It was a horrible turning of the tables. They'd been here before – not here, not like this, nothing like this, but— here, Will with the guilt dragging him down, Clio the one holding his face between her palms, holding his eyes with her gaze and telling him it's not your fault, it's not, Will the one with the deflections because he didn't want to argue the point. It hurt being on the other side of it, but there was nothing he could do; nothing but do his best to remind her, day by day, of the truth.
"Water," he agreed. There was a jug on the nightstand and some plastic cups. He had to let go of her to pour, but he was back at her side in moments, passing her the cup, with a hand ready to support it if she needed it. "I can stay," he added. "You don't have to be alone here."