Peter was silent the whole walk back towards the complex. There was nothing to say at this point. And he was a little afraid that if he tried to talk, he'd lose whatever little bit of resolve he had left. The adrenaline high that had dulled the pain he'd had during the fight was wearing off and he was becoming increasingly aware of his own injuries. But for right now, in that moment, it didn't matter. Because the important thing was getting Lydia somewhere safe, much as the thought hurt him because really, she wasn't safe. She wasn't anything...because she was dead.
After they had gotten Lydia somewhere "safe", Peter could already feel the resolve slipping and the pain wasn't getting any better. He stood for a long moment in the doorway of the room they'd put the redhead in. Somehow, in that moment, the reality of it all hit him like a ton of bricks to the gut. It wasn't that he hadn't known before, but there was a large part of him that had been hoping, praying, wishing, begging that this was all some insanely realistic nightmare and he might wake up from it. But now he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that wasn't true. A shaky gasp escaped him and he had to hang on to the door frame to keep from collapsing. For a moment, his mouth moved wordlessly before his eyes cut back to Gwen. "She... she's really gone." he whispered, choking back a sob.