A/N-I wanted to thank you all for being so great to me, so…I made you an Epilogue.

Epilogue/March of Roses-The Colours of Life

November 26th, 2014

Mihael Keehl stared over the snow-covered cemetery, somehow knowing what he'd find if he looked long enough. Sure enough, in a far corner of the field, he found it.

Nate River

August 24th, 1991-October 12th, 2011

Classy. Understated. Near.

Only 20 years old. Mihael shook his head, soft strands of brass-blonde hair falling gently into his eyes, over the faded scar that still marked him. He was still so young.

"He fought until the very end." Said a familiar voice from just behind him. Mihael spun to face Lawliet, as he'd done so many times before. The man hadn't aged a day. His wild black hair still stood on end, he still looked as though he'd slept in heavy makeup, and, as far as Mihael could tell, he was still underweight.

"It's been a while, Lawliet." Mihael said, pushing his hands into his pockets, and cocking his head. "You haven't changed a bit."

Lawliet laughed. "I could say the same about you."

It was true. At 20 himself, Mihael still had the body of a model. The dark scars that covered his arms had faded considerably. Most were only visible if you knew what you were looking for.

"Well, well, the gang's all here." Mail Jeeves sauntered up to them, green eyes shining behind his goggles. He was the only one of them who spoke with an American accent rather than an English one. He stopped between his two old friends.

"Mail." Lawliet said simply, acknowledging him.

Mail clapped him on the arm with a smile. Turning to the blonde, he laughed a bit, reaching out to hug him. Mihael rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around the redhead. "I missed you." The blonde whispered.

Mail blushed the same deep red as his hair, rubbing the back of his neck nervously when they stepped away from each other. "Jeez, Mello."

Mihael laughed gently at being called by his old name. "Hey," he said and held up his left arm. The silver bracelet dangled gracefully from his wrist.

Mail didn't know what to say. "You kept it." He finally managed.

"Of course I did." The blonde answered like it should have been obvious.

"Hey, lovebirds," Lawliet joked, crouching by Near's grave and laying his left hand on the tombstone. With that impossible grace he always seemed to possess, he laid a single white rose on the grass. White, for the purity in the beginning.

Mihael moved to kneel at Lawliet's side, drawing a single black rose from the bag he carried, and laying it gently across the white one. Black, for the end.

Mail knelt beside him, laying a red rose down to complete the design. Red, to remember the life lived.

"He would have liked to have been here, huh?" Mail asked Lawliet, swinging his left arm around Mihael's shoulders and placing his right hand on the edge of the grave marker, mirroring the raven.

"He is." The blonde said softly, curling a hand gently around his crucifix.

Lawliet smiled. "Yeah. He is." He whispered, carefully placing his right arm over Mail's around Mihael's shoulders. The blonde laughed, letting go of his cross and pulling his friends close as the snow began to fall.

And for a while it was just the four of them. Holding each other up.

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A/N-See you next time!