She was crying.
Of that Joseph Frost, or the spectral remnants of the man that had once been, knew. Sheva was crying. It pulled him from the nothingness, pulled him back to some corporeal form - intangible and unnoticed - to spy the woman at his grave. She'd brought flowers, he'd noticed, and while she wasn't sobbing uncontrollably her face was damp. They had been friends, he'd reflected, while he was alive…and he had cared for her. She had cared for him too…had been the one who'd stopped all the pain when he'd finally reached the end.
Smiling, Joseph moved towards the woman. He knew she couldn't see him. Knew she couldn't feel his touch even as he rested his hand on her shoulder with an attempted show of support for her. She'd never know how much he appreciated her for pulling the trigger when he had been beyond able to do it himself…never know how much it meant to him no matter whether he was alive or dead to show it.
Knowing he needed to do something, anything, the specter smirked playfully and Sheva blinked. Before her, beside the flowers she'd brought, was a white styrofoam cup…filled and scenting richly of hot chocolate. On the side was Joseph's own handwriting, three simple words: Thank you, Firefly. As Sheva read the words they ghosted away, vanishing once more from sight much like the firefly he had been so fond of calling her, and a wistful smile appeared on the woman's face. "I miss you.."