-A/N-: Of broken memories, funerals, and tears.

---

They found themselves under the shadow of a large tree in a secluded corner of the furthest reaches of the outer precinct of the large estate.

“You’ve got to remind me once more, ‘Dyce. Just what in the world are we doing here again?” a disgruntled and highly sceptical Bobby Drake asked, looking to his friend with a trademark frown on his face. Not for the first time, he asked himself mentally why he had picked this brash, arrogant, conceited mutant to be his best friend again, and wasn’t surprised when he came up with no answer.

John Allerdyce rolled his eyes and looked over at Rogue imploringly with an expression that clearly read ‘why is he always such an idiot?’ But seeing that she also seemed to be giving him a rather puzzled look, he decided that maybe telling them a third time in the span of twenty minutes wouldn’t hurt.

The pyrokinetic manipulator had dragged both Bobby and his girlfriend over to a relatively quiet and shady spot somewhere outdoors. Despite still being on school grounds, the pyromaniac still insisted on acting like he owned the place. Sitting himself down promptly on the grassy earth, an expression of content smugness gracing his face, he looked back up at his companions.

“Well, I figured we could use a break from all that studying.” He made a face. “Especially you, Ice. How the hell do you live through three hours cooped up in the library and doing all that crazy research? Wouldn’t that kill you? I know it’d kill me,” John said, almost accusingly.

Rogue looked from John to Bobby, realising how true John’s words were. She never understood Bobby’s obsession with school and being perfect every minute of the day. But maybe that was exactly why she had chosen him to be her boyfriend.

“He’s right, you know? You do work too hard,” she said finally with a smile as she followed suit and plopped down beside John, who scooted over a little to give her room to lean against the tree.

“Yeah, Drake. Even your girl agrees. Learn to live a little! Just ‘cause I beat you in that last topical essay doesn’t mean you gotta’ spend your life buried in books before trying to outdo me the next time ‘round.” John grinned, taking out his most prized possession from his jacket pocket – the shark zippo that everyone knew John had gotten for himself weeks ago so as to replace his previous lighter that Bobby broke. “It’s just not possible, Drake.”

“You wrote about The Joys of Setting Objects Ablaze,” Bobby stated bluntly, mildly annoyed. He was still not able to believe that the pyromaniac got an ‘A’ for the essay whilst he only received a miserable ‘B-Plus’ for doing an arguably better piece on Why Global Warming is Killing Us.

“Hey, at least I had the damn passion to write it,” John defended. “It’s probably what got me that ‘A’.”

“You probably bribed the teacher,” Bobby muttered, finally settling himself down next to his girlfriend, “Or maybe even threatened to demonstrate your essay by setting her alight. Joyfully.”

Rogue burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did that,” she said, trying hard to suppress her giggle. “Johnny’s the type, isn’t he?”

John toyed with his zippo thoughtfully, a smile finding his way to his lips. Her laugh was contagious. “Hmm. Got me all figured out, eh Rogue?” he murmured, his eyes not leaving the lighter in his nimble fingers.

“I have my ways,” she replied coolly.

“What did you write about anyway, Rogue?” Bobby asked, curiously. “You never told me.”

Clink. Snap. Clink.

“Uh…” Rogue said, distracted. “Um, Social Etiquette. Got an ‘A’ for it, too.”

Snap.

“Sweet! That makes you the stupid one, Drake!” John sang.

“At least I’m not failing Mathematics. Unlike you,” Bobby shot back.

“Good for you, Drake. You have my well-wishes and utmost support,” John replied nonchalantly. He never had the patience for memorising formulas and numbers anyways. Which was odd, as he was technically the top of his Physics class.

“Don’t be mean to him. What ever happened to your sincerity?” Rogue asked John. There was mirth in her voice.

Clink.

“Is that a trick question?” John asked. “Kinda’ rhetorical ain’t it?”

Bobby resisted the urge to slap his forehead in exasperation.

“Oh, Johnny,” Rogue shook her head, as though giving up on a particularly immature child.

“Normally, I’d have a rule against people calling me ‘Johnny’. But since it’s you, I’ll make an exception.”

“I’m honoured.”

“As you should be.”

“Hey, did you hear how Sam Guthrie got into that fight with one of the new kids?” Bobby asked, breaking the banter between the two.

“Yeah. Well, Sammy had it coming though. Never did like that cannonball.”

“Is it just me or are there seemingly more fights happening in school lately?” Rogue asked, voicing her concern.

“It’s jerks like him,” Bobby pointed to John almost dramatically, “who would start a fight. No questions asked, y’know? Just – BAM! He’ll snap and all hell breaks loose.”

“If it’s a verbal fight, then I’m there. I’d rather use words - or my lighter - to get my point across. Throwing punches would just be a big waste of my time.”

“So typically Pyro,” Rogue grinned.

“Why, thank you, Marie.”

“Rogue,” she corrected immediately.

No matter what, Rogue still felt rather uncomfortable when people called her by her actual name – even if the name were used by her friends. She only reserved that name for people she really trusted. Bobby had picked up on it fairly quickly and thus, hardly ever used her real name. But John Allerdyce seemed to need constant reminders every now and then. In fact, it was plainly obvious that he was doing it on purpose.

“Hey, I know!” Bobby quipped suddenly. “Here, stand up, Rogue,” he said, doing just that and awaiting his girlfriend to mimic him.

“Um, sure.” Rogue glanced questioningly at John before looking back to her boyfriend and getting to her feet slowly.

“Just what -” John inquired, raising an eyebrow, his opening and closing of the lighter ceasing instantly, “- are you planning, Drake?”

“Just something I learnt from a TV program the other day,” the ice-making mutant replied. “It’s a self-defence move. Here, I’ll teach you, Rogue… Uh…” He paused. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Rogue shook her head, a demure smile shadowing her features. She trusted Bobby. With her life.

“Cool.” Bobby circled Rogue, thinking about how to best instruct her on how the trick worked.

“Minimum contact, remember,” Rogue warned lightly.

John rolled his eyes. “Here we go again. The physical touching in public. And right in front of me, no less.”

Rogue and Bobby both gave John a look, although the pyrokinetic manipulator couldn’t tell if they were looks of sheepishness or looks of disapproval. It was highly likely that it was a little of both. Rolling his eyes again, he went back to playing with his lighter.

“Well,” Bobby said, turning his attention back to Rogue. “Uh… So, you grab him by the arms like this,” he said, demonstrating as he took hold of Rogue’s own two arms, careful not to touch her skin but the long sleeves of her coat instead. “And then you thrust your hip against his lower torso and pitch him forward and up, over your back.”

Without warning, John snorted with laughter, almost choking with mirth. He couldn’t help it, really.

Bobby let go of Rogue and looked around at John, annoyed. “What’s so funny?”

John, after having calmed himself down, replied, “Did you have to make it sound so… explicit?”

Bobby turned slightly pink, realising how he must have sounded. “Jerk,” he muttered darkly, scowling at the smirking teen before him.

“Anyway, it’s not like she’s gonna’ need self-defence lessons, what with what she can do with her skin,” John said, ignoring Bobby completely.

There was a momentous silence.

“I dunno,” Rogue said quietly. “Maybe one day, I might lose them. I might turn normal again, although the chances seem impossible.” She shrugged. “Or there might be a way to get rid of my powers in the future. Chances of that happening is kinda’ slim too…”

“Don’t you ever take that chance, Marie,” John said seriously, looking straight at her now. “You just don’t throw away the life you were meant to live. That’s just wasting it away.”

“Mmm…” Rogue was deep in thought for a few moments. “Maybe.”

Another awkward silence.

Clink.

“Hey, since we’re outside, let’s make some improvised snow,” John then suggested hastily, looking to Bobby, realising that he should change the subject for the sake of Rogue, who suddenly looked like she was thinking way too much about her mutation again. He hated it when she did. It always made her look like she was being tortured on the inside.

“Okay, I’ll do the freezing, you do the melting.”

“Deal!” John jumped to his feet.

In the span of two minutes, they had created a mountain of snow. Well, more like a large pile of icy slush to be precise, but close enough.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!” John hollered, scooping a handful of the cold slush and throwing it at Rogue. Although he aimed for her head, it hit her in the shoulder.

“John!” Rogue exclaimed indignantly, looking scandalised at the amused boy. She hastily wiped the offending snow off her neck and shoulder. “You are SO dead.”

She grabbed at the pile of slush and flung a snowball in John’s direction, which somehow missed him completely and went soaring towards Bobby. Bobby ducked in time, reached for some snow, and pegged a handful of it at John.

It would have hit the pyromaniac square in the face if it weren’t for him turning the sludge into steam by flaring up his lighter.

“You cheater!” Bobby growled, going for another snowball.

“It makes the game all the more exciting, Drake!” John laughed, taking cover behind the tree as a second snowball, courtesy of Drake, narrowly missed his head.

What he didn’t anticipate was Rogue waiting behind the tree for him. He didn’t even realise she was there until after he felt a pile of slush hit him in the back of the head.

“What the -?”

He was met with tinkling laughter.

“Oh, that’s IT, lady,” John said with an evil glint in his eye, shaking his hair free of snow. “This is one snowball fight you are NOT going to win.”

Rogue darted off and hid behind Bobby, using him as a shield.

Their battle waged for another fifteen minutes before all the ice had melted and they were drenched and freezing. Not surprisingly, John had emerged the victor, owing to the fact that he resorted to cheating his way through the fight.

They were now catching their breath, lying on the grass next to each other in a companionable silence.

“You know, this place really isn’t all that bad,” Bobby conceded finally, breaking the long, still quietness. “I suppose we could come out here more often.”

“Glad you warmed up to the idea at last, Ice.”

Pause.

“Thanks for bringing us here today, John. I had fun,” Rogue murmured sleepily, her eyes closed.

John smirked, looking across at Rogue and stealing a glance at the small smile on her lips.

“See? I told you getting out of the mansion was a good idea.”

And so it came to pass that following that day, that very tree in the garden would be known to everyone who attended Xavier’s School for the Gifted Young as the Genuine Hangout of the Golden Trio…

---

The day of the funeral was sombre and emotional.

It was as though a quiet, mournful veil of hushed grief had befallen the group that sat in the memorial courtyard before the headstone monuments, which now came to a total of five—Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Erik Lensherr, Pietro Maximoff and John Allerdyce.

The entire procession felt surreal and quite reminiscent to the service that was held all those weeks ago following Charles Xavier’s supposed death. Only this time, the Professor himself was one of the three people who stood to deliver eulogies to the departed.

The other two were Raven Darkholme and Bobby Drake.

A small sea of people, dressed in dark solemn colours, were present, although Bobby wasn’t at all surprised that the crowd was noticeably smaller than the one at Xavier’s funeral. After all, most of the people that lived in the mansion still saw Erik as an outlaw and John as a traitor. But, as much as Bobby hated it that majority didn’t bother to attend the service, he also felt thankful that only a handful of them were there.

Not many knew John on a personal level, and even less knew Erik. John Allerdyce was literally picked up off the streets after his exile from home and so, the Professor was not able to inform his family of his death. But Bobby somehow knew that they wouldn’t really care. Erik’s family, as far as everyone knew, was dead. Including his children. Being the fugitive he was, the only real acquaintances the man had were already there at the funeral—Xavier and Raven.

It was a cloudy midafternoon. A light, cool drizzle was falling steadily down upon them like the tears of heaven. But even before this, their spirits were already quite dampened.

“My friends,” Charles Xavier’s voice rang out through the silence of the yard, “we are gathered here today to commemorate and remember the brave souls that were lost two days ago during the incident at the Woodbridge Asylum.”

The hush grew thicker, the drizzle intensified… and the words that escaped Xavier’s mouth somehow weighed down on everyone.

“Many died at the hands of a man mislead by his own warped notion of domination,” the Professor continued, “and their deaths were by no means necessary. In fact, they were so unnecessary that it is hard to forgive Blacken for what he did.”

There were a few nods of unified agreement from the crowd at this.

“The young mutants – Lance Alvers, Amara Aquilla, Tabitha Smith -” Jubilee choked back a sob, “- left this world too soon. For some of you, this may mean nothing. But for others,” Xavier looked to the upset Jubilation Lee understandingly, knowing that she had lost a close friend from out of school, “this means a great deal. Let us hope that they rest in peace.” The Professor went on. “A family member of one of our own has also suffered a similar fate.” Xavier was, of course, talking about Warren’s father. “May he also rest in peace.”

Bobby looked towards Kitty Pryde and noticed that she herself had her head turned towards the Angel, who was sitting not to far away. She was gripping the edge of her chair so tightly that her knuckles were white. Bobby knew that Warren had returned just the day before from his father’s official funeral and burial. He didn’t know how the winged mutant could endure sitting through another one today.

“For now, we spend our time to honour the more recent deaths of the people who had been part of this family in one way or another. The episode that took the lives of three very remarkable mutants two days ago was most unfortunate. For Pietro Maximoff, there is no denying that the part he played in the incident was nothing short of unexpected and upsetting. However, we should not blame him for what he chose to do. He was as manipulated and outplayed by Ezekiel Blacken as every single one of us here, only driven by the early childhood he had endured.”

Bobby couldn’t help but feel a wave of anger wash over him. Whatever Xavier had just said, he would not be swayed. Pietro had kidnapped Rogue, lured them into a trap, nearly got all of them killed, and managed to indirectly kill both his father and John. How the hell was he supposed to forgive something like that?

“John was a schoolmate to most of you, I’m sure,” Xavier continued. “I myself had the pleasure of teaching him once during his first year here. Doubtless, he probably never struck many of you as a boy of many talents, but you would be fooled by his nonchalance and lack of interest towards his studies. In actual fact, he was astoundingly bright and quickwitted. Friends of his would certainly understand what I mean.”

I do, Bobby answered silently in his head. It echoed over and over again. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take before the tears came. Just the fact that John died in front of his eyes… he still had trouble grasping the whole concept of it. This was different, so much more different, to the incident at Alkali Lake and Alcatraz.

“Erik Lensherr used to be, and always had been, a friend of mine. We met many years ago and we were nigh inseparable at one stage.” Xavier smiled a wavering smile of nostalgia, “You could say that the both of us took the initiative to start this very Institute for young mutants. However, when visiting the family of one of the students we were going to take in,” he glanced at Jean Grey’s tombstone, “it was made clear that he was genuinely power-hungry and definitely pro-mutant... But, despite our differences in the choices we made and the paths we took, he was a man whose determination to right what he thought was wrong would be admirable to many.”

The Professor spent quite awhile on his old friend’s eulogy. It was plainly obvious how much of a close friend he had been to the deceased Erik Lensherr. Towards the end of his speech, Bobby could have sworn he saw tears escape Xavier’s eyes.

When he was finally done, Raven Darkholme took his place up at the podium to deliver her own tribute to both John and Erik.

Bobby knew that Raven was granted the offer of being part of the X-Men following their return from the asylum the other day, but he wasn’t sure what her decision was. She hadn’t accepted the proposal yet, as far as he knew. But no matter what, if she did say yes, Bobby truthfully knew that he wouldn’t mind it. She had proven herself to them all. And whatever judgements and misgivings he had of her in the past were now gone.

“Xavier approached me just before and asked me if I wanted to be up here to speak for John and Erik,” Raven was saying. “So… here I am.” She was speaking quite briskly, as though she might break down at any moment if she were to slow down and think painfully about everything that has happened. “I knew them. Both of them, Erik and John… it’s funny now that I’m using their human names… They were Magneto and Pyro to me.” She laughed a short laugh.

There was no humour in that laugh.

It was obvious she had been crying just before.

“They were like family. And their deaths… well, there’s only one left in the family I suppose.”

She made a gesture to herself, her dark hair falling over her face limply.

“Only Erik’s body was brought back,” she continued. “The person who murdered him tried to kill me with his stolen powers…” She stopped for awhile, as though not wanting to repeat the horrible scenario again. She tried a different approach by changing the subject. “When I heard how John died saving everyone else – and obviously, the rest of the mutant race – I must be honest, I felt anger. Why would he throw away his life like that? But then I realised that if he didn’t, we would probably all have died back there. Well, in a way, Pyro – John – avenged the death of… of Erik. Erik did not die in a fair fight. There was no fair fight when going up against Blacken. John probably figured it out in time and did what he could.”

Bobby couldn’t help but see the truth behind those words of hers. He also couldn’t help but notice how much she was avoiding speaking about Erik Lensherr. Just John.

“Let them rest in peace, then. For they both died trying to save the ones they loved…” she glanced towards Pietro’s headstone almost unconsciously. “… And because of this, their deaths did not go to waste.”

With that, she concluded her surprisingly short eulogy and stepped down. It seemed almost as if she couldn’t bear talking about the ones she had lost.

Two down, one to go.

Bobby stood and walked numbly up to the stand to deliver his tribute to John. He had realised from the start that Rogue was absent from the crowd. She had already made it clear to him an hour before that she didn’t want to be there (by blatantly ignoring him when he told her that the memorial service was about to start). However, Bobby instantly scanned the faces before him meticulously as soon as he reached the front of the assembly, just in case. Maybe, just maybe, she had decided to turn up.

Sighing jadedly when he couldn’t find her anywhere among them, he began his unrehearsed, impromptu eulogy. Deep down, he already knew exactly what he wanted to say. It all came from within.

“There is someone who currently lives back home in Boston -” he began slowly, looking into far off into the distance. “- that I used to call a brother. Well, I still do. His name was… is… Ronnie. Ronnie Drake. And… the day I left home and came here was the day I had to leave him and my family behind. However, the moment I met a boy by the name of John Allerdyce, I will say that I had gained a new brother that replaced Ronnie.”

Bobby didn’t know why he was telling everyone this, but he really wanted to say it. It was the first time he ever let this out in the open.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued quickly, “I still love Ronnie,” even after what he did to us on my last trip home… “But John and I,” Bobby’s voice softened, and he had to keep telling himself not cry, “we… we enrolled here in the same week and became friends in no time. Now that I look back,” Bobby smiled sadly, “I wonder how that happened. We couldn’t have been any more opposite. He was always the class clown, the disturbance, the distraction, the nuisance. Always felt the need to impress people rather than listen to the teachers.”

There were a few, cheerless chuckles from a couple of people who used to share classes with the pyromaniac. Bobby’s eyes were already tearing up, but through his blurred vision, he could make out Ororo crying freely… and he knew why. She had been one of the said teachers who taught John. Despite that, Bobby knew that John was one of her best students… before he vanished at Alkali Lake.

“Being friends, of course, had its drawbacks. We fought. A lot. We would wage war on each other and it usually ended up with one of us being frozen or burnt. But I suppose that was the great thing about being friends with him… He was so impulsive and unpredictable… you could say that he had made my life considerably less dull.”

Bobby paused, unsure if he could go on. He was shaking. Badly.

“His… his last words to me… oh god, I don’t even remember what they were…” A tear fell freely down his cheek and mingled with the rain drops on his face as the memories of him and John facing Ezekiel Blacken at the asylum came flooding back to him. He tried hard to compose himself and not think too much about the sacrifice that John made.

“I – I’m not going to say that the paths he had chosen in the past were the wrong ones to take,” his voice strengthened a little and he looked blearily around, his eyes catching Mystique’s. “Because to him, those paths were right.”

Raven Darkholme gave Bobby a small nod of appreciation, understanding what he was implying.

“He was headstrong, knew what he wanted. Some could even argue that he was arrogant and too stuck-up for his own good. But… those were probably the qualities that made him who he was and who we all know to this day. He died with pride and dignity; he died saving us. He prevented any further deaths from occurring by sacrificing his own life for us.” Bobby looked up into the sky, a sudden urge of tears spilling. “He… he died young. Was intelligent, had the looks… Johnny was more than just an acquaintance to us. He was so, so, so much more. And… what he did two days ago was the most honourable thing anyone could ever do. I – I’m sure that…” his voice cracked, “… that Erik Lensherr would have been proud of him. Because I know I am. I know we are.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“So, here’s to John Allerdyce – ‘Pyro’, as he would like to have been called. He was a schoolmate to most, a teammate to others, a friend to some,” a lover to one, he wanted to say, “and… a hero to all of us.” Bobby cleared his throat, looking back down at the gathered people, not caring anymore that he was opening crying. “May… may he rest in peace… and may we always and forever remember him…”

With that, Robert Louis Drake walked away from the podium and towards the headstone engraved with the name ‘St. John Allerdyce’.

He knelt down before it carefully, forming a single-stemmed rose made of ice in his palm and setting it down on the granite monument gently.

See ya, ‘Dyce. You were the best pal I’ve ever had.

---

He made his way through the mansion with much difficulty. The funeral had taken a toll on him and the rain had made it no better. He didn’t care that he was now drenched to the bone and dripping wet. He didn’t care that his eyes were still red and swollen. All he cared about was getting to her room and talking to her.

The only time he paused briefly was when he was passing by a particular room.

John’s and Pietro’s.

It stood unoccupied for more than forty-eight hours now, its occupants now gone.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as he could before he could dwell on it anymore and continued on his way.

He arrived at her door which was, of course, shut. He knocked once. Twice. Three times. A fourth. There was no answer.

“Rogue?”

Still no answer.

Bobby sighed. Please open up. I’m trying to help, he pleaded silently as he stared at the wooden blockade in front of him as though the girl within could somehow read his mind and understand how hard he was trying to ease her pain. It was true. He had been trying desperately to help her; to get her out of the state of denial that she had been in ever since John’s death the day before. But whatever he did, Rogue would just shut down and refuse to listen to him.

This time, he was willing to try again and get through to her.

“You’ve been in there for more than twenty-four hours, Rogue. This isn’t good for you…”

He tried to doorknob. It was unlocked. And he was deeply surprised at that.

Opening the door and stepping in with so much caution that it seemed as though he were a gliding ghost, the first thing he noticed was that Rogue was sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed. She was amidst a mess of photographs, all of them surrounding her as if she had gone through each and every one of them searchingly.

Now, she was staring glassy-eyed at one of them in her hand. An upturned cardboard box that had held those photographs stood a few feet away from the girl.

Bobby recognised the box immediately.

It was the box he had given to her for her birthday weeks ago… And he knew exactly which one of those pictures she was looking at right this very moment.

If he weren’t already so upset, Bobby would have sworn that his heart would have broken by just the mere sight of Rogue staring blankly at a picture that contained the one person whom she would never, ever see again.

“Rogue…” he said into the quiet.

She didn’t stir. Just kept on looking at the photo.

Bobby didn’t expect an answer anyway, and slowly made his way over and sat down next to her, carefully moving any photographs in his way to the side.

“Marie?” he said quietly.

Rogue jerked, looking towards Bobby as though only just realising he was there in her room sitting beside her.

“Sorry,” Bobby apologised quickly. Using her real name was the only way he could think of getting her attention. After all, John was probably the only person who used it blatantly.

She didn’t say anything. Just placed the object in her hand back on the ground and stared expressionlessly into nothingness. Bobby was quite surprised that she didn’t look like she had been crying. Then again, she was in denial. And she refused to believe that John had passed on.

“You know, you have to get out of your room some time,” he murmured, not looking at her but straight ahead, as though he could actually see what she was looking at. “You need to eat…” he glanced at her, taking in the dark circles around her eyes and her pale face. “You need to stop this. Please… I - I know it’s tough… but you’ve got to let him go. You have to accept the fact that he’s… he’s not coming back.”

Silence.

Bobby didn’t know if Rogue even heard what he said; didn’t know if she was paying attention to his attempts to break her out of her denial.

And then, she spoke up. It was such a soft whisper that Bobby thought he was imagining it at first. But when he looked, her mouth was moving.

“He is coming back. Just wait for him.”

Bobby felt a wrenching in his stomach. As much as he wanted what she said to be true, he knew it was just not going to happen.

“Rogue… I know what he meant to you. Believe me, you’re not alone. He was like a brother to me, you know? And we’ve both lost a close friend. You just… You just need to… to realise it.”

Rogue frowned, still looking blankly into empty space. “Lost?” she echoed.

Bobby looked away. “… Yeah…”

Another silence. And this one went on much longer than the previous one did. Bobby didn’t want to say anything more. He couldn’t bring himself to, because thoughts of John and his death plagued his mind once again… and tearing up right now might not be the best thing to do in front of Rogue.

“I had a dream last night.”

Bobby’s head snapped in Rogue’s direction when he heard her speak up in a voice that sounded distant and faraway and fragile, but strangely loud.

“It was when we first sat under the tree.”

She had a wistful smile on her face now.

The Tree.

The tree.

Their spot.

The one that belonged to the three of them.

“He was there,” she mumbled. “And you too,” she added. “And so was I…”

“Rogue…”

“He was the one who brought us there. He found it.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder if we’ll ever sit under there again one of these days. That would be nice.”

Bobby couldn’t take it anymore. He really couldn’t. This was killing him on the inside.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, he shook her gently.

“Rogue. Marie. He’s dead. I’m begging you… stop doing this to yourself.”

Rogue snapped out of her trance in an instant. “He’s not dead!” she screamed.

Bobby was startled at this sudden change in conduct, but recovered quite quickly. “You’re in denial, Rogue. Listen -”

“He’s NOT DEAD. HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!”

Silence.

“He’s… not.”

And all at once, she broke down in a sudden torrent of tears. “He’s not… not dead…” she murmured over and over again. “Not dead… not dead… he can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, Rogue. I’m sorry…”

She wailed once more and buried herself in Bobby’s arms, shaking violently and sobbing tears of grief that stained his rain-drenched coat. He hugged her, sharing his pain.

“Why…?” she finally managed to whisper.

“To save us,” Bobby whispered back. He found himself crying, not for the first time that day.

Finally, Marie D’Ancanto had broken out of denial…

… But, Bobby Drake knew it would be awhile before she would reach acceptance.

There they were, two friends mourning the death of a third… Two corners left of a beautiful love-hate triangle… The remaining embers of a dying flame…

He was gone. John was gone.

And the ones who suffered the most were, at this moment in time, crying in each others’ arms.

Even after the fights, the heartbreak, the sorrow, the losses… their very friendship and love for each other that ran between the three had no boundaries… because somewhere along the way, they had all known deep down inside, that there were no lines between.

They were the Golden Trio. And they always will be.

---

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

- Fix You, Coldplay

---

-A/N-: This chapter was written mostly in Bobby’s perspective, because he was one of them. And apart from the main protagonists John and Marie, Bobby was also one of the major characters that made up this fic.

R.I.P Johnny. We loved you.

Well, one more to go.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

A big thank you to Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, lets go for life wont wait, coup fatal, carter13, Pyrowhore, SkyRogue, The Truth About Roses, we-r-the-cure, Beachy, Sergeant Scarlett and AGirlBrushedRed for the reviews. :)