Jim shudders inside the tight circle of Bones' arms, some distant part of him aware that it feels good, familiar, that it still feels like home when he'd been certain his was lost, but the tears don't stop. He stays upright when Bones pulls away, but he sits when told to, lacking the will to do anything but obey.

"Don't be sorry," he says. Sometime probably not far from now, Jim knows he's going to be blisteringly, futilely angry, but he's not ready to make that jump just yet. Not when he can stay where it's still numb and quiet. "It's not your fault."