Beverly so rarely mentioned Jack because on most days the pain was still too much to bear. Even though she had managed to love others in the time since her husband's death, a part of her would always love and miss him. A part of her had died that day with him. If Fatima had cared about Sam even half as much as Beverly had loved Jack, then living without him must be difficult indeed.

"I wish I could say it gets better," Beverly sighs softly, her attention on the punching bag, as though that will make this topic easier. "It was harder at first. The bed was so empty and so cold. I felt the weight of my loneliness in every waking hour. Now I can go days... weeks... sometimes months without dwelling on his death until it just hits me again, like it just happened. And sometimes I still can't get his face out of my mind. Maybe it just gets easier to cope."

Even she can't say. Some days are better than others, but she will always miss Jack. Fatima may always miss Sam, too.

Beverly's lips curl upwards slightly and she reaches over to gently smooth her hand against Fatima's back. She's done this before, as comfort for both of them. Touch is often how Beverly shows she cares.

"I was a little late in coming, but I'm here." She's here and she remembers. The fact that both of them remember Zelien will be their strength for a while. They have a lot to deal with, even now. What better way to do it than with someone as close as they are to each other?