A/N: Next one-shot for Jeansasha Week is here! Today's prompt was Rain/Rose. Only two more days left and I have to admit, I really enjoy writing for our beloved ship this week.

Sasha always said that rain is nothing more than the proof that the sun will come afterwards.

And now that Jean's thinking about it, it's not a surprise. She was like the sun herself, the light of the regiment, her laughter and her warmth making everything brighter and filling him with content, a glowing feeling of tenderness towards her, and a longing he never openly expressed, but constantly there with him.

Which is why he can't find any light now. No sun, no laughter, no warmth. Her promise that after the rain comes the sun has faded away; just like Sasha faded away on that fateful night in the Scouts' blimp, falling in an angry and misguided little girl's path of vengeance and plunging everyone who loves her in permanent darkness.

The fact that it's raining the day of her funeral makes it only worse for Jean, for it's as if the weather, the nature, the entire world, are laughing straight to his face, mocking him for his broken wish for a sun that will never come.

It's raining and he's standing in front of Sasha's gravestone, a part of him still refusing to believe that it's her lying in the cold ground. He's tightened his hands into fists, he's biting his lips to stop himself from sobbing in order to stay composed for his friends, and Connie in particular.

But it's all in vain.

It's raining and his longing for her remains, strong and overwhelming and desperate. He's longing for one of her beautiful smiles, for one look like the way she used to look at him in his bad moments, full of sweetness and understanding. He's longing to see her, if only for a second, and feel like she's still here, and he's blaming himself for wanting something that will never be.

"Never feel bad about mourning for someone important to you." Connie whispers next to him, probably guessing his feelings from his expression, his hand gently squeezing Jean's arm.

"It's just…I was gonna tell her everything, Connie." Jean's voice is trembling due to the tears he's still unable to shake, frozen in his grief as he is. "We would return home after the battle in Liberio and I would finally talk to her about everything I feel for her and…"

And this would be one of the times where talking openly mattered more to Jean than his fear of Sasha's reaction. He doesn't know how he would speak to her if he had the chance; if he'd blurt out love confessions or if he'd choose his words carefully. He doesn't know what would have happened afterwards; if Sasha would have rejected him gently or if this would have been the start of something beautiful for them. He wouldn't have let any of this affect anything, though, if only he had the chance to tell her everything.

Words that now will never be spoken out loud. Now they are only for Jean alone, so he can think about them, or quietly whisper them when he lies awake on cold nights, unable to sleep and wishing that she were here to give him some of her sunshine.

All the lost possibilities lurk around the graveyard, as the rain keeps falling and the stench of more battles to come hangs in the air.

A/N: I apologize for the major angst, can't help it, I'm still not over Potato Girl's death :( Hope you enjoyed it, more content will be posted tomorrow