foster. He's a therapist."

"James. These are very serious allegations. What proof do you have?"

"I went to his house. I knocked and there was no answer. And before you jump to any conclusions the front door was open." Detective Gibbons raised an eyebrow after Cook claimed he just walked through the open front door. "Oh fuck it. I broke the window downstairs. I found Freddie's clothes in garbage bags, covered in blood. It was... the last outfit he wore before he was killed." Cook finished with a few sobs.

"We will investigate this but don't think we will take a felon's word."

"Just take a look in his house. In the basement there are garbage bags. I didn't move them. I left them there after I found them last night. He won't be there. I checked around and it's clear he skipped town. Looks like he decided to take a vacation." Cook scoffed.

"Alright then. If this checks out you have a deal. Three months off your sentence. Which means you only have two months behind bars. Do we have a deal?" Gibbons said reluctantly.

"It's a deal mate." He said with a hint of a smile on his lips. He was then led to a cell where he waited anxiously for five hours with no sleep.

...

Finally detective Gibbons came down to his cell.

"We found the clothes... Everything you said checked out. We are looking for Foster at the moment. There are no leads though. He hasn't made any purchases on his credit card. And we aren't aware of Foster's motives in killing Freddie." Detective Gibbons said.

"Well I can answer that. Foster was Freddie's girlfriend's therapist. He apparently made her insane by giving her pills to forget everything. Who people were, even who she was. Freddie tried to protect her so I guess he went to Foster's to confront him. But Foster killed him because he wants to be the only person there for Effy." Cook stated.

"Well, there's our motive." Detective Gibbons said before leaving the cell.

Cook allowed a few tears to run down his face before rubbing the back of hand across his face. The only thing that could bring him peace was the picture of Effy he had kept. One that actually had her smiling.

...

He stood in front of the Stonem house watching her through her bedroom window. She was reading something, a journal. He wasn't supposed to be in public. He was on the run to keep himself from being in prison. How could he be with her if he was in a cell? He knew their love could withstand that but he needed to be with her. Always. That's why he killed that McClair boy. He was only holding Effy back from being with the person she's supposed to be with. Him. John Foster. And if he couldn't have her... No one could.

A/N: I really wanted to write this because I absolutely hated the ending of the series 4. And so many people have written about how Cook killed Foster and everything but I decided to put a spin on it: The spin being that Cook found Freddie's clothes but not Foster. And I know that most people prefer Freffy but I love both pairs equally. That's right. I love Freffy and Ceffy. There aren't many Ceffy fanfiction stories written anymore so I decided to write one. Just because I think Cook and Effy have undeniable chemistry and their story is just... Epic. So give this story a chance! And please review! Just leave any comments or constructive criticism (: