Peter didn't know how long he'd been sitting there on that hard bench, head in hands, trying to get a grip, get his breathing to even out, when he felt someone sidle up next to him, place a gentle hand on his back and pull him without speaking, into a fierce grip. He didn't have to see her to know who those hands belonged to. He'd recognize that touch and floral scent anywhere. He fell against her without looking and choked back a fresh wave of sobs, afraid if he let the tears start falling again, they'd never stop; this was a luxury he couldn't afford here, in this stale and very public corridor, feeling naked and exposed. He reigned himself in as best he could after several minutes and pulled back slightly without letting her go and blinked through tear-filled eyes to gaze at his beautiful wife; she was trembling. He ran his hands over her matching tear-stained face.
"How" he stumbled, "Who called you?" choking out the words.
"Diana", she choked back. "Came as fast as I could."
He nodded sadly.
"Hon", she whispered, stroking his hair with one hand, locking her fingers with his in the other, "let me get you out of here, okay?" That was all she could do for him at this point, there were no words of comfort, nothing to offer that would bring any solace or relief – she could take him home and put him to bed and curl up tightly in his arms and hold him until the end of time, and that was about it. It would have to be enough for now.
She stood first and gently tried pulling him to his feet. She got him that far but when she tried to lead him out of the first and last morgue she hoped to God she'd ever have to set foot in, he stood rooted to the spot, looking for all the world like a lost child, clutching Neal's possessions in a fist-iron grip.
"Hon"? She queried.
He turned and looked at the door where his partner lay lifeless on the other side – "I", his voice broke, "I don't want to leave him"…"leave him here alone"…he looked back at her helplessly and shrugged his shoulders – "I know that sounds crazy…"
Her heart, what was left of it, shattered. What do you say to that, what words of wisdom could she summon for the love of her life who was shattered himself. She leaned in close and cupped his face tenderly in her hands…"not crazy, makes perfect sense, but you're not leaving him alone, you're taking him with you, he's right here", rubbing her hand over his heart; "he's safe now."
He looked at her with such despondency and grief, she wasn't sure they'd make it through this in one piece. "One minute at a time", she told herself. She wrapped her arm around his waist and this time, he allowed himself to be led out of the building.