This last kindness brings prickling tears of exhaustion to the corners of Horatio's eyes. It's difficult to move, but his less bandaged arm shifts to catch at the wrist of the hand smoothing his hair.

There's something painfully important about pressing his cheek into James's hand. There's the first step of absolution in fumbling his lips against the heel of James's palm.

"You won't... leave. W-Without waking me?"

He nearly manages to simply repeat the sentiment. The question tacks itself on without much conscious thought.