He felt her against him, and for an instant he hated the contact, hated her for not being Leeloo. But the anger was gone faster than it had arrived, and Peter curled more tightly against himself, desperate to drown out the grief.
He couldn't speak, couldn't form words, but at least with Evey, there was no need. His pain was a living thing, with nothing but the void to hold it.
She was gone. His love, his heart, his perfect Leeloo.