End of an Era XIII.

The funeral service for the late Queen was exactly what the world was expecting it to be; traditional, dignified and respectful. The cameras either focused on the coffin or the clergy conducting the service in the main, but it still caught by chance the moments when the all too human side of the mourners came out. The sight of the young Princess Charlotte crying and being comforted by her devoted mother pulled at the strings of all but the hardest of hearts, and she was not the only member of the immediate family to allow a tear to fall. Although unseen on camera, there were more tears being shed amongst the world leaders and the foreign royalty; many of the latter were distant relatives after all.

The words of the bishops and archbishops conducting the service were carefully chosen, touching on the mood of the world at large. They touched the heart, and the little group of five on The Mall saw and heard tears being shed all around them. They joined in spontaneously as the people around them sang the hymns, well known tunes and words even to those that were not religious at all. Apart from that, there was only a silence of the kind that was described as deafening; even the birds seemed to have sensed that something wasn't right, although Sebastian would later point out that the 100 bangs in quick succession from the guns at Hyde Park might actually have scared a lot of them into hiding. The weather was also being kind, with barely even a breeze to stir the leafless tree branches around them…

A pin could also have been dropped in either the West Village house or the auditorium of Dalton Academy and it would have clanged like the bell had done earlier. Thad observed that the normal fidgeting and whispered chats that were present in the assemblies normally held in the auditorium were absent that day, the boys sitting still and silent, eyes glued to the screen. They did not sing, unlike those on the streets of London. Thad realised of course that by their very act of watching the service, they were becoming part of the history of the nation themselves. They were engaged in an outpouring of respect, and yes, love, for a woman that was not an American, but still had enjoyed a degree of influence on them that no President ever had, and she had done so for longer.

In the staff room of a Manhattan hospital, a British born nurse was the focus of the event, she and Lawrence now surrounded by other staff, many of whom seemed as saddened and upset as Nurse Crane had been herself in the last few days. She was now much more composed, her usual stoic nature back in charge, taking satisfaction perhaps in seeing her homeland do what it did best, and honouring its late monarch. She could recall the celebrations of the Silver Jubilee back in 1977, when there had been a street party in her little corner of East London, and the moment a few days later when she had joined her mother in standing at the side of their local high street as the Queen had been on a walkabout, passing right in front of her. She had seen the young girl, and she had smiled, and to the youthful Nurse Crane, that smile had seemed directed at her alone…

Somewhere in a box in her apartment she still had the mug that she and all the children at her school had been given that year as a souvenir of the events; it was packed away alongside similar ones that had been gifted to her mother to mark the Coronation in 1953. She wondered if the children of the 21st century would feel as she had done then if they were to be presented with a mug to mark the Coronation of the new King when it came; somehow she doubted it…

The service was scheduled to take just under an hour from start to finish, but although there were many moments of emotion throughout that time, there was one in particular that was to be the clincher. It came from the late Queen's personal piper, a man that had been at Balmoral when she had passed away, and had then travelled with her, firstly to Edinburgh and then on to London, where he had joined with the others that stood guard around her coffin during the Lying in State. He had gone everywhere with her in life, his normal duty to stand below her bedroom window and play every day at the same time; in some ways, he was a very human alarm clock. Now he had a tribute of his own to pay to her, and in the still of the great Abbey, the melancholy sound of the bagpipes seemed enhanced and magnified…

What made it all the worse was the title of the lament that he was playing – Sleep, Dearie, Sleep. As soon as they had shown the title of the tune on the screen, as the quiet tones of the BBC announcer on the radio said it too, their hearts had begun to ache, but the actual sound shattered them. In the West Village, Nick found that his sight was blurring through tears; he swiped at them at first, but then looking round the room he saw that no-one present was dry eyed, so he just let them fall, tightening the arm that he had around his son as he felt Wes shake as he cried…

At Dalton, Mrs Carmichael sobbed openly, and looking round the room, Thad hazarded a guess by the number of bowed heads he saw amongst the student body that she was not the only one that was shedding a tear, so he too let his own flow. Looking back at the screen, the camera was suddenly on the face of the new King, and the whole world saw that he was crying too; he was a man that had just lost his much loved mummy after all. The world cried with him as the pipes played on. The music was to be the last act of the funeral more or less, and the final stage of her journey to Windsor Castle was soon to commence.

The bagpipe lament was the last act of the funeral, the Last Post already having been played, and the National Anthem sung, during which the eyes of the new monarch had again seemed filled with tears. He had sung the words of the anthem himself for years, to his mother, and now he would never sing those words again.

With the same precision and dignity that had been exhibited as the coffin was brought in to the Abbey, it was now taken out, ready for the procession through the streets to Waterloo Gate. It was done after a two minute silence in memory of the late Queen, one which was observed around the world, people getting to their feet and bowing their heads in respect. The scene was repeated not just in London, but across the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth. At Dalton, there was no instruction needed, the student body rising to their feet spontaneously as the school clock chimed out for 7am. The same took place in the West Village, and in the hospital downtown, Nurse Crane standing prompting the rest to do the same…

On The Mall, those that had been seated now stood, all their thoughts directed to the life of the woman whose funeral had brought them to that spot, a life of service and devotion. It would later be recorded that in London and indeed across the country the traffic had stopped, the majority of drivers getting out to stand by their vehicles, much as they had done on the night that her coffin had arrived back in the capital. The tube network too stopped, the signallers ensuring that trains were in stations where possible for those two minutes, the handful of passengers standing in the carriages; the bus network did the same. Indeed, the air traffic controllers had also managed a miracle, as by co-ordinated effort, no plane took off or landed anywhere in the United Kingdom during those two minutes either…

The funeral procession would once again involve the same members of the Royal Family walking behind the coffin, but the procession this time would be much larger, with the sailors joined by members of the army and air force. The Mounties would once again lead, followed by representatives of the armed forces from all of the nations that had looked upon the Queen as their monarch as well, particularly Australia, Canada and New Zealand. Then there were the Gurkhas, who hailed from Nepal, a nation that had never been part of the British Empire or Commonwealth, but who served with distinction in the British Army nonetheless. The armed forces would be joined by a large number of representatives of amongst other organisations, the NHS.

The army bands would play as the procession moved along at a pace that was set by the sailors that were towing the coffin, once again on the gun carriage, through the streets of central London. As they performed this service to their late Commander in Chief, the slow pace was perfect for the group of elderly Chelsea Pensioners that were part of the procession too; they stood out in their red coats and black tricorn hats as they walked alongside the Beefeaters from the Tower of London. The streets were lined, as they always were for these processions, but this time there was no flag waving or cheering. There was the occasional burst of applause, a few shouts of "God Save the King!", but otherwise there was a dignified silence.

In the West Village and at Dalton Academy, however, these scenes were not being as closely observed as the funeral had been; for those in the United States, normal life had to resume. Workplaces and classrooms beckoned, there not being a public holiday to mark the event naturally. Nick stacked the dishwasher as he sent his son off to brush his teeth, but he did keep half an eye on the screen, watching for the moment that the front of the procession reached Horse Guards Parade; if they were to catch a glimpse of his husband and the others, then it would happen soon after that.

As Nick watched for that moment, his husband and friends in London were doing the same on the big screen in front of them. They could hear the bands already of course, the sound growing steadily louder as they headed up Whitehall. It marched past the Cenotaph, the place that the late Queen had attended almost every Remembrance Sunday of her life to honour the fallen. Shortly after that came the moment that had to be the most logistically difficult of all during the procession; fitting the gun carriage and the sailors towing it through the narrow arches that linked Whitehall to Horse Guards Parade. It did seem impossible at first, given how wide the group of sailors seemed to be, but somehow they achieved it, closing up even closer to each other, and fitting tightly, marching six abreast, through the central arch as the Lifeguards that had been flanking them marched through the arches on either side.

They paused for a moment and reformed as they came out onto the broad expanse of the spot more used to witnessing the events of The Trooping of the Colour on the official birthday of the monarch in June, their route barriered off in the centre to allow people to gather there too; indeed, the stands of temporary seating that were normally there for that event had been erected to allow those that were most frail to see the procession without having to stand for a long period of time.

Then the Mounties were off the parade ground and back on the tarmac road. "They will be here any minute," said Drew in a low voice, noting that a BBC camera crew had suddenly appeared at the side of the big screen across the road, their lenses turned in their direction. They stood then and waited, as along with the strains of the martial music they were used to came the sound of stout boots marching on the road, and the clip clop of the horseshoes of the Mounties' horses. They were about to see the coffin close again one final time, and that was a reality that touched the hearts of each one of them.

In the West Village, Nick glanced at his watch and sighed, knowing that he would soon have to pull Wes away from the television screen, as they were already much later than they normally would be in leaving the house to ensure he arrived at school on time. Ethan was still there of course, Evie beside Wes in front of the screen, and seeing what Nick was doing, he headed over. "I think that we are going to have a fight on our hands in a moment. They are both so determined that they need to see those two standing there before leaving for school; education, however, comes first, so if you want to go and pull a fuse and turn the television off that way…"

Nick chuckled and shook his head. "That would cause a riot! Nope, I am going to get the livestream up on my tablet, and as we are going to have to grab a cab to get there on time now, they can watch it as we are on the move."

Ethan frowned, and whispered, "What if we reach the school and they still haven't…"

"Daddy! I can see Papa!" yelled Wes, and the two men headed back to join the children at the screen, where the camera was now showing the corner of the park with the memorial and sure enough all five of them were visible, standing in a little knot, elevated above the crowds that thronged the sidewalk…

Then the picture changed, and Nick sprang into action. He switched off the television, and before any arguments could start, he placed his switched on and tuned in tablet into his son's hands. "We have to go right now, or you will be very late for school. That will get you a demerit on your personal record, and those sort of things never get wiped off…"

Wes and Evie looked at each other, and then she said, "We've seen them now, and I don't want to be late!" She grabbed her coat, and Wes, seeing her actions and the stern look on his father's face, went to get his as well, still holding the tablet. With coats on and bags picked up, they hastened up the stairs and out into the street.

As Nick locked the front door, he heard Ethan yell "Taxi!" at the top of his lungs, and he looked down to see that a yellow cab had now pulled up, and Ethan was putting the two children into it. He sprinted down the stairs, and followed them into the back. Ethan smiled at him, and said, "You take it, get the kids to school and then yourself to work. I can still make it on time with the subway." He shut the cab door before Nick could argue, told the driver the destinations and gave him the account number that Mackenzie Inc used in the city for payment. Then the taxi was off, and Ethan hurried off in the direction of the subway…

Back in London, the sound of the military massed bands now filled the air, and looking over his shoulder, Drew could now see the small group of Mounties, moving at a walking pace, on the street immediately behind them, leading the way for all of those on foot behind them. He told the others, and on hearing it, Jeff immediately stood to attention, an automatic reaction at that moment to the scene unfolding before him. He was standing in the centre of the group of five now, with Miss Frobisher and then Drew to his right, with Sebastian and then Adam to his left. He looked to the front again, straight at the screen, and very fleetingly he saw himself standing there, just as they had done in the West Village…

Then the shot returned to the procession coming up Horse Guards Road, and starting to turn into the long straight stretch of The Mall. He looked ahead as the Royal Canadian Mounted Police passed, dignified in their red uniforms, the horses they were riding well schooled, even if they were not those that they were used to riding. They were followed by a mixed company of Commonwealth service personnel, all of them in their best dress uniform, dressed for the cold of a London winter. Then the first of the sailors appeared, and they all knew what was coming next; the coffin that they had seen in close quarters on Saturday, and after that, the representatives of her family walking behind. They could see now that the cars that had brought the other members of the family to the Abbey were now in the procession as well, being driven at an exceptionally slow speed. As the moment approached, emotions began to swell to the surface once more, and Jeff steeled himself. He took a deep breath, and then the coffin came into view, the crown, orb and sceptre still on top. He took another breath, and blinked back the tears forming in his eyes as he bowed his head…

When Nick had hinted to Sebastian that he was concerned about the emotional state that his husband could end up in at the funeral, the latter had agreed to join the group as we was the most unemotional one about the whole thing, and would stay composed throughout the whole course of events. He was the least likely person of all to break down at the funeral. Drew, Adam and Jeff all knew that to be the case as well…

So that was why it was all the more startling when, as the coffin came right in front of them, he was the one to let out an almighty sob, as his legs trembled below him, and he began to weep uncontrollably. Jeff's left arm shot out quickly to hold his friend up, as did Adam's right, and between them they held him up as he blubbed like a baby. Jeff quickly glanced to his right, and saw the look of concern on Miss Frobisher's face and the startled, disbelieving one on the face of Drew. Jeff returned his gaze to the front, and saw that the last of the sailors had now passed, and the new King was there in front of them, flanked once again by his sister…

To his horror, he saw that they were once again in shot on the television pictures that were being beamed around the globe, and he prayed that nobody they knew was watching too closely as it was obvious that Sebastian was crying. He knew that they would all be sympathetic to their friend, but Sebastian would be absolutely mortified to be the one that broke down…

Of course, someone did see, but they were all too used to being the keeper of the Warblers' secrets. As he sat in Winfield House, Trent felt so strongly for his fellow musketeer, and resolved there and then that he would never mention what he was witnessing, or even that he had seen it. He could not say, after all, with his hand on his heart, that he would not have reacted in exactly the same way had he been there on The Mall with them…

Once the family had passed them, Jeff motioned to Adam that he would handle Sebastian on his own, and the Englishman complied, and let the blond pull his friend into a hug. He was still crying, although his body did not seem as shaky now, with the peak of the moment over. Thinking on his feet, Jeff pulled two of the travelling rugs off the top of the wall and down onto the ground below it, then gently guided his old friend down to sit on one as he sat on the other. There they were hidden from the crowd, the procession reduced to just the sound of the bands and the marching feet of the members of the armed forces kept passing by…

Eventually, Sebastian raised his head, letting Jeff see his tear stained face with red rimmed eyes, and said in a tiny voice, "I have no idea where that came from. One minute I was fine, and the next it all just came tumbling out…"

"And unfortunately in real life, you can't just turn it off like a light switch when those pesky feelings hit," replied Jeff, with a Book of Mormon reference that made Sebastian chuckle as he had hoped it would.

"If you recall, blondie, Elder Price never agreed with that approach," he responded, then he shook his head. "God, I was the one that came here to be the strong supportive one to you and Drew, and instead I'm the mess that needs to be taken care of…"

Jeff laughed, then said, "I do have a theory about where all this came from. I remember you telling me not long after we met at Dalton that you had no time for tears; that boys should not cry as men are supposed to be tough. You actually do manage that so well; in all the times I have known you, I have only seen you crying twice; once on the night that Hunter whipped you and left you scarred, and then when Wes died…"

"You should ask Dave and Cooper what I was like when I thought that Peter had died in the earthquake in L.A.," Sebastian added.

"It's much the same thing; the events beforehand had shattered you so badly, changed the whole of your world. What we are witnessing here today is the end of an era, an event that has totally changed the world. You have been kept busy keeping an eye on me, Drew and Adam, seeing that we were okay, that you forgot to look after your own feelings. And so, when you saw the coffin passing us, heading off to the family crypt, marking the final moments, you snapped. It all came to a head…"

"Whatever it was, we treat what happened today as if London was actually Las Vegas, okay?"

Jeff sighed, and Sebastian saw his face fall, and his blood ran cold. "Of course none of us will tell anyone, but the problem is… the television camera was on us when you went…"

Sebastian said nothing then, just stared into space, and Jeff wondered if he should have stayed silent on that final detail. Then his friend sighed and spoke. "Fortunately most of the people that were viewing that footage will have been concentrating on the action in the foreground in the street, and not on what was occurring in the crowd beyond. Saying that, it would not surprise me one bit if Trent was a witness to it, if he was watching; he studies everything he sees and picks up on details, so if he knew that was where we were... He won't divulge it though, not even to me…"

He paused, then went on, "They're funny things when you think about it, our emotions. It is funny how the death of someone that you met a few times as a result of being a relative success in your career can touch you so much. Maybe it was wrong of me to assume that because I was not one of her subjects and we weren't as close as you were to her that I would be immune to the fact that she was gone forever. There is change in the air here now; Britain has a new King who has less of a sense of tradition than his mother, and it won't be his main concern. No, he is a moderniser, a man that will do all that he can to keep the monarchy relevant in the 21st Century so that he can hand the role on to his son and grandson in time."

"Seeing the coffin move made all of that very real. When I saw it at the Lying in State, in the midst of all those costumes and pomp and tradition, with the grandchildren standing vigil and the crown glittering on top, it was like being an extra on a movie in so many ways. It was done the way it had been done for generations. Then standing here, in the midst of all the noise, and the crowd, with the military here in such numbers, it was the final scene of the movie, and there was a hole in the cast… There is a hole in the world now that she left which can never be filled. Frankly, that is a little scary, because her wise counsel and experience in diplomacy is now gone…"

Jeff nodded, and clasped Sebastian's hands in his own. That was when he realised that the sounds of the bands were now fading into the distance, the rhythm of the military boots marching past was gone and there was now a murmur of ordinary chatter in the crowd. Then Miss Frobisher was down at their level, holding out a cup of tea from her flask to Sebastian. He took it with a smile, and sipped it, instantly glad that whilst it was strong, it wasn't sweet, like it was in every British period film when someone had had a shock.

Jeff stood up and addressed Drew and Adam. "This goes no further, okay. It is not that he is embarrassed about what took place, because he knows that it was down to the overwhelming sensations of the day. If anything, he was overcome as seeing the coffin on the move before him made it all just too much to bear…"

"I've had quite a few moments in private over the last few days when I could just have sat and wept non-stop too," confessed Adam quietly. Then he turned his eyes back to the big screen, which was now showing images of what was happening up at the Wellington Arch, where the hearse that would take her coffin to its final resting place at Windsor Castle. It was a vehicle that had been specially built for this occasion, one that the late Queen had helped to design. It had larger than usual windows on the sides and was higher too. That allowed the crown to remain on the top of the coffin; the narrow pillars between the sides and back ensured that as it travelled along the roads out of London, the view of the coffin would be unobstructed.

They watched the screen whilst they listened to the commentary on the radio; as the procession had passed Buckingham Palace, all the staff had come out to bow their heads as the coffin of the woman that had been the official mistress of the building for nearly three quarters of a century passed it for the very last time. It was no great secret that she had loathed the building and that it was now undergoing a slow, careful modernisation to ensure that everything within it met the modern standards that people now expected.

The process of rewiring and replacing all of the plumbing was just the start. A more ecologically friendly heating system was being installed, using heat pumps and solar panels mounted on those parts of the roof not visible from the street. Care had to be taken as the previous system had been clad in asbestos, then thought to be the modern wonder product when it had been installed in the 1950s. The telecoms needed updated and new security measures had been installed. The frontage had been restored and looked the same, but the windows were now triple glazed and extra insulation had been fitted in behind the original stonework.

There had been moments of fascination during the works, such as when shrapnel from the bomb that had been dropped on the Palace in broad daylight whilst the Queen's parents had been on the premises was discovered lodged in a wall. The event had meant that the Queen's mother felt she could now look the bombed people of the East End in the eye as they had been bombed too, although they had escaped unscathed, unlike so many of those poorer people.

It was no wonder with all of the work going on, and the inefficient nature of all that was being replaced, that the late Queen had preferred to return to Windsor Castle at night after events at the Palace if she could; that was a place that was her true home and comfortable with it. She had spent a large part of her teenage years living there after all. Who would now take over her apartments there was unknown officially, but the rumour mill had it that the new King had no mind to move into his mother's old apartments, and that he intended the Prince and Princess of Wales and their children should become the new tenants of the Castle…

The pictures coming from Wellington Arch now revealed that the more minor members of the Queen's extended family, those that had not been driven along as part of the procession, had now arrived, probably taking the fast road route via Victoria station to Hyde Park Corner. Now they were being joined by the rest of the family, the more senior members, for the final departure from London. The Dukes of Kent and Gloucester, and Princess Alexandra, the late Queen's younger cousins, stood in dignified silence alongside her great grandchildren beside the monument to the legendary Duke of Wellington. The spot was normally one of the busiest road junctions in the city, but all of the traffic had now been diverted away to allow this moment to occur…

The gun carriage had arrived but was left untouched until such time as the whole family, and indeed all those that had walked the route of the procession from the Abbey had arrived. Only then did the pall bearers return to their duties once again. "This is the fourth time that they have carried her," remarked Drew, in awe of the fact that the party of eight soldiers still looked as fresh and dignified as they had been when they had first seen them carry her coffin out of Westminster Hall that morning.

"And they will carry her once more later this afternoon when she arrives at Windsor Castle for the committal service at St George's Chapel. That will be less of a world event; there will be no politicians there, just the family, no matter how distant a relation they might be. As a result, there will be a fair number of European royalty present, all thanks to the wily Queen Victoria marrying her children off into half of the royal houses of the continent at that time… I always recall being told as a child that the First World War was a squabble between the German Kaiser and his two cousins, the Russian Tsar and the British King," remarked Miss Frobisher.

"I was told that too," said Adam with a wry smile. "Now they are all here, united in their loss, mourning the passing of the woman that was arguably the most well known of them all. In the end, family always reunites at times like these, no matter how bad things might have been beforehand."

They carried on watching the screen as the coffin was carried off the gun carriage and placed with all due reverence and care into the rear of the hearse; everything had to be absolutely perfect and not just because the eyes of the world were upon them, but because of who she was. The orb, sceptre and crown were firmly secured in their place, and then, slowly and sedately, the hearse was driven off the grass and onto the street, to follow the main road out of London in the direction of Windsor, although it would diverge from the straight line to ensure that it avoided the congested area around Heathrow airport, where flights were now operating as normal, before a second ban on the use of the airspace over Windsor came into force later.

The people of West London would line the route just as the streets in the centre of the city had been, with huge crowds at spots like the Royal Albert Hall, some throwing flowers into the street even though they had been told not to…