Leah did understand, but it was still a hard situation to deal with. Pushing aside her own past demons in the face of this was… surprisingly easy. No, she wasn’t unaffected by it all and, no, she wasn’t detached; focusing on other tasks to keep her hands and mind busy prevented her from dwelling on how closely Rae’s circumstances were beginning to mirror her own. Apparently, all that was needed to dissolve Leah’s hatred of someone was to see her own reflection. In the figurative sense, that is.
Being there while Zimmerman (No. Elliot. Use his name, Leah silently scolded herself) died had been tough. Despite Evan’s insistence that it was okay for her to be there, Leah still felt like an intruder encroaching on the little family’s last few moments. Which was why she didn’t actually enter the room until Evan returned with a tape recorder, and after that she lingered in the corner of the cell, making her presence as inconspicuous as possible. It felt wrong to be in there with people she’d held a grudge against for so long.
Getting Rae to leave the room had been a necessary, if evil, task for Leah. She understood what the woman was going through, although the circumstances were different. At least Rae had been allowed to say goodbye to her love. It was debatable as to which one of those circumstances was the least painful.
She wasn’t sure what to say when the younger woman apologized. There wasn’t much comfort she could give, other than the understanding that she knew what Rae was going through. Leah’s eyes weren’t completely dry themselves, but her tears went unshed. “No apologizing. You didn’t do anything.” That probably wasn’t as comforting as she intended, but it was an odd concept… comforting Rae.
She turned her eyes away for a moment. “He won’t suffer anymore. Remember that.”