Since her initial arrival Joanna had been in and out of consciousness, spending most of her time in the limbo between where pain and reality merged together to offer very little respite. Having spent enough time in such a position already, she was fairly well-versed at keeping her complaints to herself when she was awake and had even somehow managed to keep most of her whimpers almost silent when she wasn't. The only thing she really couldn't keep at bay, in fact, was the significant loss she felt every time she opened her eyes and sought out the comfort of her mother, only to realize the woman was nowhere to be found.
Not that Joanna didn't adore her father. She did. He was her hero and nothing - not even his inability to save her - would ever change that. But the soft, compassionate touch of a woman was a far cry from what her father had to offer. She tried not to let on during those rare times when she was fully awake and coherent just how much she missed that. However, waking up to the sound of a decidedly feminine voice thrust the emotion back to the forefront and the little girl was out of bed and halfway through the doorway leading out of the bedroom before she realized that the voice was not one belonging to Jocelyn McCoy. Even then she couldn't stop the barely whispered, somewhat hopeful, "Momma?" from falling off the tip of her tongue and spilling out into the room for both adults to hear.
Standing partially in the room, with a long nightshirt that hung to her knees and bare feet that were a bit too pale to match her coloring sticking out beneath, the four-year-old could do little more than stare at the strange woman sitting in the place that had become her new, makeshift home. It took a few seconds, and the reminder that she needed to breathe, before she sucked in a shallow breath and immediately began to rub at one eye with a tiny fist. "Oh," she spoke again, voice hoarse from cries the night before (fortunately those she didn't remember) as well as the sinking realization that her mom may very well not show up. "I thought..."
Voice trailing off, Joanna sighed softly and glanced around before her gaze landed on the only adult in the room she did recognize. Blearily, she asked in a tone that was much too false bravado for a little girl who should for all accounts and purposes have no need to have any, "How long's my Daddy been sleepin'?"