I've turned the grief to medicine

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead Phoebe recoils, physically and emotionally, pulling back from Harper and staring at him as though he had two heads. "Maeve?" she said, a mix of anger and hurt in her voice. She didn't need to say more. Harper knew she had been a Halenani employee, one chosen specifically to run it when Phoebe inevitably moved on was put in a cacoon. Maeve was a friend, a student, a former employee - so many things that briefly she wondered at his faithfulness. The opportunities had been ample after all. But that wasn't Harper. Not the one she knew anyways. But still the name was a slap in the face. The demigoddess tried to ground herself, focusing hard on the sleeping boy in her arms. She had to. She had nothing else. In what to her felt like a matter of hours a dear friend had stolen away the love of her life. And that seemed to be what Harper didn't understand. Yes, it had been a year. She recognized that and the complications of it. But for her it had been hours. Mere hours and her world was upside down. Phoebe kissed the boy's head. He was the only light left in her world it seemed. "Let's go." Phoebe said dryly, emotionless and distant as she turned to leave the Stargate or whatever this enterprise was.