His hand briefly goes over his chest. There it is, inevitably; the warm beat of a heart pulsing in the very center of him, rushing blood through his veins and to his head and keeping him alive, all question to the contrary.

If this is just...them, or a projection of them, some fleeting afterthought of the child he remembers, who'd mantled a smile over their every thought and act, then maybe it's for the best that some part of them could have survived in his soul. That some shred of them could still remain, clinging there, determined as always to hold onto life.

If it means that someone remembers -

(They'd not want anyone to remember.)

"Thank you," says Tim. And he means it. "I guess it..."

(But when has he ever done what he's been told?)

"It worked?"