If she is aware of another's company she will not make it known. Tide curls itself around the woman's ankles yet she shows no response to the cold. Gentle hues are vacant, staring out towards the horizon, lost somewhere in her own thoughts. She can still hear them, screaming and choking as the water pulled them under- their calls carried across the oceans crest. Feels each cry dragged through some part of her deeper than a soul. Finn could silence them. He knew how to draw her back, coax the echoes out of her mind and fill her head with him. A heavy shudder runs across her body, sending tremors through each fragile bone.
"Come back,"
a barely audible whisper to a husband taken far further than even the sea can comprehend.
"bring him back."
It is her son now that finds her. Hand on arm, guides her back from the waves. He understands that sometimes his mother just slips away and, so much like his father, has the patience to bring her home. He draws a blanket over prominent shoulder bones, brushing dark hair now mottled with grey from his mother's face. There are no words, he knows enough to acknowledge that nothing he says will ever erase her pain. Later, he will light the log burning fire. They will sit, quiet, and she will tell him stories of the man she misses so dearly.
She will tell him that his father would be proud, he wonders if she knows that Finnick would be proud of her too.