He would not allow himself to cry in front of this man. He was Damian Centurion, after all, despite anything that had happened in his past.
After a few moments of silence, Damian straightened his back and took on the old air that he had rid himself of what seemed like so long ago.
"Cremation," he said shortly. "I will see to the burial arrangements myself once everything has been cleared."

The rest of the conversation seemed rushed and curt on Damian's part, but it was all to reach the goal of getting the man out of his house. After accepting his further condolences and assuring him he would see to everything just fine, Damian bid farewell to the officer, and shut the door behind him. It wasn't until he knew the speeder was far and away that he returned to the middle of the house where they had spoken of formalities.
His Raquel, his love, his dearest above all else he held dear, was dead. Tossed to the side, in a dumpster of all places, like the trash people once referred to her as, like she once truly felt like. What a terrible end. If only it had been him.

Without another thought on the horrific turn of events, Damian fell to his knees and let out such a heart-rending cry that Trinity sped off into the recesses of the house to escape it. It echoed in every corner, followed by his angry sobs and words sent to the great beyond that were harsh, but not truly felt. All he could feel was his heart being rent out from his chest and the painful spasms of grief in his skull.

He would stay there pitifully sobbing until he simply fell to his side and passed out.

---

The next few months were a grieving process. A short message was sent to Richard saying that there was no need for his part in this search, because the final result had come. Avoiding all questions until he was ready for them, Damian became a recluse. A hermit, never wanting to see anyone or anything but Trinity, even going so far as to avoid voice chat with his business associates. Everything became mechanic and automated, just like him.

Every day was spent retracing areas of the house where Raquel had instilled a memory. The hallway, where she had nearly assaulted him with love as they returned from that kareoke night. The couch where they had fallen asleep together watching movies. The kitchen, where she had made herself coffee, along with the mug she liked the drink out of. The library, where he had given her back her music, and proposed, the bedroom where they first had kissed, first made love...

The ring was still in his pocket. He had never taken it out. But while before it was just a nagging thing in the back of his brain, then it became a terrible weight to carry. It was soon moved to a chain around his neck, along with the twenty five cent ring Raquel had given him long ago. Two rings clanking together, neither to be put on a finger.

By the fifth month, Damian could no longer take it. He gathered his finances and took off from the house with Trinity and all their essential belongings for the other house in Druis. Of course he would still keep the house in Veratia when the mandatory business meeting would come about, but it was far too painful. Damian Centurion needed to get away, even from the place where Raquel had been laid to rest. He just needed to go.

And so he did.