She was right. It helped. As little as Peter wanted to give her any grief, the act of sharing his pain made it easier to bear. And shared it was, by the bonds they had to one another. He could feel the love she bore him reflecting back. The way she shared herself in return, giving him peace and strength. He accepted her comfort, accepted the food she offered.
Slowly, his sense of self regained strength. There was still grief, but it had become something manageable.
He leaned his forehead against her shoulder for a moment, taking solace in the scent and warmth of her. His perfect, precious beloved. There was no need to speak, with how they were presently connected, but he showed her how helpless he felt, how desperate the need to fix this was. And his remorse that even this was no solution.