How AMAZING was Ben and Adam's acting last night? I lost it when Ben did the haunting cry right before the credits rolled, like a broken wolf, injured.

Now, this is my first one shot since last year, so bare with me since I've only just started watching again.

Enjoy X

He was numb. Really numb. You could probably get a professional boxer to come to his house and punch him and he wouldn't feel anything. His sister was dead. Gone. Laying in a mortuary waiting to be buried. He could hear murmurings of Ian and Jane talking about him, wondering if he was okay.

'No! I'm bloody not okay! My sister, my twin! is dead!' Peter shouted, startling Jane. She didn't expect him to suddenly speak, let alone with how he had reacted on the Square.

'I know, Peter... I know she's dead, I'm worried about this will affect you! She was my step daughter and you are my step son and I hate seeing you like this' Jane said. Peter knew deep down she was trying to help, but he was angry. Angry at his twin's killer, angry at God for taking her away, but most of all... he was angry at himself. He stood up, his legs shaking as he took his angry on Jane.

'Exactly! You WERE our step mum! You aren't blood related to to me and Luce, so don't you even think, for a second, that you should be grieving for her!'

'PETER!' Ian yelled, but Peter carried on, ignoring his Dad, the words pouring out of his mouth.

'Only me, Dad, Cindy and Bobby should be allowed to grieve. She was our sister, his daughter. She was nothing to you, neither am I! So leave! Leave so we can grieve, grieve in piece! Grieve for MY sister! My twin!' Peter shouted, his anger coming out in full force. He glared darkly at Jane, before he escaped upstairs, hearing Ian trying to reassure Jane that it was his anger and he wasn't thinking straight...

Peter looked at the clock on his bedside table. 3:42am. His mind was whirring. Thoughts rushing at a thousand miles per hour. He climbed from his bed and headed out into the hallway, stopping at Lucy's door. His Dad had told him he wasn't allowed in the room, as the police needed to check it, but right at this moment, he needed to be close to her. He opened the door, letting it swing open slowly, revealing the emptiness. He stood into the room and shuddered as a sob erupted from his throat. He closed the door behind him and looked round her room. Clothes on the floor, make up scattered on the vanity table, photos of their family and friends on her bedside table. He found the one what she had taken, the selfie of herself, him and Bobby in Ian's restaurant. He picked it up and ran his finger over his sisters smile. They didn't even make up. He had stormed out, not listening to her as she screamed for him to come back, but he had ignored her.

'Come back! Come back! Come walking through that door right now and tell me to get out of your room. Please Lucy!' he sobbed, his eye trained on the photo clasped in his hands. He walked over to her bed and got under covers. He smelled her perfume on her cover and placed the photo back on the night stand, scrunching up the covers in his hands as he let the silent sobs erupt from his throat. it wasn't long before he felt like the sobs were suffocating him. He wrenched the covers off him, suddenly feeling the urge to be sick. He rushed into the bathroom and threw up, his eyes squeezed shut. He heard a door open and he knew he had to get out of the house. He flushed the toilet and rushed from the room, down the stairs and out of the house, ignoring his Dads screams of his name...

He didn't know why he was here. His feet had led him to this place and he couldn't seem to move. He was at the hospital. And at the mortuary. He had to see her and he wasn't going to leave until he had. He glanced at the clock and saw it was 8am. He sighed and walked up to nurse, who walking in the opposite direction.

'Excuse me?' he watched as the nurse stopped and turned to face him. 'I need to speak to someone about seeing somebody in there' he said, pointing to the door, where the bodies were viewed.

'Erm... I'll have to check if your allowed. What's your name?'

'Peter Beale'

'And who are you requesting to see?' asked the nurse

'My sister. Lucy Lou Beale' Peter replied, forcing the words up his throat and out of his mouth. The nurse nodded and told him to take a seat. He sat down on the plastic chairs and waited. It was an hour until he finally saw the nurse again. He got to his feet as she approached him.

'Well? Can I see her?' Peter asked, his red eyes standing out in stark contrast to his pale, grey skin.

'I had to do a few calls, to your father and to a few others to check if you are her brother, it's just to make sure that your telling the truth. Now, I want you to be prepared. Is there anyone you want me to call?' she asked. Peter shook his head.

'I need to do this. Alone. I don't want anyone in the room with me' Peter told her. The nurse nodded and led him to the room, but stopped when he asked.

'Will I be able to touch her?'

'I'm afraid not. You'll be viewing her through the glass. When... If you come back for the final viewing before the funeral, you will be able to then' she told Peter, who looked disappointed but nodded. The nurse opened the door and stepped into the room, with Peter behind her, closing the door. He swallowed hard as he saw the curtains and stood in the middle of the room. He took a deep breathe and nodded. The nurse watched as she pulled the curtains back and the most heartbreaking sound erupted from Peters mouth. She quickly made an exit, remembering what Peter had said about needing to do it alone. Peter didn't register the door closing. All he saw was his twin, his sister, HIS Lucy... laying on cold metal slab with material pulled up to her chin. He stumbled forward, his hands hitting the glass.

'LUCE!' he cried, the animalistic, haunting cry that left his throat echoed round the room. His fingertips gripped the glass, as his legs shook violently. It took himself a few minutes to calm himself down. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, before gathering himself together and forcing himself to stay calm.

'Lucy? Lou? Lucy Lou, wake up! Wake up!' Peter shouted angrily, knocking on the glass. He knew deep down that every attempt would prove fruitless, but his heart didn't want to accept it. He was silent for a few minutes, before he spoke again.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.. I'm sorry for storming off ad not listening to you! If I could, I would change time and I would listen to you! I would to you forever if it meant I could have you back!... This isn't fair! It's not fair! I shouldn't be here, you shouldn't either! You should be looking after Bobby with me! Arguing with Cindy!... Not here, not like this!' he cried. He was surprised as more tears streamed down his face, he thought he was all cried out. Obviously not. He jumped violently as a hand suddenly clasped his shoulder and spun him round.

'Dad!' Peter suddenly crumbled and collapsed against him. Ian led him out of the room and Peter fell to his knees, choking on his sobs as he grieved for his twin...

'This is my fault' Peter said. After his meltdown in the hospital, Peter had said goodbye to Lucy and allowed Ian to take him home. They locked the door and closed the curtains, wanting to grieve for their loss in private. Jane had offered to go to tell Christian, taking Bobby and Cindy with her, knowing Ian needed to keep an eye on Peter.

'Excuse me?' Ian asked, looking at his son, who was sat at the table in the dining room with him.

'Lucy's... This is my fault' Peter told his Dad. Ian shook his head, but Peter carried on. 'It was. I shouldn't have stormed out! She followed me and then she turned back and headed back into the Square. I watched as the darkness swallowed her up. The last time I saw her alive, we were angry at each other. She... She died thinking I hated her, resented her! But I didn't, I didn't! I love her! I love her so much! She's my sister, my twin and I'll never see her again!'

'Peter, it's not your-' Ian tearfully began to speak, unable to believe that Peer was blaming himself for Lucy's death.

'IT IS!' Peter suddenly screamed, the chair smashing against the wooden cabinet, heading for the sofa. 'If I hadn't been so selfish in ignoring her, I would have listened to her and we'd have come home and sorted this whole mess out! And she'd be here right now! Coming down the stairs, in her dress for a night out with Lauren and me and Fats! NOT LYING IN MORTUARY ON A SLAB!' Peter suddenly bellowed. Ian grabbed his son and pulled him to his chest.

'Peter!' Ian tried to speak again, but Peter wouldn't allow him to.

'I killed her, I killed her! I told mum I'd always look after Lucy and you! and I've failed her! I've failed you!' Peter cried

'PETER! Listen to me!' Ian said harshly. It quietened Peter down and he looked at his father, as he sat them on the sofa. He grabbed Peter by the shoulder and forced him to listen to him. 'Listen! You didn't kill your sister! Someone else did! You were the best brother for her and I couldn't ask for anyone better than you for being that...'

'She shouldn't be there...' Peter whispered, feeling like a little boy again.

'I know she shouldn't. I promise, Peter, I promise you... We will get justice for her! Whoever killed her, I'll make sure we'll get her justice' Ian told Peter, who nodded slowly. They fell into silence, both getting absorbed in their thoughts and memories.

'We should do something for her. Me, you, Cindy and Bobby... And Jane. I didn't mean what I said the last night. I was angry and I wasn't thinking...' Peter told Ian, who nodded and put his arm round his son.

'It's alright, son. She knows you didn't mean it... Now, how about I make you pasta with lemon butter prawns? That's always makes you feel better?' Ian asked. Peter smiled a small smile and nodded. He watched as Ian headed into the kitchen before he sneaked upstairs to grab something, before coming back down and sitting back on the sofa, his head resting on the arm rest...

'So, I thought tomorrow we could start working on a little memorial or something to Lucy? What do you think?' Ian asked Peter, ten minutes later. Peter didn't reply. Ian put the pasta and prawns and the sauce into a bowl and headed into the living room, with a fork. He sighed when he saw Peter fast asleep on the sofa. Ian set the bowl of food on the table and lifted Peter's feet, taking his shoes off and putting his feet on the sofa.

'Lucy...' Peter mumbled in his sleep, his fingers curling round a light brown teddy bear, which Ian recognized as Lucy's favorite bear, the bear she always cuddled whenever she was upset or ill. Ian grabbed his coat and covered Peter's body with it, kissing his hair.

'I promise you, Peter... We will get justice!' Ian vowed, not only for Peter's sake, but Lucy's too...

R&R :D xx