Eric knows that he faces the future with an understanding of his past.
He knows that he's spent years right beside her, after her first kill, countless losses, and not to mention the grisliness they've been forced to see.
Regardless, his mind never wandered to a scenario like this one.
Yes, they'd talked about the future as it was: the future. He knew she had goals and hopes and dreams, and they're often discussed, abstractly, how he could fit in to the picture.
Less abstractly, he's pondered how he could provide for her as more than a friend, but as a tentative lover, a soulmate, a life partner, her other half.
It had taken years, yes, but they passed from the "best friend" stage to the "person I know more about than myself" era.
And oh, what an era it proved to be.
She'd proven just how vibrant, and radical, and effortlessly beautiful she could be, even with red-rimmed eyes and slumped shoulders. She'd proven that intellect is more powerful than any weapon known to man; that sometimes, a quick-witted remark can do more harm than a gunshot, be more explosive than a car bomb, more deadly than biological agents.
Sometimes, a snappy comment could equal your own death, even when the odds are in your favor.
Eric knew that all eras must come to an end; that nothing perfect lasts forever. Every sunrise has an equivalent sunset.
Yet, he never expected that their era would end with daffodils placed on a prematurely dug grave.