Anders stands by the door, dazed, frozen, the color drained out from his face. It feels like he just walked into a nightmare. If only he could step back outside and everything would go back to normal. But it isn't as easy as that.
He just stands, watching, his petrified eyes fixed on the lifeless body of Laurel.
Mac moves close to him by the door and places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“I'm sorry, Anders.” Mac says.
It takes Anders an eternity before his gaze shifts to Mac.
“Mac.” he calls. His voice is laced with confusion, disbelief, request for some explanation, agony and growing pain, sounding noting like him.
“She stopped responding to treatment months ago. Nothing we gave her worked. We did our best, Anders, and there was nothing more we could do.” Mac explains further
