The ripples in the silence around Preston was noticeable - the tight grip on his fork, the subtle clench of his jaw. Evey waited with the patience of a stone. Her eyes traced the line in the condensation on the glass that his fingertip had made. It wasn't like John to struggle like this; that had been her role. She remembered the last time her tongue wouldn't work right. She'd wanted him to take her to bed. She'd told herself at the time that she only wanted him to fall asleep with her, but she knew now that it was more than that. Tonight, she was glad she hadn't found the words. He wouldn't have wanted her anyway; she'd inadvertently avoided too much awkwardness to bear.
When he finally spoke, the words struck the thick, transparent layers of ice that'd grown over the bright wounds inside her. She didn't wince, but her eyes briefly grew clear enough to show what lay under that hard freeze. She couldn't hold his gaze for long. She mirrored the gentle movement he'd made moments before, by setting her fork soundlessly on the edge of her plate, and she stared at the leaves she'd left there.
My heart is yours, Evey Hammond.
Aidan had been excised from deep inside her by the brutal surgery of circumstance - with the work of necessity her only anesthesia. And now that she knew he was alive, he... didn't want her. After the island, she'd felt useless. But now... she felt worse than that.
"I saw a ghost," she found herself saying, and she couldn't believe she was saying it. Her eyes widened, bewildered and shocked, while her mouth continued without her permission. "Someone I loved, before the island, someone I thought had died. He found the other, the younger version of me, here and he... I-- he doesn..."
Evey drifted off, horrified by the sophomoric admission. Was she to be conquered by one man's denial of her? She laughed, laughed out loud at that, because it was so very, very funny. And that was only just the last part. She was so tired. She was worn. She felt used up, less than human, nothing worthwhile to give.