The sun had fallen past the distant horizon, leaving a cloudy, dark blue sky to reign supreme over the world while the temperatures had turned even colder than the day had already been—not a star in sight to provide the blessings of light. For most souls shielded by the protection of a regular day, it was a calm, quiet night, the perfect ending to whatever was demanded under the sun. A night that would be perfect to stay inside, and huddle up under a blanket with a warm bowl of popcorn to watch a movie with your family or loved ones.

However, the family that had been standing outside and facing the cold head-on was anything far from calm, even if they were all huddled close to one another. One could even go as far as to say that their family was slowly falling apart. Each of them as individuals, of course, they held onto whatever strength they all had to stay close to one another—after all, that was just about all they had right now.

The rest of the team stood behind them, giving the three of them the moment to themselves as they all stood around the single lone gravestone planted into the grass. It was nothing fancy, in fact, it was the very gravestone once used when they thought they had lost a different member of their family—because in all fairness, they weren't given much of a notice. Not that any of them were picky about it, from what they could tell, Everest almost seemed fond of the idea.

Marshall sat in between the two, holding onto his daughter who was burying his head into her shoulder, quietly and finally letting out the emotions that she had been trying to hold to herself for the better part of the day.

And while yes, he had his other leg wrapped around Everest, she had yet to acknowledge the fact that he was hugging her, in truth, she had hardly reacted to the fact that they were even here, holding this funeral; as if she was merely a figment of their imaginations, not having said any more than a word or two since...what had happened. It was concerning at first, and although it still was, Marshall and Audrey sort of just accepted that this was her grieving.

"P-Princess, do you wanna go first?" The Border Collie raised her head up, pursing her lips before eventually nodding—not exactly wanting to leave her dad's side, but this was her final goodbye, and she couldn't miss that. The spotlight was hers, though she still hoped that the others weren't watching her.

Either way, she couldn't shy away now, and she took a deep breath as she slowly let her legs fall from Marshall's shoulders. She walked up to the gravestone, softly resting her paw on top of it as she looked down, her other paw trembling as she lowered the golden flower she had found on the walk home onto the dirt.

"Hey, Miracle. I'm...sorry, I'm sorry that I was scared to meet you, I really did wanna be a good big sister. And plus, now I gotta fight off Ruby and Gus alone," she whispered, softly laughing as she wiped a few tears out of her eyes (just a couple more minutes, that's all she needed to compose herself for). "Kidding, kidding, d-don't worry, dude. Just...r-rest easy, I'll try to look after Mom and Dad for us. I'm sure you would want them to be happy."

With the rest of the strength she could use for the day, she gently hugged the stone, turning back around until her ears perked up—a single idea coming to mind of something she probably should've said sooner, but it was better late than never. Before the thought trailed out of her mind like many before, she stepped back into place, keeping her voice low so it could be a hidden secret under the oath of siblings.

"W-wherever you might end up after...y-you know, I don't know how it all works, but...maybe you can find my other Mom and Dad. Tell them you're my sister, I'm sure they would be willing to take care of you. You wouldn't have to be alone," she suggested, letting her paw trail down the stone before she turned around—head low as she walked back to the group, deep down wanting to feel comfort at the thought of her biological parents taking him under their wing.

She nodded at her dad so he knew that she was clocking in her final hours, trading places with him as Emma stepped up and tightly hugged her, letting the collie cry against her shoulder for as long as she needed, even if that happened to be all night long.

Now that he was up next, the Dalmatian quietly sighed to himself, mentally prepping himself up in an imaginary mirror before stepping up to the stage as he placed his flower on the dirt next to his daughter's. He knew that this wasn't supposed to be what tonight was about, but that didn't stop his thoughts from reminding him of when he had done this all before, with his mate. First her, and now him, the beloved son he never got to connect with—not fully, at least.

"H-hey, bud, I hope you can hear me right now. I-I...uhm...I'm gonna miss you, I-I'm sorry I could never be the dad that you deserved. I'm sorry for everything, I wish it never turned out this way, b-but I guess we can't change that now, can we?" he stammered out, tears streaming down his face as he bent down and wrapped his forelegs around the stone, lowering his head until it was held up by its weight. "I-I love you so, so much, Miracle, and there won't be a day that goes by that I won't think of you."

As much as he never wanted to let go, to never fully say goodbye to his son, he could already start to feel himself losing what little composure and confidence he had. He never wanted to take his eyes away (nor could he) as he slowly stepped back, only aware that he had reached his destination when Everest reached out and caught his paw: the most willing movement just about anyone had seen from her since...well, it went without saying by now.

"D-do you wanna go, honey?" The husky turned her eyes over, holding eye contact with him but never going any further than that—that being said, responding to the fact that she was being spoken to counted as a little victory in his eyes.

But despite that single, small bright side, the look on her face did nothing to help his mood; the lifeless, dazed eyes that looked like they were wrapped up in another world and hardly holding onto this reality. Not that he could blame her for wanting to escape this reality, him and Audrey were in the same boat as far as that went. "Eve?"

Without a noise, she narrowed her eyes before turning over and taking slow, shaking steps to the gravestone—her flower clutched against her chest. Just as the ones before had, she rested her flower against the ground, letting her paw trail across the freshly placed dirt until it rested against the stone. She carefully lowered her head, softly kissing the top of the grave before turning around and walking back to her family's side.

"Are you...sure you don't wanna say goodbye?" Marshall whispered softly, not at all trying to push her, but knowing deep down that she would probably beat herself up for the rest of her life if she was never able to give him her final farewells.

He wasn't exactly sure what the response he was expecting was, nor was he even sure if he would get one, but the husky shifted her head over, choked back tears, and opened her mouth for the first time in hours.

"He's not gone."

At first, he sort of assumed that she was just speaking in denial (that was always meant to be the first stage of grief, after all), that or she was just trying to be the voice of optimism in his heart—the light telling him that their son was still here, his presence still lingering by their sides.

But the more time he spent looking into her soulless eyes, and the more he replayed it in his head, the more he silently questioned how much she was really taking it to heart. She sounded confident, almost as if she was trying to prove a point over him. There wasn't a hint of doubt on her face as she eyed him, and all he could do was nod for the time being. There was nothing worse he could do at a funeral than start an argument over it, but part of him truly just wasn't sure how much she truly believed that.

"D-Dad, can I ask you something?" Audrey eventually muttered, her forelegs around Emma as she looked up at him with a mix of tears and hopeful desperation in her eyes. Marshall gently nodded, glancing back at his mate as he stepped beside her and she reached out, grabbing his paw and softly squeezing it as her questions continued. "How am I supposed to feel right now?"

"I...I wish I could tell you, but I don't think there's a right or wrong answer. How do you feel?" Almost immediately, he wondered if this was really a valid question to be asking. He didn't even know himself what this feeling was aching in his heart, much less what was an appropriate emotion to have—just because he had suffered through grief once didn't mean he was an expert, and besides, this felt nothing like when he had lost Everest. Not exactly worse, and especially not better, just...different.

The Border Collie lowered her head, leaning her head against Emma's shoulder, who was still holding her tightly, only loosening her grip once she saw the tension in the other's muscles. Audrey turned her head back over to her father, knowing exactly what she wanted—and while she couldn't deny what her heart needed in the moment, she still felt bad for partially wanting to step away from her. The grey pup was showing her so much care, she had yet to even thank her for it, walking away from it felt like salt in the wound of insults.

"It's okay, Audrey, I'm not gonna be mad at you for anything. Just do what you need to," she whispered, warmly smiling as the Border Collie nodded and hesitantly stepped out of the hug—willing to ignore this time that once again her mind had been read. Honestly, it was a bit creepy how often that happened between them.

If it was any consolation, she wasn't without a source of healing, merely stepping closer to her dad as he took the shepherd's place and hugged her—the warm light in a cold, dark sea of hurt.

"...Scared. R-really scared," she finally answered. The Dalmatian softly nodded, not responding at first for the sheer reason that he could tell there was more that she wanted to say. Even if she never was the best at opening up, there were a few exceptions where she was willing to bend that rule of hers. "I-I just don't know what to do, I don't know how to feel. I-I want things to be normal."

"I know, I know, w-we...aren't really sure how to feel either, but we'll get back to normal, w-we have to. It's not gonna happen right away, but it should get better. This won't last forever." Although deep down, they both knew that she wasn't as convinced as either of them would have wanted, the Border Collie gently nodded and left his grasp, standing upright as someone else hugged her from behind. Someone she didn't dare look back at, knowing that seeing her face against hers would probably just make her embarrassed.

And as the rest of the dogs slowly stepped up one by one to say their final goodbyes to Miracle, and the sky kept getting darker and darker with every passing minute, most of them also said their final goodnights before turning in for sleep they all needed.

Everyone started to leave with a lowered head, tails in between their legs, puppies clinging to their parents—the latter still trying to even understand and grasp what the concept of death was (bedtime alone was something they hated, but what sounded like essentially sleeping forever...that sounded terrifying to their young minds, hardly something even comprehensible).

"Well, I gotta head home before it gets too late, Everest. Try and rest tonight, you can call me if you ever need to. The three of you are always welcome to spend the night at my place if you need to get away from everything, just keep your head up. You'll get through this, you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for," Jake finally announced too, reaching over the hugging the husky, who actually brought herself to tightly hug him back.

In a sense, he always was the father figure she was never lucky enough to have, and the closest thing she could get to a parent's love—which was simply one of those things that she needed right now. She missed it when he stood back up and gently pet her head, only to step away and drive off into the dark of the night; him being only the first human to leave the now empty, lonely lawn.

"U-Uhm, Audrey, i-if you feel like you need company...I-I could always stay the night if you wanted me to," Emma offered with a nervous smile, looking back at Katie who nodded what little approval they still needed for sleepovers.

Audrey would've instantly blurted out a yes if her mind was running at the speeds it usually was, but the worrisome thoughts that took over weren't quite as on board as she wished they were. She already knew she would be a total mess tonight, dragging her friend along for that ride would be far from flattering—even if she wanted anything other than being alone. Then again, she also wanted to be flattering, so now it was just a matter of picking her poison.

"I-I'm sorry, Emma, I-I think I need to be alone tonight. I'd be cool with tomorrow though. I-if you want to, that is." At first, a small flash of disappointment washed onto the Australian Shepherd's face, but that was quickly thrown out in favor of a genuine smile, one that understood what she needed. And from the bottom of her heart, Emma wasn't disappointed for herself, just that she couldn't be there when she was clearly needed.

Even if the grey pup's offer was being pushed away, she wasn't going to let herself be cast aside. Whether Audrey liked it or not, she was here for her, only shown as she leaned forward and grabbed the collie, tightly hugging her and placing her muzzle right by her ear—sending all sorts of fuzzy feelings into the black and white puppy.

"Please take care of yourself tonight, alright?" she whispered, likely planning to hold her in place until she got an answer—and if it wasn't one she agreed with, well, the collie would be forced to face her wrath of care (if she wasn't going to give it to herself, she would do it for her). Audrey barely smiled as she slowly nodded, though she still wasn't willing to let her friend go without making sure that they were set on equal grounds.

"Only if you eat when you get back home." Emma rolled her eyes but let out a small giggle, shaking her head as she leaned back. It didn't matter how hard she tried, one way or another, they'd both end up getting each other back, whether that be a dumb joke or a genuine act of caring for one another, Just as long as it got the job done.

"Fine, you got a deal. I'll see you tomorrow," she responded, though she wasn't really going along with her words since they were still mere inches away from each other. And Audrey still nodded along, even if she wasn't wanting to let go either. She didn't want to be alone, not without her, not without the warm fur and loving protection she always had to offer—as a friend, of course.

And apparently, what she had to offer didn't end there. Before Audrey could've even realized it, the shepherd leaned forward and quickly licked her cheek, leaning her head away with a small smile until her eyes widened and a look of pure fear washed upon her face. She tried to hide it, but at this point, there was no escaping it.

The collie was stunned in silence, unable to say a word as Emma took a step back and said a quick, almost inaudible goodbye while stepping back over to Katie—grabbing onto her hand and pulling her along as they disappeared into the darkness.

"B-bye," the Border Collie forced herself to say, her muttered words likely never reaching their ears. With her eyes now frozen open, she gently placed her paw on the side of her cheek that was lucky enough to have received such a meaningful touch, feeling the faintest hint of dampness on her fur. That was the first clue to tell her that what had happened was actually real, but she had yet to buy into it.

She looked over at her parents for confirmation that she was still alive, and while Everest was still zoning off while resting her head against the Dalmaition's shoulders, Marshall smirked and gave her a small thumbs up. And even though her insides were burning alive and her paw was trembling as she lowered it away from her cheek, she tried to brush it off as she stood up and planted her legs against the grass—feeling only a little bit dizzy when she did so.

"W-well...I'm gonna get in bed, so...goodnight, I love you guys." Audrey stepped forward and threw her parents into a group hug, holding them as close to her as she possibly could—both wanting their presence here with her and simply not wanting to leave and face the loneliness of her doghouse. Plus, they probably needed a good hug too.

"I love you too, Princess, don't forget to take your medicine. We'll get through this. Just try and sleep well, you can come stay with us if you feel like you need to," he offered, nuzzling against her before Everest reached out, planting both her paws against her daughter's cheeks as she softly kissed her forehead.

"Be safe, I love you, sweetheart," she muttered, lightly smiling as she let her paws fall down from her pup's face. Audrey softly nodded, her heart twisting and turning as she stepped away from them and entered her house for the night.

Marshall and Everest looked back at one another, gripping onto the other's paw as they stepped into their own house and turned out the lights; an endless darkness spreading across the walls that held them captive for the night.

For the first few minutes, they were trapped in their usual prison of a nightly routine: taking medicine, closing their blinds, brushing their teeth, all before climbing into bed. Their movements were slower than usual, but after a while, they were able to lay down and pull the blankets over them—which paled in comparison when it came to the warmth they felt as they cuddled against one another.

"E-Eve? How are you feeling now?" he asked, trying his luck since she had yet to respond to this any question that was within this category—not that she answered too much else. And that her voice never did shine through as she rested her head against his chest, one tear shedding, then two, then three, and then hundreds more as she clung onto him and sobbed into his fur. It wasn't the vocal answer he was hoping for, but he supposed an answer was an answer.

"H-he's not gone," she whispered once again, her voice drowned out by the muffling of his fur. The Dalmatian was...concerned, to say the least, but tightly hugged her back as her cries echoed through his ears, her desperation continuing without an end in sight—and while he didn't want to live his life under such a truth either, he knew the difference between optimism and desperate denial.

"Eve, he's...he's gone. We have to let him rest. It's what he would've—" he tried to tell her, biting his lip when he was cut off by her refusing to allow such horrible news to enter her ears any longer.

"No, no, he's not, he's not gone. Miracle is not gone, h-he's here, he's still with us," she insisted, tears streaming down her cheeks as her face melted into a quivering smile—a shallow, dry laugh echoing her mouth as she wiped her eyes. "He's not gone, Marshy...he's not gone."

Marshall didn't know what it was he was supposed to say to her. He wanted nothing more than to believe her, to let himself trust that he wasn't really gone; just as he once had wanted to believe that she wasn't really gone. And as hard as he tried to find the words, it began to turn out that he didn't even need them as her faint yet hopeful smile disappeared and she tried to cover herself back up in his fur.

"I know, I-I'm sorry, Eve, I want him here too. But...he's not, we can't pretend that none of this happened." The husky slowly moved her forelegs around him while she shook her head against his chest, quietly repeating a small "no" until eventually her desperation was overtaken by the tears that stole all the room in her throat.

"I-I just want my baby," she cried out, her hoarse voice shaking as she pushed the sentence past the filter holding her in the safety of denial. Marshall softly brought his head down on top of her, kissing the top of her own head while more tears trickled down his cheeks.

As much as he felt like breaking down too, he truly tried his best to hold himself together for the sake of not adding more to her plate. Such a desire never came true, but hopefully, the thought meant something to her.

"I do too," he muttered, holding her closer as his tears slowly began to match hers. It was only a matter of time until they found themselves in the situation they were in now: a complete, unintelligible mess of crying and hugging each other without any other goal than to just feel something different. To accept that their precious son, the one who had only gotten to see the world for mere minutes and was forced to live a life knowing hardly anything other than pain, was truly gone.

And the two of them wanted nothing more than to comfort each other, to promise that everything little thing would work out fine and that one of these days they could go back to normal again, but that would've been a lie, wouldn't it?

After all, what did normal even mean anymore? For all they knew, this was the new normal. An empty pit of dread with no rope to climb up, something worse than any of their worst nightmares—something that no matter how much they denied it, was the new life they had stumbled into.

"I-I can't go through this again. I thought we were better now, t-that'd we'd never feel like that again. I don't want...I can't, I can't do that," the Dalmatian finally choked out, forcing Everest to lift her head back up from his chest until the tips of their noses were against each other. They looked into the other's red, puffy, teary eyes, seeing nothing other than the pain and lifelessness they both shared.

"I-I don't...I don't know if we have a choice," was all she could answer with, getting a grip on a touch of reality in that moment—even if it wasn't exactly a reality that gave her any comfort. She knew that she was right, but her mind slowly fell back into that dazed, blank slate it had been in before, with hardly any coherent thoughts as she still tried to wrap her head around the fact that he was gone. That their Miracle was dead.

But no, that was all hopeless, even the denial that she practically sheltered herself away with. They couldn't change that fate that had already been laid out for them. Nothing was going to bring their son back, and absolutely everything was going to try and keep them from moving forward.