She knew the feeling all too well. The loneliness, the emptiness, the hopelessness. It was too familiar.
She hated how no one else seemed to truly care, how no one paid attention or took the time to notice how she hid behind a mask, shielding herself from the pain, pushing away the cruel, unforgiving reality. How she had lost her light, her spark, the fire that once burned furiously within her. It was gone, and no one else seemed to realize it.
But she did. She noticed, and she cared, and she wanted nothing but to reach out to her. But she couldn't, she shouldn't. She didn't.
Not until she saw her sneak into an empty on-call room, her eyes wet and glistening with unshed tears. She couldn't stop herself from following her, quietly entering the room and closing the door behind her.
"Amelia."
She whispered her name quietly, cautiously, slowly approaching the tiny bed on which the she sat, her head buried in her hands. The other woman lifted her head, forcing a sad smile as she wiped her red, puffy eyes, her cheeks burning and stained with tears.
"Hey," she croaked, her cracked, raspy voice giving her away. "I, uh... I was just leaving. Bed's all yours."
She stood up to leave the room, her face turned away. She brushed passed her, only to be stopped by a gentle hand closing around her wrist.
"Amelia."
Something about the way she whispered it caused the brunette's chest to clench, and she could feel herself unraveling all over again. Hot tears brimmed her eyes as she lifted her head.
The other woman reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, cupping her cheek and using her thumb to wipe the tears that began to spill from her eyes.
"Amelia." She whispered to her again, her voice soft.
The gentleness of her tone caused the brunette to crumble, and suddenly the mask was gone, the shield she had constructed for herself completely destroyed.
"He died."
The blonde nodded in understanding, and she wrapped her arms around the other woman's fragile form as she broke down. She held her impossibly close, her embrace tight and protective as she cradled the back of her head in the palm of her hand.
The brunette let herself cry, let herself break down. She let her mask come off. She let the other woman hold her, catch her, protect her. She held on for dear life as the blonde whispered into her hair.
"I know."
And she did. She did know. She had been here before.
She planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, soothing, healing, her lips remaining pressed against her skin.
"I know."
