Out of all three parts, this one might be the one I'm most proud of. I'm still nervous about it, though. The main reason being that I haven't been to a funeral in years, and even then it was for a relative I hardly knew. My apologies if I got anything wrong. (Although apparently PrincessSparkleKitty could tell me if anything was wrong. I was actually pretty freaked out when you told me that, girl! O.o)

Anyway, expect more Tasha/Bree bonding, a few sad farewells, and a surprise appearance from another character. I hope it wasn't inappropriate to throw him in there. Eh. We'll see. Anyway, I don't own Lab Rats or the characters. Enjoy!

* * * Part Three: Goodbye * * *

There couldn't have been a more perfect day for the funeral. The sky was overcast and threatening rain. A chill wind blew its way through Mission Creek and rustled the grass in the graveyard.

Several black chairs were set up in neat rows. Up front was a wooden coffin with flowers placed on it. Mourners sat in the chairs, all dressed in that dreary solid color.

Bree straightened her black dress and looked up front where the pastor from Ethan's church was speaking. Truth be told, Bree didn't hear much of what he said. Her head was still buzzing with thoughts of denial and grief. There weren't talking about her Ethan. It wasn't his body in that box.

Every minute Bree felt like Ethan was going to pop out of the bushes and say that he was fine. It was some kind of trick. It was a mistake. He wasn't dead. Bree had no doubt that everyone else there had the same thoughts. This couldn't be happening.

Bree sat erect in her chair. Tears couldn't and wouldn't come. She had cried herself dry. There was nothing but numbness, that bitter denial. Honestly, she wanted to cry. She wanted to break down into wracking sobs to show how much she loved Ethan—because she truly did—but she just couldn't. The tears wouldn't come. She sat in shock, blinking every now and then as people spoke.

Everyone agreed: Ethan had been a wonderful guy. Various friends and family members got up to a say a few words about him. Ethan had touched so many people. He was a good friend and a nice young man. Sure, he had his flaws—Bree knew for a fact that he would sometimes take out his old action figures and play with them like he was still five years old—but overall he was a good guy, and everyone knew it.

Others had spoken, but Bree couldn't bring herself to say anything. She was afraid she would melt down in front of all these people. She couldn't talk about Ethan like it was over; like she would never see him again. Talking about it would make it real. She wasn't ready to accept it. She needed time. Bree couldn't talk about him like he lived only in the past.

But . . . but he did. He's gone.

Bree squeezed her eyes shut. No. She wasn't ready to believe it. Ethan couldn't be gone. Forget about the fact that he had been her boyfriend. He was a good friend. He was just a kid. He couldn't be gone.

Bree felt an arm around her shoulder. She turned and smiled at Tasha. "Thank you for coming," she whispered.

"No problem," Tasha whispered back.

Tasha pulled Bree closer to her. Bree leaned into the side-hug willingly. For years she had wondered what having a mother would be like. Now she knew. Having a mother meant having someone there who would cry with you and give you a shoulder to lean on—literally. It meant someone who would love you unconditionally and kiss you on the forehead and tell you that everything would be all right.

In her childhood, Bree had often imagined what a perfect mother would be like. Sometimes she made a list, giving them the best qualities she could think of. None of those fake mothers Bree had created could compare to Tasha. Bree would never regret the day Tasha and Leo moved in with them. As far as she was concerned, Tasha was and always would be her real mom.

The time came when everyone could say their final goodbyes. One by one people approached the coffin, touching it and whispering their thoughts. Tasha squeezed Bree's hand. "Want to go up?" she whispered.

Bree nodded stiffly and stood. She moved to the aisle in the center and walked slowly towards the coffin. It was only a few feet away, but it seemed to take forever to reach it. Tasha followed her, but she veered away to comfort Mrs. Harper. For that Bree was grateful. She needed this moment all to herself.

Other people had began to mutter to one another and comfort the grieving family. Even though Bree was standing in front of them all, she still felt like she was alone. She was comfortable pouring out her heart right here. Now if only her listener wasn't a wooden box.

"I guess I should say I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was so mad when you didn't show up. For a little while I thought you were a jerk. I know you're not—er, weren't, or . . . forget it. I really can't do this. Please, Ethan, you can't be gone! Maybe I'm too young to even know what love is, but if nothing else, you were my friend. I enjoyed every second we were together.

"Remember our first kiss in the park? Right next to the pond. Some geese started honking at us and you chased them away. I never told you, but that was my first kiss. With a real human, anyway. I'll never forget it. I'll also never tell Mr. Davenport about it, because he would ground me for life.

"You've always been a really great guy. You knew what chivalry was and you weren't afraid to be kind and respectful. A lot of guys I meet are jerks, but you were different. I mean, I don't know any other boy who would give up his whole Friday night just to go bowling with his mom. I've always admired you because of that.

"Sure, you had an immature side. Your jokes could be really corny. Sometimes you weren't the brightest and you missed the most obvious things. I never cared about that, though. Your corny jokes made me laugh, and you weren't as bad as Adam when it came to obliviousness.

"I loved every moment I was with you. Maybe it was for your looks at first, but as I got to know you, I fell in love with your personality. You will always be my first love. I'm never going to forget you, Ethan. I promise. There are so many more cliché things I could say here, but I think I'm going to leave it at that."

Bree started to turn and walk away, but she thought better of it. "On second thought, there's one more thing I think you should know. I could never tell you before, but . . . I think it's fine now. You deserve to know." She glanced around to make sure no one could hear her. "I'm a bionic superhuman. My main ability is super-speed. I can run several hundred miles per hour. Those skid marks in the hallway were mine. That's how I was able to get on top of the lockers. Every time I mysteriously disappeared, it was because I got nervous and ran away. I never knew what to say to you.

"There. Now you know. I thought it was time to tell you. My father wants it to be kept a secret, obviously, but I thought you should know. Besides, who are you gonna tell? I think the angels already know.

"I'm going to miss you a lot, Ethan. I know you're in a better place now, but I'm not. I'm still here, and I'm still grieving over you. I always will be. Thank you for everything you ever did for me. Thank you for loving me. Good . . . goodbye, Ethan."

Bree couldn't bear to say anything else. She turned to take a seat. Tasha was still comforting Mrs. Harper, so Bree sat down beside a dark-haired boy. He had a sketchbook on his lap and was concentrating on it.

Despite her best efforts, Bree's eyes kept wandering to the boy's drawings. They were flowers, drawn in black and white. They were exceptionally beautiful.

As Bree looked up, she found herself meeting the gaze of the boy. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Finally, Bree stammered, "Nice flowers."

"Thank you," he said. "They're lilies. They represent the innocence of the soul as it's taken away from this life. The white is for the purity, and the black is for the mourning of those who have not yet departed. Mixed together, they create a bittersweet picture of the balance between life and death."

"Huh," Bree said slowly, trying to comprehend everything he had said. "Well, I like lilies."

"Me too. I'm Owen, by the way."

"Bree. So, how did you know Ethan?"

"He was one of my best friends. We met in kindergarten when he criticized my finger painting. After I forgave him, we started to hang out a lot. Did you say your name was Bree? He told me about you."

Bree's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "He did?"

"Oh yes. From what I've heard, you're a great girl. He never stopped talking about how wonderful you are." Owen looked up towards the coffin. "I should probably say something. I've got a speech prepared for this."

Bree stood up to let Owen past. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too. I do have to say, you're as beautiful as Ethan said you were. Maybe even more so. I hope I'll see you around sometime."

"Yeah," Bree mumbled. "Bye."

Owen walked up to the front with his sketchpad tucked beneath his arm. Bree took a deep breath and turned just in time to see Tasha coming back over to her.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" Tasha asked.

"It hurts," Bree said, her arms folded across her chest.

Tasha pulled her step-daughter into a hug and patted her head. Bree buried her face in Tasha's shoulder, accepting the affection. It wasn't embarrassing; it was sweet and comforting. Bree needed that.

"It's going to take a while to get used to the fact that I can't just call him up whenever I feel like it. That I can't talk to him face-to-face or hear his laugh or make up math-related nicknames with him."

"I know it's going to be hard. But I promise, honey, it's going to get better."

Bree took a deep, shuddering breath. Peering over Tasha's shoulder, she could see Owen standing by the coffin. "Maybe," she said, drawing out the word, "maybe it already is."

Was it too weird to throw Owen in there? I picture their relationship taking off slowly from here, but I knew from the start (almost a year ago) that I wanted to have him in the end. Also, I had to look up "flowers that represent death" on Google to figure out his spiel. Owen's a hard character, I have to say. And yet, a very interesting one to write.

Bree wasn't originally going to confess that she was bionic. It wasn't planned one bit. My "inner narrator"—as I was writing this part—told Bree to go back to her seat, but suddenly she turned around and was telling Ethan about her abilities. And my brain said, "Huh, okay. That actually works." Have any of you authors had that? When it seems like the characters in your brain have a mind of their own and they go do their own thing without your permission? Leo (and Mr. Davenport, actually) just did that to me while writing chapter 29 of WDF. (Ooh! Spoilers?)

How did you like it? After ten months, I'm finally done. I hope it was all right, even if it was a bit weird in some places. I know it's far from my best work, but I still like it. It was meant to be simple.

Once again I'd like to apologize for not PMing/reviewing other stories. It's been a busy and hard week. I'm hoping that I'll be able to catch up on the weekend, but we'll have to see. Thank you for your patience.

Thanks for reading and for all the reviews/follows/favorites. They're better than candy. :3 I sincerely hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you guys on my future stories. Bye!