"Do you think you're ready for this, Ma'am?"

I could only nod in response to Shaz's quiet question, feeling slightly warmed by the feel of her hand on my arm, despite the fact that it was doing nothing to ease the chill that had pervaded my heart, my very soul. Shaz pursed her lips, smudging her pale lipstick onto her chin, biting down on the glossy swell of them as Chris came through and motioned to her that it was the beginning of the ceremony.

I heard it starting before I saw it starting; the deep thrum of the organ, the sorrowful notes swelling through the air, sombre, dark. An elderly woman was the only person in the front row, dressed entirely in black, on her lap a picture of a young boy, blond-haired and smiling, gently ruffled by a calm wind, clutching an old-style leather football and liberally smeared from head to foot in mud. The eyes and the pout could make it none other than Gene, looking about six or seven, impish and somehow cute. I bit back a sob at the sight of the picture, but looking up at the woman clutching it was worse; her elderly face, already careworn, looked as though she would never lift it from its deep, awful depression, drawn and pale with loss, as though her very blood had drained out as her son's had in those terrible, harrowing seconds.

A cough sounded from one of the back pews, and a hearse drew up outside, sliding to a stop in front of the church doors. My stomach quavered; I felt like throwing up as the doors were gently opened and the six uniformed pall-bearers, five of them DCs from Fenchurch East, and Chris and Ray among them, and the coffin was eased out, draped in a British flag and with a Manchester City scarf hung over the front, where Gene's neck would be. I bent my head and wept uncontrollably, knowing that inside that box, that death case, lay my Gene, my love in this world, my rock, the one person I had grown irrevocably close to, our bond so strong that I could never undo it in a million years, nor would ever want to.

And yet it had been severed by two bullets in a matter of seconds.

The organ piece gently came to an end, its heart-racking tune finished but the sound still lingering on, hatefully morose. I almost wanted to tear my own ears off to stop it reverberating round my skull, screaming into the mind that just wanted to shut down until this grinding, tearing-at-my-psyche agony had passed and I could live again. Shaz put her hand on my shoulder again, her black gloves masking the smoothness of her skin, depriving her touch of the sensations that made it human touch, the comfort of the cavemen; I almost wanted to hiss at her to take the bloody things off, but knowing that I needed to maintain my decorum at Gene's funeral, of all places, I simply gritted my teeth and focused on the warmth of her body instead.

"My congregation, we are gathered here today to say our final goodbyes to a man we all knew and loved in life, and will never forget after the passing of his death. I will call on his team and family to speak about him…"

I didn't catch what he was saying once he was past that bit. Next to me, almost silent, as though it was borne on a mournful wind, Gene's coffin had passed, the pall-bearers with pale faces and morose expressions, some of them red-rimmed.

The next thing I could focus on was Ray's speech; his stuttering voice and the lack of his usual smirk paid testament alone to his lost Guv. Gene had been his role model, his idol, the man he looked up to beyond anyone else, and the man who, at the end of the long, sometimes miserable day, had been his drinking buddy, fellow laugher at Chris, fellow ridiculer of Italian cuisine and music. He would be feeling the loss so keenly. Silently, though; no good would come from that, and I knew it.

"'E 'ad the 'eart of a lion, an' underneath 'is tough persona 'e was kind, an'- an' 'e just wanted to do the right thing an' right the wrongs, make the world a better place. An' 'e ended up dyin' just fer bein' 'oo 'e was, doin' what 'e'd always wanted to do. 'E 'ad much more ter give ter this world, an' 'e'll always be at Fenchurch while we're there. Know that we won't forget yer, Guv."

Ray took his leave, gulping hard, hobbling down from the platform and refusing Chris's help as he made his way carefully and painfully back to his seat.

Chris just said three words, looking down as he said them, trying to hide the tears that I knew were escaping from his eyes: "We'll miss him."

Shaz's tribute I didn't catch at all. My eyes were fixed on the smooth wood of the coffin, so unlike his rough and ready personality, and my mind was running with the horror that inside that coffin lay the only man I had ever really loved, the only man who had given all he had for me, cold and lifeless and bereft of the animation I had adored.

The tears began running, sliding down my icy face, dripping onto my chill heart, stony with the pain of loss.

I couldn't watch as they lowered his coffin into the frozen earth, ice dewdrops sparkling like sorry diamonds around us, as cold as my soul had become in the aftershocks of what had happened. Ray, next to me, slid his arm round my neck; Chris was holding Shaz's hand, Shaz's sobs quietly reverberating in the sombre air.

The vicar's meaningless words were blocked by my sub-conscious as I leaned down to place Gene's hip-flask on top of his coffin, my hands shaking so hard that it clanged on the desolate wood before being set down on top of it. Shaz pressed her lips together to try and make herself stop crying, knowing what Gene would say if he was here, to be brave.

And then they were shoving the earth on, all dignity for the human being lying in that deathly casket gone. Gene vanished from sight.

But he would never vanish from my mind.

A/N: Sorry about the delay on this chapter, but I hope you like it now it's up! There may be a little more delay as I've lost my bloody story plan, i.e. it was in my pocket and now it's not. I'll be emptying the vacuum if anyone wants me. Jazzola ^^