C H A P T E R   46 :   T H E   D E F I N I T I O N   O F   P E A C E

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know anymore
Thought I had, thought I had it under control
Hear my voice, there it goes, hear it louder than most

It's not worth it, it's not working
You wanted it to be picture perfect
It's not over
You don't have to throw it away"

He wore blue, red and white and had a shield on his left arm, holding himself in a confident pose but never to the point of arrogance. His stars and stripes uniform was crumpled and had some dirt on it, sign that he had been fighting, but even then, it fit his strong, muscular body like a glove.

The Super Soldier was the first to break our staring competition to start shouting orders to the agents near him, his voice booming in the room like a waterfall of experience. It was clear he knew what he was doing and trusted his comrades, and the others followed his lead without a second of hesitaton. That's what true leadership was; mutual respect and the collective conscience we were all fighting for the same goal: a better world.

"How do you think they heard about this?" I asked Logan when we were dragged into the course of the fight again. Stupid HYDRA. Now that I finally got to see Capsicle live, they got in my way.

"They're S.H.I.E.L.D. They got their methods." Logan assured me.

"Well, I have a feeling we're gonna win this now." I said, but the next second a buff guy had tackled me and shoved me against the ground, my feet pressing against his shoulders urgently as his fist pounded my ribs mercilessly. I gasped for air and wrapped my legs around his neck, my teeth gritting tightly as I snapped it instantly.

I took his body off of mine and got up only to see a blast of bullets being shot in my direction, but then Peter dove down towards me and pulled me up with him, his arm wrapping around my waist as he made us swing above the deadly projectiles.

"Holy buckets, is that Grandpa Frisbee?" Peter asked as we looked down and saw the Sentinel of Liberty fighting about six guys at the same time, his shield producing a loud, metallic sound whenever it hit a wall or helmet. The way he wielded it reminded me of the roman gladiators at the Ancient Olympics. "He looks good for his age!"

"Right? Fine like wine!" I agreed as he made me land softly on a safer place. "Thanks for the save!"

"Always!" He said as he swung away and I dove into a sequence of jumps, flips and cartwheels to avoid bullets, but it got cut by a tall woman who tased me and I collapsed on the floor. As soon as I got up, four other agents grabbed me by my arms, twisting them violently on my back, and I growled just before feeling a shift in the air and watching as a shield was thrown with perfect accuracy and hit the four soldiers in the head one at a time, describing a perfect circle around me and returning to its rightful owner, who put it back into his hand like what he had just done wasn't a big deal.

"Hope you're okay, ma'am." Steve Rogers said politely, his hair ruffled now that he had lost his helmet.

"I can't... breathe." I replied in a strangled tone, and he instantly rushed up to me with eyes dyed in disquiet. Not helping, I thought as he closed the distance between us and analysed my troubled state.

"You might want to step back a bit, Cap, I think you're the problem." Logan said from behind me, a pinch of amusement in his otherwise vexed voice.

"No need!" I protested, shooting an angry glare towards Logan that he shrugged off with a smirk. I looked back at Steve, who was glancing between me and Logan with an entertained expression.

"Haven't seen you in a long time, Cap." Logan said, giving him a firm nod in appreciation for helping me out, since I was too stunned to do so.

"Despite the circunstamces, it's good to see you again, Logan." Steve answered, letting a nostalgic smile evoke other times. He took a step forward and held out his hand, but not before using his shield to push a few soldiers out of the way.

"Yeah, feels like we only ever meet at conflicts." Logan took his hand in a firm, fraternal shake. It amazed me, how these two men were so different and yet the same sense of duty brought them together. Maybe Logan couldn't see it, but I could; there was honor in him too. "But it's good to see you too. And you have to forgive this one here, she tends to freeze whenever you're mentioned."

"Logan!" I scolded, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. I looked over at Steve, who was watching me with the ghost of a chuckle frozen on his lips. "He's exaggerating."

"Yeah, 'cause your birthday cake didn't—"

"Anyway, I'm Felicia." I cut Logan off before he could say something even more embarrassing. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." Steve flashed me his pearly whites in a heartfelt beam and I swear everything in me swooned at that very moment. "I'm Steve."

Unfortunately, our conversation got shortened by a group of HYDRA agents that ran in our direction and I gestured towards his shield with my chin.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all." He said and crouched down, placing the shield above the ground so I could step on it and gain momentum. With the help he gave me, I flew in the air and spinned around, my legs extending to each side as I kicked the first two guys on their heads and left them unconscious. Then I stuck my claws on the leg of a third one, before two others jumped at me and smashed their feet against my back at the same time, making me stumble forward and almost fall if it wasn't for the First Avenger sneaking a hand around my waist and preventing me from falling.

I didn't have time to relish on it, though, because Steve quickly let go of my waist and took two steps forward, bumping his shield onto the chest of one of the guys and sending him flying backwards before grabbing the neck of the other one.

"This is for not knowing how to treat a lady right." And then he pulled his arm back and punched the poor guy straight in the face. I flinched under the noise his nose made when it cracked.

"Thanks." I said while elbowing a soldier who was about to attack him.

"Anytime, ma'am." Steve smiled at me again, throwing his shield around like a boomerang and making it hit a series of helmets sequentially to prevent another group from approaching us. The shield returned to his hand faithfully and he fastened the strap around his arm and clutched his hand tightly around the other one, looking both gracious and menacing.

"You can call me Felicia." I said, noticing how the tide had turned in our favor since they had arrived. "I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone since last year?"

"Not all of it." Cap said in a solemn, almost wistful tone. "I mean, officially, yes, it doesn't exist anymore. But some people still know what is worth fighting for and are trying to put it back together as they can. Luckily there are still agents willing to fight for what's right, and while I'm no longer affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D., they're willing to help me."

"How did you find out we were here, though? Or was it a coincidence?"

"Normally the answers to those questions would be classified, but in this case... we got a call from Charles Xavier."

My eyebrows rose, but it warmed my heart that Charles was watching over us. "So you keep in touch with him?"

"Yes. We don't usually call for each other's backups, but Professor X knows we're just as interested in taking down HYDRA, so he called us. And you know, the rest of the world may not know what the mutants and the X-Men do for them, but we do. We owe it to you, guys. And besides, it's never a favor to help a friend."

His eyes rolled over mine and I wondered if he could see James in me, just like I could see him in him. I wondered what James' reaction would be if he had stayed long enough to see his best friend again, but maybe leaving earlier was for the best; I had a feeling he wouldn't be ready just yet.

Maybe he never completely would; not being ready for love is what makes it love.

"So you and Logan..." He started, and that's when I realized he was in reality talking about Logan when referring to 'a friend'. "You're friends?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. Ever had one of those relationships when one minute you are at each other's throats and then the next you're still at each other's throats, but in a diametrically opposite way?"

"Not sure I'm following you!" He admitted as his hand made his way around my waist again and he pulled me under him to cover us with his shield from another outbreak of gunfire. Good Lord, if HYDRA doesn't kill me, he will.

"Never mind!" I replied as I felt his hand holding my head down to protect me. Then he got up and the metallic sound of the shield slicing the air was heard as he threw it onto the barricade of soldiers, but before he could grab it again someone kicked him from behind and so I jumped in the air and grasped the shield myself, smashing it against the head of the agent he was fighting with and returning it to him.

"Nice catch." He said as he fastened it on his arm again.

"It's vibranium." I shrugged. "I'm used to it."

His eyes fell on my claws, eyeing them with both interest and unrest.

"So that's what they're made of? For a long time I thought my shield was the only thing—"

He got interrupted by another burst of fire, covering my body with his again and holding the shield above us as the bullets hit it relentlessly.

"I'm getting really sick of these fuckers." I muttered, and I could have sworn I heard him shout 'Language!' when I sneaked out of his shelter and punched the closest guy so he'd have a nice black eye once he got home.

"I guess they don't call you the Black Cat for nothing." He commented as I retracted my claws and he threw me the shield like we were just two friends playing frisbee at the beach so I could smack the nearest soldiers with it. I threw it back at him and he pushed against two other guys, sending them several feet backwards through the air.

"Can we keep that a secret between us?"

"Sure, as long as you keep out of trouble! I heard you stole some Stark tech to get in here and I'm not too sure he'll like it. In fact, I'm sure he won't."

"Well, you can tell him it was for a good cause! And that he should upgrade his security!" I never got to hear Steve's reply because the flow of the fight dragged me away from him and suddenly I was back on a soldier's shoulders, my ankles crossed in front of his neck as I tried to strangle him with my legs.

"So that's what it looks like when I do it." I heard a low, raspy voice say in front of me and when I looked forward, there was someone I immediately recognized doing the exact same thing as me, her short red hair not as red as the face of the guy she was suffocating. Her head was tilted to the side, her green eyes inquisitive. "Interesting."

Then her eyes moved to the guy between my legs to me and she smirked, a smirk that could give mine a run for its money.

"Black Widow." She said, tilting her chin up slightly in a salute.

I let a natural smirk spill over my lips as we eyed each other, the Russian master spy and assassin instantly looking like a friend I'd like to have. The first redhead I like at first sight.

"Black Cat." I greeted, just before both our guys lost strength at the same time and we somersaulted in the air, landing softly on our feet in front of the other. We straightened our backs and looked at each other; she was wearing a full-body black uniform with blue energy lines running along it and holsters on her waist and thighs.

"I've heard about you." She said, her throaty voice echoing in the now emptier room. She emanated danger, not in the same mystical, and inscrutable way as Elektra, nor in the same feral, unbridled way as me, but in a subtler, more elegant way. "The Devil in Heels."

"Look better in person, don't I?" I smirked, wondering if James was still in here somewhere, if they'd meet. If he'd want that. If she'd want it too.

She chuckled, and I swear some of the guys around us stopped fighting us just to hear her laugh. "Logan did warn me you would most likely try to flirt with me."

I was about to answer but then The Man Out of Time sped up to us, sighing of relief upon seeing us both. He and Natasha shared a small smile, and I saw the bond there, the instant pull between them.

"Natasha. I see you've met Felicia."

"Yes, she sounds fun." She said as the three of us moved around each other, sharing weapons, victims and camaraderie. "Maybe we could invite her to one of Tony's parties? You know, back in the Tower?"

"Yes, I'm sure Tony would love her after she broke into his warehouse and stole technology worth millions." Steve answered.

"Just put him in front of me." I joked. "He'll be charmed in a second."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Steve replied. "You can never trust a Stark around a pretty woman."

"I don't think you have to worry, Steve." Natasha said, turning her attention to me with a sly smile. "You're more into full-bearded guys than a guy who can only pull off a moustache and a goatee, right?"

I bit my lip to prevent me from laughing, especially when Steve adorably knitted his brow in confusion. "Oh, so you two are, like... fondueing?"

Natasha and I burst out laughing, with me almost missing a jab because of how bad my stomach hurt but being saved by the Russian spy who used the bracelets on her wrists to send jolts of electricity throughout my opponent.

"Woow, I need to get me some of those!" I exclaimed as I watched the blue lights on her black gloves. "And since I have no idea what you mean with that, Steve, the safe answer is to say that, no, we are not."

"You have to excuse him, some people got stuck in the forties." Natasha let out sarcastically, taking out her two batons crossed in her back and disabling three opponents in one go with them.

"Hey, that's getting old!" Steve protested with pouting lips.

"Well, so are you!" She replied, smiling fondly at him. Steve shook his head, but it was obvious from his own smile that he wasn't upset.

"That's why I like meeting Logan. He's the only one who doesn't make me feel like I'm everyone's granddad." Steve confessed.

"It's not as much as your age as it is the way you speak." Natasha declared.

I nodded in agreement and was about to say something when I noticed Bobby and Lewis fighting side by side with a large group of Hydra soldiers that were much bigger than them.

But it was quite a sight to see them fight together, back against back, ice alongside fire. Blue and red blasts were thrown in sync, as if they were communicating by telepathy and knew what the other one needed. If one was in danger, the other stepped in immediately to help and save him.

Until Bobby didn't manage to save Lewis anymore.

They were going fine in one minute, the ice and the fire twirling together in a killing dance. Lewis burning soldiers and Bobby freezing bullets and guns in the air. And then, in the next minute, an agent had shot several bullets to Lewis's chest and neither him, nor Bobby, nor me, had a fast enough reaction to save him.

All I could do from my place was scream and feel everything in me being shot as well, burned until there was nothing but dust and ashes in the void of my being. One second later, as Lewis' knees bent down and he fell on the floor, as Bobby, in a fit of rage, froze the culprits to death, my feet started moving faster than time and I ran towards them.

I managed to grab Lewis before he completely fell down, but I already knew. I could feel it in my spine, my skull, my soul, because my own body wouldn't be feeling so wrenched out of itself if there was still a chance, if I could still save him. I felt that I couldn't, that the odds had expelled me from themselves. My power couldn't reach him. Only the beyond could.

Bobby stared down at us, a freezing ocean of sadness raining in his eyes, and that's when I saw how much Lewis had grown on him, how much they had grown on one another, how much his roots were already over his soul as well, and now we'd never get to see the fruits, because Lewis was being taken away from us too heartbreakingly soon.

"Lewis, please." I begged as I carefully held his head. His eyes were closed, the blood draining from his face at the same time it completely soaked his clothes, and a few more minutes and I wouldn't be able to hear his heartbeat anymore, that melody that the world used to sing about.

"Lewis, I'm so sorry, I... I..." Bobby mumbled, falling down on his knees next to him and grabbing his hand. I saw him shiver at how cold it already was, him that always held a flame on the tip of his fingers, life on the edges of his smile. "Lewis, please..."

To my surprise, and in an immense struggle, Lewis opened his eyes, those dark brown eyes of him whose fire was quickly extinguishing, feeling like it was taking with it all the lights in the world, that the sun itself was being put out and that only darkness could live now. That's what death was; a permant cloud over our heads that we only noticed when it rained.

"It's okay." He whispered weakly, and it broke my heart right there, hearing that voice so stripped of itself, of that cunningness and teasing he always carried with him. I knew he was talking to both of us, trying to comfort us. Bobby, so that he wouldn't blame himself for not being able to protect him, and me, so that I wouldn't blame myself for dragging them to this situation in the first place. "It's... not your fault. Neither... of you."

"No, Lewis, don't give up, you're going to..." I said, my voice failing at those last words because I couldn't bring myself to lie to him. I could literally feel the life vanishing from within him as I held him in my arms and I wondered if that's what people meant when they said we can die in many things before dying in ourselves for the last time. I was dying in him now, and so was Bobby. The parts of us we had given to Lewis; they would die with Lewis. Throughout our lives, we buried pieces of us in every person we met. In every person that left. So every funeral was a bit ours too. Or at least its preparation.

"You're going to be okay." Bobby completed for me, tears flowing down his face like a river of passage, and I realized he was no longer talking about this moment, but about the next. He was trying to give him comfort into the afterlife, so that Lewis wouldn't have to go so alone. So that whatever followed wouldn't feel so frightening.

"I know. You... too." He told Bobby, a ghost of a smile waving goodbye. Bobby's hands were shaking on his, but he nodded in agreement. Then Lewis turned to me, his eyes telling me things he'd never say, showing me how his life would have been, how he wanted my life to still be.

"I always thought... I'd go to hell." He murmured and I could see the enormous strength it took him just to say those words. "But how can I go to hell if I die staring... at your angel eyes?"

His lips twisted in his usual smirk, now weaker than ever, now more never than ever, and then he breathed out one last sigh, and it was a sigh of relief, because all his life he had seen himself as the villain and now he died the hero. He stared into my eyes one last time and closed his. I heard his heartbeat stop; my brain registered the exact moment the familiar sound turned silent forever.

Then I felt the weight of his body on my arms, as if the life he had left behind was now on mine, as if that was his last, parting gift to me.

I closed my eyes, and then opened them when I heard Bobby crying. I, on the other hand, was terrifically calm. I had to be strong for Bobby.

Everything about Lewis was rushing back to me, as if remembering him was a way to make him stay; his stubborn pink strand, always falling to his face. His headphones, always a little tilted so he could hear both the music and the world. The way his lips curled up in that witty, transcendent smirk. Those timeless eyes, who knew more than he'd ever say.

"Bobby..." I called as his fingers trembled on Lewis' wrist, no longer feeling his pulse. I could see the shadow of the guilt in his shadow. But I had to let him know that Lewis didn't blame him, that no one did. "It's not your fault, so please don't blame yourself. If it's anyone's, it's mine."

"No, it's not your fault either." Bobby shook his head, and some of his tears fell on my arms and on Lewis' body. The lump in my throat was so big I thought I'd never be able to breathe again. The hole in my chest was so deep I thought my heart would never come out of it again, that I'd never be able to reach it. I was a master when it came to giving advice I didn't follow. I didn't want Bobby to feel guilty, but what about me? How do you keep living when a part of you has died?

Gathering my last strengths, I carefully laid down Lewis' body, my hand tucking away the pink strand from his face as if it had fallen in a last testament of defiance. That's who Lewis was; even in death he rebelled.

Get ready, heaven. You're about to welcome an uprising.

"Goodbye, Hothead."

I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, his hot head now cold, and then I got up and saw everyone standing there, no one really knowing what to do, Bianca crying and sobbing so much her shoulders were shuddering violently, Peter with an arm around her trying to comfort her as best as he could but looking equally devastated, Natasha and Steve looking at each other like they had seen this happening before but knowing it didn't get any easier, and then Logan with the most desperate face I had ever seen him wear, his breathing irregular as if he was struggling against himself, pushing down his own tears, his face fixed on Lewis, then turning to me, and I couldn't stand the pain and the empathy on his eyes, so I looked away and watched his shadow walking towards mine until they were just one.

I didn't say anything and neither did he. He just embraced me with all he had and tightened his arms around my body, letting me know he was there for me, that he'd be the rock in the ocean of my tears.

And it was only on Logan's arms that I let myself to finally cry.

***

Two days later, late February, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

Everyone came to his funeral. Even people that didn't know him or had only briefly heard about him. Death was always death; for better or for worse, it brought people together.

As I looked outside the window of my room to all the people down there, dressed in black dresses or suits, one thing crossed my mind. Lewis wouldn't like all this attention. Not even in death. He just wanted to live peacefully and quiet, and I had a feeling that's how he wanted to go too. The only times he liked being the center of attention was when he was dancing. When we were singing our hearts out and nothing else mattered.

And now none of that mattered, because he was gone. No. It did matter. Because once, he was here. And because of that, he stayed in others. And that's what counted.

"Felicia?" He asked from the doorway, and I felt a thud in my chest like someone had just punched a hole through it just to realize the thing they had come for was no longer there. My heart. It felt like it was inside that coffin too, that it would be buried alongside him. "Are you...?"

"When my mother died, I was eight years old." I said without turning around, my eyes still fixed on the window, vaguely discerning his reflexion on the mirror. He seemed older, like he had aged years in days. There were wrinkles around his eyes and in his forehead, but I guessed, so in mine. "I was a kid and didn't fully comprehend the meaning of life and death. It hurt, but I just couldn't quite grasp the concept of that pain. I didn't have the age or the mentality to do so, so even though it hurt, I had enough healing left in me to ease it."

He moved away from the doorway and entered the room with cautious steps, stopping close to me but not enough to invade my personal space.

"Then, when I was fourteen, my father was murdered in front of me and that hurt like hell. There was no preparation, no warning. No hospital beds or doctors warning me of what would be coming. Just a shot and a bullet. And me, watching it all. His death was the beginning of my ruin, so I promised myself not to feel again. Not to come close to anyone so I wouldn't have to go through something like that ever again. Then Peter happened, and then this mansion, and all my plans... they fell apart because suddenly I was feeling more than I ever thought I could."

I could feel his stare on my back, sense his hesitation, between staying where he was or coming closer to me. I wanted him to hold me, but that would just make all of this more real. A touch would let me know this was more than a nightmare.

"At fourteen I thought I already knew what death and grief were, that I couldn't possible hurt more or heal less. But I was wrong. They are wrong when they say things get easier as time goes by. Death doesn't get easier just because it gets more often. You just... get used to it more. Those abstract notions your brain built as a way to protect itself when you were a kid become tangible, and you realize the healing left in you may not be enough to make you move on this time. That maybe now you've finally reached the bottom and can't possible stand up again."

"You can." Logan said, his tired tone acquiring a will of steel. "You will."

"After my father, I thought I had nothing more to lose. That's why I didn't want... I didn't want to love anyone. Because I knew this would happen again. And I was terrified I wouldn't be strong enough to overcome it. But now I realize I was wrong; that I'm hurting because I loved. And that it's love that's going to heal me."

I felt his hand on my shoulder, his arm around me, and something in me went off like a rocket on a mission destined to fail.

"I just..." My voice cracked, my bottom lip trembling dangerously. Our eyes met on the window, but nothing more did. My soul was far away today, escorting a friend to the beyond. "His death was so... fast. So unexpected. And everything that's unexpected hurts a thousand times more."

"I know." His arms fell to the side, his fists clenching ever so slightly. I knew he blamed himself, for taking Lewis with him. I knew he and Scott had fought about that, because Scott didn't know when to give a person a break, especially if that person was Logan. "It shouldn't have been him."

I turned around abruptly, feeling my breath tying in a knot in my throat at how close his eyes were. Those autumn leaves that were now so bare, falling upon me with that serenity only nature could have.

"It shouldn't have been anyone. But it's not your fault, Logan, you know that. Lewis would have come whether you let him or not. No one ruled him, not even him, and that's what I love... loved about him."

"I don't mind blaming myself." Logan said in a serious tone, the experience and his past very visible on it all of a sudden. He ran a hand through his tousled beard, the bags under his eyes matching the color of his suit. "But what I can't stand is seeing you do the same to yourself."

"I'm... I'm trying not to." I moved my eyes to his and suddenly my breath was taken away and my heart was back in its place; for a split second everything felt okay again. "I know I can choose to let the guilt and remorse consume me, or I can choose to understand how to cope with the pain and use it for a better purpose. To honor his memory. I just... why does grieving him feel like I'm betraying him?"

We were face to face now, his hands soft on my wrists.

"You're not. Accepting his death doesn't mean diminishing his life or giving up on your memories with him or letting go of who he was. It just means you're allowing him to rest, to come full circle, to find his peace. And I know moving on can feel like you're betraying him or his memory, but you're not. It's what Lewis would have wanted. He'd want you to be happy."

"I don't know if I can do this, Logan." I admitted, feeling my nerves taut as a bowstring. It was as if all my nerve endings were above my skin instead of under. Charles had asked me to do the funeral speech since I was the closest person to Lewis in the mansion. As far as he knew, Lewis had no family. Just us. I had written the eulogy, but the idea of standing in front of all those people to read it made my body feel close to a panic attack.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. You don't even have to go."

"No, I have to. Bobby and the others... they need me. And God forbid I disappoint Lewis, he's probably in heaven right now looking down to see what I'm going to say about him. I bet he even made a bet with God about it, and God help us, we know he's going to win."

"I can see him doing that, actually." Logan agreed, the sides of his lips stretching minimally. Everything in the mansion was minimalist now, as if a louder outburst could make everyone else fall apart. "God, he's going to be a pain in the ass up there."

I let out a low chuckle, my eyebrows raising at the now unusual sound.

"And everyone is going to love him." I said. "Just like we will here."

***

The only other time I had seen so many faces in the mansion was on New Year's Eve, and the happy memory ache as if a truck had run me over. I had lost count of how many people I had greeted, my mind a haze of blurred thoughts and slurred emotions. Everything felt slowed down within me, and I could feel the stares burning my back as I got up from my seat and moved to stand behind the pulpit.

The rows of chairs disposed in the field in front of me were filled with people I knew and people I didn't; my eyes moved to find Bobby's and he gave me a short, firm nod before looking down at his hands. Rogue and Bianca were on either side of him, with Alex, Roberto, Kitty, Colossus and Gambit completing the line.

I was surprised to see even the younger students had come, some of them so small their feet couldn't reach the ground when they sat. Their faces were a mix of incomprehension, murk and frustration. The teachers were in the back row, their postures collected but dismayed. Lewis wasn't a popular student among them, but no one liked to see such a short life end so abruptly.

I shivered when I got to the podium, not knowing if it was from the cold breeze outside or the chilly wind inside me, gusting hard against my bones. All my organs felt contracted, as if all of a sudden they didn't fit me. The clouds were gathered in the sky like even them wanted to witness. Because Lewis was so important, they had been summoned to listen.

I looked around one more time and my eyes fell on Peter's, who had come with his Aunt. They were on a back row, trying to bother as less as possible like they always did. He gave me a small smile of encouragement, and I took a deep breath and let the pain talk.

"My name is Felicia Hardy." I started, my voice coming out louder and stronger than I thought it would. I could barely hear it inside my mind. "I'm standing here today because Lewis Thompson considered me his friend. Because I was lucky enough to enter his world one day, even if I had no idea how that would change mine. I still remember when I saw him the first time. We met in detention. I guess I have Charles to thank that for."

I heard light laughter travel across the rows, like a hopeful lighthouse beacon preventing us from crashing onto the rocks and safely leading us back home. Charles' wise eyes met mine and he offered me his proud, calm smile, urging me to continue. Underneath all of that, I could see the blame resting in his eyes as well, the regret for not having called help sooner. But he couldn't know; none of us could.

"Lewis was a peculiar person." I continued, stopping my eyes at an indefinite point to imagine him there. "He didn't like to be with people very much, and yet he had a way with them that just kept us entranced. He never seemed interested in people until you realized that was his way of showing interest. Pretending like he didn't care because he cared too much. I guess, deep down, he didn't like to be around people because he thought people didn't like to be around him. But I did. I know some of you did too. Because Lewis was much more than he'd let the world see. There was more to him than his reputation or his past mistakes, and just like everyone else, he was just waiting for someone who'd be brave enough, or stay long enough, to see who he really was, not who he appeared to be."

I made a pause, allowing the words to sink in. I didn't just want to remember Lewis with this, I wanted to pass on to others what he had taught me, so that we could all be a little more open with the person next to us, even if they seemed to have nothing in common with us at first sight. Because maybe, who knew, they'd have everything in common with us at last.

"Lewis, despite his leather jacket, his motorbike and his tendency to annoy teachers just because he wouldn't conform to any rules, wasn't a bad boy. He liked to seem one, sure, but beneath all of his masks he was a good soul. And if he didn't show it around, it was only because he was just trying to protect it, to not feel so misunderstood. Because the world had been unkind to him before and he couldn't afford to be hurt again. Because he was hardheaded but softhearted, and I'm sure some of you can relate."

My eyes moved to Logan's instinctively, like a moth inescapably drawn to a flame, and my cheeks reddened upon the intensity in his stare, as if he was saying I knew you could do this, I just didn't know you could do it so well. You're making him proud, Felicia. You're making me proud.

"So, Lewis... he put his long hair over his face or the headphones over his ears to block the outside world and be immersed in his own, and yet he still hoped someone would come and build a bridge between both. I guess he just wanted to be found. Music was his refuge, and that maze over there was his favorite place in the whole world. I guess it made him feel less lost. Another thing we should thank Charles for."

People laughed again, and a small smile broke out from Charles' lips.

"But even if Lewis didn't like the idea of people knowing him, and even if many of you only knew the side of him he chose to show, I like to think I knew him. The real Lewis – the one he tried so hard to hide just because he was afraid of what he'd find. But I wish he could have seen himself like I did. The real Lewis - the hothead who warmed hearts with his undying one."

I noticed Bobby started crying silently and Rogue put an arm over his shoulders while Bianca held his hand. I gulped, feeling the tears accumulating behind my own eyes.

"I told him once life was not a letter." I said, my voice faltering slightly, my fingers grasping the edges of the pulpit tightly. "And he said that if it were, he'd want me to be his post scriptum. So I guess, this is it... the post scriptum. I just wish... I just wish you were here to read it... Hothead."

My voice cracked completely and I felt all the emotions I had tried to repress for this day rushing to surface like an effervescent liquid in a chemistry experiment. Suddenly I couldn't see anymore, my eyes misty from tears. I vaguely heard myself moving away from the podium and almost tripping over my own feet, my mind feeling like a fortune wheel that didn't stop in any thought, my throat and lungs threatening to interrupt the flow of oxygen in my body, the ravaged organ on my chest heavier than a pile of bricks as if the mere action of beating hurt too much.

I heard someone getting up from their seat quickly but barely saw them as I stumbled on the stairs too, almost sprawling myself on the floor, but then I saw a silhouette making its way to me, catching me in his arms before I had the embarrassing chance to fall. My fingers clutched at his blazer desperately, like it was the only anchor holding me to life, and I felt his arms around me like the rays of sun around the Earth.

"It's okay, Felicia." Logan said, his hand running down my hair in a soothing way. "It's—"

"No, it's not!" I shouted, though it came out muffled since I had my face buried on his chest. "It's not okay! He's dead, he's... he's gone and he's not... he's never coming back and I... I can't... I can't..."

"Felicia, breathe." Logan asked me, stepping away a bit in order to give me space. "Just inhale and exhale slowly."

I tried to do what he asked me, but my breathing was too irregular and erratic for me to command it. My throat was closing in on me and my heart beat faster than a fugitive being chased by the police. I felt it within me too; the familiar need to escape. From myself and this pain.

"I... I need..." I went for his arms again, because feeling his chest pressed against mine somehow eased the anxiety that had settled in every single one of my atoms.

"Okay, but breathe. Breathe with me." He asked again and I coordinated my chest with his, feeling them move up and down slowly and in unison. "We should... do you want to get away?"

"Yes." I mumbled, and I felt his hand slid down my arm to reach mine, his fingers entwining with mine like there was nothing more natural than that. I didn't even register when he took me away from the gathering of people and in the direction of the lake, where everything was calm and peaceful, the water, the sky, his eyes. "I... I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't. Let it out. Let it all out if you want to."

"I just..." I stepped away from him, wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hand. His eyes on mine were unbearable; it felt like love had been invented there. "Why? Why? Why did he have to die, so soon, so young... so... why did they take him away from us? Away from me? I can't, just... just the thought that I'll never see him again or hear him laugh or go to the maze and find him there and talk under the stars, or race with him and feel the wind or... or just love him in the present! I don't... I don't want to think or talk about him in the past tense, he's not made for that. He was always one step ahead, he knew me, if anything he was made for the future. And now he won't... he won't have one."

"Felicia, look at me. Look at me." His hands went to my wrists, trying to anchor me to the here and now. But I didn't want to be here, because staying meant facing, and facing meant dying a little more. I craved for anything that would take me away from here and ease the pain – sleeping, stealing, him.

"It's not fair!" I shouted, clutching his suit again and crumpling it with my shaky fingers. "He's not... he can't be... it was too unexpected, too damn soon! He's supposed to be here! To live and laugh and experience and... he's supposed to be by my side like I'm supposed to be by his, like I should have been... if only I... if I had gotten to him sooner, seen him sooner, or if I hadn't... if I hadn't been so focused on HYDRA, I... God, why? Why?"

"I don't know, Felicia, I don't know." He murmured into my hair as my fists started colliding with his chest. He didn't groan; he didn't even falter. He let me abuse his body so I could ease my mind, and the most heartbreaking part was that it wasn't even the first time. "Some things happen and we can never explain them."

"Then what kind of life is that? What's the point? What kind of logic or law dictates a good soul to die so young? He should have had the chance to be whoever he wanted to be, to go and see whatever he wanted to! And now he will never... never... and I'm just so, so angry... because this world is just so fucking unfair and I'm just so, so fucking sick..."

"Felicia." His fingers moved to my wrists, because my punches had become more violent, and he firmed his hold on me, not to stop me from hurting him, but to stop me from hurting myself. "I know it hurts more than you think you can stand, but you—"

"No, I just... I'm so mad! At the world and the universe and its constant fucking ability to fuck with my luck! And then I have all this guilt for not being able to control this, for not knowing how to react even though this has happened before, for not knowing how to deal with this agony..."

"Don't blame yourself for that, Felicia. For anything. You are entitled to your emotions, to all of them. You can feel them all at once or none at all and it's okay. Grieving doesn't make sense. Just don't be afraid to feel, don't shut yourself out from it. Feel it as you can – even when you can't."

I shook my head, tears falling to his shirt, to our hands on each other. "I just want to punch something. Anything. Death itself, if I can."

He let go of my wrists, his voice gentle when he spoke. "If you want to punch something, punch me."

"No, I don't want to hurt you, I... I should go." Ask me to stay. Please, I beg you, just ask me to stay and I will. Because for the first time in my life I don't want to go. Because I can call your arms my home.

"No." He said firmly, his eyes somehow getting under mine. "Don't shut me out. Let me be here for you. Just... stay."

I nodded, sobbing into his chest again. His shirt was getting soaked, but he didn't seem to mind, and he didn't even flinch when my fists started bumping on his chest once more. His arms just wrapped around my body more tightly, the palms of his hands describing circles and spirals in my back like he was drawing the way my mind felt on it.

"I still can't... I can't believe it... that every time that I'll wake up from now on, he won't, that he never will. That I won't see him at the canteen or by his bike. I can't believe he's... gone. Just like that." I was screaming and crying, sobbing and shouting. "This is stupid. This whole day... funerals are stupid. How am I supposed to say goodbye to him when I'm still holding out to the hope he'll say hello? That he'll pop up from nowhere like he always did, say a sneaky remark and give me one of his you-like-me-and-I-know-it smirks? How am I supposed to live when he's not?"

"You do the best you can. No one can ask more of you. You feel what you feel. You let time do the rest."

I opened my fists in his chest and placed my hands against his shoulders, my breath and heart deciding to give me a break for now. When I looked into Logan's eyes, I saw myself in them.

"I loved him with more pain than I thought possible, and now I grieve him with more love than I can handle and I... I feel like it will never stop. Like this pain will be the death of me. Like while he's gone, his absence will stay."

"The question is not if the pain will really pass." He said, brushing a few locks away from my face and wiping my tears. "It's what you will do with it while it doesn't."

***

Everyone was by the lake now, and by the bank there was a small basket on top of a water lily filled with multicolored flowers and a framed picture of Lewis. I looked over at Bobby, who looked back at me and we stepped forward at the same time, aware of everyone's eyes on us.

Someone somewhere was singing a rather melancholic, beautiful song, and the soft blow of the wind against the water was heartening. Bobby was holding a bowl of frozen grapes on his hand like they were the Holy Grail and in mine I had a watercolor painting of Lewis lying on the bench in the center of the maze, looking at the stars with his headphones on. I titled it the Definition of Peace. I had drawn it a while ago and offered it to him; now I had discovered he was keeping it on his bedside table.

Bobby was the first to crouch down, carefully placing the bowl of grapes in the middle of the basket, surrounded by lilies, gladioli and morning glories.

"Take my grapes, Thompson." He murmured, a single tear running down his face. "They don't belong to anyone but you."

I knelt on the wet grass, not caring when my knees hit the roughness of the pebbles. I put the painting behind the bowl, murmuring a quote I had once seen with everything that was left in my heart and that he hadn't yet taken.

"Twice I would die for a little more once with you."

Bobby and I gently pushed the basket into the lake, watching it slide softly across the waters like a last rag of life. It stopped right at the center of the lake, a memorial of love. Then it began to burn, the flames engulfing the flowers as if he was thanking us in a last memorable gesture from wherever he was.

"Until we meet again, Hothead." We both said.

"You try to move, try to move, try but you don't wanna lose
So afraid, so afraid, you don't want it to fade

So scream if you wanna, shout if you need
Just let it go, take it out on me
Fight if you need to, smash if you have to
Get control, take it out on me"

A/N: This chapter was so hard to write. I'm so sorry.

I hoped you liked it, nonetheless. It's dedicated to Lia-Dreamer for all of the votes and amazing comments she has left on this story! :) Thanks ^-^

Song is "Take It Out On Me" by Thousand Foot Krutch. And gif is, of course, Steve and Natasha, I hope their cameo shed some light on this dark chapter!