She can't say anything to that, holding onto him because she can't just let him fall and because she's not sure she remembers how to move. She wants so much not to listen, but she can't stop, can't hear anything else, his words playing back in her head already. Sucking in a sudden, sharp breath, she closes her eyes and grips him tighter, trying to keep back the tears, though a few spill over regardless. Dead or not, Maeve isn't nothing; she's still part of him, still enough to wreck him, still more than Meredith could be. She's barely been breathing, her hold on him stiff, and for the first time in a long time, she wishes she were dead, too.