Jack's eyes slide down to look at their hands, and he sees how his are bandaged, how his fingers are carefully splinted, and there's a far-off distant memory of how they were broken. But it is so very far away, and Isaac is right there. Jack turns his hand over and brushes his thumb, the one part of his hand that isn't bandaged, against Isaac. It's stiff, it doesn't want to move, but he does it anyway, wanting only the reassurance of Isaac's reality, his presence in the room.

He remembers, in that distant way, how many times he had seen Isaac, only to realize he wasn't there.

But now he is.