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There were exactly six juice boxes left, out of four boxes of twelve, and he'd been conserving. Today was one of those days, those days when he thought enough time had passed and he deserved one. He never thought he'd regret walking into her office, because it was always the same, every single time. He'd just spaced it out more, lately.

For one single, solid moment of time, as he stood in the doorway and stared with a dropped jaw at the woman playing with that ball he'd made, he regretted walking into that room. He regretted how he automatically assumed he'd lost the last shred of sanity his mind had been clinging on to, when he passed the threshhold. He regretted that it took him past that entire moment to realize that he'd lost hope for her life a long time ago, even though he'd promised her in the dark the day he found out, that he never would. He promised he'd just keep believing she was alive.

But his first assumption was insanity. And that meant he'd lost hope.

Then all that regret was shoved out of the way violently in place of bursting joy, and he tumbled into the room like a clumsy child and ended up on his knees instead of being able to hug her. So he hugged her legs instead, awkwardly on their side with the chair digging into his ribs.

And he wept. It was a slow and building sob, quieter than his usual. He buried his face in her knee and wept for every day he'd gone by without thinking about her.

"Yeah." One sob held the word with it. Another came a moment later. "Sorry."

The sound of her voice and the feel of her hand stroking his head in that way made his sobs turn into shudders, a shaking that just wouldn't stop. His arms loosened around her legs, and climbed up as if she was a tree that he had trouble believing existed. They climbed until he could hug her, and then he did - nearly pulling her right off of her chair to do so.

"I'm happy." He told her, the sound of pain wreaking havoc on his voice. "I'm trying. I'm working real hard, Clarice, I promise. I promise. I ain't never stopped learning, and I know so much now, and I got married to the smartest person who ever existed ever, and I ain't done trying either, I promise." All he could do was keep filling her with his promises, as if each one could make her more real.

He lifted his head from where he'd buried it on her shoulder, and his puffy, wet eyes drank the sight of her in. "You ain't going nowhere." He growled, his face set in sudden determination; and a kiss of anger.

"No." Strong arms crushed her even as she tried to leave him. "No, you ******** are NOT leaving me again, you are NOT leaving, and you stop that right now. Don't tell me about no locked doors. I will open them. You tell me where this door is and I'll - Clarice please, please stop it. PLEASE."

His shaking turned into shaking her, even as she flaked in his arms. He shook her, more violently every second, until he knew he wasn't actually holding a body anymore.

"DON'T ********' LEAVE ME AGAIN, I PROMISED I WOULD BE GOOD. I PROMISED I WOULD KEEP LEARNING, IF YOU DON'T LEAVE. CLARICE DON'T ********' LEAVE ME AGAIN."

He was screaming at dust and memories, and an empty chair.