He draws a breath to answer - and then realizes he has no idea how to put it into words, no idea if the words even exist, and still no words for what he's just felt. He could say that he feels like he used to, except that's not true. This wasn't just a refitting of broken pieces or the application of some glue. The healing - whatever it was - is almost incidental.

It's deeper than that.

"It's quiet," he whispers, and he's not even sure what that means, but it doesn't matter, because seconds later a sob is catching in his throat and he turns his head against Neil's neck, his eyes burning.