Sitting on the dock, a cup of coffee in hand, Caitlin O'Shaunessy Hawke watched the sun go down over Eagle Lake, painting the sky shades of pink, purple, and orange, colors bleeding into the sky, into the shadows.
The Sikorsky had come and gone, heavy blades chopping the air. She'd known as soon as she'd seen it come across the mountain, had known when she'd seen Michael and the others disembark. She'd known, and she'd fought it with every breath of her body.
Hawke couldn't be gone. She could still smell his scent on his shirt that she wore, feel his touch on her skin, almost hear the sound of the Stradivarius sob beneath his fingers. The coffee cup slid from suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the wood deck of the dock with a dull thunk as the tears slid down her cheeks. No, she repeated to herself, he couldn't be gone.
Quiet steps paced the length of the dock, stopping next to her. Beside her, soft, worn jeans brushed her thigh as Hawke's oldest son dropped down beside her. Strong, slender fingers interlaced with hers as he reached for her hand, gripping it in his own.
Caitlin raised tear-filled blue-green eyes to search his blue ones, eyes so uncannily like Hawke's.
"How can he be gone?" she whispered, bemused. "How can he be gone, and I still be here? I just don't understand…"
Roper sighed, his own chest aching, as he ran a frustrated hand through his shock of sun-bleached brown hair. "I don't know, Cait," he murmured his own voice tight. "I just don't know."
Sobbing, Cait flung herself into his arms, giving over to the pain in her heart. Bowing his head, Roper held her, stroking her hair as his own tears fell.