"When was this photo taken?" His roughened voice, fueled by his emotions, brought her eyes back to him.
"Three weeks ago."
Her words hit him. She could see that in the slight tremor of his jaw, yet he stood unmoving.
"It's her, Tristan," she said as softly as possible. "She is alive. She is real. She is found."
Both his arms dropped to his sides at her words. His eyes stared at the screen, unseeing and unfocused, the pupils down to little points, swallowed by the blue. She didn't know what to do or how to help him process this, so she just stood next to him, hoping for a signal that she could dosomething.
And then, his hands began to shake.
Morana rushed to hold his hands in hers, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and numbness in her left arm at the sudden movement.
"Tristan?"
He looked right at the screen, lost deep in his head.
"Tristan?"
She shook his hand, but it just intensified his trembling.
"Tristan."
His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.
"Tristan!"
Tristan finally turned to face her, coming out of his stupor, his jaw clenching, his eyes misted, his hands shaking in her grip.
She held them tighter, hoping it would subside, and when it didn't, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his body, wincing at the stabbing pain in her shoulder but keeping it at bay through sheer stubbornness. It took a split second, but his arms came around her, crushing her to himself, and Morana bit her tongue, swallowing her noise of pain down.
Her physical pain could wait. His emotional pain was more important right then.
He needed to take this from her right then, and that was what she needed to do. She needed to let himtake.
And with that thought, she let herself be crushed into his embrace and be what he needed in that moment.