She sees his mood flag, like a sad little deflating balloon, and it feels like he's squeezing at her heart. He's always been able to do this to her, from the day he was born. Every little triumph, every single pain, it just went right through her. She could see him, at six years old, staring up at her with a scraped knee, big tears shining in his eyes. He has that same expression still, and she misses being able to kiss the boo boos away.

"Oh, honey, no" she murmurs, reaching over to take his hand. "Don't be. This isn't your fault. There's no way this is your fault. I'm glad I'm here. I'd rather be here with you than not."