[ The story of the little girl gives him pause, and he unfolds an arm to rest it along Bones' for the sheer human comfort the touch provides, plucking his sleeve. ]

I didn't think it would kill me. I mean, I knew it would, obviously, but ... [ How does he explain something like that? First stumbling, then crawling his way back to decontamination just to be able to breathe again, and how much pain has swelled behind his eyes until it had been too hard to focus on his hand over Spock's any more. It had been so aggressive when attacking his system.

Unconsciously, his grip curves around a bicep to stay rooted, blue eyes skittering at the memory. He sounds plaintive, even to his own ears, and he hates that so, so much but it's true. ]

All I wanted was someone there, just to feel them. I was scared and, for a while, for as long as I could see him, Spock ... helped me not be 'cause he was scared too.