[ even as he says she's not a bother, mary margaret feels that guilty weight hang on to her shoulders, her head. she shouldn't be pushing her grief off on him, shouldn't have just showed up at his room with very little warning, hadn't imposed on him like she was just because she was strong enough to deal with this on her own.

instead, he grabs her hands and she just about falls apart, that stubborn tether that's holding her together at all slowly starting to unravel. she doesn't sob, but there's a puff of air that is pretty darn close that leaves her, her hands tightening around his fingers as she shakes her head. ]

No, their names aren't- [ her voice just nearly cracks and she stops it, taking a breath to try and calm herself down a little more but feeling the hot pressure in her eyes. ] Their names aren't on the network. They've definitely gone home. I just...

[ she means to continue that with 'i don't know if they're coming back', but it's that moment that she can't really hold it all back. her shoulders hunch over a little more as she holds onto his hands, tears falling from her eyes even as she closes them. the loss that fills her chest is immeasurable, feels too real and too sudden to equate to anything but losing family. because, in many ways, they had been her's. before she knew she'd been lacking it, and even after.

the only moment close enough, though different and more intense is too many ways for her to go into, would have been the hours after she gave birth to emma. when she had to hand her off to charming, and lay in bed. knowing what she'd done, what it would lead to.

there was no agency for her to play a role in this time, but the sharp pain is all the same. ]

I didn't know to say goodbye.