He pressed her hand against his chest, and Aberforth's heart beat became Arabella's focus. She kept her hand against his chest, the beat acting as a timer for her as she began to breath carefully, exhaling with every beat. And before long it helped, it really did; she started to fell panic seep out of her body, and she felt a peace that she hadn't expected to have coming in. She could consider things like how this was not the worst case scenario, and how she did feel safe in that moment.
"I'm breathing," she said, as if Aberforth needed to be told that she was managing a basic human function. She kept her hand on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt a little bit as she dared to finally sit up like a properly lady, actually leaving her eyes open and looking around. They seemed fine. They weren't floating away. And if they did, Aberforth would be there with her. He would hold her hand and let he freak out and then bring her back down again. And there was something so utterly wonderful and kind in that, that Arabella could almost be happy in that moment.
It had taken her a while between hitting the ground and writing in her journal. She hadn't had her morning tea or bagel at work, or even a muffin if either she or Minerva brought in baked sweets to work. She swallowed thickly, looking at his bag. "Do you have water?" she asked him, her throat raw from crying and eyes still puffy and red. She didn't look overly pretty in that moment, just sad and scared but calmed down. "I'm sorry I was so upset. I just- I didn't know what was happening, I don't like not knowing," she said, not speaking but she felt as if the word SQUIB sat between them in bright, glowing letters that flashed and begged to be looked at. He could judged her now; he would judged her now in her own mind.
How could he not? He'd come to save a mouse, not a lady or a witch.