The tea had long gone cold.

The tray that Ximena had brought out, untouched, save for the corner of a biscuit nibbled and set back down without a word. She knew you didn't like her spice biscuits that much. Not like Viktor had liked them. But it felt like a way to pretend he was there, that they were both there. So she understood why you forced yourself to have a bite.

Next to the tray, a photo album, sitting on the spot where Jayce had spilled ink on the coffee table. A memory rose in Ximena's mind, unbidden and unwelcome, of every time you had made this place your base of operations with the two other boys, working untill you collapsed and she covered you with blankets. The pretty ones, the ones she crocheted herself. The same kind you had on your lap now, as you both leafed through the pictures.

Another wave of nostalgia washed over her as she turned another page. Jayce, Viktor, and you, lined up all nicely in front of the hexgates, that had just been made operational a few minutes ago, staying as still as possible as you waited for Ximena to take the picture. There was still a bit of soot on Jayce's nose. A bit of grease on Viktor's cheek. A bit of dust on your forehead. A lifetime ago, she had grumbled about it making you unsightly. Now, she found that it made it all seem so genuine.

"I remember that day so clearly. The three of you were so proud. And I'm pretty sure you slept for a whole week straight afterwards."

Her words were soft, gentle, clearly hoping to prompt more than a silent nod out of you. It had been a month or two since Viktor and Jayce had... Since they were gone, and yet you still couldn't bring yourself to say a word when anyone was talking about them. Ximena understood. Of course, she knew she could never really understand. The three of you might have been like her children, but you had lost your two brothers. So she had to be strong for you.

Her hand grasped yours tightly, ignoring the way you flinched. "I'm sorry, peque. I'm sorry they left you behind."