The sounds of feet shuffling and the low, almost imperceptible groaning of the pews as people shift are barely audible over the low drone of the minister's voice. Jared shifts in his own seat, absently rubbing at the dull ache in his right knee that has been his companion for almost thirty years now. He focuses on the program in his hands, now crumpled and wrinkled, much like his hands and muses again on whether or not it's actually necessary for a funeral.

He is surrounded by his and Jensen's family and friends, a lifetime of memories written across people's faces and crammed into a tiny church in the Hudson Valley where they'd settled years before. He thinks of the lunch that is planned for after, of their renovated Colonial being filled to the brim with people before he was left alone again, for the third night in a row. The first three nights in a long time that he'd spent sprawled across their large bed alone.

He isn't looking forward to all space like he once would have.

He listens with half an ear as their grand-niece, Erin, reads a passage from the Bible. Thinks back over the years. How they'd come to settle in this town back when Jared had had his knee blown out by a stray bullet when he was forty-five, ending his career long before it should've. How they'd renovated the big, sprawling house together; Jensen doing most of the hard work while Jared supervised in between bouts of physical therapy. How it had become their home.

He finds it a bit ironic that after all these years and all the close calls both of them had had in their careers - Jared almost getting killed the year after they'd met, Jensen taking a bullet to the chest six years after that, the car chase that had almost gotten them both - that it had been cancer that had finally beaten down Jensen. His own body had rebelled and just quit on him. Jared knew he should've nagged him more about quitting smoking.

He swallows hard then as Erin makes her way back down to her seat, her tiny hand squeezing his shoulder as she passes. He tries to find a smile inside of himself, can't and just settles for a low sigh. He stands slowly, right hand curled tight around the custom maple cane that Jensen had gifted him with for their anniversary fifteen years before. Remembered how they'd changed the story of how they'd met over the years, made sure it was readily available for mass-consumption. After awhile, he realizes, making his way slowly up the stone steps of the altar, the details of how Jensen and he had met were known only to them and Mike and Tom.

Once he's standing at the podium, he takes out the small piece of paper and smoothes it out, reaching back into his jacket for his reading glasses. He clears his throat and starts to read, voice low and a bit unsteady in parts but he makes it through. When he's done, he can hear people sniffling and fumbling for tissues and handkerchiefs. He just gathers his things back up and makes his way back to his seat. He pauses when he is a step above the beautifully carved box that Jensen now rests in, his still handsome face lined with age but looking more peaceful and pain-free then Jared can remember him seeing in a long-time.

He rests a hand lightly on Jensen's head for a moment, the flesh cold where it was always warm and welcoming before. He bends down and presses a kiss there, whispers a few words so low that he knows no one could overhear and then continues on to his seat. He knows after the short service at the cemetery he'll be heading back to his house.

But he won't be going home.

The home Jared has known for the past forty-eight years died three days ago and he can't ever get that back.

END

Read the next story in the Cop AU Verse Purple Umbrella And A Fifty Cent Hat by kashmir1