He lets himself be pulled around, unresisting, to face her. When he was cast back to mortality, scraped clean of his memories, her face was among the first he remembered. Hands skim the edges of her shoulders. He pulls her closer and drops his forehead against hers.

"There is," he says, though the agonized note has dropped into something quieter, less pained, soft and mournful. "I couldn't save you."