( For a time, Beth is silent. She doesn't know what to say, what to do. It feels like she's right back on that platform at Huxley. The din of the tavern is the rush of an oncoming train, the clatter over the rails—
Her breath comes in a quick, painful gasp, as she shakes her head, snaps out of it.
Cosima's here. Cosima is alive and real and solid. Beth's just not sure about everything else. Her jaw feels tense and slack at the same time, she looks pale and hollow, and she exhales shakily. )
I couldn't. If I spoke to you or Alison, I don't know if I could have gone through with it.
( And that was what she had to do, right? What she had to do to protect them? Tentatively, carefully, like one of them is made of glass and the other is hot coals, and shattering is the only possibly outcome of contact. She's honestly not sure which is which, when she finally lays a hand over Cosima's. )
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Her breath comes in a quick, painful gasp, as she shakes her head, snaps out of it.
Cosima's here. Cosima is alive and real and solid. Beth's just not sure about everything else. Her jaw feels tense and slack at the same time, she looks pale and hollow, and she exhales shakily. )
I couldn't. If I spoke to you or Alison, I don't know if I could have gone through with it.
( And that was what she had to do, right? What she had to do to protect them? Tentatively, carefully, like one of them is made of glass and the other is hot coals, and shattering is the only possibly outcome of contact. She's honestly not sure which is which, when she finally lays a hand over Cosima's. )
I'm sorry.