She has never known how to say goodbye to Edmund, in the end. They never had truly had need to, not really - a few moments between the edge of time and Lucy's cordial where it had come quite close, a letter from the front, a letter from a different front in a different world, but it had never been truly goodbye and it was never supposed to be.

What a waste, she thought, at a sensible and calm remove from the graves of her family and the stones they would be buried next to, what a damnable fucking waste.

But she didn't cry. Not yet.