Hey guys! A HUGE thank you for all the truly wonderful reviews on the last chapter! I know I'm being a bit pants with updating at the moment but work is being something of a bugger so I'll try and update as often as I can. My next day off is Thursday so I'm aiming to have part 2 up then. I hope you like it, don't forget to leave me a review! xxx

Allie's arms were rigid at her side, her lips moving just barely, her eyes refusing to close as she watched Matt Buckner kiss her.

He tasted faintly of cigarette smoke and coffee, whereas Pete tasted almost tangy…something that was uniquely him that she could never get enough of. If this were Pete his hands would be travelling down her back by now, kneading her hips and making her knees weak, not clinging onto her chin clumsily.

It was in that millisecond that Allie Dunham realised just how wrong this was.

So wrong in fact that bile rose in her throat.

"Oh my God," she gasped, using every ounce of strength she had to lift her shaking arms and shove Matt backwards.

His lips left hers and she sighed thankfully, wiping them with the back of her hand instead of licking the taste off of them as she would have done with Pete.

"Jesus, Matt," she whispered, shaking her head and taking a step back.

The American's eyes widened and it was in that second that Allie was sure he was back in control of his body.

"Allie…" he closed his eyes tightly. "Shit, I'm so sorry…"

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. "Are you crazy?"

"It was…" he stuttered. There was no point in saying it was an accident. Not when they both knew it wasn't. "Fuck, I just…it happened so fast I didn't…"

"I thought you were my friend," she shot at him. "I was looking for a mate not someone to ram their God damn tongue down my throat,"

"I know," Matt reached for her and she pulled back in disgust. "Hey, why are you getting like this…I wasn't the only one involved y'know,"

"I'm sorry?" Allie scoffed.

"You kissed me back." He told her with a smugness that caused her fists to curl.

"Did I fuck," she snapped. "You planted one on me before I had the chance to breathe, its called shock and don't you dare try and pin this on me, you little git."

"I'm not pinning anything on anyone." Matt shot back. "What the hell is going on with you, Allie? You've changed so much and you don't even know it…since the accident you've been…"

"Not exactly a barrel of laughs," Allie shook her head and clapped her hands. "I know right, I mean shame on me. But then I've never had the pleasure of being in a car accident that ended up killing one of my nearest and dearest before so tell me, what is the acceptable etiquette for that these days?"

"Not entirely sure," Matt shrugged, his voice dripping with sarcasm just as hers had been. "But I'm pretty sure kissing one of your husbands best friends isn't on the list,"

Allie stared at him open mouthed and then with as much force as she could muster, slapped him hard around the face.

"You know something, Buckner?" she hissed. "Apparently I'm not the only one who's changed, because right now I'm trying to work out when it was that you turned into this manipulative little shit," she shook her head. "But then I guess that gene runs in the family, huh?"

Matt surprisingly didn't look angry, instead suddenly becoming very interested in his feet, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"You were right," he muttered as she started walking away. "About all of us being fucked up,"

"I know," Allie told him, not bothering to turn back and face him. "And you have no idea how badly I wish I was wrong,"

"Don't know why you're so shocked to see me," Pete pulling his jacket tighter around himself as he stared up at the sky. "Who else do I rant to when I've 'ad a barney with the missus?"

St Marks cemetery was eerily quiet with the exception of a few people lingering outside the church, eyeing him up warily as he sat talking to the hole in the ground, the small wooden cross engraved with Lara's name at his feet. Beside him, wreaths, letters and even a teddy bear littered the dewy grass, a reminder that he himself had been here not even two hours ago.

"You can give me the silent treatment all you want," he shrugged down at the coffin. "I'll still talk,"

Picking a clump of grass up, his tossed it over his shoulder and continued doing so until he had made a small ditch in the ground.

"I'm scared shitless if you want the truth," Pete told her. "One of the things I love about Allie, one of the things that made me fall for 'er was that I always knew what was goin' on in 'er 'ead but the last two weeks…." He shook his head.

"It's all your fault you fuckin' drama queen," he winked down at her. "Had to go and cause a fuss, didn't ya?"

Picking up the teddy bear that someone from Vogue had left her, he turned it over in his hands, the wet fur getting tangled as he did so.

"I really miss you, mate," he told her earnestly. "Remember the night of my 24th when we all got leathered on cocktails at that poncy bar and we 'ad to put Allie to bed?"

Pete smirked to himself at the memory, recalling how Allie had passed out on her bed midway through tearing his shirt off and assuring him she was more than sober enough to supposedly 'rock his world'.

Unbeknownst to her, Lara had still been in the room laughing so hard that she had eventually fallen over and taken half of Allie's bookcase with her.

She and Pete had then gone and sat in the living room, lighting the fire and making their way through the last case of corona as they chatted about everything from their childhoods to where Goofy was a dog or as Lara suspected some strange and apparently gay alien.

"Well that night I remember tellin' you that you were the little sister I wish I 'ad," Pete swallowed hard. "And I meant it I just wish I'd told you more often. I wish I'd…" he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fuck me, Knight…you've done a right number on me 'ere 'aven't you? I mean you were my wingman, my go to guy…what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

Shaking his head faintly, he ignored the stinging in his eyes as he stared at the cross, not understanding how that was all that could remain of someone so amazing.

She meant more than just a couple of pieces of wood stuck together.

"She uh…she won't talk to me," Pete whispered brokenly. "She won't let me hold 'er and I can't…I can't keep going like this. Before I met Allie, I was completely fucked, y'know? I was lost and I 'ad no idea where I was goin' or what I was doin and now all of a sudden it's like I'm right back there…on my own."

The tears started falling freely now, the very same ones he had fought so hard to keep in during the service itself.

"Everything's completely fucked, Lara," he sobbed, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Everything's fucked and I 'ave no idea what to do about it,"

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, wiping his eyes violently before turning around and expecting to see Allie or maybe even Bov.

He would pretend that he was annoyed they had followed him but secretly he would be grateful, so grateful in fact that when they tried to pull him in for a hug he wouldn't pull away.

But the hand on his shoulder didn't belong to his wife or indeed his best mate.

"Are you alright there?"

The woman was older, perhaps in her early forties, her dark hair hanging falling into her sympathetic eyes as she stared at him, still grasping the wilted flowers she had obviously collected from a grave.

"Would you like me to call someone for you?" she asked gently. "I have a mobile…"

"Nah," Pete shook his head and smiled at her weakly. "You're alright, cheers,"

"Is there someone coming?" she asked. "Someone to pick you up or anything?"

Pete looked at her and almost laughed out loud, in fact if he wasn't so sure he would be sick, he would have.

"No," he told her, his voice broken and almost lost on the wind as he stared at her hand, imagining it was someone else's. "No, I'm here on my own."

At six foot tall with his dark hair setting off the arctic blue of his eyes, Benjamin Ellis was seemingly more likely to be on a Calvin Klein billboard than he was in a fight.

But as he stormed through the now almost empty Dunham household, he looked far from happy, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a determined grimace, his stance strong and impenetrable.

His prey was apparently unaware of his approach, her delicate fingers twirling a lock of blonde hair absentmindedly as she stared out of the window overlooking the garden.

"If you're not too busy," he whispered in her ear, making her jump. "Do you mind if I have a word?"

"Shit," Allie hissed, clutching her chest as she turned to face him. "You scared the hell out of me,"

"Dining room," Benjamin snapped, jerking his head towards the door on the other side of the foyer. "Now,"

Allie blinked, taken aback by his hostile tone but followed him anyway, her shoes clicking on the wooden floors as they approached the stunning if underused dinging room. The same long table that had been there since before she could remember ran down the centre of the room, various photos and paintings were strewn about its walls, the china hutch lining the far wall full of the expensive crystal which served as a reminder than the room was once used.

"What's going on?" Allie demanded, obviously picking up on the atmosphere. "Have you heard from Pete?" she whispered, her eyes widening in fear. "Has something happened to him?"

Seeing the fear and desperation in her eyes, Benjamin very nearly relented but then recalling what he had seen in the garden, he steeled himself against her and continued to glare.

"I don't know where Pete is," he told her harshly. "I actually thought you might know being his wife and all but then apparently your memory isn't that great these days,"

"What?" Allie frowned, completely confused.

"Well see, Pete has blonde hair right, blue eyes about six two, cockney accent, all Ruby Murray and Bees and Honey," Benjamin smirked at her.

She stood there staring back at him and he could see from the look in her eyes that she was still totally lost.

"See given that description, I'm finding it hard to work out why you could have mistaken Pete for our token 4 foot nothing Yank," Benjamin shrugged over dramatically. "Because why else would you be kissing the guy?"

At that, her green eyes got so big he worried briefly that they might actually bug out of her head. Her jaw dropped open, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasped and closed her eyes.

"That wasn't…"

"What it looked like?" Benjamin finished for her. "Right so you just fell onto his lips, right?"

"He kissed me," Allie told him.

"And you did what?" he asked.

She went silent, knowing that it had taken her a second to push him away. Not long enough to prove that she had wanted to kiss him but still too long. Allie hadn't wanted to kiss Matt, never in all the years since she had laid eyes on Pete Dunham had she ever wanted another man, but for whatever reason when Matt had kissed her, she had frozen.

"I didn't kiss him back," she shook her head.

"That's not the point, Allie," Benjamin spat. "Fucking hell, you do realise that we buried Lara today, right?"

"Really?" she shouted with a laugh. "Oh silly me, I must have forgot!"

"I didn't mean it like that," he shot at her. "What I mean is why the hell are you pushing Pete away? I mean, the guy loves you, he's doing everything he can for you and you go and kiss his best mate?"

"I didn't kiss Matt!" she hissed, clenching her fists.

"Well he kissed you sweet cheeks and here's a tip for you," Benjamin wagged his finger at her and leant forward, lowering his voice. "Men don't go a knockin' unless they think the barn gate will open, so you must have lead him on,"

"You arsehole!" Allie gasped, raising her hand to hit him.

"I really wouldn't bother darlin'," Benjamin shook his head. "Fighting a Scotsman with one fully functioning arm ain't going to make anyone a war hero,"

"Who the fuck are you to stand there and judge me?" she hissed, yanking her hand out of his grasp. "I'm going through…"

"Hell," Benjamin nodded. "I know you are, sweetheart. No one is debating otherwise but what you've got to do is wake up and smell the hooligan because our little Petey pie is at breaking point and we've both known the guy long enough to know that when he gets to breaking point, he usually ends up in a month long coma."

"I'm trying to…"

"No you're bloody not," he shook her. "You're wallowing in self pity which I know can be fairly therapeutic at times like this but seriously Allie, you need to snap the fuck out of it. I mean, seriously…what the fuck were you doing with Buckner?"

"Nothing!" she cried. "I just…I had a fight with Harry and I ran into him, it wasn't like…I didn't want that, I just wanted a friend…"

"You've got a husband!" Benjamin laughed. "You've got a bloke who would rip of his left arm and feed it to pigeons if he thought it would get a laugh out of you right now and you're standing there telling me you were looking for a fucking friend?"

Before she could answer the door opened again and Matt stepped in, his brow furrowed with worry.

"What's going on?" he asked, glancing back and forth between the two. "I heard shouting,"

"Oh well," Benjamin grinned. "Good on you Nancy Drew, but here's a clue for you, if you don't fuck off out of here in the next ten seconds the next thing you hear will be my foot making contact with your ass, so scram,"

"What the hell is your problem?" Matt snapped, squaring up.

"Oh come off it darlin'," Benjamin snorted. "I had bigger muscles than you when I was ten, now once again just in case I wasn't clear enough…fuck off."

"Allie, are you alright?" he asked, ignoring the angry Scot.

"Matt, just go ok?" She snapped. "I think we're done talking, don't you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what…"

Matt trailed off, looking back and forth between the two. Suddenly it became apparent what was going on.

"You're fucking joking me," he laughed. "You told him?"

"I didn't tell anyone anything you idiot," Allie hissed. "Now piss off,"

"Great," Matt laughed. "Great so I do one stupid thing and this is the part where you tell Pete and he comes back and beats the shit out of me, right?"

"Sounds about right," Benjamin pursed his lips. "But then luckily for you, Pete isn't home and given he's on the edge right now as it is, I don't think we should bother telling him,"

Matt visibly relaxed and Benjamin smirked as he let go of Allie and turned to face him fully.

"But then on the downside, I'm here," he grinned as he pulled back his good wrist and slammed it square into the younger man's face.

"Shit!" Matt cried, stumbling backwards and gripping his nose which felt as though it was on fire. "Are you fucking crazy?"

"As a fucking loon so listen up," Benjamin grabbed his collar and met his eyes. "So do yourself a favour and listen to me. I don't care what you yanks do across the pond but at funerals we tend not to try and fuck our best friends over…see, I know that you went through a little Billy Joel phase of having a crush on the lovely Alyssa here a few years back but I'd like to think that's all done and dusted so for your sake, I'll chalk today up to emotional trauma but if you ever go near her again or try anything like that again…"

Benjamin smiled and Matt felt his stomach drop down to his toes.

"I will kill you with my bare hands," the Scotsman looked down and his bandaged wrist and shrugged. "Well…bare hand anyway,"

"It was a mistake," Matt mumbled, nursing his nose.

"No, treading on someone's foot on the underground is a mistake, getting so pissed you end up going home with the ugly bird in the bar is a mistake but laying one on your best mates wife doesn't really qualify as a mistake,"

"Ben," Allie placed her hand on his arm. "Leave it, ok? This is messed up as it is without having him bleed all over the floor…just let him go,"

Without even questioning it, Benjamin released Matt and stepped back, straightening his shirt as he did so.

"Sorry, Matt," he shrugged. "Its nothing personal, I just can't stand you,"

"Thanks," he snorted, glancing at Allie one last time before muttering an apology and dashing out of the room. The sound of the front door slamming sounded a few seconds later and Allie sighed, leaning back against the table and dropping her head down into her hands.

"God, this is so…"

Benjamin stared at her, his heart dropping when she looked up at him with tears pouring down her face.

"I'm so screwed up," she whispered shakily.

"Aye," he frowned, coming to stand next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "No, you're not you're just…annoying,"

She let out a surprised laugh and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth, hating herself for it.

"Don't," Benjamin shook his head, pulling her hand away from her mouth and holding it in his. "You know exactly what she would have done if she was here,"

"Hit me and called me a twat?" Allie snorted.

"Exactly," he grinned. "But I've already hit one girl today so I can't really lay one on you now can I?"

Allie laughed, not bothering to cover it up this time as she leant into him.

"You have to tell him," Benjamin whispered into her hair. "Its only fair, Allie…"

She closed her eyes but didn't answer, not wanting Pete to know what had happened today.

It was so stupid but it would cause so much pain. Glancing at the closed doors she found herself actually hating Matt Buckner for the first time.

"He'll hate me," she whispered.

"He'll be pissed off," Benjamin told her honestly. "And then he'll get over it, but you need to let him in Allie…otherwise…"

Otherwise you'll push him so far away that you'll never get him back, her brain finished for her.

The thought petrified her and made her shake. Life without Pete wasn't something she wanted to think about…it wasn't something she was sure she could survive.

"I'll tell him," she promised.

"Yeah well we have one little problem," Benjamin reminded her. "We have to find the bastard first,"

"Nah mate, you're 'avin a bubble,"

"Fuck off, I swear on my mum's life, that's 'im,"

"Is it fuck, he's way too young,"

"Well go and ask 'im then,"

"Piss off,"

"What? If you really think I'm wrong what's the worst he can say?"

Pete Dunham listened to the conversation taking place behind him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. He knew that coming here was not the wisest of ideas but on a cold winter's day where he would rather sell his soul than be at home, what other choice did he have?

The young man who propped up the bar next to him couldn't have been any older than 20 and as he cast a sideways glance at Pete, his cheeks turned red with nervousness.

"'Ere, mate," the lad cleared his throat. "I ain't be funny but uh…my mate reckons you're the old Major…"

Pete turned and stared at him despondently, not really caring who he was or why he was asking.

"You know…" he carried on. "Of the GSE?"

Pete snorted and lifted what had to be his fifth pint to his lips, shaking his head as he sipped it thoughtfully.

"Fuck me," he laughed. "I'd 'eard the firm was made up of silly little cunts now but you're something else, aren't ya?"

"You what?" the young man asked.

"You're what…20? 21?" Pete asked.

"22," the man shot back proudly.

"Right well, if you wanna live to be 23, you'll fuck off outta my sight," he snapped.

"Fuckin' 'ell," the young man grinned, apparently not getting the point. "You are as well, ain't ya? You're Pete Dunham!"

"Yeah," Pete nodded. "I am but I ain't the Major anymore, I ain't gay and I don't do autographs so I reckon we're done 'ere, don't you son?"

The young man stared at him in horror, obviously pissed off but not at all willing to take any chances, even with his mates behind him.

"Whatever, mate," he muttered, taking his pint from Terry and rushing back to the table.

"Oi," Terry nudged Pete with his pint. "That was a bit on the harsh side, wasn't it?"

"Fucking kids are a pain in the arse," Pete spat.

"Funny," Terry smirked. "Your brother used to say the same thing about you,"

"Oh yeah and my brother's known for his good judgement ain't he?" Pete snorted. "He married a yank and quit the firm only to 'ave 'er fuck 'im over,"

He squinted and pointed at Terry. "Smart man, ol' Stevie Dunham,"

"Right," Terry sighed, pulling the fresh pint he had pulled back from the bar top and tipping it down the sink. "I reckon you've 'ad enough,"

"What?" Pete frowned. "I've 'ad four,"

"You've 'ad five and you're wasted," Terry snapped. "Go home, Pete. Just get some sleep, yeah?"

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, shoving himself away from the bar and trying to ignore the queasiness in his stomach. The floor seemed to move under his feet and he reached out for the stool next to him, steadying himself and closing his eyes for a moment before grabbing his wallet and shoving it into his pocket, ignoring whatever Terry was saying to him.

Marching in what he hoped was a straight line through the pub, he shoved the doors open and winced as the cold hit his face, the smell of salt rising in the air as trucks passed by, dispersing the white crystals along the roadside.

Hiccupping lightly, he shoved his hands into his pockets and began strolling along the pavements, staring down at the salt as it crunched under his shoes, the bottoms of his suit trousers turning white and damp with each step.

"Pete?"

The voice made him jump and he didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed to hear it. Turning slowly he looked at his pursuer with confusion.

"Fuck me," he snorted. "What happened to you?"

"Long story," Matt shook his head, picking another piece of dried blood off of his lip. "But I have to tell you something,"

"Lemme guess," Pete smiled drunkenly. "You're gay?"

"I'm serious," Matt shook his head.

"You're seriously gay?" Pete smirked, amusing himself if no one else,

"Pete would you fucking listen to me?" Matt shouted, his fists clenching by his sides. "I just…I need to tell you this before someone else does and it'll get blown out of proportion and…"

Pete stared at him, not really caring all that much what he had to say. It was cold, he was hungry and right now he needed to sleep. Matt Buckner was successfully getting in the way off all those things.

The alcohol coursing through his blood stream seemed to pick up speed as he watched Matt sigh again before meeting his eyes.

But when the words left his mouth, Pete suddenly felt sober again; his heart pounding as adrenaline turned to pure rage and his fists clenched at his sides.

Given his physical state his movements were sharp and deliberate, his fist making contact with the American's jaw even as the mutter of 'I kissed Allie' still floated on the air.

Anyone fancy joining the 'Matt Buckner is an arse' club? Even I'm annoyed at him right now :D Anyway, you know the drill, reviews make me happy and given my average day at work is 14 hours without a break, I could do with some happy right now so please be kind :D