A/N: Set after Scorpia Rising. Do not read if you haven't read the book. Rated T because I'm paranoid and it mentions death. Thank you.

They both knew it was his fault. She wasn't so shallow as to say it out loud but it was written clearly across her face. She'd make a terrible spy.

You took my daughter away from me.

Feeling her red hot gaze stinging his back, he turned away and focused his attention on the coffin in front of them. The crimson floral array was soaking wet. Thanks to the heavy rain, a lot of the more distant guests had gone back inside, leaving only the immediate family to face the downpour. Immediate family and him of course. He hadn't wanted red flowers, in fact he'd asked for a cheerful yellow or a vivid green arrangement. Green had always suited her. He would even have settled for pink, but her parents had insisted. Red like their daughter's hair.

Red like the explosion that filled the screen and stole Jack away from him.

Not for the first time, he wished she could be buried in England, next to Ian in the cemetery opposite the football ground. He would have liked to have her close. And since Jack had spent almost ten years in England without particularly wanting to leave, he couldn't imagine her wanting to be buried anywhere else. What was left of her anyway. But no, again, Mrs Starbright had been determined to have things her own way, and the coffin, so kindly donated by the Royal & General Bank, was to be shipped to America the next day. They were even holding their own private funeral in Washington without him. This had just been a small memorial service.

He couldn't blame them of course. She was their daughter after all, and she'd only been his-

Guardian?
Best Friend?
World?
Mother?
Sister?
Lifeline.

Everything to him. And now she was gone. Because of him. There were so many opportunities where he could have saved her, prevented all of this. Suddenly an institution didn't seem so bad. At least Jack would be alive. But he'd been selfish and careless and naïve. And Jack, his wonderful Jack with her crazy red hair and her scrambled eggs and - had payed the price.

So, no, he really couldn't blame Mrs Starbright for looking at him with such contempt. It must have been hard for her, sending her daughter off to England with high hopes of success, of graduating with a high degree in law, only to hear that she'd dropped out to look after some kid. She hadn't married, hadn't done anything with her life except become a housekeeper and slave to one little boy. Now that little boy was fourteen years old, and her daughter at only twenty eight, was dead. Like her life, however short, had been wasted. Maybe it had. To him, Jack had always been a beacon of light shining through the dark. She'd been his rock, the one thing that hadn't lied, betrayed or used him in his short miserable life. She'd always just been there. It was hard to imagine that she wouldn't be any longer. He'd only just lost her but Mrs Starbright had lost her the moment she'd stepped foot in England.

He recognised the man standing with his arm around the glaring woman as Jack's father. The man was short, with a slowly inflating stomach and a balding head. The few stray hairs he still had were a bright ginger. And when he'd smiled briefly at him when they'd first met the day before yesterday, it had reminded him so much of Jack the pain had been almost unbearable. Mr Starbright had been nothing but kind to him and Alex could tell that in different circumstances he would have been a very nice man to get to know. Much like Smithers who never ceased to put a smile on his face.

It had struck him odd that nobody from MI6 had bothered to come. But then he'd figured Jack had never been more than a bargaining chip. He wondered what they'd use as a blackmail device in the future. Tom? Sabina? Maybe they just wouldn't bother. Maybe they wouldn't approach him again or maybe they knew he was so defeated he'd probably do whatever they told him to. If he was going to be honest with himself, Alex didn't know whether he'd ever do a favour for them or not. They'd already destroyed his life.

Both Jack's parents were staring at him now, and he guessed that they wanted him to leave. He wasn't ready to go, not yet. Not if this was goodbye. Alex hated goodbyes. He hated the fact that they'd beaten him. He couldn't fight his way out of this one. Jack was never coming back. Earlier, Mr Starbright had asked him whether he'd wanted to say a few words in the hall they'd rented out for the service, and at first Alex had been flattered, pleased that somebody was thinking of him.

But when he'd got up there; all the expectant faces looking up at him - some of them crying but most of them just politely upset, there was nothing he could say. His mouth had become the desert in Egypt and his tongue was like he had been whilst staring at the charred remnants of the jeep. Dead. Despite all his experience, no words would form. What could he say? Jack was dead and it was his entire fault. In the end he'd had to go and sit back down without saying anything. Mr Starbright had looked disappointed.

A hand on his arm drew him out if his thoughts. It was Mr Starbright.
"You're catching your death of cold out here, Alex, maybe you should go inside," green eyes glinted at him compassionately. His tone was gentle but it was an obvious dismissal. He glanced back at Mrs Starbright who was waiting for him to leave. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wasn't ready.

Goodbye Jack.

Resisting the urge to throw himself on top of the coffin and beg for her to come back to him, Alex turned on his heel and left. He couldn't go back to the hall filled with sympathetic faces privately wondering who he was and what he was doing there.

Goodbye Jack.

Nobody tried to stop him.

A/N: Not the best thing I've ever written but at least I had some fun doing it. I hope you liked it. I might have gone a little overboard with the commas and clauses, (and then in the editing process made the thing completely unreadable) but as long as somebody out there enjoyed it, it's all worth it. Please review. I love constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.