She knew she shouldn’t have come, but she can’t even leave now, she can’t even see through the tears flowing down her cheeks, she can barely breathe because of the pain in her chest, and it hasn’t stopped. It never stops. She can hear herself sobbing, but her eyes are now screwed shut, trying to push it away, she didn’t even remember her mothers voice, but all she can see is having to see her father’s body.
She came back because she didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t want to feel like this, not all over again.
She wants to explain.
She wants to tell Cordelia why she came back, but it takes her a while to find her voice, and it’s b r o k e n.
“Because I want to change it! Because I don’t want you to be gone! Because it’s not fair that you’re dead. It’s not fair. Even I don’t get too live.”
Her indignation drains away as she watches the girl in front of her s h a t t e r . A large part of her is tempted to rush forward again, to try and wipe away her tears, to somehow make things better; but fear still courses through her veins, constricting her throat and locking her in place. So instead, she lifts Connor back into her arms and cradles him tightly against her chest. He’s solid and warm, and unquestionably real– - someone that provides some respite from the situation at hand.
For once, she’s at a loss of what to do, or what to say.
All she can do is watch Charlie cry, and try her best to not do the same.
