The whole world had wept at Robbie’s funeral. Ryan remembered that: the awful relief of knowing the devastating bomb hadn’t taken out the Earth after all, because Robbie Rivers had made sure of that. Rain’d been falling then too, silver on black, streaks of watercolor hurt that flattened the world to grey.
The Army top command who remembered Robbie tended to be kind to John. Not just because supersoldier muscles and telepathic illusions could knock them all flat in a heartbeat, either.
John Trent these days folded those large arms around both his new partners and held them close. John liked cooking, and building bookshelves for Holly’s newest rare acquisitions, and coming up with new challenges for Ryan’s gymnastic-obstacle practice course. And if Robbie’s dog tags remained in that box o
