Disclaimer: I don't own To the Moon.

A Grave Visit

Neil was being very quiet, Eva couldn't help but notice.

Yes, their current case, in which Stan Williams wished to be famous, was incredibly boring, but she would've expected her boyfriend to have something to say. Whether it was snarky remarks about how dull their patient was, complaints about the stupidly easy nature of their mission, or gripes about the boss clearly hating them, the Neil Watts Eva knew and loved would never fail to spout off anything and everything that came into his head. Except he wasn't, and she had no idea why.

Moreover, he wasn't even paying much attention to what was going on in the machine half the time. Granted, with the sheer mundanity of the memories they were watching, some petty part of Eva could understand if he was just going on autopilot, but that didn't seem quite right. When she asked if he was going to prepare a memento or not, he started, as if she'd broken him out of a reverie.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he said, nodding. "Sure, I can do that."

And that was that—no whining, no arguing, no snippy comments. Completely unlike Neil, in other words.

Eva wondered if he was having one of those days, medically speaking: nothing serious enough that he needed to go to the hospital, of course, but enough to make him feel under the weather. Or maybe he was simply on a different dosage of his painkillers. Either way, she didn't pry into it, not during the case and not during the drive back to Sigmund Corp. Headquarters, and he, too, didn't say anything about it.

He came to her apartment the next day, unannounced and without calling first, which wasn't a surprise to her. What was a surprise was the bouquet of lavenders he held in his hands, the gentle scent of the violet flowers wafting through Eva's living room. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him with flowers. Even in the past six months, his usual brand of romantic affection was touching and kissing her, or cooking meals for them—if he bought her these flowers, it'd be a first for him.

"Are those for me?" Eva asked.

"Uh, actually, they're for my mom," Neil answered.

It took all she had not to flinch in surprise. His mom?

"She...ya know." He momentarily paused, glancing down at the bouquet with a sad sort of smile on his face. "Loved lavenders."

His mom.

It was one of the unspoken rules of knowing Neil: "Never talk about Lynri Watts." Eva could count on one hand the number of times his mother came up in conversation and still have three fingers left over. The first time, they'd been fifteen and at his house—she said something about his parents, and he snapped that his dad's wife wasn't his mother, she was his stepmother. When Eva asked if his dad had divorced his birth mother, all Neil said was, "No, she's dead," without elaborating further, and that was the end of the discussion. The second time was almost two years ago, during the Johnny Wyles case, and even then, Lynri was only a passing mention in Neil's story about stargazing with his grandfather. Since then, his mother had never been brought up again.

Until now.

"...Oh," was all Eva could think to say.

"Yeah." Neil returned his attention to her. "Anyway, I was thinking of going to the cemetery today, wondered if you wanted to come with."

He was speaking casually, as though he was asking her if she wanted to go to the grocery store with him, but she knew his request was the opposite of casual. How could it not be, considering it was his long-dead mother they were talking about? He must have spent all of yesterday thinking about visiting Lynri's grave, about whether or not to ask Eva to join him. And as she continued gazing at him—at the lavender bouquet he held, at the sad smile he (unknowingly?) still wore—she knew there was only one answer to give.

"Of course I'm coming with."

The drive to the cemetery came and went without incident. Once they were out of her car and into the warm June air, Eva followed closely behind Neil as he headed directly to a light gray tombstone surmounted by a black Celtic cross. He bent down and gently placed the lavenders before the tombstone.

"Hi, Ma," he greeted, his voice soft. "I'm sorry I haven't visited in a really long time. Things just..." He stopped, as if reconsidering his words, then started again. "Not that there's much excuse, but I'm here now. That's what matters, right?"

Eva's heart broke a little as she watched him. Losing a parent was never easy, but Neil had clearly taken Lynri's death especially hard, if this was the first time in years or even decades he'd visited her grave. Kneeling down behind him, Eva wrapped her arms around Neil.

"I'm sure your mom appreciates it," she told him gently, resting her chin on his shoulder.

They stayed that way for a brief while before she felt him trembling. She turned her head slightly to peer at him—from behind his glasses, she could see him blinking back tears.

"It was my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"That she died. It was my fault." He wiped at his eyes, his voice sounding choked, and for an instant, Eva wondered if he was going to push her arms away, but he didn't move any further. He just went on talking.

"Ma had the same condition I have, and it got worse when she was pregnant with me. She could've chosen herself, gotten surgery right away. But she didn't. She held off on it until I was born. She's dead because she chose me."

Neil wiped at his eyes again, squeezing them shut. Eva belatedly realized she was trembling herself, a lump forming in her throat. Just how long had he been feeling this way? Blaming himself for his mother's death? Bottling up all that guilt for something no child deserved to go through? With a hard bite of her lower lip, Eva tightened her embrace around him.

When she next spoke, her voice sounded hoarse.

"You know that's not true."

Neil let out a short, hollow laugh. "Since when d'ya think lying will make me feel better?"

"I'm not lying," Eva insisted. "Pregnancy complications happen all the time. It's no one's fault—they just happen."

"She still didn't have to die because of me."

"Do you seriously think your mom blamed you for it?"

She felt more than heard the noise that came out of his throat then, something between a gasp and a sob. He turned his head away from her without a word, the ensuing silence heavy with unsaid emotion.

He broke it after a long moment.

"No, she didn't."

It wasn't an answer to the exact question Eva asked, but it was one she could easily accept. After all, if Lynri had been the sort of person willing to sacrifice herself for her son, then of course she wouldn't have blamed Neil for anything.

"But she—"

Eva interrupted him at once. "I swear, Neil, if you're about to say she should've—"

"I wasn't!" he cut in, his defensive tone making it clear he was, in fact, about to say his mother should've blamed him. "I just..." His voice trailed off as he stared at Lynri's tombstone. "I wish you could've met her," he said, placing a hand over one of Eva's.

"I do, too," she agreed. "I bet I would've liked her."

Neil hummed, slowly stroking the skin of the back of Eva's hand. "She would've liked you, too."

Another long moment of silence stretched between them. At last, Neil turned around to face Eva, and her hands moved to his shoulders.

"Thanks for...you know. Being here." He smiled wanly. "Listening to my angsty family history."

She gave him a pointed look. "Well, you obviously needed to talk about that history, so..." Her face then softened as she caressed his cheek. "But really, thanks for asking me to be here."

After all, here with him—in this graveyard, at this tombstone, saying all the words he had to hear—was where he needed her to be at this moment. And at this moment, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.