In her idle dreamings about what it would have been like to have someone to comfort her after her death, Darcy had envisioned something like this. A hug, soothing words.

She hadn't envisioned how much it was still going to suck.

For different reasons, too. Now that she'd weathered the worst of it, her brain was working again, jabbing herself with cruel comments about how this was going to diminish her toughness in his eyes, a growing mortification at needing comfort like a fucking child, his steady hold quickly shifting from supportive to constricting in her panic.

But then Dimitri reminds her that she'd done the same, and her hackles ease back down again. This wasn't a hand-down from someone steadier and stronger and more in control of his own shit. It was a mutual support. A real, genuine friendship between equal parties. No pitying, no superiority, no ties or tethers except what they chose to uphold, not seeking to replace a loss or fill a void like she feared she was doing with some of her other relationships. Two broken pillars, each holding the other up.

Darcy relinquishes her grip on Dimitri's shirt and reaches up to ruffle his hair again.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks and I'm sorry and... yeah. I sort of... i don't think there's a good way to put it, but the thing that saved me... didn't come with me here. Him gone is a hole in my heart and my head, and you just... reminded me that he's not here."