"Neil," he breathes, and he feels it, he remembers, the times before when someone with his body and his voice and hands could be strong, and that strength was in reaching out and letting the walls down. Not being afraid. Or accepting the fear and moving on.

And he's too tired to run away from this now.

He slips out of the chair and onto his knees on the kitchen floor, reaches up and pulls Neil into his arms. It's slow and careful and very, very gentle--but he needs to remember that Neil isn't fragile.

Mike has beaten at him and he hasn't broken.