I've turned the grief to medicine

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead Phoebe shook her head at his words. "You can't fix the world Harper, and it is the world that has caused this." she said, voice tight. But for the brief moment of levity she looked genuinely puzzled. "I suppose I wouldn't need to." she admitted, feeling a slight weight come off her shoulders. At least she wouldn't have to split her time between places again. But then the conversation turns once more and devastation grips her heart. He had said all the nails in the proverbial coffin. He had mourned her. He had moved on. He couldn't trust her to stay. And he loved Maeve. Carefully she propped Jude on the couch, nestled in pillows. Then she leaned forward, heels of her hands pressing against her eyes. For a moment she is still and silent, but then it came like the monsoons in Torchline. A gutwrenching sob broke through her lips and she cried, feeling her heart tear from her chest. There was no hope. He would chose Maeve. They always chose whoever the Maeve was. "Please...just...what I have-had with you...it won't happen again. Not for me." she said, voice tortured and broken with tears. She and Harper had been natural, drawn together from the day of his arrival. She literally owed him her life. Losing him was losing part of her self, one she could never replace, one no one would ever quite fit again. "Please don't count me out."