Some of the tension goes out of her when his hand finds hers, and the overwhelming tiredness that always follows in the wake of healing someone starts to take its place. With an exhalation of sheer relief at having told someone -- someone who didn't want to use the information to hurt her -- she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her eyes fall closed while she tries to gather up the pieces she feels shattered into.

It's long enough before she speaks that she might've fallen asleep. She doesn't open her eyes, even, but her words are clear enough, if softly spoken.

"I'm sorry. For shutting you out."

And for walking away, but mostly for refusing to hear him in any way in the year that had passed.