It was a cloudy day, light drizzle tickling all the faces present, except for one person. Jemima would not be seeing the rain again.

A small crowd was gathered in a lonely graveyard for her funeral and to pay their last respects, support her family and mourn her passing. The church stood behind them, small and lonely, rising above the graves like a solemn guardian.

Aleksander Jensen was amongst his friends, who wiped rain and tears from their eyes and watched William and Oscar carry Jemima's coffin to the hole in the ground where she would be laid to rest, with Tino, Berwald, and two other shopkeepers helping. He could not shake the feeling of dread in his stomach whenever he thought about how it would be him and Erikur doing the same for Mathias in a few days time, when the police would finally give the body back.

But he couldn't think of that now; they were here to support William. Aleks couldn't bear to look at the coffin any longer, so turned his attention to the four young children trailing behind, Charlotte and Yekaterina holding onto Ivan and Natalya's hands and each child carrying a bouquet of flowers: golden wattles, Jemima's favourite. The girls wore simple black dresses whilst Ivan donned a shirt and waistcoat, probably some of Oscar's old ones. Aleks looked over at Erikur, who was not bothering to hide the tears streaming down his face; he took his little brother's hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. Erikur replied with a grateful smile.

…

After placing her flowers on top of her mother's coffin, which was now lowered into its grave, Charlotte buried her face in her father's blazer, covering it in tears and snot; she felt William lift her up and cradle her in his arms. As he buried his face in her curly brown hair, she could feel him soaking it in his own tears. Charlotte curled her hands around her father's neck and hugged him tightly, unable to form words.

Tino saw that Oscar was in just as bad a state: the poor lad had his face buried in a handkerchief to hide his tears and puffy eyes. He walked over and put an arm over the boy's shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

"There, there kiddo," he whispered.

Arthur looked at the solemn priest who was performing the ceremony, talking about heaven and death, and he wondered if anyone was even listening to him. Looking around, he saw Berwald cradling little Ivan and Natalya in his arms, with Yekaterina wailing next to him, clinging to his trouser leg as she stared at the coffin. Arthur walked over to the group and picked up the oldest sibling, hoping she would not be scared of his face, but instead of flinching away, Yekaterina gave him a tight hug, hiccupping.

…

William carried Charlotte all the way home, leading his small family down the road. Oscar carried a sleeping Natalya in one arm, Ivan in the other. It was late afternoon when they arrived at the bakery, which had not been open since the day Jemima had gone missing, and William set the children down in their sitting room to play or read before making his way into his bedroom.

Oscar had cleared the empty bottles and broken glass from the room, so it looked exactly like it always did. William looked at his and Jemima's bed and thought of the last night he saw her alive. Her nose was broken from her fight, and had been covered in a bandage, but she was still beautiful. He remembered kissing her, running his fingers through her dark brown hair, coarse and wild, a bit like Jemima, but William loved it all the same. She had absent-mindedly played with his curly brunet hair, comparing it to sheep's wool just to annoy him, but they had both laughed anyway. Then she said she had forgotten to take the washing in and got up, promising to return shortly.

But she never did.

William could feel the tears reappearing and tried to wipe them away. Sighing, he walked over to the wardrobe and took out one of her dresses. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it, but then he looked at which dress it was, a simple, navy blue one, and remembered why it was important.

It was the dress she had been wearing the first time they met.

William pulled the thick fabric to his face and inhaled; it smelt like cinnamon and fresh bread, Jemima's scent.

Before he could help it, William was kneeling on the floor screaming and weeping, holding the dress close to his chest as his shoulders shook with each sob. Without Jemima, all William felt was the misery and pain that was threatening to overpower him completely. He hadn't realised how much room her presence took up, and the house felt empty and flat now that she wasn't there to fill it with her laughter and crude jokes.

"Why?" he whimpered, "why, God? Why did you choose her? Why was her time now? Why not me instead?" William wanted, more than anything, to switch places with Jemima, to give her a chance to live life to the fullest, to find an end for his pain. "OF ALL THE PEOPLE TO TAKE WHY DID YOU TAKE HER?" he howled to the ceiling, and whoever was up there listening, "COULD YOU NOT SEE THAT WE NEEDED HER? COULD YOU NOT SEE THAT I LOVED HER? What am I supposed to do without her?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Oscar standing behind him. He could not help but feel shameful to think of his son having to see him like this, but Oscar did not look at him with pity, only empathy, and pulled his father into a tight hug.

"We will get through this," he whispered, "I promise, old man."

"Hey enough of the old," sobbed William, chuckling slightly.

"Daddy?" the two men turned to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, Yekaterina, Ivan and Natalya crowded behind her.

"Hey sweetie," said William, giving a small smile and holding his arms wide for the four children, who ran over to the two and pulled them into a tight hug. For a few minutes, they just sat there, holding each other close and letting the tears fall, one of the children occasionally giving a sniff or wiping their nose on their sleeves. Then William looked at his children, wiped the tears away and sat them all down in a circle.

"Did I ever tell you about the day your mother and I met?" he asked them. They all shook their head, except Oscar, who scratched his chin.

"Yes but I appear to have forgotten, do tell it again," he said.

"Right, well I was on a ship travelling from Australia to Britain, after moving from New Zealand a few years previously. I was still a boy then and wanted to see the whole world and after spending some time in London, I would travel all around Europe, maybe even go to America or Africa or China. Back then I felt like I could go anywhere." He remembered it well, being a teen and boarding the ship with excitement, wondering what England would be like. He didn't know then that the long months at sea would be such a strain.

"One day, I was standing on deck, looking at something in the distance- a landmass or sea creature or something, I cannot recall- when this umbrella came at me from nowhere. It was raining dreadfully that day and there was a strong wind, so it must have flown out of someone's hand. In my shock, I somehow managed to catch it by the handle. It was just like a runaway animal and I lived on a farm as a child, so I could do it. The wind tried to snatch it away but I held on, wondering who it belonged to."

"And who did it belong to?" asked Ivan.

"I did not have long to wait to find out, as someone spoke behind me and I came face to face with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. At first I was a bit scared of her; she was taller than me and looked pretty fierce, but she was laughing and shouting over the wind, thanking me for saving her umbrella. I was too shocked to speak, but I eventually found the sense to hand her umbrella back and she held it over both our heads. We struck up a conversation and I found out her name, that she also used to live on a farm and that she was always overshadowed by her little sister so wanted to move, to shine on her own. I told her that was why I left too, my older brother was going to inherit our father's land and I wanted to make my own way. She also spoke of her ambition to run her own bakery. She loved cooking." William looked down at the dress; he was still holding it, gripping the fabric so tightly it might tear. "This was what she was wearing at the time and looked absolutely lovely in it. I remember that her hair was soaked and had blown out of its bun, into her face which made her laugh loudly. We spent the rest of the day in each other's company, wandering below deck when the weather got too bad and talking all about ourselves. By the end of the day I felt I knew her more than I knew myself. We were engaged within a month, married the day we arrived in Bristol. Travelled to London, set up our own business, had two beautiful children," he smiled at Oscar and Charlotte at this, "and adopted three more beautiful children," he added, smiling at Yekaterina and her siblings. "You know I love you all so much?"

"We love you too daddy," they replied, crushing him with hugs.

"We are going to be alright," William whispered to himself; "we are going to be all right."

…

Tino took off his coat and scarf, stuffing them under the counter before making his way into the sitting room, where most of his family were gathered, warming by the fire and thinking to themselves. Berwald picked up the newspaper he had bought that morning, but not had time to read, and almost dropped it after seeing the front page.

"They caught s'meone," he cried, hurriedly pushing his glasses up his nose as he read the article, "says here they arrested a Mr Roderich Edelstein on suspicion of murder last night… found him wandering the streets alone… identified the cigarette case as his… apparently he could not provide an alibi."

"Well that's it then," murmured Arthur, "it's all over…"

"Even if it came too late," added Aleks, standing up, "I hope they hang him and pull his guts out." Then he left.

"Who knew that the prissy, posh composer who yelled at me because Lars insulted his son would do such a thing," commented Tino, "didn't think he would ever have it in him."

"Hey, do you think that as why we were targeted?" asked Erikur, "because he disliked you?"

"Oh mo, I hope not," said Tino, looking around in horror, "or what happened to Mathias really will be my fault."

Berwald sighed, "it was n't yer fault Tino," he told him, "but I really cannot see him doing it," he added, "I don't know about his state of mind, but he really does not look strong enough to dr'g people away and do that kind of damage. See, there is a p'cture of him here; I doubt the m'n could cut a cake, let alone…"

"Yeah he does seem a bit… weak-looking," added Erikur, peering over Berwald's shoulder at the paper, "maybe he had an accomplice?"

"Could be," Tino shrugged, "well, we will find out soon enough."

…

Yes, another miserable chapter, but I promise they will become more action packed and less emotional in the future. This chapter was heavily inspired by the song 'White sparrows' by Billy Talent.

Oh and the siblings Aus and Nz mentioned in this chapter aren't canon characters from the comics, just random people.