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It took a while.

Eventually, Robert's sobs turned into sad whimpers that occasionally exploded into sobs again. And a few minutes after that, he'd still into silent, shaking cries. And not too long after that, Robert was just quiet, shaking from the overwhelming exhaustion of crying that hard, for that long.

But all the while, he held poor Mimsy wrapped up in his arms.

Finally, with one last sniff, his embrace loosened in order to wipe his eyes with one meaty and rough fist. He rubbed them until all of the wetness was gone, and they were raw and red. Then he sat even further on his haunches, and gave Mimsy enough breathing room.

"I don't want to believe this." His voice sounded so pathetically hoarse. Like he'd been screaming for years. And so tiny, so helpless. There was no man speaking; just a scared little boy that had just lost his mother. "I don't want to believe that I can't just .. see her."

His lower lip shook, and it seemed the threat of tears was rearing its violent head once more, but he finally turned his eyes to actually look at Mimsy, and his expression broke with sudden overwhelming gratitude.

"Thank you." He whispered. He knew he'd made a mess of her, and probably made her want to kill him to get away from his arms, but he was still so grateful she'd stayed. And that she'd been the one to tell him.

He brushed all the hair that he'd dislodged and flattened against her face, away. "I'm glad it was you."

You are nothing if not strong.

He didn't want to have misheard that in Clarice's voice. But sadly, that was exactly what he did. He felt a great weight crushing down on him, one that he knew wasn't going to let up anytime soon. He'd loved and lost before. He'd suffered and mourned. But nothing had ever hurt him the way it hurt when his mother died - except this moment, this one single moment in time, matched in equivalence.

She believed he was strong. But he wasn't. He was just a great, big baby.

Robert remembered the last time Mimsy had purposefully hugged him; when she wasn't Mimsy at all. It was easy to hug her back, as that was what he'd been doing this entire time, but hugs were magical when they were given freely by someone who didn't do it often. And her cherished that, gleening from it's magic just a little bit of strength to do the things he thought he couldn't.

"Would you come with me?" His hoarse voice scraped out, muffled by her shoulder. "I have to go to her office. I have to see." -It empty, the unspoken end left off. He couldn't say it, but he knew he had to do it. He only knew that because he had just enough strength to realize it all on his own.

"Thanks." He gave her a second to stand on her own, before he crawled back up and pushed himself to his feet. Everything felt so heavy. He didn't want to be standing, right now. Actually, he wanted to crawl into a bed, throw as many covers as he could find over his body, and cry until he passed out.

But this had to be done.

So he took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes one final time, and took her hand. In one big exhale, he let all of his words out in a rush. "Okayletsgo."

And then he walked her, at a reasonable pace, all the way to Clarice's office. But when they were near enough to see the door, he slowed. It was guarded by two Life Hunters - ones he'd never even met. His steps came slow as mud, when he stared at them. They were enough to confirm what he had to accept. But he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop.

He just walked very, very slowly.

When they neared the door, it was clear the Life Hunters weren't going to let them pass. They looked at Robert - and his giant, imposing form, his bloodshot red eyes, and pinched red nose - and immediately assessed him as a threat.

This was how he knew he'd never met these particular Life Hunters.

He craned his head, and looked beyond them, at the mess within. There were more people inside, going through all of her things. Robert couldn't tell why, but he could tell they weren't being very nice about it. He could hear Clarice's voice, in his head, so very passive-aggressively upset about the mess they were making. It almost made him want to laugh.

But he didn't.

Instead, he just kept watching. One Life Hunter opened a drawer - pulled something out - started checking through it - dropped one - he didn't even notice - and then -

A second hunter stepped on it. He cursed, as he pulled his foot up to assess the damage.

A puddle of red seeped slowly across the floor. Not blood. Just juice.

Just juice.

The sound of Mimsy saying that word, once more triggered a voice that he knew he'd be hearing far too many times in the future. And that face, turning to look up at him, exasperated as she handed the little box to him.

Drink your juice, Robert.

"Yeah." He whispered back down to Mimsy, though his eyes remained on the stain that bled across the floor. "She used to - "

He heard her voice again. It disrupted him.

" - used to always have some waiting for me. It calms me down." Except this time. This time, he knew if they'd actually given him that juice, all he would have done while drinking it is cry.

He turned away, and the two Life Hunters that guarded the door exhaled in relief. His mournful face looked down at Mimsy, searching for something to fill the ache in his heart.

"Mimsy." He whispered, in a voice so soft, so wanting, it was almost intimate.

"I'm hungry."

That sentence made no sense. He didn't even try to process it.

"What-" She tugged him along, and he paused to look back at the door for a moment. They'd already cleaned up the floor, and were back to work. Looking for something. Looking for -

She pulled him away, and he let himself be moved, no strength left to stop him. Her desk was in view for just one more second, but one of the hunters shifted, and then it was gone. Just like her.

Robert slumped, and turned away, zombie walking behind Mimsy. With every step, he looked like he was crumbling, until there wasn't much of the lively man left. Just an empty shell, moving mindlessly down the hall.

Drink your juice, Robert.

Robert followed the direction of the point, and dropped down onto her bed. He sat, like she asked, but only for three seconds. Without so much as a 'timber', he then keeled over, kicked his shoes off, and curled up like a giant fetus on the bed that was at least 6 inches too small to fit his unfurled form.

A goddess? Robert was curled too tightly to look at her when she said this, but she had to have remembered just how poignant that phrasing was. Especially considering what he'd said to her, not that long ago.

"I believe that." He mumbled, burying his face into the blanket. He didn't know what kind of goddess she was referring to, but it was hard to care about anything other than his raw, torn to shreds heart, right now.

No longer hungry?

Robert unfurled like a cat, sitting back up as soon as she had food in her hands. "Starving." He murmured under his breath, his lower lip stuck out as he held out his hands. And then he remembered that Mimsy was the cake goddess and he smelled all that sugar and sweetness and -

- he almost started crying all over again.

"I can't believe you still have some of these. I thought I'd eaten them all." He clearly had no idea just how many confections Mimsy had made, and assumed she'd just brought all of them to him. Because that was where cakes belonged - in his stomach.

When he took the cake, settled it on his lap, and dove his hands right into it - as if he would even wait for utensils - he started to finally think about things. He pulled a great big piece of cake out and dropped it into his mouth, while losing himself in thought. He chewed, and his other hand came up to wipe his mouth clean with his coat sleeve.

"So.. what.. even.. happened?" He didn't know how to ask the question - let alone if he really wanted an answer.