It shouldn't have been like this.

That's the only thought going through Margaret's head during the funeral. Condolences and wishes for Ash's soul to rest blurred together in a mess of denial and anger.

It shouldn't have been like this.

Ash was just a kid. Just 17. Still his whole life ahead of him. Her little sidekick with a heart of gold.

It had all happened in a blur. The job they got assigned by the agency was supposed to be quick and easy. A group of thieves. She'd dealt with those a hundred times.

But it had been a trap. She and Ash had been ambushed by someone far worse, far more powerful and cruel than a simple group of thieves. A gunshot had rang, and Margaret had curled in on herself to avoid it. It had taken her a few seconds to look around, only to find Ash, her little boy, the son she could never have, holding his chest in pain, hand right over his heart.

She'd rushed to him, catching him as he dropped to the floor. She'd held him in her arms as he gasped and cried, sobbing about not wanting to leave yet. Then he'd stopped crying. She'd cradled him in her arms until he was cold, until reinforcements arrived and had to pry her hands away from his dead body.

She didn't talk. She still hadn't at the moment of the funeral, only nodding and staring at the grave. Ash Eric Parker. The date of his birthday, and of his decease. Years apart, yet still close. Too close.

She stayed, even when everyone had already left the graveyard. Even when it had started raining. She stayed, even when she felt someone sit on the chair next to hers. She didn't have to look up to know it was you.

You'd trained together to become heroes, all those years ago. She would've called you her best friend, and the love of her life, before you'd graduated. She'd entered the Agency, yet you had vanished. You became a vigilante.

She looked up when you leaned back on your seat, not saying anything, simply waiting. For what, she didn't know. But she waited.