Disclaimer: Mine is mine, while Marvel's is Marvel's!

The air was cold and they day was overcast. Gray clouds hung in the sky, masking the sun from the earth, casting a shadow over everything that it touched. The ground was hard and frozen with a early winter's frost, the grass dead or dying.

A slow precession of black clad people moved through a field of stone, lead by six boys carrying one coffin. The coffin was made of strong pinewood, and was polished to a waxy shine. Not a single one of the six young men carrying the box could keep the tears off their cheeks as they made their way toward the final resting place of the small, blue eyed woman resting inside.

Directly behind him, a tall man with graying blond hair walked alone. His head was lowered, and drops of water flowed like a small river down his face as he walked. He was alone, the rest of the mourners allowing him a good six steps ahead of them. He twisted a golden band on his left hand, and his eyes the color of the Kentucky sky up above.

His steps were slow and purposefully, like a man being led to his own execution. Hesitant, but knowing that there was no way he could escape.

His heart still beat in his chest, his lung still took in air, but there was something missing. The glow in his eyes had been dimmed, the bounce in his step was gone. He was a man left with only half of his soul.

The crowd of people finally reached the plot, and the pallbearers settled the casket onto the silver bars that would lower the small woman into her final resting-place. The stone was already in place, for all to read.

They gathered around the coffin, still giving the solitary blond man a wide berth. He didn't seem to notice; if he did, he didn't care. Tears still hovered on his cheeks, following faster then a driving rain.

A priest, his black robs mixing with the shadows of the day stepped forward, a bible in hand.

"We lower this woman into the earth, so that she may rise again on the day of the Coming of Our Lord. Ashes to ashes…dust to dust…"

A loud cry rang out across the cemetery, and a little girl, perhaps no older then twelve darted out of the crowd. A woman with strawberry blonde hair grabbed at her, but the child slipped through her grasp. She ran for the coffin, but the solitary man caught her, pulling her against him.

She struggled against him, her eyes flooding with tears. "Let me go, Grandpa! Grandma can't be---she can't be gone!"

Her grandfather held her against him tightly, letting her tears fall on his dark black suit. He kissed the top of her head, letting his tears mingle with hers, as he whispered soft words into her hair.

"It's alright, Tabby. It's all right. Yoah Grandma's in a better place now---and we'll see her again. Don't you worry about that. We'll see her again."

Tabby nodded, still clinging to her grandfather. He gently untangled her fingers from his suit, and instead laced his fingers through hers, squeezing tightly. She looked up at him, her eyes sad.

The rest of the mourners began to slip away, somehow sensing that these two needed this time alone with the woman they both loved so dearly.

When they sensed that they were alone, Tabby looked at her Grandfather and sighed. "I miss Grandma."

"So do Ah, Tabby." The man agreed, his voice breaking slightly. Tabby looked up at him, and hugged him around the waist, burying her face in his jacket.

"Why did she have to die?" Tabby's voice was muffled. Her grandfather sighed, and he ran his fingers through her bright blonde hair.

"It was just her time, sweetie. We've all got a place and a time-that's how the Lord intended it." He smiled, thinking back to one time, in his youth, he had said those same words to another person he cared for.

"I wish she was still here." Tabby whispered, holding his jacket in her hands.

"So do Ah." The man agreed, smiling down at the little girl. Tabby forced a smile, her eyes sparkling with tears.

"Tabby?" A voice reached the two, and they turned as one to see the strawberry blonde woman standing behind them. Tabby looked up at the blonde man, who smiled at her and he nodded to the woman.

"Go with your mama, sweetie."

Tabby looked at him with big blue eyes for an instant, then nodded, jogging to where her mother stood. The strawberry haired woman smiled sadly at him, and took the girl by the hand. They moved off the line of cars all around the cemetery, the girl turning to look at him one more time, her eyes sad.

The man put his hand to his heart, feeling it shake and break now more then ever. Tabby looked just like---

He cut that thought off before it could even began, and turned back to the gray headstone. He knelt down next to it, his eyes sad and dark. Reaching out, he traced the letters with a shaking finger, a tear sliding down his cheek.

"Oh, Tabitha." He whispered, pressing his palm against the stone. "Ah miss you so."

He read the words silently, letting more tears fall. Tabitha Marie Smith-Guthrie, October 3, 1979 to December 7, 2057. Beloved Wife and Mother.

He pulled his hand back from the new stone, and ran his fingers through his hair, crying softly. "Ah love you. And…Ah'll see you again, somewhere down the road."

With that, Samuel Zachary Guthrie rose to his feet, and turned to face the world with a heavy heart and half his soul.

******

Two weeks later, the black clad congregation assembled in the cemetery again. But Sam was not all alone this time.

He held a young woman with auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes close to him, a smile creasing both of their faces. Darkchilde's Stories