The stitching process was slow and the results were crooked, but it was the first act of magic she successfully performed since returning home. It was something she never thought she would be able to do again. She didn't mean to tear up. In fact, she was mortified to be crying at all. However, as Alfred spoke of feeling her internal magic combined with the grief of all that had happened, she could do nothing to stop the water works.

Even as she performed the chant, Jo didn't feel the tug that he spoke of. But, she also had never had to before. Magic was alwags just something she expected, a tool to be used like any other. She never could've imagined how lost she would be without it. "Damn it all to hell," she muttered as she wiped the seemingly endless pool of tears. "I don't mean to cry. It's just ..." She raised her right bloody useless hand and dropped it in her lap again. Jo turned her head towards the wall. This wasn't what she was here for. Alfred didn't need to sit and watch her bloody cry!

"I never had to look for that pull before," she said quietly, sniffling midway through her sentence. "I wouldn't even know what if felt like."