She's gone.
It was the first thought that crossed through his head, after what seemed like days of hysteria and panic.
She's gone
It whispered. Not even something he could easily recognize at first.
She's gone.
And there it was, in the form of words escaping past his tongue. He hadn't meant to say it, but he'd learned that words could not be taken back, so he said it again.
"She's gone."
She was gone and Scott was pushing him up against the wall of the jet as roughly as he could, twisting his clothing and shouting in his face.
"Don't say that! She's not gone yet!"
"She's gone."
She was gone and Scott was no longer yelling, but heaving great sobs into his shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around his torso and he let Scott hang on to him.
"She's gone."
How ironic that he, who had fallen and pushed and persisted and still been turned away, should be the only person in the world at the time other than the one who'd gotten it all. That he should happen to be the person her husband fell apart on.
"She's gone."
How ironic, and utterly cruel.