'His Wounds, Her News'
Inspired by 'Wounds'
Eve had been late, but Stella hadn't asked why. Obviously the look on her face was enough. One glance and Stella had paid for her drink and taken Eve back to hers.
"Sorry..." Eve had said, eventually.
"What for?"
"I don't really feel like it tonight."
"I know. It's fine."
And it had been. Stella had let Eve shower, smoke (something she didn't usually let Eve do in her flat, although Eve had taken care to lean out the window, allowing the breeze to wash over her, the sounds of late night London going on beneath her), and go to bed. It was all Eve really wanted to do.
Stella had fallen asleep quickly – after watching Eve stare into nothingness for a while – and now, hours later, Eve still sat up, stroking Stella's hair and thinking about Boyd's face. His hurt. His loss, written deep in his eyes.
Why had she been the one to tell him? Grace knew him so much more. They were both doctors, they both should have some sort of sixth sense, some sort of aptitude when it came to giving bad news – one presumed it came with the qualification. But she had felt so far away. The empty room stretching between her and him. Between her and Boyd. Between his success with the case and her news that would just ruin all of that.
She looked down at Stella's sleeping form, watched her chest rise and fall. Her face was so peaceful, her eyelids barely fluttering. Deep sleep. Eve felt a lump rise in her throat. As carefully as she could, she slipped down the bed, under the covers, and tucked her body into Stella's.
Loss was hard.