Disclaimer: Not mine.
He listens to her trying to be quiet, holds still as the bed is depressed on her sidea s she gets in. There is silence for a few minutes and he hears her breathing change, little hitches in her breath. He rolls over. She's crying. "Liv," he says. He sits up a bit, watches as she wipes the tears away. He catches her hands and pulls them away from her face. Her eyes flick to him and then her face is pressed against his stomach, his arm around her, his hand on her head. He doesn't say anything as she cries, just holds her. It's the only thing he can do, for now at least.
She pulls away and he scoots back down so he is once again lying next to her. Her back is to him and he spoons up against her, draping an arm over and holding one of her hands in his. "You okay?" he asks. Idiotic question, as she obviously is not okay. But still, she nods, then sniffs. "Something happen in the Bowker case?"
She nods again, sniffs again. "She didn't make it."
"Her son?"
"Hospital. Don't know if he's going to make it."
"I thought you might stay."
"I couldn't," she whispers and he squeezes his arm a bit, pulls her a bit closer, kisses the back of her head.
"Maybe a vacation is in order," he suggests quietly. She doesn't respond. "Liv, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. It wasn't your fault." He puts as much conviction as he can muster into those words. Because even though they are true, he knows she won't fully believe them now, if ever. So if he forces as much conviction as he can into those words, maybe she'll be able to believe them a little more than if she were to tell it to herself.
Conviction. That's all they ever want.