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Description
He had died too. He must have done, his wife's cold hand was so much more real to him then the voices that spiralled pointlessly through the echoing corridors, the offers of things he no longer needed, like food and warmth and sleep, pointless things. Her face was turned away from him slightly, and at this angle he could almost believe that her cheek was still warm, that a smile could still be raised on those lips by his touch…but no. Not anymore. Not ever again. His darling girl had been ripped from him and this effigy with empty eyes had nothing to do with her.

Where was she then? He closed his eyes and sought her, Sybil dancing, Sybil laughing, Sybil leaning tenderly over a soldier, straightening the sheets and checking his pule with him barely noticing , Sybil as barely more than a girl, slipping him stolen, heart-breaking smiles from the back of the car, kissing him, in his arms, in his bed, giving his hand one last squeeze as she headed out to work. Heavy in his arms as he carried her upstairs, or through those crowds after the rally, her head lolling and her skin so pale she…no, that wasn't right. Fear gripped him more fiercely and completely than it ever had in his life, he had to remember her as she was. If he couldn't then everything she stood for, everything she had made me him feel would come to nothing. He would lose her every day of his life over and over as she grew fainter. He ground his hands into his eyes and sank to the floor, desperate sobs rocking his body, fighting the urge to scream and never stop. Or was he? Someone was screaming… He looked up like a wounded animal waiting for the last blow and then he knew who it was. Her daughter. The child they had made together waited for and loved the second they knew of her existence.

He stood up in a dream-like state, holding onto the doorframe when his legs felt like they could no longer hold him, and found the room where they had laid her to sleep earlier. She was perfect still. Something in this world was allowed to be perfect. He held the tiny sleeping bundle to his chest and found his love again.

Description
He had died too. He must have done, his wife's cold hand was so much more real to him then the voices that spiralled pointlessly through the echoing corridors, the offers of things he no longer needed, like food and warmth and sleep, pointless things. Her face was turned away from him slightly, and at this angle he could almost believe that her cheek was still warm, that a smile could still be raised on those lips by his touch…but no. Not anymore. Not ever again. His darling girl had been ripped from him and this effigy with empty eyes had nothing to do with her.

Where was she then? He closed his eyes and sought her, Sybil dancing, Sybil laughing, Sybil leaning tenderly over a soldier, straightening the sheets and checking his pule with him barely noticing , Sybil as barely more than a girl, slipping him stolen, heart-breaking smiles from the back of the car, kissing him, in his arms, in his bed, giving his hand one last squeeze as she headed out to work. Heavy in his arms as he carried her upstairs, or through those crowds after the rally, her head lolling and her skin so pale she…no, that wasn't right. Fear gripped him more fiercely and completely than it ever had in his life, he had to remember her as she was. If he couldn't then everything she stood for, everything she had made me him feel would come to nothing. He would lose her every day of his life over and over as she grew fainter. He ground his hands into his eyes and sank to the floor, desperate sobs rocking his body, fighting the urge to scream and never stop. Or was he? Someone was screaming… He looked up like a wounded animal waiting for the last blow and then he knew who it was. Her daughter. The child they had made together waited for and loved the second they knew of her existence.

He stood up in a dream-like state, holding onto the doorframe when his legs felt like they could no longer hold him, and found the room where they had laid her to sleep earlier. She was perfect still. Something in this world was allowed to be perfect. He held the tiny sleeping bundle to his chest and found his love again.