“Because you loved him,” was her only response to that. Irrational urge to find a cure, a solution, even while knowing deep inside that there was no hope to be found. Detached Leah was poking through now, a useful defense mechanism that kept her from taking another person’s grief too deeply into herself. She wouldn’t allow this to be a trigger for her, not when other people needed her support.
Leah nodded her numb agreement. “There’s no such thing as fair where this is concerned.”
“It does. And it’ll hurt for a long, long time. But you find ways to deal with it.” Anger and bitterness. Leah’s thoughts unknowingly echoed Rae’s. It did make her wonder if Elliot’s death would be the thing that completely broke Rae of her optimism and turned her into the… beast… Leah used to be. Or maybe her child would be what kept her from going to the deep end of the hate pool. “People cope in different ways. I don’t know what will work for you.”
Leah used to make humorless jokes about her quarantine room being flooded by her own tears. No one had been able to prevent that for her, so she suspected no one would be able to do so for Rae. The question of Leah’s presence was brought up, and Leah looked at Rae evenly. “Yes,” she answered honestly. “I volunteered for it.” Sort of, anyway. It was suggested and she agreed. “Would you have preferred someone else?”
While the majority of Leah’s focus was on comforting Rae, a small portion of her consciousness was wandering back into the cell with Evan, wondering how he was dealing with the aftermath. She’d told him she’d be waiting for him afterwards, if he needed her. She was suddenly grateful she didn’t have any close friends. Being asked to kill one of them when the time came… was something she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do.
“Yeah. It’s over,” she murmured quietly, embracing Rae as she never had before.