[attr="class","illie i"]she's flushing even as he's only halfway through his explanation. affection rises in her body and she's clutching at his back with a desperation she hasn't fully come to know yet. "i," she tries at first but her voice is muffled by his shoulder and she really doesn't know what to say. she settles on gratitude, on pressing closer into the embrace as if it'll hold her together. "thank you for coming." of course he would come, this much she knows, but still... it's touching nonetheless and her heart soars a little at the thought.

he pulls away to settle in the chair by her side, his hand maintaining contact with hers as he sits. her gaze avoids his at first, instead dropping to their intertwined fingers. the news is already covering what happened. it's plastered everywhere... she still hasn't even seen much of it. that might be due to the nurses keeping her tv switched off but she isn't positive. part of her doesn't even want to know what the reports say, what the newscasters have been divulging on the topic. does everyone know the details? do they know the full situation? her grip around his hand tightens.

"i'm okay," she reassures, her eyes leaving their hands to find his. her smile is soft, almost uncertain, but it stays despite the weight behind it. "my body's recovering well despite the poison and the wound on my thigh." as if subconsciously, her bandaged leg shifts at the mention. she still has yet to get used to the sensation of medical wrapping around her skin. it's still as suffocating as always. and then, as she hesitates on even asking the next question, her smile falls away into a more grim expression. it doesn't feel right on her features but it sits, unmoving, with the facts of the situation fernando had given her still far too fresh in her mind. "what's the news saying?"

[attr="class","illie i"]a shaky exhale is breathed into his chest and she's faintly aware that she might be clinging a little too much, holding him a little too tight, but the circumstances are odd in this situation. the gravity of what has happened, of what could have gone wrong and somehow didn't weighs on them both. "thank you," she murmurs again, if only to solidify all of the emotions she feels in this moment. affection, gratitude, love. somehow, he always manages to bring each one out with the smallest of actions.

she doesn't miss the way his shoulders seem to settle a little further as he exhales, as if whatever had been weighing on him is slowly evaporating. it leaves his expression calmer, gentler than it had previously been, and the smile that rises to her face is soft in response. "i'm glad, too," she lets out a sigh shortly after. and then, the smile falters and she's glancing down at their hands once more. "some weren't as fortunate." three dead seems to repeat in her mind, her grip on his hand tightening in the process. she's here, safe, with him... but at what cost?

"good," illeana murmurs. the circles he traces in her skin comfort her some but there's things he can't fight off, no matter how much he might try. they weigh her down, settling against her shoulders and piling onto the things that have already been existing there. some day, it will prove to be too much. that day could be today or maybe not but eventually, illeana reyes will crumble beneath the pressure. it almost seems inevitable, almost as much as the way her tone tightens in the face of his reassurance. it's suppose to ease her mind, to help support the weight she feels, but instead of the intended effect... all she's left with is a sour taste in her mouth. "there's a lot to be guilty for," she winces at the tone, at the way her words feel clipped and almost harsh. he doesn't deserve that reaction but once it's started, it's difficult to stop. "people lost their lives. they lost their lives for doing their job, for helping me do my job, and i --" she has to stop and collect herself, fight off the tears as they come. they escape her waterlines anyway, rolling down her cheeks in waves. the grip her fingers have around his tightens to an unbearable point and she has to pull her hand away from the comfort he provides.

"i lost custos." a beat, a pause, and then a choked sob echo throughout the room.

[attr="class","illie i"]silence lingers at first, heavy with the weight of her admittance. and then, like porcelain meeting the floor, it shatters.

she's a mess of snot and tears, body trembling as guilt and loss finally settle in. she doesn't look at him, doesn't even want to see the reaction he gives in the face of the information she's divulged. no, it'd be too painful. instead, she all but curls into herself, legs struggling to be brought to her chest. the wound on her left one throbs and aches but it has nothing on the shitstorm her heart is handling. only when her knees are finally knocking against her chest does she crumple into them, forehead pressing against bare skin while dark hair shields her face.

when he breathes out her name, she sobs, hands clutching her legs tighter. she doesn't notice the way grief overtakes him too, the way tears spring to his eyes without hesitation. she doesn't even hear the first apology that leaves his mouth. everything feels like white noise in the face of realization that her precious golett is lost beneath the rubble. broken down into pieces of clay, scattered among the debris. more than her losing one of her children, deus had lost its little brother that day. and perhaps that is what really hurt the most... how is she going to explain her failure to the larger automaton? how is she going to handle seeing the golurk's heart break into pieces before her very eyes?

she won't be able to.

"i," she tries and instead of more words, another sob comes out sounding almost mangled. alexander shifts closer once the tears are wiped clean from his face and she can feel his presence at her side but instead of being a comfort, it does little to quell her. she sniffles, a hand leaving her knee to furiously swipe at her eyes. and then, she's slowly raising her head to glance at him, bottom lip quivering with emotion barely being contained. "how could i do that to custos?" it comes out as a whimper and the hand that had been wiping at her face darts toward his with a quickness bordering on desperate. "how could i just leave it behind to die?"

she dissolves further, pieces breaking away to clatter against the pristine floor of a hospital room.

[attr="class","illie i"]it's not like these feelings aren't familiar. perhaps that's the funny thing about them: they're just as they were before and she still hasn't gotten any better at handling them. instead, they break her down like acid burning through the floor.

in her defense, she didn't think that she'd put her pokemon in harms way again. not after last time, not after faba. and yet, she still did. still rushed in, still took advantage of their loyalty and for what? to end up failing, almost dying? her hand ball up sheets into fists, the white fabric crumpling beneath the pressure. "but," she chokes out, head whipping up in the process. her eyes are lined with red, desperate and destroyed. "i -- i could've done something!" anything, really, instead of just leaving her golett to weather the explosion.

it had been foolish to think the shadows could be better protection for the small automaton than herself.

she understands what he's saying but can she accept it? can she move past this? perhaps but... it could happen again. almost bitterly, her mind adds that yes, it will happen again. the casualties of tensions rising within the region, perhaps. only time will tell in the end but something in her gut just knows that this won't be the last time she's left in mourning.

"how can i not blame myself, though?" she's shifting over into irritated territory, now. frustration at herself, at the situation, at that damn clown and it's exploding head overtake everything else and she's wincing at how quickly it comes. "i brought custos into that building with me. if i had just left it at home, it'd still be here." and that's the worst part of it all. the regret, the scenarios that avoided this outcome constantly coming in flashes. if she had left the golett at home, it'd still be cooing at deus for cuddles, still running amok in her makeshift lab. more tears rise at the thought, pooling over and down her cheeks.

she tries to heave out a sigh but it comes as a whimper and she's reaching for him before she can decide otherwise, before she can process anything else. the search for comfort drives her body to move despite the ache and when she finds it, she crumbles into him without hesitation.

[attr="class","illie i"]the easiest part of blame is how natural it is to shift onto yourself. more could have been done, more should have been done. if she could have been more, been stronger, maybe it wouldn't have happened. and yet, she believes she's alone in this concept. it doesn't dawn on her until she hears his voice that she's not the only one loss has touched.

and perhaps that's why she sniffles a little more, a hand rising to wipe away more tears as they come.

"how do you not?" she whispers as if he'll have all the answers she needs. it doesn't cross her mind that he doesn't, that no one does. that these things are inevitable and unavoidable, no matter how many times we try to change the outcome. death is life and that factor is more painful than the guilt.

he's moving before she even fully reaches him, climbing into the bed and holding her as close as she needs for the pieces to stay whole. they shift and crack and sound like breaking glass but one whole broken piece is better than dozens of little shards. a sob is stifled by the fabric of his shirt. his hands hold her head close, tangling into her hair, and beneath the grief and tears lies gratitude. she's grateful he's here, grateful she's not alone. that she'll never be alone.

"i," she tries and like all the other times, fails to fully piece together words without emotion overcoming her voice. she swallows and whimpers it out instead, the admittance feeling like knives piercing into skin. "i miss it." her beloved golett, her precious baby automaton. and while she knows the ache she feels right now is agonizing, it doesn't hold a candle to the experience that her golurk will have upon learning the news. this thought gives way to more tears and she's pressing closer with a fierce grip, knuckles shifting into white.

[attr="class","illie i"]people depend on him and that drives him to keep going, to stay above the water. she finds logic in the explanation, sound reasoning in the words. and yet, she isn't so sure the same could be said for her. he's certain in that but the seed of doubt has been buried too deep to shake. it festers where others can't see and leaves her at a loss. he's depended on by family, friends, the region. but her? who could depend on the weak, the one who couldn't even save her pokemon let alone herself?

this line of thinking sends her into silence as if she'll break further apart if she argues against his logic. it's to help her, to benefit her, to keep her afloat. she knows this, understands it even, but accepting it is another thing entirely.

and then, she's breaking the silence to ask a single question, to glance up at him as if he holds all the answers she needs. "does it get easier?" does the burden ever dissolve? or does it simply continue to settle itself further into the mind, deeper and deeper until it's never able to be forgotten. somehow, she knows it doesn't, that it never will, but she wants to hear the sugar coated version even though hope is a funny, painful thing.

she hums softly at his admittance, burrowing a little deeper into the embrace of comfort he offers. he holds her close as if letting her go will provide more cracks in the porcelain. she's already a chipped cup, one fall away from shattering, but that doesn't matter. not now, not yet.