[ Like so many of his emotions, Amos doesn't feel connected to grief the way most do, the way Wanda does. But he does feel it, he has felt it. Recently, in fact. It was why he'd gone back to Earth at all, because Lydia died. The closer he got to Earth, the more his throat burned, the more he was sure he was coming down with something. That had to be it. Except it wasn't any kind of sickness of the body, and he couldn't understand it, not at first.
It was grief. Fucking — lump in his throat, hurting like hell, making him want to lash out at anyone he could because it was all that made sense to him. Nothing about the feeling of loss was familiar, or anything he knew how to process, but he felt it all the same.
Did he feel adrift without her, without anyone? Has he ever? That's all tied to emotions and feelings, the things that are far away for him, that he struggles with.
But he listens to Wanda, he takes it all in. He would never have asked her, but now she's telling him, and he'll hear it. As long as he needs to. As long as she needs him to, maybe. ]
Shit.
[ He says it a little under his breath, though loud enough to still be heard probably, even over the hum of the radio. There's a lot in that one word, though, at least for him. He's not an "I'm sorry for your loss" kind of guy, nah, not for this. Not ever, really, but especially this. This is — shit, you had him your whole life, and he's gone, and so fucking now what? Losing Lydia was nothing like this. He's not sure he's ever felt a loss like this, never had family like that to start with, and never connected with anyone else only to lose them like that.
But if he did — he at least understands what he's hearing in her voice, he can interpret it, the different sounds in the air, the way her voice shifts and moves, the way she talks about him, the way she already seemed lost before she spoke about being adrift. ]
So he's gone, and you're stuck with it. The whole mess of it.
no subject
It was grief. Fucking — lump in his throat, hurting like hell, making him want to lash out at anyone he could because it was all that made sense to him. Nothing about the feeling of loss was familiar, or anything he knew how to process, but he felt it all the same.
Did he feel adrift without her, without anyone? Has he ever? That's all tied to emotions and feelings, the things that are far away for him, that he struggles with.
But he listens to Wanda, he takes it all in. He would never have asked her, but now she's telling him, and he'll hear it. As long as he needs to. As long as she needs him to, maybe. ]
Shit.
[ He says it a little under his breath, though loud enough to still be heard probably, even over the hum of the radio. There's a lot in that one word, though, at least for him. He's not an "I'm sorry for your loss" kind of guy, nah, not for this. Not ever, really, but especially this. This is — shit, you had him your whole life, and he's gone, and so fucking now what? Losing Lydia was nothing like this. He's not sure he's ever felt a loss like this, never had family like that to start with, and never connected with anyone else only to lose them like that.
But if he did — he at least understands what he's hearing in her voice, he can interpret it, the different sounds in the air, the way her voice shifts and moves, the way she talks about him, the way she already seemed lost before she spoke about being adrift. ]
So he's gone, and you're stuck with it. The whole mess of it.
[ A life without him. ]
Was it just you and him and now it's just you?