Besca could never really be sure how well a conversation with Quinn was going until it was over, and even then, sometimes it was a guess. They descended into quiet, the rapid breathing on the other end of the line slowed. Besca sat with the phone in one hand and her head leaning heavily down on the other, alternating between kicking herself for saying the wrong thing, abject worry, and the longer she went without hearing tears, a little glimmer of hope that maybe she hadn’t fucked up at the worst time. 

Eventually, Quinn asked a stupid question. For a moment she was almost offended; it felt like discovering someone you considered a friend didn’t know your name. [i]Do you miss me?[/i] What sort of question was that? What could have happened between them to make Quinn think, even for a moment, that there could be any other answer but yes? 

Then, of course, Besca realized yes was a stupid answer. 

She missed her, dearly, and they both knew it. Quinn didn’t need to hear that. What Quinn needed was to know that the things that happened, the horrors that came and would come again, weren’t her fault. That they didn’t outweigh the rest of her. There was no way for Besca to assure her, beyond any doubt, that nothing was going to happen to Cantimine; and that wasn’t what she was asking. She needed to know she wouldn’t be abandoned if it did.

Besca couldn’t tell Quinn she was blameless. She believed that with all her heart, but it wasn’t her place to say it. Quinn would prove that to herself, eventually, and she wouldn’t have to do it alone, but she would have to do it. In the meantime, Besca could at least tell her an undeniable truth—one that [i]was[/i] hers to give. 

“[color=gray]You’re worth it,[/color]” she said quietly. “[color=gray]I wouldn’t change anything. You’re worth every single moment to me.[/color]”