You find something you had begun to fear you had lost forever.  

It disappeared a cycle ago, smothered beneath grief and loss; the potential for rebirth destroyed
by the memory of a fixed blue-eyed stare and, “Don't worry about me. I've never felt better.”

What was lost is regained in the heart of a blazing inferno of pain and fear.  Fear that you will not
survive, that you are not strong enough to hold on, that he will not come for you in time.

You relocate what you had mislaid when you utter two phrases.  

“Just Crichton.  Only ever Crichton.”

* ~ * ~ * ~* ~ *
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