The shot.

It rang out so loudly in the foyer of the ancient Victorian house that Pete found himself looking skyward, waiting for the ceiling to fall in. The boom continued to echo, silencing everything around it, including the boys who were still undecided as to whether Eddie Hatcher was alive or worth saving.

Turning, he watched as his wife stopped dead; not moving for the longest of moments until slowly, sickeningly, blood began to pool through her shirt, turning the royal blue a gruesome black. Her arms fell to her sides as her knees buckled and he moved without even knowing it, his arms coming around her just before she fell. He glanced up momentarily, long enough to see Sarah Hatcher stood there, still shakily holding the gun her nephew had been wielding a moment or two before.

Around him, Pete was acutely aware of his sons startled screams from upstairs in his crib, the fast paces of someone on the stairs, running up to settle him, the shouts of the boys as they desperately pleaded with the ambulance to hurry up.

But what he was most aware of was the warmth of his wife's blood as it coated his hands, his legs, the floor underneath them. It was everywhere but where it should be. Her head was positioned in his lap and upon meeting her eyes, everything stopped moving in slow motion. Everything suddenly became real again.

"Pete,"

It was as though his ears had popped, everything was so lucid now. What was happening?

"Allie," he breathed. "Oh fuck, baby..."

He pressed his hand over the wound on her stomach and she screamed; grasping at his shirt until her knuckles turned white. Swallowing hard, she grimaced at the taste of blood on her tongue and blinked rapidly as though trying to rid herself of the pain. It was searing through her, turning everything in its path to lead and fire.

"Alex," her eyes flickered towards the stairs and he marvelled at her not for the first time in their marriage. Even now, all she thought about was her family. "He's scared,"

He's not the only one, Pete thought morbidly as her blood continued to ooze through his fingers.

"He's fine," he forced a smile. "Nat has him and I've got you," he nodded, picking up her hand and kissing it, ignoring the taste of blood. "I've got you,"

"You've always had me," she whispered, the faintest smile on her rapidly paling lips. She coughed hard and blood coated them, making his heart beat so hard in his chest that he was certain he could feel his ribs cracking.

"Too bloody right, I have," he smirked. "You didn't stand a chance, Harding. Now shut your yapper, we're gonna get you in the ambulance and patched up before you know it, and I don't want-..."

"Do you remember our 2nd date?" she licked her lips, desperately trying to get her voice back to normal. "I loved that night,"

Pete stared down at her becoming more concerned by the second; what the hell was she talking about? And where the fuck was the ambulance? He heard her take in a shuddering breath and tore his eyes quickly away from the boys who were themselves torn between staring down at Allie and looking out of the window desperately hoping the ambulance would appear at any moment.

"Remember it?" he snorted, finding it hard to breathe as he watched her grow more pale by the second. "That night cost me a fucking fortune, its burned into my memory."

Allie smiled weakly at him and raised her hand, frowning when it flopped half way; he picked it up and held it against his face, kissing her shaking fingers lightly as he willed her to stay with him. Stay awake. Be ok. Be..alive.

"You won me that hideous bear," she whispered. "It only had...one...it only had one eye,"

Pete laughed, recalling the way Allie had stopped him when he had tried to barter with the guy at the funfair stand, claiming that having one eye gave the bear more character.

"You always did have a thing for the wounded ones, didn't you?" he squeezed her hand. "I reckon that's how you got lumbered with me, you know? Guilt and pity,"

"Not a chance," she stuttered. "It was..all for your..your body,"

Pete laughed at her, a genuine laugh that stung his chest and made him want to be sick; she was bleeding and there was nothing he could do. The one thing he had promised her was that he would never let her get hurt and now here they were. In the home they had made together, where they had raised their children. And it was stained with her blood.

Allie closed her eyes for a short moment and then opened them, the fear lingering in the emerald orbs so blatant and desperate that Pete had to fight back the sob in his throat.

"Pete..." she gasped, her voice cracking as she dug her nails into his skin. "It hurts...make it...make it stop...make it stop...make it stop...make it..."

"STOP!"

Allie Harding narrowed her eyes at the young man next to her and lowered her gun, jutting her hip out in a show of indignant despair.

"What?" Pete frowned at her.

"Your foot is way over the line," she pointed her water rifle at him and cocked her chin. "Take a few steps back, babydoll or this is going to get real ugly,"

"Yes ma'am," he snorted at her, tipping his pretend hat as he did so. "Happy now, princess?"

Allie smirked at him and brought her rifle back up, peering through the eye of it and pulling the trigger, knocking not one but two of the plastic cowboys down.

"Ecstatic," she replied happily, laughing at the astounded look on his handsome face. "What?" she shrugged, happily accepting the cowgirl hat and toy holster she had won. "Never seen a posh girl fire a gun before?"

"So you can shoot?" Pete rubbed his chin as he tossed his own gun back onto the counter of the stall and fell into step beside her. "Anything else I should know? You related to Al Capone or something?"

"Not that I know of," she reached up and placed the pink cowgirl hat on his head, laughing as he adjusted it and sent her a wink. "I'll get back to you on that,"

Their second date had been a bit of a shambles; Pete had booked this nice restaurant only the place had given away their table for the sin of being all of 10 minutes late and so they'd ended up wandering around south bank and into the October funfair. Fairy lights covered every tree, their glow reflecting in the river while the smells of roasting chestnuts, popcorn and not quite trust worthy hotdogs wafted around them.

"So I know my way around a gun," Allie nudged him playfully. "What's your secret talent?"

"Ah that," Pete smirked. "That's more of a third date thing,"

"I'm serious," she laughed heartily, making his chest get tight. The girl was a goddess and he still wasn't sure what it is she was doing with him. Truth be told, he didn't know what he was doing with her, either. No one seemed to think this could work, let alone lead anywhere and maybe they were...

"Aha!" Allie grabbed his hand and steered him towards a game stall that had a huge cardboard cut out of David Beckham next to it.

"If you want me to get my eyebrows waxed or some shit..."

"No, look," she giggled, handing the unwashed young man behind the counter a few tokens and picking up one of the plastic footballs. "Come on, lets see this skillset,"

"What do I win?" he narrowed his eyes at her, already coming up with a few suggestions in his mind.

"For every time you score," she wrinkled her nose, pretending to think. "You get a kiss,"

"And a bear," the young man chimed in, clearly enjoying their exchange.

"And a bear," Allie threw her hands up. "See, how can you even think of saying no to that?"

"Alright," Pete licked his lips and winked at her. "Bring it on,"

Around half an hour and almost £35 later, Pete Dunham was beginning to get frustrated.

"And that's a miss!"

"Fuck off!" he shouted at the guy behind the counter. "I kicked the shit outta that, if that had been your head, you wouldn't be nearly so fucking cocky,"

The man laughed at glanced at the blonde next to him who was trying her best not to do the same; dignity came at a high price in places like this especially on a date.

"Tell you what," he smirked. "As you've put my son through university tonight," he ignored the dangerous look Pete shot at him. "I'll let you have this,"

He reached up into the rafters of the makeshift stall and pulled down one of the biggest stuffed animals, dusting it off and handing it to Allie who was nearly dwarfed by it.

"Its only got one fuckin' eye!" Pete laughed. "Get me a decent one and we've got a deal, you cheeky git,"

"Hey," Allie frowned. "Perfection is wearing, just so you know. I like him."

"Trust you," he snorted. "And now I'm gonna have to carry that piece of sh-..."

He was silenced as her lips covered his; they were so soft, so full, so eager. Why couldn't it be this simple all the time? When they were like this, there was no GSE, no one staring at them waiting for it to all go tits up. It was just them. And it was perfect.

He unwillingly groaned as she pulled back, her arms still around his neck, the bear in between them, nudging them apart slightly.

"See, you got a kiss and you didn't even win," she grinned. "So quit you're whining,"

"Oh I won, Harding," he whispered, tilting her chin up so he could skilfully catch her lips with his once more. "Trust me, I won,"

She was cold.

Pete cradled her head and met her eyes, his gaze to powerful that she swore she could feel her heart pounding back at its normal rhythm. He was so warm, so beautiful. The pain had stopped sweeping through her in waves now, it was constant; enveloping her and making her want to scream. But she didn't have the energy. Or the will.

"You had me," she whispered. "I love you..."

"I love you, too," he told her. "More than you'll ever fucking know but right now I need you to shut up and keep your eyes open."

She smiled at him, so clearly, so purposefully and it broke his heart because she was hurting, she was scared and there was nothing he could do.

"I won, too," she nodded. "I won, too."

Her hand fell away from face, clapping to the floor with a sickening thud. She was still. Completely and utterly still.

"Allie..." Pete cupped her face and rubbed it lightly, the way he always did when rousing her from sleep. "Allie..."

Bovver turned around as Pete let out a scream that was unlike anything he had ever heard before; it was a wounded animal, dying, begging, pleading.

He tore Allie's shirt open and began pumping on her chest, his breath coming out in pants as pushed harder and harder, stopping only to close his mouth around hers and breathe for her.

His movements were desperate and uncoordinated, fingers catching on material, his feet slipping in the large pool of blood around him as he fought to stay kneeling.

"Come on," he hissed, his hands thumping on his wife's chest. "Allie, fucking wake up,"

More breath, more pressure.

One, two, three, four, five.

"Pete?" Bovver's voice didn't even register. "Mate..."

One, two, three, four, five.

He knew this skin; he had spent the last 7 years of his life kissing it, listening to her heart beating, feeling the warmth of her. It was home. It was everything. And it was gone.

"Allie," he whispered. "Come on, baby. Come on, just breathe, breathe for me,"

One, two, three, four, five.

He waited for a crack, his was pushing on her ribs hard enough to break them, he knew that much. Her heart was in there and he needed to feel it beat. He wouldn't stop until he did.

"Allie, breathe," his movements slowed and he sobbed with every laboured push. "Allie, please don't leave me. Baby please don't leave me, I can't do this without you, Allie...COME ON!"

He screamed and began hammering on her chest again, ignoring whatever it was Bovver was saying to him. He could do this, she could do this. He knew how strong she was, how much she had gone through. He knew what she was capable of even if no one else did. He wasn't stopping. Not for anything.

One, two, three, four, five.

The blue lights of the ambulance lit up the rapidly darkening foyer with an eerie glow. Her blood turned black, her skin a sickening grey.

He knew he had been pulled away from her, he knew he had been sick, not caring as it coated his shirt, mixing with her blood. He knew he had screamed until his throat felt as though it were bleeding, he had clawed along the floor trying to get back to her, trying to convince them to keep going.

His wife, his best friend. The only thing that had saved him. The mother of his children. The treasure he had won, that he had no right to own.

Lost, forever.

Reviews probably aren't welcome, given the hatred I'm about to endure but I welcome them all the same. Am I really THAT evil?...Very possibly. You'll have to wait and see...