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Her shoulders heaved with the effort of containing her sobs, small noises of distress bubbling from her lips. Shock and disbelief warred with one another until she wanted to lash out and hurt someone else the way she was hurting.
“Please daddy, don't do this to me,” she begged, breath catching in her throat.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, he wasn't supposed to leave her so early. He was the centre of her universe. No one could ever compare to her father, and where her world revolved around him, she was the apple of his eye. Aliya Trevelyan could do no wrong in her father's eyes. Now he lay there so still, yet the warmth of his skin belied the fact no life stirred within.
Slender fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, forehead pressed against his chest as she silently cried for the man who had raised her. She was never going to see him again, or hear his deep rumbling laugh. She was never again going to see the twinkle in his eyes and that special smile reserved only for her. For every thing she was never going to see or do again with her father, her heart shattered a little more.
“Shouldn't we…?” Cullen's voice cut across the tense atmosphere while he gestured helplessly to the scene displayed before him.
Josephine merely shook her head, eyes suspiciously wet. “Give her a moment. Her father just--” Whatever Josephine intended to add remained a mystery. She angled her body away from the Inquisitor and her deceased father, shoulders slumped in silent sympathy.
Both retreated to the far side of Josephine's office, shrouded in shadow. It gave the illusion of privacy for the Inquisitor to express her shock privately.
Resting her head on her father's chest, Aliya squeezed her eyes shut. It did little to stem the flow of tears. Her finger traced the five o'clock shadow adorning his features, something she often did as a child. The texture of smooth skin followed by a path of rough stubble had fascinated her.
The warm umber of Bann Trevelyan’s skin, hadn't yet paled in death but every moment spent lying prone in the Ambassador’s office, leeched a little more warmth from his skin. His heart, it had to be his heart, hadn't it? One moment he was talking to the Inquisitor, the Commander and the Ambassador, the next he was saying he needed a moment before turning to walk away. After that he simply collapsed.
Eyelids heavy with exhaustion after all the tears she had shed, Aliya didn't hear approaching footsteps. Senses dulled with grief, she failed to hear words softly uttered to her. It was gentle hands manoeuvring her away that garnered a reaction. Slender digits reflexively tightened against her father's shirt, hissing at her adversary like a wounded cat.
“You did real good, Boss, but you gotta let go now. He's gone.” Bull’s face swam into view. She blinked, comprehension lost to her. All Aliya wanted was her daddy back, but the flicker of understanding and compassion she saw behind Bull’s one good eye, had her fingers loosening their grip.
Aliya Trevelyan clung to Bull as though he were her only tether to life, afraid of what she might do were she to let go. It occurred to her that her father should be the one cradling her while leading her from Josephine's office. That thought alone provoked a broken sob to pour from her lips. Bull briefly squeezed her side, a reminder that she wasn't alone.
Aliya would see her father one last time before this was over - the day of his funeral. One last chance to say goodbye.